Martial God Asura Chapters 66-70: Cultivation Formation Clash and Alliance Tensions

The Azure Dragon School’s inner court buzzed with a new energy. For Chu Feng, who had been contemplating where to safely practice the formidable Imperial Sky Technique, the news brought by Chu Yue and Chu Xue felt like fate itself intervening. The Cultivation Formation—a mystical training ground previously reserved for core disciples—was now open to inner court members, offering a space where pressure multiplied, honing both body and soul with brutal efficiency.

As the trio walked toward the Martial Skill Building, Chu Feng’s Spirit power subtly assessed his companions. Chu Yue, ever diligent, remained stuck at the 4th level of the Spirit realm, a fact that visibly weighed on her. When he inquired, her smile turned strained. “Perhaps my perception is not too great,” she admitted, a shadow crossing her lively features.

Without hesitation, Chu Feng reached into his Cosmos Sack. The appearance of two shimmering Spiritual Beads in his palm made both girls gasp. The dense spiritual energy radiating from the pearls was unmistakable. “Refine these. You will certainly break through,” he said, taking Chu Yue’s hand and pressing the precious beads into it.

“Chu Feng, this is too precious. You’re at the 6th level; you should keep them!” Chu Yue protested, her sense of propriety warring with desperate need.

“If I give it to you, you should take it. I have more,” Chu Feng insisted, his tone leaving no room for refusal as he tucked them into her waist purse. “You could pay me back in the future if you wish.” He meant it as a joke to lighten her burden, but Chu Yue nodded with grave seriousness, a look that told him she would remember this debt.

Noticing Chu Xue’s wide, admiring eyes fixed on her sister, Chu Feng chuckled and produced another Spiritual Bead. “Take this as your first present from your brother.” After a moment’s stunned hesitation and Chu Feng’s playful threat that refusing would mean looking down on him, Chu Xue accepted with radiant joy, wrapping the bead carefully in a handkerchief before storing it away as if it were the world’s greatest treasure.

The moment was broken when Chu Yue’s eyes fell on the sack at his waist. “Your sack seems pretty special…”

“Ha, this is the Cosmos Sack given to me by Su Mei,” Chu Feng said casually, walking ahead. Behind him, he felt the shift in their silence. The distance between them—not of affection, but of status and trajectory—had become palpable. He was moving in realms they could scarcely imagine.

That growing divide was emphasized when they reached the Martial Skill Building. A massive crowd had gathered, but the Wings Alliance badge on Chu Feng’s chest acted like a charm. Grumbles died in throats, and a path cleared before them. At the center of attention was a tall stone stage. Upon it stood an elder, and behind him sat the object of fascination: a dark-green, jade-like house that even Chu Feng’s Spirit power could not penetrate. This was the Cultivation Formation.

The rules were simple and costly: one Saint Spirit Grass for a session, and only one person could enter at a time. The price had deterred everyone, making the crowd mere spectators. For Chu Feng, however, it was perfect. He began moving toward the stage.

“Move, move!” Harsh shouts cut through the murmur. The crowd parted again, this time for a different group. The Sword Alliance had arrived. Among them was Jian Chen, his face contorting with recognition and instant hatred when he saw Chu Feng. But it was the large young man beside him who commanded attention. He shared Jian Chen’s features but radiated the formidable aura of the 9th level of the Spirit realm. This was Jian Fengyi, master of the Sword Alliance.

“Brother, he’s the person that attacked me that day!” Jian Chen snarled.

Jian Fengyi’s gaze locked onto Chu Feng, dense killing intent flooding his eyes. Then, without a word, he moved. His body blurred, disappearing and reappearing directly in front of Chu Feng with terrifying speed. A fist, fueled by the full power of the 9th level, shot toward Chu Feng’s face, disregarding all rules of the school grounds.

Chu Feng’s response was instinctive and calm. A slight curve touched his lips. He stepped forward, shoulder shifting, his own right arm lashing out in a punch meant to meet force with greater force. The air crackled between their closing fists.

“Stop!”

A figure materialized between them. Two powerful hands clamped around Chu Feng and Jian Fengyi’s wrists, halting the blows completely. It was the middle-aged elder from the stage. The strength in that grip—Origin realm—lit up Chu Feng’s awareness. The elder looked at him, astonishment flickering in his eyes. He had felt the power in Chu Feng’s fist, a power that surpassed Jian Fengyi’s despite the two-level gap.

“What is happening?” An older voice rang out. Elder Wang, a senior Martial Skill Building elder with stern authority, emerged from the building. After hearing the report, his eyes first fell on Jian Fengyi. “Fengyi, did you attack first?”

