I Have the Martial Arts Heavenly Eye in the Storm Riders

Nie Feng and Dugu Meng exchanged a glance, a hint of seriousness flashing in their eyes.

"Don't worry, sister-in-law." Nie Feng's voice was as steady as a rock, brooking no argument.

"I brought Meng'er and Qing'er here today because I plan to stay for a while."

"With Senior Brother Yun gone, I'll take care of this home."

Chu Chu paused slightly, pursed her lips, looked at Nie Feng for a long while, and finally nodded gently, her eyes reddening as she whispered:

"Thank you, wind."

Before the words were even finished, a murderous intent suddenly appeared in the depths of the twilight.

"I don't care if you're the God of Wind! Even if a Great Immortal were to descend upon us today, we'd make Bu Jingyun's entire family pay for their blood debt!"

The scarred man roared and suddenly sprang from the shadows.

The pipe had long been discarded, replaced by a heavy, dark iron bow.

His face was contorted with rage, his body surging with innate true energy, his clothes fluttering in the wind, his bow drawn to its fullest extent, and his thick fingers simultaneously gripping ten sharp, wolf-tooth arrows, their cold gleam captivating the soul.

"Fire arrows! Leave no one alive!"

At a command, hundreds of Ironblood Arrow Manor disciples lying in ambush all around simultaneously drew their bows.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

The bowstring vibrated continuously, and in an instant, arrows flew like locusts, blotting out the sky.

A dense rain of arrows, imbued with various kinds of energy, wove a net of death that was neither too wide nor too narrow, descending upon the small courtyard.

Chu Chu pulled Nie Qing tightly into her arms, shielding her with her own body.

Dugu Mengfeng's eyes were filled with murderous intent. She drew her long sword halfway, its chilling aura protecting the mother and daughter completely.

Faced with the rain of arrows, Nie Feng simply stood with his hands behind his back, a calm smile playing on his lips.

In his deep eyes, a dangerous, dark crimson glint flashed and disappeared, seemingly both pity and mockery.

His inner energy suddenly surged outwards.

In that instant, the winds of heaven and earth seemed to obey his commands.

The thousands of arrows that had been flying with thunder and lightning suddenly stopped three feet away from the crowd, hovering in the air, trembling, as if they were being held tightly by an invisible giant hand.

Nie Feng waved his sleeves lightly, as if the clouds were calm and the wind was gentle.

"call--"

A fierce wind swept backwards, and the world changed color.

The thousands of arrows shot back with even greater speed and force than when they came.

"ah--!"

"What...what kind of sorcery is this?!"

Screams rose and fell, but no one fell to the ground and died.

Hundreds of men had their feet pinned to the ground by arrows, three feet deep, unable to move, yet not a single arrow had killed them.

The subtlety of his judgment was astonishing.

Blood was spilled all over the ground, and hundreds of martial arts experts were like live fish nailed to a chopping board, struggling desperately but unable to escape.

This unpredictable wind control technique was so precise it was terrifying, completely surpassing everyone's understanding of martial arts.

Nie Feng stood gracefully amidst the pool of blood, his blue robe spotless, as if a god had descended to earth.

He spoke calmly: "When will this cycle of revenge end? Gentlemen, please go back, lest you throw your lives away in vain."

Everyone was terrified, their faces ashen, as if they had seen a ghost.

Only the scarred man at the head of the group, with bloodshot eyes, recklessly drew back the bowstring once more.

"I refuse to believe in evil! Even if it costs me my life, I will avenge my fallen brothers!"

He poured all his strength into trying to shoot an arrow that would destroy everything in its path.

However, just as he was about to loosen his grip, he was horrified to discover that he couldn't move even a single finger.

A heavy, mountain-like pressure descended upon me without my noticing, making it hard to breathe.

He struggled to lift his head, his pupils suddenly contracting to their maximum size.

Suddenly, Nie Feng appeared before them like a ghost, lightly stepping on one foot and standing firmly on the ready-to-fire arrow.

