After thirty years, the might of the Demon Monarch had reerged.
Even a protector of the Dugu Royal Family was slain without hesitation; there was no room for negotiation.
Imdiately after, the blood-drenched war spear turned, its tip aid at Li Jiuyang. In an instant, the Great Elder, a man who had slain several opponents upon his arrival and possessed an astonishing aura, began to tremble uncontrollably, daring not to make a move.
DRIP. DRIP.
For a mont, the only sound on the vast field was blood dripping from the spear.
Taking a deep breath, Li Jiuyang forced himself to speak. "Chen Hua, you've already killed Dugu Xiong. Do you really intend to make enemies of the West Sea and South Pole Royal Families as well?"
"Yes, you're strong, Chen Hua," Li Jiuyang roared, his anger boiling over. It was his only play. "But do you really think you can survive an assault from all three of our great royal families?"
The great wind drumd like thunder across the vast and boundless world.
The old man had the face of a youth, and his white robes were as pure as snow. His sleeves fluttered, and a short goatee danced in the wind. He normally had the air of a worldly immortal, but now his expression was savage, his hand gripping the Iron Bone Fan so tightly his knuckles were white. Amidst the tension, his narrow, cunning eyes smoldered with boundless rage.
"This is my affair," Chen Yang said coolly, taking a step forward from where he had been standing in the utter silence.
Chen Hua was silent. This kid… does he not appreciate my gesture?
Chen Hua's voice bood like thunder. "You're still young. There's no need for you to clash with this old fossil. This isn't your fault."
"Step aside," Chen Yang said.
The crowd was speechless. What an arrogant young man.
"Boy, are you thinking of fighting ?" Li Jiuyang sneered. Facing Chen Hua was one thing; he admitted his inferiority there. But for a youth not yet thirty years old to challenge his authority? He chuckled humorlessly. What does he take , Li Jiuyang, for?
SNAP!
Li Jiuyang flicked open the Iron Bone Fan. The void before him seed to explode, sending out ripples like an earthquake. At that mont, Li Jiuyang was the very personification of arrogance and dominance—a peerless, shocking display.
Chen Yang paid him no heed. He slowly opened his palm, and a long spear spun violently into existence. Instantly, a relentless battle intent surged forth, a pressure so palpable that even people on the far bank of the Qingyuan River could feel it clearly.
"Step aside!" Chen Yang shouted again. His command, naturally, was directed at the war spear. To be precise, it was aid at the Demon Monarch himself, Chen Hua.
"He does have so of my big brother's spirit from his youth," Chen Hua's voice rumbled from the spear.
The war spear slowly began to retract, but in the next second, it shot forward again.
SHIIINK!
Tang Renfeng, who had been standing silently to the side, was pierced through the neck. With a look of utter unwillingness and disbelief, his body exploded in the void.
"I'll give you a one-on-one opportunity."
THUD.
The war spear struck the ground, standing tall and imposing between heaven and earth. It was clear that Chen Hua had killed Tang Renfeng only to eliminate any potential interference, creating an undisturbed environnt for Chen Yang's fight. This murderous, overbearing display made the hearts of countless onlookers tremble.
THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.
The surrounding crowd retreated in unison, as silent as cicadas in winter.
Chen Jinnan said nothing, but his eyes brimd with a gentle sentint. In the stalwart and unyielding figure before him, he vaguely saw a younger version of himself—proud and full of youthful vigor, yet unwilling to be second to anyone. To have such a son… I have no regrets in this life. He was filled with emotion and imnse gratification.
BOOM!
Chen Yang held his long spear, its tip angled toward the southern sky. His armor dazzled as his vital energy burst forth with earth-shattering power.
"Since you're so eager to die, this old man will grant your wish." Tang Renfeng's violent death had been another psychological blow to Li Jiuyang. Knowing there was no turning back, he steeled his resolve and let out a wild laugh, slashing out with his Iron Bone Fan.
It was a simple, unadorned movent, plain and ordinary.
WHOOSH!
Yet, a fierce gale howled across the field, sending sand and stones flying. It was like an approaching storm, and the clear sky began to darken.
Chen Yang raised his hand. With a single thrust of his long spear, he seed to challenge the Four Seas and Eight Wastelands. The simple move unleashed a terrifying killing intent.
BANG!
In the direct clash, Li Jiuyang staggered back several steps. The webbing of his thumb split open, dripping blood. Chen Yang fared no better; he coughed up a mouthful of blood as his long spear trembled so violently it nearly snapped in two.
