The roar of laughter that erupted across the plaza was not merely loud; it was physical, a tidal wave of mockery that crashed against Hong Yue with the force of a physical blow.
"Hahaha!"
"Lovers? Is he serious? That is absolutely killing me!"
"In all my years in the Outer Sect, I have never—never—heard anyone dare to speak to Hong Yue like that. And to his face? It's not just an insult; it's practically spitting in his eyes."
"This Luo Zhen… he's arrogant. You have to give him that. But I wonder if he'll still be smiling in five minutes when his teeth are scattered across the pavement."
Dozens of Outer Sect disciples lined the perimeter of the stone plaza. They represented the majority of the sect's aspiring cultivators, a fickle audience hungry for violence and drama. By now, Luo Zhen's name and face were etched into their minds. They stood on the sidelines, jeering and hooting, desperate for the conflict to escalate into bloodshed.
Every fresh peel of laughter was another dagger in Hong Yue's pride. His face had transcended mere anger; it was now a mottled, iron-green mask of apoplectic rage.
The rumors regarding him and Wang Lili were an open secret within the sect. Everyone knew, but there was an unwritten rule, a social contract of silence. You could whisper it in the shadows, you could snicker behind a fan, but you never, ever spoke it aloud. To shatter that façade of ignorance was to declare war.
Luo Zhen had not just broken the rule; he had smashed it to pieces in front of a live audience.
Seeing the vein throbbing in Hong Yue's forehead, Luo Zhen rubbed the tip of his nose, his expression the picture of feigned innocence. "Hey, look, I'm actually a very progressive guy. I have a high tolerance for different lifestyles. I don't discriminate. As long as you don't drag me into your… activities… You two can go ahead and enjoy being man on top of man all you want."
"Shut your mouth!"
Hong Yue's roar tore through the air, guttural and raw. He didn't wait for a signal. He threw a punch that carried the weight of his humiliation behind it.
The air in front of him distorted. A fist imprint, glowing with condensed energy and the size of a washbasin, materialized instantly. It screamed through the air, carrying a majestic, crushing pressure aimed directly at Luo Zhen's chest.
Luo Zhen's smirk vanished, replaced by the cool focus of a veteran combatant. He gripped the Green Sheen Saber, his wrist blurring as he executed a series of rapid slashes. In a single breath, seven arcs of emerald blade energy were unleashed, tearing through the air to meet the attack.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The impacts sounded like cannon fire. Hong Yue's massive fist imprint was a juggernaut; it plowed through Luo Zhen's seven blade arcs, shattering them into sparks of green light. Its momentum barely slowed as it continued its trajectory toward Luo Zhen's skull.
Luo Zhen's expression remained as tranquil as an ancient well. He didn't retreat. Instead, he raised the Green Sheen Saber high above his head and brought it down with the weight of a collapsing mountain.
Tyrant Emperor Slaughter!
Reality seemed to warp. A massive, hundred-meter-long phantom of a green blade formed out of thin air, looming over the plaza like a guillotine. It slashed downward, colliding violently with the encroaching fist imprint.
The explosion was deafening.
BOOM!
The hundred-meter blade phantom and the massive fist imprint annihilated one another upon contact. They dissolved into chaotic energy, but the shockwave from their mutual destruction whipped up a gale that scoured the plaza, forcing the spectators to shield their eyes from the flying grit.
And this was merely the opening move.
Luo Zhen narrowed his eyes, assessing his opponent through the settling dust. He had to admit, Hong Yue's reputation wasn't entirely fabricated. The man was strong. A single punch had forced Luo Zhen to burn through seven attacks and a heavy finisher just to neutralize it.
While much of this power came from Hong Yue's cultivation base—the peak of the King Realm—it was also a testament to the high-grade martial arts he practiced. His lethality was genuine.
"Good kid," Hong Yue sneered, his composure returning as the dust cleared. "You actually managed to withstand my Great Handprint. But don't get comfortable."
His eyes narrowed, gleaming with malicious intent. "That was just the warm-up. My true strength lies with the blade!"
