Chapter 69: Project Of The East Wall

One by one, Bia Zhen's lackeys crumpled to the ground, their groans silenced by the oppressive heat radiating from Jiang Feng's flames. His strikes were swift and unrelenting, breaking bones with every calculated blow. None of them managed to put up even a semblance of a fight. His approach was straightforward—no theatrics, no unnecessary flourishes—just raw, brutal efficiency that drew blood at every turn. Every move screamed precision and brutality, as if he were venting the weight of his past humiliations with each crack of bone.

Finally, Jiang Feng emerged from the cage of blue flames, his aura simmering down but still pulsing with an intensity that seemed almost alive. His eyes burned with an untamed, feral light that bordered on exhilaration. Across from him, Bia Zhen, the once-smirking young master, now stood trembling, his face pale and his confidence shattered.

"W-wait! Let's talk about this!" Bia Zhen stammered, stumbling back a step. His voice quivered, the swagger gone, replaced by raw fear.

Moments ago, his lackeys had been full of bravado. Now, they were lying in heaps on the ground, groaning in pain, with passersby muttering in disbelief. Bia Zhen's mind raced. Just days ago, they could have easily handled Jiang Feng. But today... Today was a nightmare. Not one of them had lasted more than a few seconds. It was absurd.

Jiang Feng's expression darkened as he stepped forward, each movement deliberate, his presence overwhelming. "You wanted to teach me a lesson, didn't you?" His voice was low and cold, carrying a weight that made Bia Zhen's knees threaten to buckle. "Let me show you how it's done."

He remembered the shame of hiding from Bia Zhen and his gang just weeks ago, slipping through alleys like a rat to escape their torment. But now, armed with experience from sparring with Lin Moyi, that shame had been burned away. This moment was his reckoning.

Jiang Feng's fist clenched, ready to deliver the first strike. But before it could connect, the heavy doors of the Ji Emporium swung open with a commanding thud. Several store attendants rushed out, their leader—a stern-faced, middle-aged man with an air of authority—quickly stepping between Jiang Feng and Bia Zhen.

"Enough!" the man said, his voice steady but firm, cutting through the tension like a blade. "This is the Ji Emporium. We will not tolerate such chaos on our grounds."

The man turned to Jiang Feng and gave a respectful bow, his tone softening. "Young Master Jiang, we apologize for this disturbance. Please rest assured that the Ji family does not condone such behavior."

His gaze then shifted to Bia Zhen, and the warmth vanished, replaced by icy disdain. "Young Master Bia, consider this your only warning. Should you disrupt the peace of our establishment again, you will be permanently barred from all Ji properties in the city."

Bia Zhen's face twisted in rage, his lips trembling as if he wanted to retaliate. But no words came. He glared at Jiang Feng with eyes full of hate, the humiliation too much to bear. With a sharp huff, he turned and stormed off. His lackeys, still groaning and battered, were carried away by sympathetic passersby, heading in the direction of the Bia Clan grounds.

"Did you see that? That kid's brutal. He took out Bia Zhen's crew in moments!"

"Forget them—did you see how cleanly he dealt with those four? Not a wasted movement!"

"Haha, serves them right. Bia Zhen's had this coming for ages!"

"Looks like Northern Moon City might have a real contender for the Obsidian Waterfall Realm this year."

The buzz of the crowd was electric, rippling with equal parts astonishment and satisfaction. Meanwhile, Jiang Feng stood silently, dusting himself off. His expression was dark, his emotions tightly coiled beneath the surface. Just as he picked up his pouch, Ji Moran appeared at the door of the Ji Emporium, her posture as poised and composed as ever.

"You could have stopped that long ago," Jiang Feng said, his tone sharp with irritation as his eyes locked on hers.

Ji Moran's lips curled into a faint smile, her gaze calm but inquisitive. "I could have," she admitted lightly. "But I wanted to see how strong you were." Her head tilted slightly, her eyes gleaming with an almost playful curiosity. "And I must say, you've exceeded my expectations. Until next time, Jiang Feng. Give my regards to Senior Lin Moyi."

Jiang Feng's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. Slinging his pouch over his shoulder, he turned and walked away from the Ji Emporium, his back straight and his silence cutting. Behind him, Ji Moran's gaze lingered, thoughtful and intrigued.

'It seems Northern Moon City just got a lot more interesting,' she mused, a small, knowing smile gracing her lips as she turned back to her duties, somewhat eager to counter the young man once more.

News of Jiang Feng's clash spread quickly but couldn't reach every corner of the sprawling city. Unbothered by the rumors, Jiang Feng soon arrived at Yumo's blacksmith shop. He hadn't heard from the young smith in some time and wanted to check on the arrangements for the Eastern Wall repairs.

Pushing open the sturdy wooden doors, he saw Yumo hammering away at a short sword, sparks flying with each strike. Behind him stood a polished suit of armor, freshly completed. Yumo was entirely absorbed in his craft, the kind of person who kept to himself and avoided the city's politics. His focus on forging had always impressed Jiang Feng, who admired his talent but noted Yumo's lack of interest in combat or cultivating his strength beyond what was needed for forging.

Yumo finally noticed Jiang Feng's arrival after sometime and set his hammer down, wiping sweat from his brow. A rare, boyish grin spread across his face, catching Jiang Feng off guard.

"What's with that smile?" Jiang Feng asked, his tone direct, betraying how his personality had grown more serious in recent days.

"Good news—and some bad news," Yumo replied, his easygoing nature unfazed. "The Eastern Wall repairs are set to begin tomorrow. I was just finishing this up before coming to find you."

Yumo leaned back against the workbench, launching into the details. "The repairs will take about a month. We'll be working with the Ironwood Sect, along with other blacksmiths. The wall spans hundreds of miles and reaches towering heights, so it's a huge project. The good part? We'll earn 700,000 low-grade spirit stones together. The bad part? There's a beast wave approaching. The Lei Clan and Crimson Sky Pavilion are sending reinforcements, but if the wave is too large or we're caught off guard, there's a real risk of death. We'll be working under constant threat, no breaks."

Jiang Feng listened carefully, his expression unreadable. Yumo's tone was measured—he clearly didn't want to push Jiang Feng into a decision without fully laying out the risks.

"What do you think? It's dangerous, but the pay is solid. I won't blame you if you turn it down," Yumo said, watching Jiang Feng closely.

Before Jiang Feng could respond, a voice echoed in his mind, deep and ancient, with an air of seen more than the world let on.

"Take it," the voice urged.

Jiang Feng's eyes flickered with surprise. "Senior Codex?" he asked internally, feeling a surge of excitement at hearing the voice after so long.

"Take the task," the Codex continued. "I will impart to you a blacksmithing technique from your family. It will be of great use."

Jiang Feng pondered for a moment before nodding. He turned to Yumo, his gaze steady. "It's no problem. I'll take the job. I'll head back to prepare first and meet you here early tomorrow morning."

Yumo smiled in relief. "Sounds good. I'll be ready." Without another word, he returned to his work, the rhythmic pounding of the hammer filling the shop once more as Jiang Feng left to make his preparations.