I Have the Martial Arts Heavenly Eye in the Storm Riders

Nie Feng remained calm, showing no offense whatsoever to Duan Shen's sarcastic remarks.

He simply smiled:

"Brother Wu is right, we're family, we don't need to speak like that."

"No one can live in peace until Indra is eliminated."

Duan Shen snorted, turned his head away, and said no more.

The sect leaders below the hall suddenly realized—

It turns out that Nie Feng, Duan Shen, and Duan Wu are brothers!

In an instant, many sect leaders' gazes toward Nie Feng subtly changed.

The awe I felt for the "martial arts legend" was now tempered with a touch of worldly closeness and friendliness.

Some people offered a gesture of greeting, while others nodded with smiles.

After all, being related to the two leaders by blood is always a good thing in public.

Nie Feng returned the greetings one by one, his expression gentle.

however--

The moment his gaze swept across the hall, his demonic eyes, which had undergone the baptism of the Demon Heart Crossing, suddenly narrowed.

Xu Fu...

The old man's aura was extremely strange—

On the surface, he appeared calm and composed, but beneath the demonic eye, a vast and unfathomable power was hidden deep within his body.

Nie Feng frowned slightly.

Such cultivation is something that ordinary practitioners of magic could never possess.

However, if this person is indeed Indra, his aura is completely different, and no flaw can be discerned.

He couldn't quite put his finger on what was wrong... but his intuition told him that this "Xu Fu" was definitely not simple.

He remained outwardly calm, but secretly he made a deep impression on the sorcerer.

All the heroes in the hall gasped in astonishment.

Nameless, Bu Jingyun, and Nie Feng, three legends of the martial arts world, have gathered here.

With such a formidable force, let alone Indra, even if a god or Buddha descended to earth, it would be difficult for them to fare well.

A barely perceptible glint of something unusual flashed in Xu Fu's eyes, then disappeared.

He sighed deeply, his voice filled with endless regret:

"Now that you two, Feng and Yun, have arrived, I will no longer conceal anything."

He looked around, his expression serious.

"That wicked disciple created a technique called the Sacred Heart Technique, whose power is unfathomable—it has several tribulations, including the Eye-Shocking, Evil Blood, Heavenly Heart, and God-Slaying Tribulations, as well as four ultimate techniques: Frosty Heaven, Profound Ice, Ten Thousand Blades Piercing Clouds, and Emperor Heaven's Mad Thunder."

"In addition, there is the 'Heavenly Palace Illusion' which can construct illusions and is extremely troublesome."

"His movement techniques are even more amazing—'Seven Realms of Absolute Limits' can make his body disintegrate into dust, and 'Ascending to Immortality' makes his steps ethereal and impossible to grasp."

"There is also a move called the 'Sacred Heart Mantra of the Ocean,' which can forcibly steal other people's power; it is extremely insidious."

He paused, his tone becoming even more somber:

"However—no matter how strong your martial arts are, there are always weaknesses."

"Although that wicked disciple has a high level of cultivation, he is extremely arrogant at heart. He regards everyone in the world as ants and does not think that anyone can fight him."

"This arrogant disdain for everything—is his most fatal weakness."

The hall was deathly silent.

It was as if even the crackling of the fire was abruptly cut off by this heavy title and bizarre martial arts.

The silence did not last long.

"Scattered like dust..."

Su Mohan, the leader of the Qingcheng Sect, murmured softly, his throat feeling as if it were stuffed with a handful of dry sand, his voice trembling and incoherent.

"Is this...is this even human? Even if we gather a thousand troops, what use would it be if our swords clashed in the dust?"

Fear spread silently among them like a plague.

Ji Lingshuang, the leader of the Emei Sect, had a livid face and gripped her whisk tightly.

"In my forty years of wandering the martial world, I have never heard of anyone who could turn their physical body into nothingness... Such a method is no longer martial arts, but sorcery!"

"Whether it's sorcery or not is hard to say—"

Duan Qianshan, the leader of the Diancang Sect, gave a wry smile and placed the long sword at his waist across the table.

"But one thing is certain—our weapons are no different from firewood sticks in front of them."

"Senior Xu Fu."

Among the crowd, Bai Changfeng, the leader of the Kunlun Sect, with his white hair, smiled bitterly, speaking very slowly, revealing a bitter sense of utter despair.

"You say his arrogance is a weakness, but that weakness is reserved for the top experts. To us, what flaw is that?"

He glanced around at his pale-faced colleagues, and his self-deprecating humor grew stronger:

"He sees all things as ants—because in his eyes, we really are ants."

"We rushed here full of enthusiasm, but in the end, we probably won't even be worthy of his attention—we'll just be a pile of cannon fodder that can be wiped out at any time."

The murmurs rose like mosquitoes, but they were no longer as bold and spirited as before; instead, they were filled with a chilling sense of dejection and fear.

The crowd's eyes flickered, and their grip on their weapons loosened slightly.

Huashan Sect Leader Liu Qingyun's face was gloomy, his fingers unconsciously stroking the hilt of his sword:

"I came here thinking I was going to hunt down a scoundrel of the martial arts world... but now it seems like I'm digging my own grave."

"Sect Leader Liu, please be careful with your words!"

Zhao Yuanlang of the Kongtong Sect lowered his voice and glanced at Duan Shen and Duan Wu, who were above him.

"If the two alliance leaders were to hear this—"

"So what if I hear it?"

Liu Qingyun sneered, his voice low but unyielding:

"Am I not telling the truth? Which of you here doesn't think the same way?"

No one answered.

Silence is the best answer.

In this mansion in Wentian Town, at this so-called "anti-heaven" gathering, they clearly smelled the scent of death for the first time.

