"Gao Han, you have gone too far! How dare you speak of sparing my life? I will take yours!" Zheng Yunfeng flew into a towering rage, yet the fury did not rob him of his reason. "If I endure this single sword strike—you shall die!"
His shamelessness disgusted Nian Hua and the others, yet it laid bare his unshakable resolve to kill Gao Han.
A cold glint flashed in Gao Han's eyes, intertwined with faint golden radiance. "So be it. I shall await you at the Life-and-Death Platform."
With that, he strode toward the mountain gate, heading straight for the dueling grounds. Fan Xiaoniu and Yue'er followed closely behind him, never straying far.
Within the sect, the killing of fellow disciples was strictly forbidden. Those with irreconcilable grudges had no choice but to settle their scores at the Life-and-Death Platform; to slay a sect brother within the sect's grounds was a crime punishable by death.
Watching Gao Han make for the platform first, Zheng Yunfeng would not be outdone. His figure vanished from the spot, reappearing eight meters away, then vanished again to materialize another eight meters onward.
Each leap covered the exact same distance, yet his direction was utterly unpredictable—a disorienting and maddening technique to behold.
Nian Hua, Xiang Ling, Kang Le, and the others wore grave expressions.
"Has Zheng Yunfeng perfected his Eight-Step Traversal? Can Gao Han defeat him with a single sword strike?" Nian Hua fretted.
"Indeed! Eight-Step Traversal is unpredictable; each step covers eight paces, and no one can guess where he will appear next!" Kang Le shared his concern.
Talents like Gao Han were cherished as treasures by any sect. Duels to the death between fellow disciples were exceedingly rare.
Hua Mei Niang frowned in irritation. "Uncle Li, why did you agree to this? You could have simply forbidden it!"
Li Changtian heaved a deep sigh and shook his head. "I once gave Gao Han my word. Besides…"
He glanced up at the sky, falling silent, then shot into the air toward the Life-and-Death Platform.
"Ugh! That old man always cuts his words short! It's infuriating!" Hua Mei Niang stamped her foot petulantly, her usual allure replaced by the charming pout of a young maiden.
"Junior Sister," Xiang Ling soothed her, "Peak Lord Li acts with profound purpose. Each of the five peak lords possesses great wisdom; none act without reason."
Hua Mei Niang huffed. "Oh, really? Then why did Mother make me conceal my identity and train among the outer disciples half a year ago?"
"Junior Sister, have you forgotten? You begged the peak lord to let you join the outer sect, pouting and pleading the entire time!" Lu Xi, standing behind Xiang Ling, murmured timidly.
"Did I? I can't recall… Well, I'm exhausted! I'm off to find something to eat…"
Nian Hua and the others exchanged helpless glances. What did tiredness have to do with eating?
At last, Nian Hua spoke up. "Enough of this. There was something unusual about Gao Han just now. Do you remember the semi-finals?"
Kang Le's expression turned solemn. "You mean the moment Gao Han lost his senses fighting You Canghai?"
"Precisely. His eyes turned golden then. And just now…" Nian Hua lowered his voice. "I saw golden fighting intent blazing in his eyes."
"Ah… That explains it."
The westernmost reaches of the Misty Sect were where the two men were bound—a region shrouded in gloomy skies, as if a mountain weighed upon every heart.
This was the Death Duel Valley, a canyon at the sect's western edge, perpetually overcast. Thousands of warriors had perished here over the years.
The dueling platforms were hewn from ironstone, an immensely hard material that yielded no metal when refined. Every dueling platform in the Misty Sect was constructed from it, sturdy enough to withstand battles between Sixth Layer True Essence experts without crumbling.
It was the place where disciples settled blood feuds, and more than half of the duels ended in death.
There was only one rule here: the victor lives, the vanquished dies.
Naturally, the terms of victory and defeat were set by the combatants, who signed a life-and-death pact. Once signed, their fates were sealed by the outcome of the duel.
A high-ranking elder stood watch beside every platform, tasked with preventing unfairness—breaches of agreement, or outside interference in the duel. Such elders were among the sect's most powerful cultivators, their cultivation surpassing even that of the sect master, and they were chosen for their unyielding impartiality.
Gao Han and Zheng Yunfeng inscribed their terms upon the pact and signed their names, sealing the duel into effect.
Countless platforms dotted Death Duel Valley. The two men stepped onto one and faced each other, their gazes locked in silent enmity.
Gao Han had observed Zheng Yunfeng's movement technique; Eight-Step Traversal was indeed exquisite, each step covering eight meters with unfathomable directionality.
"Come on! Fight! Kill each other!"
"May you both perish! Hahaha!"
"Quit standing there—are you two cowards afraid? Get off the platform!"
"If you won't fight, get lost and stop ruining my fun!"
Jeers erupted from the crowd below. Many Misty Sect disciples gathered here regularly to watch life-or-death battles, where combatants held nothing back. For them, witnessing such duels offered profound insights into cultivation.
Among the onlookers were both powerful experts and weaker disciples, who came to study techniques and gain combat experience.
Yet Gao Han spotted a particularly formidable figure in the crowd: a lean man dressed in blue, wearing a blue mask that concealed his face. His cultivation was at the Fourth Layer of True Essence, but Gao Han sensed a dangerous aura radiating from him, a tangible killing intent forged by countless slayings.
"Gao Han, your life ends here! Hahaha—you may be strong, but if you cannot land a single strike on me, your power is worthless!" Zheng Yunfeng laughed wildly.
He activated Eight-Step Traversal, his figure flickering and shifting across every corner of the platform.
Gao Han tracked his every move, executing Floating Light and Gliding Shadow to evade each of Zheng Yunfeng's piercing strikes, each sword slash splitting the air.
Gradually, Gao Han detected a flaw in the technique: every time Zheng Yunfeng vanished, his body paused for a split second—less than a heartbeat, yet more than enough for Gao Han's Draw-Sword Strike.
Gao Han used Floating Light and Gliding Shadow to put distance between them, crouched low, and rested his hand upon his hilt, assuming the stance of his Draw-Sword Strike.
He activated his Soul's Eye, foreseeing Zheng Yunfeng's next position.
Zheng Yunfeng reappeared in Gao Han's field of vision. Gao Han drew his sword and struck in one fluid motion.
Clang!
A sword beam blazed brilliantly across the platform, leaving a frosty gash in its wake.
Zheng Yunfeng froze in place, staring in disbelief at the deep, bone-deep wound across his chest.
His meridians were already encased in ice, and the frigid aura was freezing the very life force within him.