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Chapter 429.

Whether it was Tang San and the others or Flender and his companions, everyone stared at the six-ringed Soul Emperor in stunned silence.

The face revealed beneath the mask was unfamiliar but was astonishingly handsome. Even Tang San, who rarely considered such matters, felt a pang of inadequacy when comparing himself to this person's naturally flawless appearance.

"Impossible… impossible!"

Ning Rongrong's voice trembled as she shook her head in disbelief. "It can't be… You are not Wang Feng. I don't believe it! But how could you look so different?"

The transformation was overwhelming. The face before them bore no resemblance to the Wang Feng they remembered. It was as if an entirely different person stood before them.

"You're not him… it can't be…" Ning Rongrong whispered, her voice breaking.

The atmosphere grew heavy with doubt. The stark disparity between the man they knew and the one before them was too significant to ignore.

"Do you believe me now?" the Six-Ringed Soul Emperor asked calmly, his voice as steady as an undisturbed sea. 

"Anything else can be disguised, but a face—this face—cannot be faked. You've truly mistaken me for someone else."

His words, though soft, carried the weight of finality, striking deep into the hearts of those present.

It was an outcome none of them had anticipated.

But then, breaking through the oppressive silence, a quiet yet resolute voice spoke:

"Appearance means nothing."

The group turned toward Zhu Zhuqing. Her eyes burned with determination as she continued, "Tang San's appearance has changed drastically, yet he's still Tang San. Isn't that true?"

Tang San blinked, momentarily taken aback. Then, understanding dawned, and he nodded.

"She's right," Tang San said firmly. "Appearance alone doesn't define identity. My own looks have changed significantly. But I am still me."

Everyone exchanged uneasy glances. Zhu Zhuqing's words struck a chord, rekindling faint sparks of doubt.

"Yes!" Tang San pressed on, his voice gaining confidence. 

"A person's looks can change for many reasons—martial soul mutations, the consumption of rare heavenly treasures and herbs, or other things can also lead to change in physical transformation. This face doesn't prove anything!"

His tone carried conviction, but Dai Mubai sighed bitterly, shaking his head.

"Tang San, your argument holds weight, but there's a difference," Dai Mubai said. "Your identity isn't just tied to your appearance. You have the Eight Spider Lances and dual martial souls. These unique traits make it easy to confirm who you are. But for him—" Dai Mubai gestured at –the Six-Ringed Soul Emperor, his expression conflicted. 

"We have no such markers. We have nothing to verify that he's Wang Feng. The fighting style—it's all we have, and that isn't enough."

He paused, the weariness in his voice palpable.

"Perhaps… he really isn't Wang Feng." 

Although Tang San's appearance had changed, there were always unmistakable markers to confirm his identity.

"But who says he doesn't have such markers?" Zhu Zhuqing's calm yet determined voice broke the silence. She turned toward the Six Ringed Soul Emperor, her gaze steady and piercing. "Wang Feng, I know why you don't want to acknowledge us. But none of that matters to us. Now, I have something that will prove, beyond any doubt, that you are Wang Feng. Stop hiding from us!"

Her words startled everyone. What could Zhu Zhuqing possibly have to prove such a claim?

The Six Ringed Soul Emperor regarded her quietly, his expression unreadable, his skepticism clear.

Then, Zhu Zhuqing reached into her robe and slowly pulled out a broken mask. Holding it up in her hand, she spoke with unshakable certainty.

"This," she said, her voice unwavering, "I tore from your robe during my attack earlier. I kept it hidden until now. Do you recognize it?"

She stepped forward, her fingers trembling slightly as she continued. "This is the mask from the battle in the Supreme Pontiff Palace—the one worn by your other mysterious persona known as 'Jiu Yikai.' I remember it clearly, down to the finest detail. It's not something that could ever be mistaken."

Her voice sharpened, her conviction growing. "And you—you couldn't have been there unless you were 'Jiu Yikai.' No one else would possess this mask! Yet here it is, with you. There's only one explanation, you are Wang Feng!"

A wave of realization swept over the group. Everyone stared at the mask, their expressions a mix of shock and disbelief.

Tang San's eyes widened, Ma Hongjun burst out laughing, and Ning Rongrong's face lit up with a mixture of relief and joy.

