High Martial: I Use Everything as Swords

"Yes."

Han Feng confirmed in his mind.

In the next instant, an invisible psychic shock slammed into his mind.

A slight numbness spread from the back of his head.

That was all.

Almost at the same time, a strange and unprecedented sense of connection washed over him.

His consciousness instantly reached out, spread, and enveloped the untamable Wind Falcon beneath his feet.

He perceived its powerful heartbeat.

He perceived the tension and trembling in every one of its muscle fibers.

He perceived the subtle direction of every current of air beneath its wings.

He could even clearly "hear" the chaotic, furious, and violent primitive thoughts swirling in the beast’s mind.

At this moment, the boundary between man and bird seemed to be broken.

’Quiet.’

In his mind, Han Feng issued a concise command.

The Wind Falcon beneath his feet, which had been madly rolling and struggling, suddenly went rigid.

It let out a low cry filled with confusion and primal fear.

Its flailing wings gradually relaxed, returning to a steady beat.

’Up.’

Han Feng commanded again.

The Wind Falcon let out an unwilling screech.

But its body was brutally honest; with a powerful flap of its wings, it kicked up a strong gust of wind.

Carrying Han Feng, it shot straight up toward the higher sky.

At the cliff’s edge, all hell broke loose.

"It... it stopped!"

"It’s not struggling anymore! It’s listening to him!"

"Is that an Illusion Technique? Or some kind of rare Mind Control Talent?!"

Everyone, including Zhang Hao and Wang Meng, stared intently at the incredible man and bird in the sky, as if witnessing a miracle.

They watched, wide-eyed, as Han Feng stood on the bird’s back with his hands clasped behind him.

The high-altitude currents billowed the hem of his clothes.

And the Flying Demon Beast, which just moments ago had been ferocious and bloodthirsty, was now as docile as a well-trained Falcon.

It carried him higher and higher, quickly shrinking to a tiny black dot in everyone’s vision.

The natural chasm of the Wind Eye Market, that barrier of despair, seemed to have been... conquered just like that.

...

The fierce wind howled in his ears.

The altimeter on his watch jumped wildly before finally stabilizing at an altitude of 3,200 meters.

Han Feng stood steadily on the Wind Falcon’s broad back.

Beneath his feet, the raptor with a wingspan of over six meters generated a powerful updraft capable of lifting anything with every flap of its wings.

"Hold on tight, and don’t wobble."

Han Feng looked down, glancing at Wang Meng, who was clinging for dear life to the back of the Wind Falcon’s neck, looking like he wanted to burrow into its feathers.

This brawny man, who normally went head-to-head with Demon Beasts swinging a Large Axe, was now pale-faced with his eyes squeezed shut.

His thighs, thicker than Han Feng’s waist, gripped the bird’s body tightly, trembling as if set to vibrate mode.

"Feng... Fengzi, is... is this thing reliable? It’s not going to crash halfway, is it?"

Wang Meng’s voice was torn to shreds by the fierce wind.

"You’re a Pilot used to flying heavy warplanes, and you’re scared of this?"

"How is that the same thing!"

Wang Meng was practically howling.

"If a warplane goes down, I can eject! If this thing falls, it’s a Blood Sea down there!"

"If you keep trembling like that, I’ll kick you off myself before it has a chance to crash."

A hint of disdain tinged Han Feng’s tone.

The Wind Falcon also seemed displeased with the heavy and noisy "pendant" on its back, letting out a sharp cry.

Its body suddenly tilted to the left at a steep angle.

"Ah! Holy shit!"

Wang Meng let out a bloodcurdling scream.

Han Feng applied a slight pressure with his feet, and a wisp of Sword Essence flowed through the point of contact into the Wind Falcon’s body.

Like a faint electric current, it gently jolted its central nervous system.

The Wind Falcon immediately behaved, obediently adjusting the angle of its wings and resuming a stable glide.

A few minutes later, the greyish-brown rocky ground of the Sixth Floating Island appeared in their line of sight.

As they descended, Han Feng controlled the Wind Falcon to perform a textbook-perfect spiraling deceleration.

Its huge talons scraped against the rock, kicking up a few dazzling sparks, before it came to a steady stop on a patch of open ground by the cliff’s edge.

"We’re here. Get off."

Han Feng patted Wang Meng’s shoulder.

Wang Meng practically rolled off the bird’s back.

The moment he hit the ground, he crawled to one side on all fours and started to dry heave, his legs as weak as noodles, unable to stand up straight.

"That... that was fucking intense."

He wiped the sour taste from the corner of his mouth and gave Han Feng a thumbs-up.

"But I never want to ride that thing again in my life."

Han Feng ignored his antics. With a thought, he turned the bird’s head and took to the sky once more.

"Next."

The three-thousand-meter airspace between the Fifth and Sixth Floating Islands.

This chasm, once a source of despair, had now become Han Feng’s private airway.

The second time, he transported Su Yue and two backpacks filled with the most valuable supplies.

The top student from the Spiritual Energy Technology Academy didn’t embarrass herself like Wang Meng.

She kept her eyes wide open the entire time, tightly clutching a miniature detector in her hand.

She muttered to herself, recording the rhythm of the Wind Falcon’s back muscles and its energy reactions.

"The brainwave frequencies have been forcibly synchronized, the biological reflex arc completely suppressed... this isn’t scientific..."

Su Yue pushed up her glasses, her eyes gleaming with the fervor of someone who wanted to dissect an alien as she looked at Han Feng.

"What method did you use to bypass its cerebellum? According to biological logic..."

"Hold on."

Han Feng cut off her academic report with a clean dive and acceleration, forcing the rest of her words right back down her throat.

A third time, a fourth...

Han Feng was like a tireless aerial Ferryman.

In less than half an hour, all nine members of the Sharp Sword Club, along with all their supply packs, had been safely transferred to the Sixth Floating Island.