The rest of the journey was smooth, with no further trouble except for Fu Mo Xin’er’s shift from warmth to coldness toward Chu Feng.
They not only reached the Nether Ice Palace without issue but also located where Fu Mo Xin’er’s brother was imprisoned.
Her brother, having failed to rescue Little Fish, was locked in a death cell by the palace’s forces.
The death cell was a brutal formation.
Those inside were slowly refined, enduring agony before becoming cultivation resources for the palace.
Notably, the cell’s outer defenses were lax.
With Chu Feng’s skills, infiltrating was easy.
Guards stood outside, but within, only the refining formation operated, unmanned.
Thus, Chu Feng finally saw Fu Mo Xin’er’s brother.
Like her, his appearance was exceptional, a paragon among men.
Simply put, he was strikingly handsome, with an extraordinary aura, even exuding a kingly presence.
His looks alone suggested a promising future.
His appearance could charm many women.
In the martial world, strength reigned, and women valued power over looks.
Unless the man was exceptionally handsome.
Fu Mo Xin’er’s brother was such a man, capable of captivating women with his face alone.
The cell held many prisoners, most now dead, reduced to withered bones.
Only a dozen or so survived, tormented by the formation, most unconscious yet wailing in pain.
But Fu Mo Xin’er’s brother was an exception.
Though trapped and bound by the formation’s power, he sat calmly in a corner, engrossed in a book.
He was so absorbed that Fu Mo Xin’er’s soft calls went unheard.
This panicked her.
Though the cell was unguarded inside, guards were outside.
She dared not shout, fearing they’d hear.
Curious, Chu Feng wondered what book could captivate him so.
Using his Heavenly Eyes, he looked closer.
His face darkened with disbelief.
It wasn’t a martial technique or cultivation method but a common folktale.
Folktales varied, some about heroes, others historical biographies.
Most were fabricated nonsense.
But the one her brother read was the most scandalous kind.
An adult-oriented folktale.
Even such tales typically focused on romance between men and women.
Yet this one depicted affection between men, not brotherly bonds, but romantic love.
Chu Feng had never seen such a book.
Goosebumps rose, and he felt uneasy.
Looking at Fu Mo Xin’er’s handsome, refined brother, a phrase came to mind: a beast in gentleman’s clothing.
“What do we do? My brother’s lost in his folktale again. He gets so focused, he won’t hear unless you shout.”
Fu Mo Xin’er whispered to Chu Feng.
“Are you daft?”
“Can’t you use secret transmission?”
Chu Feng gave her a disdainful glance.
“Oh, right.”
Realizing her oversight, Fu Mo Xin’er complied.
Secret transmissions were audible only to the recipient.
But volume varied.
Fu Mo Xin’er, heeding Chu Feng, likely used a loud voice.
Her brother, engrossed in his book, jolted as if startled, letting out a scream.
“My sister, you’re finally here!”
Seeing Fu Mo Xin’er, he leapt with childlike joy to the cell’s edge.
“Where’s Grandma? She didn’t come?”
His face soon grew grave.
He knew Fu Mo Xin’er alone couldn’t save him.
“Grandma says it’s your fault and won’t help.”
“But don’t worry, brother, I brought help.”
“He’s a Dragon-Mark Saint-Cloak World Spiritist. He can free you.”
Fu Mo Xin’er pointed to Chu Feng.
“Him?”
“Who’s he?”
Her brother eyed Chu Feng with undisguised contempt and doubt.
“He’s the one I told you about, from the ancient Heaven-Swallowing Beast’s belly.”
Fu Mo Xin’er explained.
“That fool?”
Learning Chu Feng’s origin, her brother’s disdain deepened.
Buzz—
Chu Feng opened his palm, releasing a glowing orb.
It hit the cell’s wall, corroding it, soon forming an exit.
Her brother hurriedly stepped through, amazed to escape so easily.
“Wow, no wonder the beast swallowed you. A true genius!”
“Your spirit techniques rival Grandma’s.”
His attitude flipped, his eyes now sparkling with admiration.
Chu Feng had seen such adoration only in women’s eyes.
A man looking at him this way unnerved him.
“I’m Fu Mo Shao Yu. How may I address you, brother?”
Fu Mo Shao Yu clasped his fists, his demeanor a stark contrast to before.
“I’m Chu Feng, pleased to meet you, Brother Shao Yu.”
Chu Feng returned the gesture.
“Pleased, pleased. Brother Chu Feng, these people are suffering too.”
“Can you save them as well?”
Fu Mo Shao Yu pointed to the others tormented by the formation.
“Of course.”
“But Brother Shao Yu, do you know where Little Fish is held?” Chu Feng asked.
Since entering the palace, he’d searched for her but was hindered by the complex formations.
He hadn’t found her.
“Little Fish?”
Surprised by the name, Fu Mo Shao Yu looked to his sister for answers.
“Brother, Little Fish might be someone Chu Feng knows.”
“So he wants to save her.”
Fu Mo Xin’er said.
“Really?”
“That’s unlikely. Little Fish grew up in the Heaven-Swallowing World. You’re an outsider, Brother Chu Feng. How could you know her?”
Fu Mo Shao Yu found it improbable.
“Brother Shao Yu, do you know where she is?”
Chu Feng pressed.
“I know, but…”
“Brother Chu Feng, give up. She’s in the main hall of the Nether Ice Palace.”
“She’s likely dead already.”
“Even if alive, you can’t save her.”
“Going there is suicide.”
Fu Mo Shao Yu said, looking at Chu Feng.
