In the instant Su Jie turned around, he saw a person.
This person was not Wen Ting—it was Feng Hengyi.
No mistake—it was Feng Hengyi.
In their previous match, Su Jie had not actually defeated him. Strictly speaking, he had lost. If the referee hadn’t stopped it in time, Su Jie might have died at Feng Hengyi’s hands.
After that match, Feng Hengyi had recovered in just two days, while Su Jie had lain in bed for a full two weeks before fully healing. This showed the difference in their physical constitutions. Even after advancing to the “Living Dead” realm, he still couldn’t claim that his physical condition surpassed Feng Hengyi’s—at best, he had caught up.
Even now, he was probably still slightly behind.
After all, Feng Hengyi had been developed with the most scientific methods since conception—his foundation was too solid, allowing him to squander it freely.
Feng Hengyi was roughly the same age. Su Jie had no age advantage either.
“What are you doing here?” Su Jie asked calmly, watching Feng Hengyi slowly approach from the woods.
“I never expected you to accomplish so much. I originally thought you were just a loach—incapable of making any real waves,” Feng Hengyi said, his tone highly dismissive. As he walked over, a triangular bayonet appeared in his hand, making no attempt to hide his intention to fight.
“You dare make a move here?” Su Jie stood his ground, watching him approach.
“I’ve disabled all the surveillance here. Even if I kill you, no one will know. Besides, after I kill you, I’ll dispose of your body—I guarantee not even a scrap of flesh will remain. In this world, there are many ways to destroy evidence, so you needn’t worry about that,” Feng Hengyi’s tone shifted again—this time, it sounded like a friend chatting, but the words were chilling, like a cold-blooded psychopathic killer.
In truth, that was exactly his personality.
“Feng Shoucheng raised you to be this way. I wonder if he regrets it, because in your mind, even the bond between father and son is as insignificant as with anyone else,” Su Jie said. A short ruler appeared in his hand—wooden, made of extremely hard ironwood.
This was his weapon of choice, inspired by Zhang Hongqing’s short staff. In China, carrying a dagger was illegal—it counted as a controlled weapon. But carrying a ruler was different.
Of course, a dagger was more lethal. But in Su Jie’s hands, the ironwood ruler was actually more terrifying than a dagger. First, it was longer. Second, it was heavier—one strike could knock a dagger out of an opponent’s hand. Zhang Hongqing had once used this very method against Su Jie.
Now that things had become so complicated, with threats coming from all sides, Su Jie couldn’t afford not to carry a weapon.
The difference between having a weapon and not having one was night and day.
An ordinary person with a dagger could make even three or five fitness trainers think twice about engaging.
Sensing Su Jie’s sharpness, Feng Hengyi stopped at a distance of exactly six paces—very precise. Normally, Su Jie’s kill zone was within five paces, but with the ironwood ruler in hand, that distance extended by one pace.
Feng Hengyi had accounted for the weapon’s reach as well.
This showed that his perception was in no way inferior to Su Jie’s—he had reached the level of true, hair-splitting precision.
“The Living Dead realm does have its tricks.” Feng Hengyi seemed to be searching for an angle of attack. He had already made his move—Su Jie felt as if he were being targeted by some terrifying demon, its perception penetrating every pore. The moment he revealed any opening, it would be met with a thunderous strike.
Feng Hengyi was far more terrifying than he had been in the ring last year.
Much more terrifying.
Yet he still hadn’t reached the “Living Dead” realm—he was a cold-blooded “god.” Looking at his spiritual core, Su Jie could see that Feng Hengyi did not regard him as a fellow being.
That is to say, Feng Hengyi saw himself as a noble species, and all others as alien—he was already a higher life form.
In truth, Su Jie also felt this sense of superiority when facing others. Even when facing someone like Liu Shi—a billionaire magnate—Su Jie psychologically considered himself the more noble being.
But his nobility came across to others as pride, not Feng Hengyi’s naked conviction of being a higher life form.
In other words, Su Jie’s cultivation combined humanity and divinity in a balanced, middle way—the path of enlightened cultivation.
What is an immortal? It is the union of the celestial and the human. Both immortal and human.
“That old man from the Mao family has a very high realm,” Feng Hengyi continued, still probing for Su Jie’s weaknesses. His bayonet vibrated in his hand, ready to fly or thrust at any moment—but he still hadn’t moved.
The two had already begun their life-and-death duel. Neither dared act rashly, because once they did, victory or defeat would be decided in an instant. Last time, when Su Jie was hunted by Zhang Hongqing, the fight hadn’t lasted thirty seconds before Su Jie was in dire straits, nearly killed. He had only escaped thanks to his knowledge of the terrain and his bulletproof vest.