The arrow, sharp enough to pierce metal and stone, remained completely still at Nie Feng's feet, as if it had taken root.

Nie Feng looked down at him, his brows expressionless, and simply raised his right foot slightly.

A gentle breeze swept by silently.

"Shhh..."

The strong iron bow in the man's hand, along with all the arrows present, turned into dust in an instant, scattering with the wind as if it had never existed.

The entire place was deathly silent, with only the mournful sound of the wind.

Hundreds of assassins forgot how to breathe, collapsing to the ground trembling, the last trace of ferocity in their eyes vanishing in that instant.

They finally realized just how much of an unapproachable being they had just provoked.

And in the darkness further away, several other forces lurked in the shadows—

They are all descendants of the orphans from various sects who were wiped out by Bu Jingyun back then.

These people had been scattered throughout the martial world for many years, diligently practicing their skills. They finally managed to find out the whereabouts of the Bu family and each brought their own men to the scene, intending to swarm them when the Iron Blood Arrow Manor made its move.

However, having witnessed the entire scene from beginning to end—from the volley of arrows to the moment of being suspended in mid-air, from being shot backwards and pinned to the ground and turned to ash by stepping on the arrows—the last vestiges of courage and valor in everyone's hearts had been completely extinguished.

Nie Feng, the god of wind, is the pinnacle of all the peers in the world.

With such a figure personally overseeing the Bu family, what can they possibly compete with?

Several figures hidden in the shadows exchanged a glance, said nothing, and silently retreated into the depths of the night.

Her footsteps were extremely light and quick, as if she were afraid of disturbing Nie Feng in the slightest, and she didn't even have the courage to look back.

Where there is life, there is hope.

The blood feud with Bu Jingyun doesn't need to be settled tonight.

An ancient road, a west wind, a desolate tavern.

A tattered wine flag fluttered in the wind, as if beckoning passersby from the mortal world.

Bu Jingyun and his son left Tianshan and traveled all the way. They are now resting here.

Bu Jingyun sat alone in a corner of the thatched hut, surrounded by a deep shadow.

He poured himself a drink, sipping it slowly, his expression as cold and indifferent as unyielding ice, emanating an aura of aloofness that kept strangers at bay.

Even the other men drinking at the same table subconsciously kept their distance from him, afraid of getting tainted by his bad luck.

Bu Tian sat opposite him, silently munching on a piece of braised beef, not even bothering to wipe the meat juices from the corners of his mouth.

Although she didn't speak, her bright eyes would occasionally scan her surroundings, revealing a wariness beyond her years.

Children who follow Bu Jingyun on his adventures have a sense of vigilance ingrained in their very blood.

He glanced furtively at his father across the table, hesitated for a moment, then picked up a piece of braised beef and placed it in Bu Jingyun's bowl:

"Dad, you should eat something too. You can't just drink alcohol all the time."

Bu Jingyun didn't even blink, continuing to raise his cup and drink as if he hadn't heard a thing.

Bu Tian wasn't annoyed; he was used to it all along.

He silently picked the meat back up, stuffed it into his mouth, and chewed it with his cheeks puffed out, thinking—

My father has only ever been a drinker; I don't know how my mother managed to put up with it.

A drunkard at the next table, staggering from drinking, got up to look for a toilet. As he passed Bu Jingyun, he stumbled and knocked over a wine pot on the table with a crash.

The wine spilled on half of Bu Jingyun's sleeve.

Just as the drunkard was about to start cursing, he looked up and met Bu Jingyun's extremely cold gaze, and instantly sobered up by about 80%.

His lips trembled twice.

"Great...Great hero, please forgive me..."

Before he could finish speaking, he knelt down with a thud and scrambled away.

Bu Tian suppressed a laugh and lowered his head, pretending to gnaw on the meat.

Bu Jingyun said nothing, not even bothering to wipe the wine stains off his clothes, and picked up another pot of wine to continue drinking.

