MTLNOVEL Chapter 330: One Against A Hundred Thousand
Her cheeks turned crimson. She stood there, stunned for a moment, before nodding and stepping away, casting a glare at Fan Ying before leaving alongside Dong Tao.
Fan Ying watched them disappear, then turned back to Feng Fan. "You really are a charming boy, aren't you?"
Feng Fan sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I try. So, when do we leave?"
"No rush," she said. "The battle will take place in the same location as the previous challenge. For now, just cultivate. I'll call for you when the time comes."
Feng Fan looked up at the sky, where Long Liu had vanished.
"Great," he muttered. "More time to prepare for a fight I never wanted."
But somewhere deep inside, he felt a familiar stir of excitement. Because even if he complained, he still lived for the thrill.
He wanted to test his new arrays in a battle.
In the weeks leading up to the challenge, Feng Fan didn't spend his time in cultivation. Instead, he dove headfirst into experimentation.
There was no record of tier 9 arrays in all of Red Pole's archives. If he wanted power, he had to invent it.
Like a mad alchemist driven by obsession, Feng Fan turned the quiet halls of the Dao Seeking School into a storm of spiritual energy, wild theories, and dangerous tests.
Explosions occasionally echoed through the mountains. Strange formations would flicker and vanish in the dead of night. Disciples began whispering about a ghost who cackled maniacally under the moon, drawing strange sigils into the air.
And then, the day of the challenge arrived.
This time, there was no grand procession of cultivators and flying vessels. No roars of a hundred thousand cultivators shaking the skies. Only two people stepped forward, Feng Fan and Fan Ying.
Together, they left the Dao Seeking School and returned to the same desolate planet where Red Pole had crushed the Obsidian Court not long ago. The hundred envoys of the Intergalactic Council waited there in silence.
As the pair approached, murmurs rippled among the crowd of envoys. Most wore expressions of confusion or disbelief. The only one who remained calm was an envoy from the Dao Seeking School. He knew why only two people had come.
A tall man holding a staff stepped forward, brows furrowed. "Where is your army?" he asked. "Surely you're not here to surrender?"
Before Fan Ying could answer, laughter erupted from across the field. The voice belonged to a woman with jade-like skin and flowing black hair—elegant, arrogant, and utterly amused.
It was Song Xiaohui, one of the two rulers of Green Mountain, the civilization that challenged them today.
"I expected some pride from Red Pole, at least," she said, her eyes flashing with ridicule. "But I suppose your victory against the Obsidian Court was a fluke. Since you've chosen surrender, we'll accept your seat without bloodshed."
Fan Ying's eyes grew cold. "Who said anything about surrendering?" she said, her tone as sharp as frost. "We're ready to fight."
Song Xiaohui blinked. "You mean… just the two of you?"
She scanned them again. Fan Ying was strong—her aura made it clear she was a peak Transcending Tribulation cultivator, and a very strong one, at that. But even she couldn't take on a hundred thousand elite cultivators. Not to mention, many of them were in the same realm as her.
And then there was the boy.
Dao Seeking realm. Young. Smiling like an idiot.
A joke.
But Feng Fan was the one who replied, not Fan Ying. Still smiling, he said with confidence. "You're mistaken. This isn't two against a hundred thousand. It's one."
Song Xiaohui furrowed her brows. "Yes, I know. You're clearly not—"
He raised a hand to stop her. "Elder Ying won't be fighting. I, Feng Fan, am more than enough to kill you all."
The words were spoken with such clarity, such certainty, that for a moment, silence reigned.
And then—
"You arrogant bastard!" the man beside Son Xiaohui growled.
He Peizhi, Song Xiaohui's right hand and Green Mountain's top cultivator, could no longer contain his fury. His cultivation surged, distorting the space around him, and in the blink of an eye, he launched a furious punch directly at Feng Fan.
"No, stop!" Song Xiaohui shouted. "He Peizhi!"
Too late. She realized the trap.
'They're baiting us to break the rules!'
According to the council's law, if a cultivator made the first strike outside of the official duel, it meant instant disqualification.
Song Xiaohui clenched her teeth. 'Damn it! I knew his temper would ruin everything! They planned this! That woman is just here to protect the brat. Once we attacked, she'd intervene, and we'd lose—!'
But then… Fan Ying didn't move.
She stood perfectly still, arms crossed, not even glancing at the attack.
'She's not…?'
Before she could process it, He Peizhi's punch struck Feng Fan head-on.
Or so he thought.
There was no explosion of blood from Feng Fan. No shattered bones. No dying scream.
Instead, He Peizhi was launched backward like a broken arrow. He hit the ground hard, coughing blood, his arm twisted at grotesque angles, bones shattered.
Feng Fan remained exactly where he had been, smiling faintly. Not a scratch on him.
He dusted his robes lazily.
"Next," he said, voice casual. "Or are you all going to attack at once?"
Song Xiaohui stared at Feng Fan, stunned. Her mouth hung open, eyes wide in disbelief. A Dao Seeking realm cultivator had just sent one of their strongest warriors flying effortlessly.
And worst of all… she had no idea how he'd done it.
Her gaze shifted toward Fan Ying, who remained as calm. 'It must've been her. She must have prepared something in advance…'
Song Xiaohui let out a bitter laugh, masking her confusion with feigned composure. "So this was your plan all along," she said, facing Fan Ying. "Provoking us to strike first so we'd be disqualified."
Before Fan Ying could respond, Feng Fan let out a quiet sigh and gave Song Xiaohui a flat look, as if she were an idiot.
'People really do love to overthink things…'
"Lady," Feng Fan said, cutting through her thoughts, "I don't want you to be disqualified. Can we just get on with this already? I'd like to finish up and go home."