I Have the Martial Arts Heavenly Eye in the Storm Riders

In an inconspicuous corner of the crowd.

An ordinary-looking middle-aged man squinted his eyes, his expression inscrutable.

Di Shitian's original plan was to take advantage of this martial arts tournament to capture Wuming and Duanlang and bring them back to Tianmen, thus increasing his chances of winning the dragon-slaying plan.

But today's battle completely disrupted his plans.

"Duan Lang... Nie Feng..."

Di Shitian's eyes flickered slightly, and his fingertips twirled as if he were deducing something.

These two are indeed formidable.

While a hasty attack at this moment might offer a chance of victory, the losses would be too great, which would be detrimental to the grand plan of slaying the dragon.

What bothered him even more was that Duan Lang publicly uttered the word "phoenix".

He didn't know who had leaked the secret, but it meant that there was a pair of eyes watching him from the shadows.

This feeling of being spied on made the two-thousand-year-old monster extremely uncomfortable.

"Never mind... there's always tomorrow."

"The time to slay the dragon is approaching; it is not wise to waste our energy at this moment. As for those who leaked the Phoenix's secret..."

A chilling glint flashed in Indra's eyes:

"We'll find it sooner or later."

His figure blurred and vanished into thin air like a ghost, as if he had never existed.

After the various forces dispersed, the summit of Mount Tai finally regained some of its tranquility.

The rubble, craters, and ruins scattered across the ground silently testify to the devastation of the earth-shattering battle that had just taken place.

As dusk settled, the last rays of the setting sun shone on the broken Fengchan Terrace, as if gilding this ancient mountain with a layer of blood-red gold.

"Junior Brother Feng."

Bu Jingyun strode up to Nie Feng, and without saying a word, pulled Nie Feng into his arms and hugged him tightly.

Nie Feng was stunned for a moment—the number of times Bu Jingyun had ever taken the initiative to hug someone in his entire life could be counted on one hand.

But the next second, he laughed, raised his aching arms, and hugged her back tightly.

Neither of them spoke; they just stood there, embracing for several breaths.

Amidst the changing times, we stand together through thick and thin.

Years of brotherhood are all contained in this hug.

Bu Jingyun released his grip, took a half step back, and expressionlessly sized Nie Feng up and down before coldly saying:

"You've lost weight."

Nie Feng chuckled: "Senior Brother Yun, I just finished a match."

"Um."

Bu Jingyun nodded and said nothing more.

But Nie Feng could clearly see the fleeting pity in her eyes.

Bu Tian stood behind his father, quietly watching the person in front of him.

He had heard his father mention "Junior Brother Feng" since he was a child.

Although his father only ever mentioned him with a few words, those words carried extra weight precisely because they came from Bu Jingyun's mouth.

Now that he's seen it with his own eyes, it's not quite what he imagined—

The person who was like a demon god descending to earth on the battlefield just now was now standing in front of his senior brother, and his smile was so gentle.

Nie Feng noticed the young man behind Bu Jingyun, his gaze falling on Bu Tian, ​​and he paused slightly in surprise:

"This is……"

"My son, Bu Tian," Bu Jingyun said briefly.

Bu Tian stepped forward and solemnly clasped his hands in greeting: "Bu Tian greets Uncle Feng."

Nie Feng looked at Bu Tian, ​​his gaze softening slightly.

He saw the shadow of Bu Jingyun in this boy—

The moment he stands here, he exudes a calm and composed aura, just like Senior Brother Yun.

"Good boy." Nie Feng nodded and said three words softly.

Bu Tian felt a slight warmth in his heart, but he didn't show it on his face. He simply bowed again.

"Wind." Wuming walked over slowly.

Nie Feng immediately suppressed his smile and bowed respectfully: "Senior."

Wuming looked at the two juniors who had once required his care, now grown into pillars of the martial arts world, his eyes filled with satisfaction.

"Today's battle, though a defeat, is still glorious. The name of the Wind God will surely shake the martial world once again."

Nie Feng shook his head:

"Losing is losing; there's no such thing as being honorable in defeat."

"I won't lose next time."

Wuming looked at him and smiled.

It wasn't because the words were particularly bold, but because Nie Feng's eyes were so much clearer than they had been a decade or so ago—

Gone is the madness of demonic possession, gone is the struggle of confusion; only a steadfastness, unwavering as a mountain, forged through countless trials and tribulations, remains.

This is enough.

The wind picked up.

A gentle breeze, blowing from an unknown direction, caressed the ravaged battlefield, brushing against the hems of the three people's clothes and the tips of their hair.

"Wind!!"

This shout was like tears that had been held back for over a decade finally bursting from his throat, filled with heart-wrenching longing.

Nie Feng was startled and turned around abruptly.

A figure stumbled and ran out from the vermilion palace gate.

Although the woman was over forty years old, she was very well-preserved, and one could still vaguely see the peerless charm of the "Number One Beauty in the Martial Arts World" in her eyes.

"mother……?"

Nie Feng stood there, stunned, his face filled with disbelief.

My memory of my mother's face is still from many years ago.

But the feeling of being connected by blood cannot be faked—

He only hesitated for a moment before confirming the person's identity.

Tears streaming down her face, Yan Ying rushed towards Nie Feng without regard for anything else.