Jian Fengyi faltered, caught by the truth witnessed by hundreds. “I…”

“Okay, just pay attention next time,” Elder Wang said, his tone abruptly gentle. “As a representative character, remember your influence.” He then warmly asked Jian Fengyi’s business and, upon hearing he wished to try the Cultivation Formation, smiled and waved him forward. “Since you came, go ahead.”

The favoritism was blatant. As Jian Fengyi passed Chu Feng to ascend the stage, he leaned in, his voice a venomous whisper. “Boy, can’t you tell that I have supporters in this inner court? Also, don’t think you’ll be safe after joining the Wings Alliance. Since you dared to attack my brother, even the heavens can’t protect you.”

Chu Feng’s face hardened. He turned to Elder Wang as Jian Fengyi presented his Saint Spirit Grass. “I clearly arrived before him. Why did you let him go first?”

Elder Wang’s eyes turned icy. “The able takes priority. Jian Fengyi is outstanding. Naturally, he has priority.”

“How do you know I’m not more outstanding than him?” Chu Feng challenged, his temper rising.

“A mere 7th level dares to call himself outstanding? How arrogant!” Elder Wang’s voice dripped with contempt.

“Whether I am outstanding cannot be judged by you. You are only an inner court elder. You have no right to judge a person’s qualifications.” Chu Feng’s retort was sharp, stripping away the pretense of respect.

“Impudent!” Elder Wang finally snapped. He swung his sleeve, a palm strike bursting forth with the terrifying pressure of the 3rd level of the Origin realm. Chu Feng’s heart clenched; this was a force he could not confront.

Bang!

A cry of surprise, not from Chu Feng, but from Elder Wang, who staggered back several steps, his face paling. Standing beside Chu Feng was a white-haired elder who had appeared as silently as a ghost—Elder Ouyang, the manager of the Martial Skill Building.

“Elder Wang, it doesn’t seem appropriate to attack disciples like that, right?” Ouyang’s voice was mild, but his aura was a profound, crushing weight.

“Milord Manager!” Elder Wang and the middle-aged elder bowed deeply, fear replacing their arrogance.

On the stage, Jian Fengyi’s confidence wavered. How did this boy get to know Elder Ouyang?

Ouyang wasted no time. “In my Martial Skill Building, there is the rule of first come, first serve. Chu Feng, you go up. No need to pay the Saint Spirit Grass.”

Gratitude warmed Chu Feng’s chest. He bowed. “Thank you, elder.” As he walked onto the stage and passed the frozen Jian Fengyi, he stopped, offering a smile that was all sharp edges. “It seems your supporter in the inner court is only so-so. Also, not only do I dare to attack your brother. I will dare to attack you. You better not let me meet you again.”

Jian Fengyi’s fists clenched so tight the knuckles cracked, but under Ouyang’s gaze, he dared not utter a sound. Chu Feng laughed lightly, a sound of pure disdain, and stepped into the dark-green house, leaving a seething rival and a stunned audience behind.

The world within the Cultivation Formation was a testament to the power of a World Spiritist. The simple house exterior gave way to an illusion so potent it felt utterly real: a muddy swamp underfoot, roiling black clouds and lightning above, howling gales, and the constant rumble of thunder. Most crucially, a tangible, heavy pressure squeezed from all sides, multiplying gravity and resistance. It was a harsh, perfect environment for forging the Imperial Sky Technique.

Chu Feng closed his eyes, centering himself as the storm raged around him. The technique’s description unfolded in his mind: Rank 7 bodily martial skill… For the early stage, creating wind under one’s feet and running would be as fast as flying. The difficulty was immense, but that only fueled his determination. He began to move, his body fighting against the oppressive force as he practiced the intricate steps and energy flows.

Outside, the confrontation’s aftermath unfolded in the Martial Skill Building’s upper rooms. Elder Ouyang addressed a still-shaken Elder Wang. “I stopped you for your own good. I did not want to see you offend a talented person with quite a future.”

“What do you mean? Does he have background?” Elder Wang asked, suspicion dawning.

“He has the Spirit power. Is that not enough?”

The color drained from Elder Wang’s face. The Spirit power. The memory of another disciple with that gift surfaced—Leng Wuzui, and the fate of Elder Liyi, who had bullied him only to be found decapitated later. A burst of lingering fear left Elder Wang’s hands trembling. “Thank you for stopping me today…”

Ouyang nodded. “According to my observations, the current Chu Feng is a lot stronger than Leng Wuzui was. And he is ruthless enough.”

