Chapter 120: My Territory

The students of Purple Cloud Academy fixed their gazes on Shen Qingyun. Some looked on with sympathy, for Shen Qingyun was an outsider, while Shen Yi was a mentor of the Fifth Palace—an obvious disparity in strength. Today, Shen Qingyun was certain to be subdued.

Yet, some students of the Five Palaces at Purple Cloud Academy saw things differently. A group had attacked the two men, only to have one of their own captured in turn. It was like a series of sharp slaps across their faces, and instead of allowing Shen Yi to capture them, they wanted to incapacitate Shen Qingyun outright.

“Are you still not going to choose?” Shen Yi looked directly at Shen Qingyun. The outcome was already decided.

A faint hum filled the air.

Shen Yi’s eyes glowed, merging into twin whirlpools. Two beams of light shot forth, like divine rays striking the center of Shen Qingyun’s brow. In that instant, Shen Qingyun felt something foreign settle in a part of his mind. Slowly, he closed his eyes.

Deep within Shen Qingyun’s mind lay a space resembling a realm, though it remained shrouded in chaos. A small figure appeared there, its features unmistakably those of Shen Yi.

Surveying the space, Shen Yi’s lips curled into a faint sneer. “So, you’re truly at the early Foundation Establishment stage,” he said with a smile.

This chaotic space was where the spirit imprint was born—the most fundamental place aside from the heart’s dantian. Spirit imprints originated here. Shen Yi suspected Shen Qingyun might be playing the part of a wolf in sheep’s clothing, disguising his true cultivation to infiltrate Purple Cloud Academy. But for now, it seemed Shen Qingyun was genuinely at Foundation Establishment, posing no real threat.

“How’s my domain? Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Suddenly, Shen Qingyun’s voice echoed, startling Shen Yi. Before him, a golden miniature Shen Qingyun gradually took shape, adding a radiant touch of gold to the chaotic space.

Shen Yi met his gaze, his smile vanishing as coldness took its place. “You’re not Foundation Establishment?”

Shen Qingyun’s expression remained calm. “No, I am Foundation Establishment.”

“Then how do you possess such abilities?” Shen Yi frowned, perplexed. It defied all logic.

“You can’t freely enter your own soul sea, what kind of master does that make you?” Shen Qingyun sneered, looking at Shen Yi. “Yet you can enter mine. The eye technique you used—is that a divine skill?”

Shen Yi’s pupils contracted sharply, his gaze frozen. He hadn’t expected Shen Qingyun to recognize the eye technique, much less classify it as a divine skill.

It was a reward he had earned at Purple Cloud Academy—the Sacred Eye. Its radiant beams could pierce through mental defenses, reaching deep into the mind, the birthplace of the spirit imprint. But Shen Qingyun called it the soul sea. Shen Yi didn’t understand fully, only knowing that any disturbance there could cause irreversible, potentially fatal damage.

He had once used this very technique to defeat opponents slightly stronger than himself. Yet he also discovered that as one’s cultivation rose, so too did the defenses of this space, making the technique increasingly ineffective.

Gradually, Shen Yi seldom employed it. If not for his reluctance to engage physically with Shen Qingyun today, preferring to force a surrender, he wouldn’t have used it now.

“But your divine skill isn’t much more than that,” Shen Qingyun said, stepping forward. His golden eyes bore an innate pressure. As he advanced, Shen Yi found himself instinctively taking a step back.

Shen Yi’s brow furrowed deeply. The instant Shen Qingyun moved, he felt as if the latter were an invincible deity.

“How dare you underestimate me,” Shen Yi said coldly.

“What else is special about your eye technique?” Shen Qingyun took another step forward, his tone steady.

“If I accidentally kill you, don’t blame me!” Shen Yi’s face darkened. In reality, his eyes shone even brighter. Within Shen Qingyun’s mind, Shen Yi’s form solidified further, a faint halo of light swirling behind him.

Shen Qingyun remained composed, ignoring the changes in Shen Yi’s presence.

Though within Shen Qingyun’s mind, Shen Yi seemed like a god, invincible and imposing.

With a wave of his hand, Shen Yi stirred a tempest within this space, sweeping toward Shen Qingyun.

“Is that all?” Shen Qingyun raised an eyebrow, disdain barely concealed. “If that’s your best, then don’t die yet—I still have business with you.”

With a thought, countless radiant swords coalesced, charging into the storm.

The storm swallowed the swords whole—and then halted.

Shen Yi’s brow tightened as he stared into the tempest, trying to discern the figure beyond it. All he saw were the flickering sword shadows within the storm.

“What are you looking at?”

From the terrifying storm, a golden figure stepped forth—it was Shen Qingyun. Shen Yi’s eyes widened. Such a ferocious storm would have forced him to retreat from Shen Qingyun’s mind, yet Shen Qingyun had crossed it unscathed.

A deadly sword intent burst from Shen Qingyun, aiming straight at Shen Yi’s brow.

Shen Yi’s expression shifted. His body transformed into a streak of spirit light, piercing out of Shen Qingyun’s mind. Before fully escaping, he thought he heard Shen Qingyun whisper, “This is my domain…”

The sword intent did not relent with Shen Yi’s escape. In reality, a sword shadow appeared upon Shen Qingyun’s brow, like a streak of lightning striking Shen Yi’s brow, leaving a faint mark from the outside in.

Shen Yi’s body stiffened suddenly, a buzzing filled his mind. His spirit imprint roared like a beast, sensing danger and ringing alarm bells. The light in his eyes faded as he closed them and collapsed upright.

“Master Shen!!!”

“Instructor Shen…”

The students of the Five Palaces and onlookers all showed panic, their attention fixed on Shen Yi. The Five Palaces’ students rushed to his side. Shen Qingyun slowly opened his eyes and watched Shen Yi through the crowd, his gaze calm.

“Did you kill him?” Feng Chuxun approached, whispering in Shen Qingyun’s ear.

Shen Qingyun glanced at him coolly, shaking his head slightly. A marquis-level cultivator would not die so easily. The sword intent piercing the mind was merely a prelude; the real cause was Shen Yi’s own excessive instinctive reaction.