Nie Feng's body trembled, and he subconsciously opened his arms—

For over twenty years, he thought he would never see his mother again.

Yan Ying threw herself into his arms, hugged his waist, and cried, her whole body trembling.

Nie Feng was a full head taller than her. When he looked down, he saw the fine lines at the corners of his mother's eyes.

Although she still retains her charm, the years have inevitably left their mark.

"mother……"

Nie Feng's voice choked, and his eyes instantly reddened.

He gently hugged his mother back, his arms trembling slightly—

The God of Wind, who had roamed the martial world and killed countless enemies, was now nothing more than a child longing for his mother in front of her.

A mother and child embracing each other should be the most heartwarming scene in the world.

But the atmosphere in the room was so eerie that it made everyone feel uneasy.

Bu Jingyun's expression was cold and hard as he silently turned his head away.

Wuming sighed softly, his expression complex, and remained silent.

Standing beside his father, Bu Tian sensed that something was amiss, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it—

Uncle Feng has finally met his mother! Isn't that a good thing?

Why do people all have such strange expressions?

Just then, a figure silently swept up to the mother and son.

No one saw how he got there—

An arm reached out and gently pulled Yan Ying from Nie Feng's arms.

Duan held Yan Ying in his arms, his expression languid, a playful smile on his lips, as if he were doing something perfectly natural.

"Feng'er," he said, looking at Nie Feng with a half-smile.

"Now that you've seen your own mother, why don't you kowtow?"

Wind!

His name is Nie Feng, "Feng'er"!

The way Duan Lang uttered that title felt like a blow to Nie Feng's head.

Bu Tian's expression changed instantly—

Although he is not old, he is not stupid.

Duan Lang embraced Uncle Feng's mother and called her "Feng'er"...

He immediately understood what this meant.

He glanced at his father instinctively.

Bu Jingyun's jaw was clenched so tightly that he didn't utter a single word.

"boom--!"

A monstrous surge of demonic energy erupted from Nie Feng's body!

His eyes were bloodshot, and his body was filled with surging demonic energy. He stared intently at the hand that Duan Lang had placed on his mother's waist, and the killing intent in his eyes was almost tangible.

"Duan Lang!! How dare you insult me?!" Nie Feng roared in fury.

This is not just taking advantage of him—

This is an insult to him, an insult to the entire Nie family.

In front of him, she hugged his mother and called him "Feng'er".

Is there any greater insult in the world than this?

Seeing that Nie Feng was about to lose control, Yan Ying was so frightened that she broke free from Duan Lang's embrace, spread her arms, and stood between the two of them, her voice trembling:

"Wind! No! You mustn't hurt Duan Lang!"

"What?!"

Nie Feng was struck dumb, frozen in place.

Yan Ying lowered her head, her face displaying an extremely complex expression, a mixture of shame and guilt, her voice as soft as a mosquito's buzz:

"Feng'er... Mother and Duanlang... have long been husband and wife..."

The entire room fell silent.

Nie Feng stood there blankly, as if his soul had been ripped out.

Although Bu Jingyun and Wuming already knew about this, they were still extremely embarrassed to see this scene in person. They turned their heads away almost simultaneously, unable to bear to look.

Before everyone could recover, two more teenagers emerged from behind the palace gate.

The two were teenagers, and their features resembled Duan Lang's by seven parts, yet they also possessed a touch of Yan Ying's gentleness.

Yan Ying pulled the two children over, pointed at Nie Feng, and said softly:

"Shen'er, Wu'er, come and pay your respects to your elder brother."

Then she looked at Nie Feng, who was now petrified, her eyes filled with expectation and affection:

"Feng'er, this is the Divine Severance and the Martial Severance."

"Your mother gave birth to...two younger brothers."

Nie Feng clenched his fists, which trembled violently. His heart was in turmoil, and he didn't know whether to cry or laugh.

"Greetings, elder brother?"

Duan Shen snorted coldly, his youthful face full of disdain and arrogance.

He glanced at Nie Feng sideways, his tone sharp as if he were looking for a fight—

"He was just trying to kill my father, he wanted my father dead!"

"Why should I call someone like that 'big brother'?"

"you……"

Yan Ying was speechless for a moment, caught in the middle, torn between two options, and so anxious that she burst into tears.

The scene was instantly chaotic.

The menacing Nie Feng, the mocking Duan Lang, the weeping Yan Ying, and the two unruly youths together create an extremely distorted and absurd picture.

In the distance, atop an ancient pine tree.

"Ha ha ha ha……"

Jiang Chen leaned against the tree trunk, laughing so hard he almost fell over, and the pine cones he was holding in his hand happily dropped to the ground.

"Incredible! This melodramatic ethical drama is a million times more exciting than the previous scene of a bunch of grown men hacking and slashing!"

"Duan Lang, you're a real talent! Today has truly been an eye-opener!"

He laughed as he watched the farce unfolding below like a seasoned spectator, his eyes brimming with amusement.

Seeing the tense atmosphere, Yan Ying could only suppress her tears and turned to look at Nie Feng, her eyes filled with concern and guilt:

"Wind... how have you been these years?"

She reached out her hand, trembling, wanting to touch Nie Feng's face, but stopped in mid-air, as if afraid of touching her son's cold demonic energy.

"Where is your father now? Is he alright?"