That's not the heroic act of dying on the battlefield—

Instead, it is a desolate scene, like dust being crushed underfoot without leaving a trace.

however--

Faced with this scene of utter devastation, Nie Feng and Bu Jingyun remained calm and composed, showing no sign of emotion whatsoever.

The bloody battle of the past, and the many unpredictable aspects of Indra's nature, have long since been stripped of their mystery in their eyes.

The terrifying prospect of "turning into dust" is merely a necessary scene on the path of destiny.

Bu Jingyun leaned against a stone pillar, arms crossed, eyes closed, as if the surrounding fear and clamor were all an illusion.

Nie Feng stood with his hands behind his back, a faint smile playing on his lips, his long hair rising and falling silently in the breeze.

Two powerful figures from different generations stood side by side in the hall, like pillars of stability in the sea—

In a vast ocean of despair that could collapse at any moment, a calm and undisturbed island was carved out.

Ordinary people regard them as gods and demons, but they regard them as nothing more than ordinary people.

Even if Jianghu is just cannon fodder, this is ultimately just another game that we must face.

"Thump!"

Duanwu slammed his hand on the table, sending sandalwood shards flying everywhere!

"Have you argued enough?"

The young man's eyes flashed like lightning, sweeping over the bewildered faces, a sneer of utter contempt playing on his lips.

"Since we've all gathered under this banner of rebellion, our lives are no longer our own!"

"Emperor Shitian is a true god. If we sweep across him with these tens of thousands of iron blades, we can tear off several pounds of flesh!"

He suddenly stood up and slammed his fist on the table—the entire rosewood table shattered instantly!

"Anyone who continues to wag their tongues and boost the morale of others—don't blame my fist for not leaving the heads of those who disrupt our army's spirit!"

The hall fell into a deathly silence.

Several sect leaders opened their mouths in protest, but ultimately lowered their heads in the face of the boy's almost tangible killing intent, daring not to utter another word.

Duan Shen rose leisurely, straightened his dark red robe with dragon motifs, and spoke calmly, yet with an aura of chilling pressure:

"Is Indra strong? Yes! But his greatest strength isn't his unpredictable movements—it's that you all scared yourselves to death first."

"Since the great seal of my Anti-Heaven Alliance is pressed here on this far northern ice plain, there is no reason for us to retreat even a step."

"In this battle, my brother and I will lead the charge."

Duan Shen stood with his hands behind his back—

At such a young age, his arrogant and domineering spirit, which seemed to encompass mountains and rivers, subtly overshadowed many established martial arts masters.

"Anyone who dares to back down will ruin the alliance's grand plan."

The boy's voice echoed in the hall, revealing a reckless, all-or-nothing arrogance:

"As I, the leader of this alliance, have fought my way here, I have killed no fewer than a thousand of the Heavenly Gate's henchmen."

"Whether it turns to dust or smoke—anyone who dares to block my path will be annihilated with a single punch!"

A corner of the banquet.

Xu Fu lowered his head to hide the faint mockery in his eyes, his fingertips gently caressing the cool celadon teacup.

Ignorance is truly the most incurable form of reckless courage in this world.

Looking at the two spirited young men, and then glancing at the two generals with their iron-like expressions, he felt a long-lost sense of melancholy.

In his long, almost stagnant years, he saw too many brilliant and talented young people, and also too many so-called unyielding people.

But in the end—

Without exception, they all turned into a speck of dust on the loess mounds.

What kind of rules, beyond mortal comprehension, are contained behind the Seven Deadly Realms?

That's not just about hiding; it's about wantonly trampling on and reorganizing life forms.

How could these ordinary people understand?

"The leader of the alliance is truly a young hero."

Xu Fu slowly raised his head, his expression shifting to one of benevolent and submissive respect, and bowed in praise:

"With this courage, plus the help of the three mythical figures Fengyun and Wuming, even if that wicked disciple truly possesses extraordinary abilities, he will likely find it difficult to escape this calamity."

His voice was gentle and soothing, revealing no flaw whatsoever.

Duan Shen didn't notice the strange look in Xu Fu's eyes; he waved his hand dismissively.

"Now that things have come to this, let us proceed according to plan—three days later, we will advance from all directions and storm the Heavenly Gate!"

Snow and wind swept across the sky.

The lights of Wentian Town flickered in the dark night of this polar region, like a tiny spark carved out of the icy plains that resembled a primordial beast.

silence--

Yet it also exudes a suffocating restlessness, as if a storm is brewing.

The night was deep and all was quiet.

Ling Shuang lived in a secluded corner, with a towering side pavilion.

Duan Shen sat cross-legged inside the pavilion.

The void around him trembled slightly, and his divine essence, heavy as lead and mercury, rose slowly like the tide within his limbs and bones.

Each breath caused the surrounding air to emit a muffled sound like soft thunder.

Suddenly—

The boy's eyes were not open, and he gently flicked his fingertips towards the void.

The force was as fine as silk, instantly locking the tightly closed window.

crunch--

The heavy wooden window panes were forcibly ripped open by an invisible force, and a gray shadow, accompanied by biting wind and snow, rushed into the room.

The pigeon feathers fluttered and landed steadily on the pitch-black table.

Duan Shen opened his eyes, a flash of brilliance in them.

He reached out and took the small bamboo tube from the pigeon's foot, crushed the sealing wax with his fingertips, and spread the tiny silk thread in his palm.

His gaze darkened slightly.

He stared intently at the handwriting on the silk, his expression shifting unpredictably—ultimately settling into an extremely cold smile.

When you bring your hands together and then open them again, the silk threads turn into dust that dissipates completely in the residual heat of the furnace.

The boy did not speak.

Driven by internal energy, a sound transmission pierced through several thick walls, bypassing numerous eyes and ears, and went straight into the side room.