A Farmer's Journey To Immortality

Chapter 570: Fortune Flames P1

The battle had quickly turned one-sided.

Shuan’s breath came out heavy and ragged as he staggered backward.

The two 2nd Order Sentient Bloodfiends stood a few meters away, their glowing green eyes fixed coldly on him. Their rugged bodies gleamed faintly, covered in both Spirit and Qi-based Essence Equations that pulsed like veins.

Unlike the lower-ranked Fiends, these two had been made for true combat — their movements sharp, fluid, and almost human. They both had subroutine Neural Link Fabric embedded in their flawed and fragmented souls, which made them even more lethal and cunning.

Shuan swung his hand and summoned a blade of compressed wind, sending it slicing toward them. But one of the Bloodfiends simply raised its arm, coating it with red Spirit essence before blocking the attack head-on. The wind blade shattered with a loud crack, leaving only a gust of air behind.

“Whatever you two lost in the looks department, you sure made up for it with your strength, didn’t you? You uglyass puppets,” Shuan cursed and leapt back, only for the second Bloodfiend to appear right behind him in a blur of motion.

Before he could even turn, the puppet’s wooden leg came crashing into his side. The impact threw him across the clearing, smashing him into a pile of roots. Shuan grunted, rolling on the ground as dust rose around him.

He coughed and wiped the blood from his lip. “Alright… fine… I shouldn’t call you uglyass. You have good asses. Satisfied?”

The Bloodfiends didn’t respond. They advanced again. Shuan gathered what wind-element Spirit essence he could and slammed his palms together, forming a wind barrier around himself.

The swirling air managed to deflect one of the incoming attacks, but the other Bloodfiend broke through it with a punch so strong that the air itself cracked.

Shuan barely managed to block with his arm, but the force sent him tumbling backward. His spear, which he had finally retrieved after cutting some vines earlier, flew from his grip and landed a few meters away.

One of the Fiends leapt high, landing right in front of him with a thunderous crash. The other followed close behind, its movements too fast for him to react properly.

Shuan dodged one blow, but the next swept his legs clean off the ground. He hit the dirt again, groaning. The Bloodfiend raised its arm, forming a blazing Spirit mark on its palm — a clear sign of a 2nd Order spell.

Shuan’s eyes widened. “Hey, hey! That’s overkill—!”

Before the spell could land, the Fiend’s palm twisted midair, redirecting the blast toward the ground beside Shuan instead. The explosion sent dirt flying but didn’t touch him.

For a moment, Shuan just lay there, blinking in confusion.

He rolled to his feet and sent a wind strike toward the puppet’s chest, but the other one intercepted it easily, closing the gap and slamming a heavy fist into his shoulder. Pain shot through his arm, and he gritted his teeth, stumbling back.

Again, the Fiend could have broken his arm with that hit — but it didn’t. The strength behind it had been pulled back at the last moment.

As the fight dragged on, Shuan started noticing a pattern. Every time the Fiends landed a blow, they avoided lethal spots. Every time they prepared to use a dangerous spell, they altered its direction at the last second. Even when one of them pinned him down and raised its clawed hand, the strike never came.

Instead, the puppet simply gave him a shove that sent him rolling again.

It was then that Shuan understood.

He wiped the blood from his mouth and laughed weakly. “So that’s how it is, huh?”

The Bloodfiends stood still, as if waiting for him to continue.

Shuan looked down at his torn clothes, his bruised arms, and his swollen cheek. One of his eyes had nearly closed from the repeated hits, and his breathing was rough, but his Spirit Sense told him that the puppets weren’t trying to kill him.

They were only meant to beat him up — to teach him a lesson.

He sighed and dropped his stance. His shoulders slumped as he raised both hands in surrender.

“Alright, alright! I give up!” he said loudly, his voice echoing through the quiet clearing. “I… I give up. Master Aksai, can you come out now?”

The two Bloodfiends froze at his words. Their glowing eyes flickered once before dimming slightly. They lowered their arms and stepped back in unison.

Shuan groaned softly, rubbing his aching ribs as he sat on the ground.

“Couldn’t you have just come out and said hello like a normal person, Master…” he muttered to himself, wincing when he moved his jaw.

“Kekeke.”

A faint chuckle echoed through the air, carried by the wind — warm and familiar. And Shuan couldn’t help but smile, even through the pain. A figure quietly appeared a few metres away from him.

Aksai stood there, hands clasped behind his back, his dark robes fluttering slightly in the lingering breeze. His expression was calm, almost casual, but his sharp eyes took in everything—the broken vines, the faint traces of Spirit essence, and Shuan’s beaten state.

He looked at Shuan for a moment before speaking, his tone mild but steady.

“You seem to be doing fine,” Aksai said, the corner of his lips curling into a faint smile.

“Congratulations on your breakthrough into the Foundation Establishment realm, little Shuan.”

Shuan blinked, his bruised face lighting up with surprise and joy. He straightened his back despite the soreness in his body and bowed deeply. “Thank you, Master!” he said, his voice filled with excitement and pride.

Aksai didn’t reply right away. Instead, he let his Spirit Sense spread out, the invisible pressure rolling across the clearing like a calm wave. The vines on the ground rustled faintly as his energy passed through them, brushing over Shuan’s body.

Shuan felt the familiar touch of his master’s energy probing through his Spirit Veins and immediately lowered his defences, allowing Aksai full access.

He stood still, eyes closed, while Aksai examined his cultivation base.