Li Jiuyang was stunned, incredulous. This boy's combat strength is far beyond my imagination. A ferocious smile spread across his face as he charged forward again. The Iron Bone Fan in his hand swept out like a mountain range, aid at crushing Chen Yang to pieces.
But Chen Yang was no ordinary man. He had been forged in the fires of war; otherwise, that first blow would have left him critically injured.
After three more exchanges, Chen Yang was covered in blood. He looked to be in a desperate state, yet his eyes shone brightly, his spirit as vibrant as ever. Li Jiuyang, on the other hand, was growing visibly agitated. I, the Great Elder, am fighting him myself, and I still haven't finished him after several moves? Most critically, Chen Yang's vital energy was only growing stronger. He showed no signs of impending defeat.
"I'll send you on your way!" Humiliation crept onto Li Jiuyang's face. As he thrust with the Iron Bone Fan, his withered palm also shot out. It swelled as it flew, growing large enough to cover the entire plaza and casting a vast shadow over everything. The hand looked as if it could blot out the mountains and rivers.
A deafening roar, like lightning tearing across the sky, exploded wantonly. This was the Hand of the Heavens. Wherever it passed, the world fell deathly silent, and nothing could survive.
But amidst the tearing void, a towering figure slowly began to straighten. The movent was agonizingly slow, his struggle visible to the naked eye. He looked like an old man in his final monts, unable to let go of the mortal world, wishing to gaze one last ti upon the splendid mountains and rivers, upon the afterglow of the setting sun.
SPURT!
Under the massive palm print, bursts of bloody mist erupted from Chen Yang's body, as dazzling and spectacular as fireworks.
"A re ant! Do you really think you can contend with this old man?" Li Jiuyang sneered. But as soon as the words left his mouth, the world fell silent. Even the sneer on Li Jiuyang's face froze.
All eyes stared, transfixed, at the figure on the field who had suddenly begun to shine with a dazzling brilliance.
BOOM!
The thick blood mist around Chen Yang did not dissipate. Instead, it coalesced, and within it, shimring talismans danced and flickered, accompanied by fragnted images.
At first, the vision showed a youth leading his troops into battle for the first ti. His still-green face was filled with determination. Though the desert sand was stained with his blood and his comrades fell one by one, he pressed on relentlessly. Then, the scene shifted to a great battle between two armies of hundreds of thousands. Corpses littered the fields and rivers of blood flowed—a single general's success was built upon a mountain of bones. Upon his triumphant return, he held no celebration. Instead, he buried the loyal bones with his own hands, his tears falling beside their graves. Finally, he was seen carrying coffins on his back across a battlefield, his face streaked with blood and tears as he brought ho those brave, passionate n.
The Bloodline Power was erupting, evolving. It was like watching a scroll of ti unroll, presenting scenes from the past.
His story was one of dyeing the rivers and mountains with blood, of carrying the coffins of his comrades from the battlefield. Every deploynt of the Martial Guard was a fearless march toward certain death, and he, Chen Yang, was always at the very front. Old Martial Guards fell, and new recruits filled their places, again and again. He stood at the nation's gate, a solitary and somber silhouette. Perhaps he was blaming himself, reflecting on those resolute faces, so ready to et death, who had gone and would never return.
Everyone was stunned. They now saw the tragic reality that lay behind every victory they had celebrated. The prosperity and peace of this great age were built inch by inch with the blood and bones of countless brave n who looked death in the eye.
With n like you, the nation is truly fortunate!
BOOM!
The blood mist dispersed, and with it, the supre pressure of the palm print that had lood like Mount Tai vanished.
Chen Yang looked up and stared directly at Li Jiuyang. "Do you understand now?"
Though only a few words, they caused Li Jiuyang, who stood like a harbinger of the apocalypse, to retreat several steps instinctively.
On the banks of the Qingyuan River, beneath the vast heavens, throughout the Four Seas and Eight Wastelands, there was nothing else—only him.
This soaring montum not only left Li Jiuyang speechless, but even the golden war spear standing not far away began to tremble slightly.
"Is this… the Awakening of the Chen Family's Bloodline Power?!" soone cried out.
"Haha!" In the long-silent plaza, Murong Fei's excited shout suddenly rang out. "The Half-Step Saint Realm! This calls for a celebration!"
Li Jiuyang and the crowd could only stare in stunned silence.
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