I Have the Martial Arts Heavenly Eye in the Storm Riders

The night in the inner palace was as heavy as lead, and the layers of palace walls stretched out under the cold moonlight, exuding a suffocating sense of desolation.

In a remote corner of the northwest, a solitary, dark building rises from the ground, like a ghostly claw reaching out from the underworld. It is the forbidden land outside the laws of the imperial court—the Seven Levels of Purgatory.

This place is known as an impregnable fortress, imprisoning criminals who have wreaked havoc on the court since the founding of the dynasty. There is only one way in, but no way out.

The chilly wind lashed against the blue brick walls, howling like the wailing of a vengeful ghost, devouring countless brilliant souls of martial arts heroes.

A troop of heavily armored guards marched past, their heavy armor scraping against each other, the sound echoing dully in the long, dark passageway.

The torchlight flickered in the wind, casting the figures of the imperial guards against the mottled red wall.

Every few dozen steps, there were visible and hidden sentries, making the defenses virtually impenetrable. Only the clanging sound of iron boots on the ground echoed continuously in the cold, silent air.

"Open your eyes wide, all of you!" The leading captain stopped in his tracks, his right hand resting on the hilt of his hundred-reinforced sword at his waist, and coldly ordered the soldiers behind him.

"These are turbulent times. Many rebellious officials and traitors have infiltrated the capital. If any of these reckless villains were to break into the palace, our heads would be in serious jeopardy!"

The soldiers responded with a muffled shout, and then the sound of armor clashing rang out again as the group disappeared into the shadows.

Soldiers in armor moved back and forth in the passageway, their heavy footsteps echoing in and out.

Just then, a group of imperial guards shouted and misaligned their ranks, and the clashing of armor seemed unusually rapid due to the dullness of the noise.

Amidst this heavy encirclement, a bluish phantom, like an invisible breeze, silently swept across the shadows of the eaves.

Even as the garrison captain turned his head with his sword drawn, he only felt a chill on his neck. Where his gaze fell, he saw only the cold light of the waning moon, completely unaware that a world-shaking movement technique had already swept past him several steps away in an instant.

In the shadows beneath the eaves, Nie Feng lay prone on the cold rooftop of Purgatory, his breathing barely audible, almost blending into the surrounding chill.

Considering that this infiltration to rescue people was extremely dangerous, he had previously decided to leave Dugu Meng in the outer city to provide backup, while he himself would venture into the Dragon Pool alone with his sword.

With a slight exertion of force, his right hand, with its five fingers like hooks, steadily gripped the seams of the glazed tiles.

While holding their breath, Nie Feng silently removed the rows of heavy tiles, revealing a deep passageway large enough for someone to leap into.

Looking down, the view plunges into a bottomless abyss, where only layers upon layers of nothingness are piled up below.

The purgatory is dozens of feet deep and has seven layers of deadly tribulations.

At the bottom of the cell, a broken body was chained across a cross-shaped iron frame. The cold, flickering firelight illuminated the disheveled hair and dried bloodstains.

The black iron shackles coiled around his remaining three limbs and neck like ferocious venomous snakes, every inch of the cold iron chains exuding a despair that penetrated to the bone.

"Senior Brother Yun..."

Nie Feng's eye muscles twitched slightly, and it felt as if a raging fire was raging wildly inside his chest.

The skylight was the only way out besides the heavy door, but the vertical well wall was extremely narrow, with dark holes densely packed on both sides.

Although the sound of the mechanism was so faint due to its distance, it was enough to terrify any trespasser.

We share life and death, our destinies are intertwined; this bond has long been etched into our very bones.

Looking at his once aloof and godlike senior brother, now imprisoned in a filthy death cell and suffering such a humiliating disgrace, his grief and indignation suddenly transformed into a desperate courage. Even if there were a bottomless abyss below, it would not deter him from his determination to risk his life to break through it.

A resolute glint flashed in Nie Feng's eyes. He suddenly leaped into the air, like a hawk riding the wind to hunt its prey, and plunged into the bottomless well.

The fierce wind howled wildly in my ears as I plummeted downwards, barely falling ten feet—

Click!

Suddenly, I heard a series of fine, muffled vibrations from the mechanism.

The murderous intent acted swiftly, sealing off any chance of survival.

"not good!"