Their attention soon returned to the Cultivation Formation. One hour passed, then two. The elders grew increasingly tense. For a Spirit realm disciple to last beyond an hour was rare; the core disciple record was six. When Chu Feng passed the six-hour mark, shock replaced concern. When he voluntarily emerged after eight full hours, looking refreshed and even cheerful, legend was born.

To prove the formation’s potency wasn’t broken, another disciple immediately entered. He was carried out unconscious shortly after, foam at his mouth. The comparison was stark. Chu Feng had not just endured; he had thrived. Whispers of “monster” and “freak” spread through the inner court like wildfire. For Chu Feng, the success was personal—he had mastered the early stage of the Imperial Sky Technique. The wind-like speed was now his, a vital tool for survival.

While Chu Feng solidified his reputation, a quiet, sinister plot unfolded in the core zone’s most forbidden palace. Zhuge Liuyun, the mysterious World Spiritist, gave his sole Spirit-powered disciple, Leng Wuzui, a mission after three years of service. “Find a young man around fifteen, with Spirit power, who can use the 3rd style of the Three Thunder Styles. Find him, and I will officially accept you as my disciple.”

Leng Wuzui agreed, but as he left the palace, his face turned to ice. To his trusted aides, core disciples Gao Le and Liu Bing, he gave a different order. “Go to the inner court. Find this young man. Secretly eliminate him. Do not let anyone know, not even Zhuge.”

He looked back at the palace, his gaze cold. “Old guy, don’t even think of taking others as your disciple.” The hunt for Chu Feng, though neither knew the other’s name yet, had begun with a deadly purpose.

The night before the core disciple exam, Su Mei finally reappeared at Chu Feng’s door. Under a bright moon, they walked together. Chu Feng, stealing glances at her ethereal beauty in the moonlight, found his resolve tested. His attempt at a playful hug was met with a sharp bite that left perfect teeth marks on his hand. “Damn scoundrel!” she hissed, though a hint of amusement danced in her eyes.

She confirmed the rumors of his eight-hour feat, calling him a monster. “You’ve already become a freak in the inner court.” “It just means those guys are garbage,” Chu Feng shrugged, his confidence unfeigned.

Su Mei’s purpose for the visit was revealed: a meeting of the Wings Alliance to prepare for the exam. Twelve of their strongest, including Chu Feng, were participating, meaning the inner court alliance was about to undergo a major shift.

The alliance master’s residence was filled with the auras of genius. Thirty-one members were present, and as Chu Feng entered with Su Mei, he felt the weight of their collective gaze—surprise, curiosity, disdain, and from many males, a distinct undercurrent of jealousy. The Dragon and Tiger brothers, once formidable in his eyes, were clearly at the lower end here.

The alliance master, Situ Yu, approached. Handsome and with the cultivated aura of the 9th level, he offered a surface-level politeness. “I am Situ Yu.” Before Chu Feng could respond, a black-faced youth behind him, Situ Liang, burst forward. “Hey! My brother is speaking to you. Did you not hear it?” His aggression was immediate and pointed.

Situ Yu pulled his brother back with a practiced apology, but the dynamic was set. As introductions were made, Chu Feng sensed the muted hostility, particularly from the males. The reason became clear as he watched their eyes follow Su Mei.

He also noticed the seating arrangement. Thirty-three chairs, thirty-one occupied. Su Mei was being guided to a prominent seat near Situ Yu. The one remaining chair was at the very end, beside the Dragon and Tiger brothers—the seat for the least significant member. The Wings Alliance, or at least its leadership, was marking him as an outsider, a piece of useless firewood admitted only by Su Mei’s favor.

“Chu Feng, sit here.” The invitation came from the occupant of the second-to-last chair. She was a striking beauty with fox-like eyes and long hair, but her most notable feature was the impressive curve of her chest, straining against her purple robe. She winked, a clear, seductive gesture.

Shrugging internally, Chu Feng accepted. The moment he sat, the big-chested beauty grabbed his arm, pressing her softness firmly against him. A wave of comfortable warmth surprised him. “I’ve heard you were quite fierce, completely stepping over the Liu Alliance,” she purred.

Before Chu Feng could formulate a response, a fierce, unmistakable yell sliced through the hall’s murmurs.

“You, stand up!”

Every head turned. Su Mei was on her feet, one hand on her hip, the other pointing directly at the big-chested beauty. Her sweet face was flushed, her lips curled in a pout, and her eyes blazed with a fire that was pure, undiluted jealousy. The gathering for the core disciple exam was forgotten, frozen by the sudden, personal storm that had erupted in their midst. The exam tomorrow promised battles of strength and alliance politics, but tonight, a different, more volatile conflict had just ignited.