Bam! Feng Xin’s fist landed squarely on Mu Qing’s face. Mu Qing was fine of features—a standard pretty boy—and upon impact of Feng Xin’s mighty punch, it was like a persimmon had been smashed on his face—bloody and miserable. Yet he stood his ground, and without so much as a whine, he threw a punch right back.
When the two ascended, they both obtained their own spiritual weapons. And yet when anger overtook their senses, the best tools to release their rage were still their fists and feet. When Feng Xin and Mu Qing fought eight hundred years ago, their martial capabilities were at the same level, and after eight hundred years there was still no difference. Every thrown punch landed; the fistfight was messy and wild, and each of them held their own.
Feng Xin cried angrily, “Don’t think I don’t know your nasty thoughts! The more crimes he commits, the happier you become!!”
Mu Qing spat, “I knew you always looked down on me! What a joke! Do you see yourself?! What right do you have to look down on me? You’re the pot calling the kettle black!”
Lang Qianqiu and Xie Lian hadn’t even had a chance to start their duel, and Feng Xin and Mu Qing were already brawling. Their grudges had been building for a long time; the fight was uncontrolled and riotous, each cursing at the other without hearing what was cursed back, and they certainly had no mind to hear anything Xie Lian had to say. Xie Lian still remembered back when the three of them were younger: Mu Qing had been soft-spoken and well mannered, and if Feng Xin hit anyone it was only under Xie Lian’s orders, and he’d stop when Xie Lian said stop. That was no longer true.
Dragging his injured arm, Xie Lian rushed toward the door, hoping to call for help from any nearby officials. But before he put even a single foot outside the main hall, there was an enormously loud BANG that exploded from the front door. Feng Xin and Mu Qing were shocked into stillness by the booming noise, their eyes alert, looking to where the sound came from.
The front doors to the Palace of Xianle had been kicked open. Beyond the door wasn’t the expansive Grand Avenue of Divine Might of the Heavenly Court but rather a dead blackness.
And from within that darkness, innumerable chilling silver butterflies rushed out toward them.
Chapter 20:
Heavenly Palace Raid, a Short Salutation to Scare the Gods
THERE WAS A CONFUSION of twinkling silver light, and Xie Lian’s unthinking reaction was to block with his hand. Ruoye, who was always wrapped around his wrist, would attack automatically if dire circumstances required it. Yet not a single silver butterfly attacked him; instead, they flew around him to furiously charge the two behind who had been fighting just moments before.
Feng Xin and Mu Qing had suffered before at the hands of those wraith butterflies—they knew how powerful they were and didn’t dare to be careless. In only a blink, they’d both raised their hands at the same time and cried, “Shield!”
Millions of silver butterflies surged toward them, flapping their wings to summon blasting winds, but there was an invisible wall blocking them. The butterflies smashed against it like a tempest, like the battering of hail, and white lights flared from the friction with fiery sparks. The two had cast a spell to protect themselves, but even against a magical shield, the wraith butterflies were forceful and relentless, as crazed as moths confronting a flame. Despite mounting that spiritual defense, the two were pushed back by the relentless barrage of butterflies.
A moment of carelessness would give the enemy the upper hand. If they didn’t release the shield, the butterflies would continue to push closer. If they did, there’d still be no chance for them to grab for their weapons before the swarm overtook them. Both Feng Xin and Mu Qing mentally groaned, gritting their teeth to hang on. Feng Xin stole a glance and saw Xie Lian was still standing right where he had been, with his head lowered. Not knowing what was wrong, he shouted to him.
“Your Highness, be careful! Don’t just stand there—come behind the shield!”
And yet, when Xie Lian turned his head, not a single hair upon it had been harmed. He frowned. “Huh?”
The two looked closely and almost spat blood on the spot from their furious shock. Xie Lian was staring at them in blank confusion, a wraith butterfly held in one hand. Earlier, when the butterflies were gusting through like wild winds, there was one that was a little slow and couldn’t keep up with the rest. As it flapped arduously in front of Xie Lian, he had a simple thought: that poor little silver butterfly was working really hard, but it couldn’t fly anymore. And so he unthinkingly extended his palm just beneath it. Wings flapping happily, that silver butterfly had landed on his palm and now wouldn’t leave.