Nie Feng's heart sank suddenly, and alarm bells rang loudly in his mind.

A cold light suddenly burst forth from the four walls, instantly filling the suffocating air with a chilling, deathly aura.

In an instant, the air currents swirled wildly deep within the walls of the well, and countless poison arrows, glowing with a bluish-green light, burst forth like a torrential rain, instantly sealing off all avenues for escape.

"The wind sweeps away the remaining clouds!"

Despite the danger, Nie Feng remained calm and continued his descent without slowing down, his legs transforming into a flurry of shadowy figures.

The violent leg force was like a dragon emerging from the sea, stirring up a chilling whirlwind. With a series of crisp clanging sounds, all the poisoned arrows were shattered and bounced off by the force.

Before they could even catch their breath, the two hidden doors on both walls suddenly shook violently.

Rows of heavy logs covered with barbed iron spikes crashed down like a burst dam, their brutal weight creating muffled, thunderous sounds that made the entire narrow passage tremble.

The cold iron spikes gleamed in the dim light; if they were to strike head-on, flesh and blood would be reduced to dust in an instant.

"When the wind rises, there is no duckweed!"

Nie Feng's green figure was so ethereal that it was hard to tell if he was real or not in an instant. He was like an invisible wisp of silk, gracefully darting through the gaps between the rolling logs.

Several times he shifted his body and was in grave danger, but with his skillful maneuvering in such a small space, he managed to find a glimmer of hope in a seemingly hopeless situation.

In the blink of an eye, the fire-breathing bronze beast roared and poked its head out from the hidden compartment, spewing out large plumes of scorching poisonous flames.

The rotating cutter wheel, accompanied by the roar of the mechanism, swept across the wall, leaving no place for anyone to gain leverage.

There is also a constantly surging pool of water underfoot that can dissolve the true energy cultivated over many years if even a tiny bit gets on it.

Layer upon layer of mechanisms followed like a shadow, each more cunning and ruthless than the last.

Nie Feng darted swiftly through the dark, narrow passage, his footwork already at its peak, his surrounding green shadows like a world-shaking tornado rising from the ground.

His clothes were torn by shattered blades, and he was covered in bruises, but the light in his eyes was as hard as iron.

The last heavy barrier shattered under the furious foot of the demon, and Nie Feng used the momentum to sweep across, his figure falling to the ground like a meteor, landing steadily at the bottom of the purgatory.

"Huff... huff..."

The heavy breathing sounded particularly muffled due to the deathly silence at the bottom of the well.

Nie Feng pressed one knee heavily against the bone-chilling stone surface, each breath causing a burning sensation in his lungs.

Cold sweat poured down his disheveled hair, blurring his vision.

Ignoring the chaotic flow of blood in his veins, he suddenly looked up, his gaze piercing through the gloom and locking onto the rack in front of him.

On the rack, the Uncrying God of Death stood emaciated, like a broken and mangled corpse, with heavy iron chains tightly binding his arms.

Its body was covered in bloodstains, leaving it mottled and scarred, with only a faint glimmer of life flickering uncertainly in the shadows.

"Senior Brother Yun!!"

Nie Feng let out a low, hoarse growl, with a hint of weeping blood in his voice.

In the cold, deathly silence, the pent-up rage surged like thunder rumbling between the bones, threatening to burst forth.

Bu Jingyun struggled to lift his head, his cold face covered in withered blood.

In the instant their eyes met, a hint of warmth flashed across the otherwise lifeless depths of his gaze.

"Wind...you shouldn't have come."

"Yun, don't talk nonsense! Since I'm here, I didn't intend to leave alone!"

These words resonate deeply.

The Snow Drinking Saber was unleashed in response, its clear whistling sound piercing the deathly silence and causing the surrounding air to suddenly cool down.

"Break!!"

The cold light slashed down furiously at Ming Suo Xuan Kou, and the air almost condensed into frost wherever the blade passed.

when!!

The heavy iron chain, said to be unbreakable except by divine weapons, snapped instantly.

The piercing echo of the heavy chains snapping still reverberated at the bottom of the well. Just as a flicker of joy crossed Nie Feng's mind, a sinister laugh suddenly rose from the dark corner, instantly freezing the life that had just begun to thaw.

