Heavenly Rebellion: The Human Race's Rise to Prominence-Chapter 22: Feng vs. Yuta

When Feng realized Yuta had been injured by the Ruler of the Blackwood Forest, a spark of hope ignited in his heart. His mind raced to formulate a plan.

"First, I need to understand the extent of his injuries. I'm only at the fifth level of Qi Condensation, and I'm already wounded.

Forcing a direct fight would still likely end in my death.

Even if I force another integration with my Heaven's Pact, I'd only reach the strength of someone at the early sixth level of Qi Condensation."

These thoughts flashed through Feng's mind in an instant.

Without hesitation, he gathered his Darksilver spiritual energy into his palms, shaping it into claw-like projections.

While dashing ahead, he launched a probing attack.

SLASH!

Beams of sharp, steel-like light streaked toward Yuta.

However, Yuta summoned his Misty Dagger, deflecting the attack effortlessly.

"Hmph," Yuta sneered. "There's no need for probing, you trash.

We're both injured, and I may not know how strong you are, but I know exactly how powerful Ren was.

At most, he had the strength of someone at the sixth level of Qi Condensation.

If you're struggling against me, you must be around the same level.

Let me remind you—seventh level is a bottleneck, a divide.

No one below it could ever hope to defeat someone like me."

Feng frowned, sensing something was off.

If Yuta was truly as powerful as he claimed, why waste time talking?

A cultivator of his caliber would have already used his strongest techniques to end the battle decisively.

"You should take a break," Feng taunted, smirking.

"Push yourself too hard, and you'll probably keel over first. Don't you think?"

This time, Yuta remained silent.

Feng noticed the subtle change in his breathing—it had slowed, almost as if he was trying to conserve strength.

"You took a direct hit from the Blackwood Ruler.

Even with that protective talisman from Elder Zhou, there's no way you came out unscathed.

That means you're not as strong as you want me to think. You're bluffing," Feng deduced.

He continued, his voice sharp: "Or do you really think I'm as weak as you assume?"

Yuta didn't respond, but his aura flared.

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Blood streaked down his face and body, giving him a ferocious, menacing appearance.

Feng stopped running, turning to face his opponent.

His eyes burned with killing intent.

"What's one more kill?" Feng muttered, a bloody smile spreading across his face.

Pain throbbed in his chest, blood trickled from his wounds, and his shoulders and sides ached with fiery agony.

Yet, somehow, the pain made him feel more alive than ever.

[Warning: The host is in a state of confusion due to severe injuries. The system recommends immediate escape!]

Feng scowled. "If you're not going to give me decent advice, at least try to motivate me."

[Understood. The system believes the host will overcome this life-and-death situation!]

"Is this thing trying to pick a fight with me?," Feng muttered, dismissing the message.

He refocused on the situation at hand.

Yuta smirked. "What? ready to die you broken soul trash?"

"If I run, I'll die anyway," Feng replied coldly.

"Elder Zhou is here, and the Ruler doesn't owe me any favors.

That leaves me with one choice—to go through you."

"Hmmp, we'll see if you can keep up with those bragging words," Yuta said as he dashed forward.

"Raincloud Art: Misty Drizzle!" Yuta bellowed, unleashing a familiar technique.

Mist spread through the area, shrouding it in a dense fog.

Within the mist, spectral daggers materialized and shot toward Feng with ruthless precision.

But this time, Feng was prepared. "You've used this technique twice now.

Did you think I wouldn't figure out how to counter it?"

Darksilver energy surged into Feng's eyes, turning them a distinct, glowing gray.

With his enhanced vision, he could see through the mist, spotting the spectral daggers targeting his injuries.

"Bastard," Feng hissed, dodging the daggers with split-second precision.

He even tried to catch one, but as his hand made contact, the dagger dispersed like mist—leaving behind a sharp sting, as if he'd been cut.

"Oh?" Yuta's voice cut through the fog.

"You've figured out how to see through the mist?

Unfortunately, that won't be enough to beat me."

Before Feng could respond, Yuta vanished from sight.

SLASH!

Feng barely dodged, craning his neck just in time.

He countered by slamming his palm toward Yuta's dagger, deflecting it.

Using the opening, Feng launched a powerful kick aimed at Yuta's waist.

BOOM!

Yuta disappeared again, reappearing behind Feng in an instant.