"Hahaha! Brother Feng, what can you say now?" Ma Hongjun roared with laughter. "You've been found out at last!"

Wang Feng sighed inwardly, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

'Well, I've been exposed, or should I say Bibi Dong really is cunning….' he thought.

Pretending to be the White Pontiff hadn't been easy. Bibi Dong had orchestrated the guise of 'Jiu Yikai' meticulously, but the finer details required Wang Feng's own improvisation.

If he were to simply reappear and declare, "I'm Wang Feng, and here's why I look different and have no martial soul," it would have only raised suspicion. It would've sounded too convenient, too contrived.

No, it was far better to let them guess on their own, to guide their thoughts indirectly, and to deny everything fervently. That way, their belief would feel earned, genuine.

Feigning reluctance, denying his identity, and sowing just enough doubt—these were calculated steps in Bibi Dong's plan.

In the end, if they figured it out on their own, they'd have no reason to doubt.

But now, with the mask exposed, it seemed the game was up.

'Proving I'm myself… What a headache,' Wang Feng thought with a sigh.

The appearance of the mask sealed the matter. The silence that followed was heavy, filled with unspoken confirmations.

'I'm pretending to be myself… How ironic!' Wang Feng thought, a wry smile crossing his lips.

"Ah, why even bother anymore…" he muttered with a resigned sigh, shaking his head.

Those few words, soft as they were, held the weight of confession.

In the next instant, Ning Rongrong's voice rang out—a mix of joy, relief, and raw emotion—as she dashed toward Wang Feng.

Zhu Zhuqing instinctively reached out, as if to stop her, but hesitated, her hand falling back. She let her go.

Like a bird returning to its nest, Ning Rongrong threw herself into Wang Feng's arms, holding him tightly as tears streamed down her face.

"Wang Feng, I've missed you so much… I'll never let you go again!" she cried, her voice trembling.

"For five years, I've thought about you every single day. I've trained relentlessly, pushing myself harder and harder just to distract from the ache of missing you. But no matter what I did, I couldn't stop thinking about you… I couldn't stop missing you."

Her words came in soft whispers, but they carried the weight of five years of longing and heartache.

"If you hadn't shown up today…" she choked, her voice faltering. "I don't even know what I would've done."

Wang Feng, overwhelmed by her raw emotions, opened his mouth and softly said, "Cold."

"…" Ning Rongrong froze for a moment before glaring at him through her tears.

"Wang Feng!" she exclaimed, a mixture of frustration and relief in her voice. She playfully pounded his chest, tears still streaming down her cheeks. "You're such a jerk! How can you say that?"

Her anger quickly turned to laughter as she cried and laughed at the same time.

"I had something important to tell you five years ago," she admitted, her voice softening. "I planned to tell you after the competition, but I never got the chance…"

She paused, her cheeks flushing a delicate pink as she looked up at Wang Feng, her eyes shimmering like stars.

"But I don't want to wait any longer," she said firmly, her voice steady despite the blush spreading across her face. "Wang Feng, listen carefully, I, Ning Rongrong, like you!"

Wang Feng stood still, the weight of her words sinking in.

It was a confession, five years in the making.

From the moment she spoke, there was no hesitation in her gaze. Wrapping her arms around Wang Feng's neck, Ning Rongrong declared with unwavering determination, "From now on, no matter what happens, I'm staying by your side!"

Despite the changes in Wang Feng's appearance, there was no doubt in her heart. Her instincts, her feelings—they were all screaming one truth, 'This is Wang Feng.'

And Ning Rongrong had always trusted her feelings.

"Silly girl…" Wang Feng said softly, his voice tinged with complexity.

He gazed at her, taking in the changes—the refined elegance in her demeanor, the maturity in her expression. She had grown into an even more beautiful, confident, and remarkable woman.

He had sensed her feelings long ago, but he had always brushed them aside, unwilling to face them directly. Even now, he felt the urge to deflect, to avoid the truth.

But as he looked into her blushing, radiant face, the words formed on his lips—soft, hesitant, yet sincere.

Before he could speak, Ning Rongrong gently placed her hand over his mouth, her touch warm and tender.

"Don't say it," she whispered, her eyes shining. "I already know."

Wang Feng froze, caught in her gaze.

For a moment, neither spoke.

And in that shared silence, everything was understood.

...…..