"As expected of the Wind God, even trapped in this perilous place, he managed to break the chains and rescue people. It's just a pity that this place is a hellish wasteland; once you enter this gate, there is absolutely no way to return alive!"

As the voice fell, the cold, sharp chanting, accompanied by the clanging of mechanisms and blades, suddenly exploded in the deathly silent dungeon.

Sixteen figures emerged from the depths of darkness, closing in and cutting off all escape routes.

Seven monks, dressed in fiery red robes, were all lamas from the Western Regions' Tantric sect, their prayer wheels humming incessantly.

Nine imperial guards, clad in golden armor and with hundred-refined swords hanging at their waists, stood with calm expressions and imposing presence, clearly the most elite swordsmen in the inner palace.

Standing before the rack, Nie Feng's silhouette, bathed in shards of light, exuded an imposing, mountain-like aura.

The tip of the Snow Drinking Blade sliced ​​diagonally across the stone ground, and a chilling cold burst forth, not only sealing off all encirclement opportunities but also extinguishing the flickering eerie flames nearby.

"You want to keep me, Nie Feng, here? You'd better see if you're tough enough!"

With a flick of his fingertips, he swiftly placed a fiery red, fragrant fruit into Bu Jingyun's mouth.

"Yun, you should focus on healing your injuries. I'll take care of these people!"

The fruit melts in your mouth, and the scalding medicinal power instantly infuses your internal organs. Your nearly dried-up meridians are once again surging with vital energy, and the severe injuries on your body surface are visibly shrinking and healing.

"Wind...be careful..."

Bu Jingyun sat cross-legged on the spot to regulate his breathing, his gaze as cold as a blade that could cut to the bone.

"rest assured!"

Nie Feng, dressed in a blue robe, moved about in the dark prison cell, making a rustling sound even though there was no wind.

Sensing its master's fierce fighting spirit, the Snow Drinking Mad Blade in hand emitted a high-pitched hum like a dragon's roar.

As the cold front passed, a layer of frost instantly formed on the floor of the prison cell, the chill penetrating to the bone.

Nine guards stood on the nine palaces, their figures shifting like ghosts, their hundred-refined steel blades becoming impenetrable afterimages, weaving a net that pressed down from above.

Because of its extremely rapid movement, the blade net sealed off every corner, completely blocking out the space within a few steps.

The combined attack that cut off all hope of survival collapsed in an instant.

The nine people breathed in unison, and the overwhelming array of blades pressed down upon them, heavier than ten thousand layers of mountains, crushing the air within the small space into a deathly silence.

A chilling glimpse!

Nie Feng's eyes flashed with a cold light, and the Snow Drinking Mad Blade stirred up a domineering cold current that was enough to split rocks and pierce clouds, slashing down towards the depths of the formation.

clang!

The resounding clang of metal pierced eardrums, but the combined strength of the nine guards was as solid as a rock, and their combined power actually managed to withstand the overwhelming offensive.

The recoil was like a raging torrent, flowing down the hilt of the sword and into both arms. Nie Feng's tiger's mouth trembled slightly, his center of gravity became unstable in an instant, and his body was forced to retreat three feet.

Before they could even establish their balance, the seven esoteric monks on the flanks launched a simultaneous attack, their prayer wheels spinning rapidly like tops under the powerful internal force.

Om-! !

The eerie sound waves transformed into countless invisible poison needles, piercing through layers of air currents and drilling straight into the spiritual realm and consciousness.

This skill is a closely guarded secret of Tantric Buddhism—the Soul-Capturing Sanskrit Sound.

Nie Feng felt a sharp, piercing pain in his mind, his five senses and six perceptions overlapping and intertwining, and the scene before him instantly conjured up layers of indistinguishable illusions.

"kill!!"

Nine hundred-refined steel blades seized this fleeting opening and, like a leech, unleashed their full power, stabbing down simultaneously at the vital points of the man in blue.

puff!

Even though the lightning-fast movement could deceive ordinary eyes, the evil sound had severely damaged his mind and disrupted his energy. In the split second between life and death, the blue afterimage was unconsciously half a step slower.

The sound of a sharp blade slicing through flesh was all the more chilling in the quiet of the narrow passage.

Two icy blades swept through the air, instantly leaving two deep, bone-revealing wounds on the shoulders and back, from which crimson blood gushed out, staining the long robe crimson.