With a cold gleam in his eye, he drove his Misty Dagger toward Feng's shoulder.

"Let's see what you've got," Yuta sneered, his voice dripping with confidence as he dashed forward, the ground trembling faintly under the force of his Qi.

"Raincloud Art: Sea of Mist!" he roared, his voice echoing through the battlefield.

Instantly, a thick, oppressive fog burst forth, swirling around them like a living entity.

The mist was not just concealment—it carried an eerie energy that seemed to seep into Feng's skin, chilling him to the bone.

The fog spread rapidly, devouring the surroundings and blocking out all light.

It was as if the world had been swallowed into an endless gray void.

Within the mist, faint whispers seemed to drift, disorienting and unsettling.

Then came the unmistakable sound—a metallic hum, sharp and cutting, as spectral daggers materialized, floating menacingly within the fog.

Feng tensed as the daggers began to move.

Their speed was terrifying, streaking toward him with ruthless precision.

Each dagger seemed to carry a lethal intent, aimed directly at his weakest points.

When Feng realized what was happening, a cold shiver ran down his spine.

It wasn't just fear—it was a sense of impending doom, a chilling awareness that he was staring death itself in the face.

Every instinct screamed at him to run, to flee and preserve what little life he had left.

But there was nowhere to go.

If he hesitated now, even for a moment, there would be no escape.

He would die here, his dreams, his struggles—all of it ending in vain.

Gritting his teeth, Feng forced himself to push through the fear.

The trembling in his legs subsided, replaced by a feeling of letting go.

"System... integrate!"

The moment the command left his lips, his body began to shift.

A surge of pain ripped through him, every muscle and bone in his frame twisting and contorting.

Black hair began to sprout from his skin, thick and coarse, with streaks of metallic silver running through it.

His hands morphed into claws, razor-sharp and glinting ominously, while his teeth elongated into vicious fangs that seemed made for tearing flesh.

His pupils turned to slits, glowing with a predatory, gray luminescence that radiated cold ferocity.

A powerful, oppressive spiritual energy erupted from Feng's body like a tidal wave, spreading outward and shaking the very air around him.

The ground beneath his feet cracked and splintered under the weight spiritual energy.

[WARNING!! THE HOST'S WILL IS CURRENTLY BEING CONSUMED BY THE BLACKWOOD ALPHA WOLF. THE SYSTEM STRONGLY RECOMMENDS THE HOST TERMINATE THE TRANSFORMATION IMMEDIATELY.]

The system's cold, mechanical voice rang in Feng's mind, but he ignored it entirely.

He didn't have the luxury to hesitate.

He understood the risk—he could feel the Blackwood Alpha Wolf's will clawing at his mind, trying to take control.

But if he didn't take this gamble, he would die here and now.

"If I have to risk it" Feng growled under his breath, his voice deeper and more guttural.

"If I die without trying, what's the point? If I want to become someone truly strong, then I'll have to become someone who can face death with a smile on my face!"

Across the battlefield, Yuta froze in place.

His eyes narrowed as he watched Feng's transformation unfold.

The oppressive spiritual energy radiating from Feng made the air around him heavy.

For the first time in the fight, a flicker of hesitation crossed Yuta's face.

"What the hell happened to that brat?" he muttered under his breath, his grip tightening on his Heaven's Pact.

Despite his bravado earlier, Yuta knew the truth of his own condition.

The attack from the Blackwood Ruler had left him far more injured than he'd let on.

The protective talisman from the Elder had saved his life, but it hadn't left him unscathed.

His body ached with every movement, and his spiritual energy was far from stable.

At best, Yuta could barely muster the strength of a cultivator at the peak of the sixth level of Qi Condensation.

That should have been enough to handle someone like Feng, especially with Yuta's superior combat experience.

But the pressure radiating from Feng now made him feel something he hadn't felt in years—unease.

"Did I mess up?," Yuta muttered, wiping blood from his brow as it dripped into his eyes.

His injuries throbbed painfully, and he felt his cultivation base being pushed to the limit to maintain his technique.

Feng didn't say anything.

His glowing gray eyes locked onto Yuta, the feral grin on his face revealing his sharp fangs.

His breath came in low, guttural growls, his aura surging with each exhale.

Blood still seeped from his injuries, but he seemed oblivious to the pain.

The two cultivators stood motionless, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a blade.

"KILL!!!" Feng screamed at he dashed forward