Since then, Su Jie’s cultivation had advanced significantly.
When facing Feng Hengyi now, he no longer felt the same crushing pressure as he had with Zhang Hongqing.
But he also knew that he probably lacked the certainty to kill Feng Hengyi.
Feng Hengyi continued speaking: “That old man from the Mao family told me that I lack some human quality, which is why I can’t step into the Living Dead realm. But I didn’t fall for it. In my view, your so-called Living Dead realm has a major flaw—you always emphasize that you’re still human, that you should preserve your humanity, or that humanity and the Heavenly Way should intermingle on a middle path. Unfortunately, that’s just wishful thinking on humanity’s part. When a caterpillar transforms into a butterfly, does the butterfly still think it’s a caterpillar? Does a butterfly look at a caterpillar and consider it the same species? Now, when you look back at those ape-men from hundreds of thousands of years ago, you don’t consider them your kind either. You probably only recognize those from the Xia and Shang dynasties five thousand years ago—those with civilization—as your kind.”
“What are you trying to say?” Su Jie squinted.
“I’m saying your cultivation is wrong—it doesn’t conform to evolutionary theory,” Feng Hengyi said. “In biological evolution, mammals originally evolved from the ocean. Do you now consider marine life your kind? You have to admit that we have evolved. Even the smallest change means we’ve evolved. Though we retain ninety-nine percent of human characteristics, we are no longer human. So your evolutionary path is wrong. My path is the right one. In biology, species that evolve in the wrong direction ultimately go extinct.”
“What you’re saying has some truth. In the path of biological evolution, no one knows what’s right. Perhaps the entire human evolutionary path is wrong—who knows? In Earth’s billions of years of history, humans, including ape-men, have only existed for a mere million years—that’s incredibly brief. And our true civilization is only a few thousand years old. I can’t say your cultivation—your evolutionary path—is wrong, nor can I say mine is right. Whether it’s right or wrong won’t be known for thousands of years. As a species on the evolutionary path, we are truly insignificant.”
Hearing Su Jie’s response, Feng Hengyi’s killing intent suddenly condensed into a single point. He was somewhat surprised—Su Jie’s answer had been unexpected.
He had assumed Su Jie would either refute him harshly or dismiss him with contempt. He never expected Su Jie to adopt a scientific attitude and engage in academic discussion. In this exchange, Su Jie seemed not to treat him as an enemy, but as a subject of scientific inquiry.
That was terrifying—it meant Su Jie’s emotions were calm, unaffected, doing what needed to be done in any situation.
Su Jie also sensed that Feng Hengyi’s killing intent had coalesced into a single point, ready to strike at any moment.
Feng Hengyi’s earlier speech had been an accusation—that Su Jie’s Living Dead cultivation path was wrong, and his own was correct. Feng Hengyi hadn’t spouted mystical nonsense—he had used evolutionary theory to make his case.
Su Jie hadn’t refuted him, because he genuinely didn’t know whether his cultivation path was right or wrong according to evolutionary theory. He wouldn’t argue for the sake of arguing.
He had now developed a rigorous scientific attitude.
“Then let’s make a small choice for human evolution. I’ll eliminate you. My descendants will continue evolving according to my method. Generation after generation—dozens, hundreds of generations later—my evolutionary path will naturally eliminate yours,” Feng Hengyi said, as if seeing into the future.
As he spoke, his bayonet had already reached Su Jie’s face, thrusting in.
His footwork was a straight line—the shortest distance.
Between two points, the straight line is fastest.
Feng Hengyi’s movements were always like this—unadorned, simple, direct, straight to the point.
Clang!
Su Jie’s ironwood ruler intercepted the bayonet. With a slight parry, he deflected it, then brought the ruler toward Feng Hengyi’s face.
Su Jie’s weapon handling had now reached a level of spirituality. Any weapon in his hands seemed to have its own consciousness—appearing and disappearing at will.
With anyone else, their weapon would have been knocked away by Su Jie’s parry. But not Feng Hengyi’s bayonet—not only did it not fly out, but the recoil transmitted back made Su Jie’s palm go slightly numb.
This showed just how powerful Feng Hengyi was.
Shing!
Feng Hengyi’s bayonet came back, slashing at Su Jie’s wrist.
He could absolutely sever Su Jie’s wrist before the ironwood ruler reached his face.
Su Jie calculated this precisely. His ruler flickered and spun in midair, tracing an arc, and with a sharp sweeping force, he struck hard at the bayonet’s blade.