The tavern was very noisy, with all sorts of people from all walks of life.

At the next table, several men carrying knives, after a few rounds of drinks, were flushed and their voices were getting louder and louder.

"Hey, have you heard?" A burly man with a thick beard gulped down a mouthful of strong liquor, wiped his mouth roughly with his sleeve, and tried to lower his voice but couldn't quite manage it.

"The martial arts world has been quite turbulent lately, with various sects engaging in open and covert struggles, resulting in numerous deaths."

"That's right!" a skinny, monkey-like man across from them chimed in hastily, his eyes darting around.

"The world is getting more and more chaotic every day. Those of us who make a living by wandering around should avoid getting involved in trouble."

"Hey, this is no big deal!" The third person pulled his two companions closer, looked around, and then said mysteriously in a low voice,

"I have some earth-shattering news—the 'God of Wind,' Nie Feng, who has been missing for many years... has returned to the martial world!"

"What?! Nie Feng?!" The men all changed color and gasped.

Upon hearing this name, Bu Jingyun, who had been drinking alone as if on a statue, paused slightly with his fingers holding the wine glass.

A tiny ripple appeared in the glass of wine, but it quickly returned to its stagnant state.

Bu Tian pricked up his ears and secretly glanced at his father.

He remembered that when his father was a child, he would occasionally mention a name when he was drunk—Feng.

Every time it was mentioned, a complex expression would appear on Dad's face, not like hatred, but more like... longing.

But Bu Jingyun had already returned to his usual indifference, as if the meal just now had never happened.

Bu Tian wisely withdrew his gaze and did not ask any further questions.

A hundred feet away from the tavern, deep in the dense forest, two sneaky figures were hidden in the treetops, their eyes fixed on Bu Jingyun under the thatched hut like those of hawks.

"You saw it clearly? Was it Bu Jingyun?" one person asked in a low voice, his tone filled with hatred and trembling.

"No mistake! This dead face, and this suffocating, deathly aura, I'd recognize him even if he were ashes!" another person gritted his teeth, his eyes bloodshot.

"Alright! You stay here and keep a close watch, don't let him escape! I'll go report to the master right away!"

"Whoosh!"

Before the words were even finished, the figure had already disappeared into the depths of the forest like an arrow released from a bow.

After several rounds of drinks, Bu Jingyun casually tossed down a piece of silver, stood up, and said in a deep voice:

"Tian'er, let's go."

Bu Tian quickly wiped the meat juice from his mouth, shouldered his bag, and followed his father without missing a step.

The father and son had walked less than a hundred paces out of the tavern when a flock of birds suddenly took flight from the previously quiet woods ahead, their menacing aura filling the air.

"kill--!"

The deafening shouts of battle, like thunderclaps, instantly shattered the tranquility of the wilderness.

From the shadowy figures emerging from the woods, hundreds of men suddenly charged out.

These people, each wielding a weapon, with bloodshot eyes and radiating intense killing intent and hatred, instantly surrounded Bu Jingyun and his son, leaving no room for escape.

The leader, dressed in plain white mourning clothes, held a black memorial tablet aloft, inscribed with the words "Memorial Tablets of More Than 300 Members of the Xiawang Mansion" in large, blood-red characters, which looked particularly mournful in the wind.

This man was about thirty years old, with a withered face, but his eyes burned with a raging fire of hatred. He stared intently at Bu Jingyun and hissed:

"Bu Jingyun! Do you recognize me, Lü Zheng?!"

"Back then, you slaughtered my entire Heroic Prince's Mansion to seize the Ice Soul!"

"I, Lü Zheng, was traveling abroad and luckily escaped this calamity!"

"For the past ten years or so, I have constantly thought about eating your flesh and sleeping on your skin!"

"Today, I bring these hundreds of orphans and righteous warriors from the Heroic Prince's Mansion to demand repayment for this blood debt!"