As his voice faded, a crimson light flared in his palm, bright enough to leave afterimages in the eyes of the onlookers. A long saber, radiating a blood-colored glow and a sinister aura, materialized in his grip.
The crowd gasped in unison.
"The Crimson Fiend Saber! That's Hong Yue's Life-bound Top-grade Magic Treasure!"
"Heavens… he brought out his Life-bound weapon? He's not trying to spar; he's trying to kill!"
"It's over. Luo Zhen is dead walking. You don't survive the Crimson Fiend."
The buzzing of the crowd grew frantic. The appearance of a Life-bound weapon changed the nature of the duel entirely. It signaled intent.
"Hehe, he even pulled out the Crimson Fiend Saber. Looks like Hong Yue is truly angry," Ma Jinghuan chuckled from the sidelines, a sycophantic grin plastered on his face. "Even though Hong Yue gets mocked for his… affairs… no one questions his combat prowess. Once that red blade comes out, Luo Zhen is guaranteed to leave this plaza a cripple."
Standing next to Ma Jinghuan were the Deng brothers. They were less knowledgeable about the specific weapon, but the shift in atmospheric pressure was obvious even to them. The situation had turned dire for their enemy.
"Good! Let him be crippled! The more broken bones, the better!" Deng Zhou grinned savagely, his eyes lit with vindictive glee. "As long as Luo Zhen is broken, I'll finally have a chance for revenge!"
"Me too! I want a piece of him!" Deng Xing shouted, echoing his brother's malice.
A short distance away, the sect elder, Old Wu, watched the escalation with a solemn, furrowed brow. The energy in the plaza was spiraling out of control.
"According to sect rules," Elder Wu's voice boomed, amplified by his internal energy, "no lives are to be taken among fellow disciples! Hong Yue, you may engage, but you will watch your limits!"
Hong Yue glanced up at the elder, his lips curling into a sinister smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Elder Wu, you're here to watch the show? Don't worry. I absolutely won't beat Luo Zhen to death. You can rest assured."
"Sigh." Elder Wu let out a long breath, shaking his head.
He understood the subtext perfectly. Hong Yue wouldn't kill Luo Zhen—technically. Instead, based on his track record, he would sever an arm, crush a knee, or destroy Luo Zhen's meridian channels. He would leave the boy a breathing corpse, a waste who could never cultivate again. It was a fate worse than death for a warrior, yet it technically adhered to the rules.
Now, it all depends on you, Luo Zhen, Elder Wu thought, his gaze fixing on the young challenger. If the rumors are true—if you really did wipe out the Heavenly King Stronghold alone—then Hong Yue is in for a surprise. But if you were just blowing hot air… then your destruction is your own doing.
"Senior Brother Luo, be careful!"
The voice cut through the tension. It was Gu Shi, shouting from the edge of the crowd. "Watch out! If you can't handle it, just surrender! There is no shame in living! I'm with you no matter what!"
Hearing the desperate cry, Luo Zhen tilted his head, offering a faint, relaxed smile to Gu Shi.
Out of dozens of spectators, only one man dared to stand by him. In the cultivation world, where loyalty was often as thin as paper, this was significant. Luo Zhen made a mental note. Gu Shi was a friend worth keeping.
But now, it was time to work.
Hong Yue slowly raised the Crimson Fiend Saber. An astonishingly sharp aura, smelling faintly of iron and blood, radiated from him.
"I'll give you one last chance," Hong Yue said, his voice cold. "Kneel. Kowtow one hundred times so loudly that the stone cracks. Then, sever your own arm. If you do this, I might consider sparing your miserable life."
Luo Zhen looked at him, unimpressed. "And if I don't?"
"Then I will chop it off myself!"
Hong Yue's eyes bulged. With a flick of his wrist, the air exploded into motion.
"Die!"
Chaotic red light flashed, blinding and erratic. The light coalesced into distinct blade shadows—five, ten, twenty. In a split second, the air before Hong Yue was filled with over twenty razor-sharp projections.
"The Hundred-Shadow Frenzied Slash!" A disciple in the crowd screamed, recognizing the signature move.
The twenty-plus red shadows buzzed like a swarm of angry hornets, tearing up the pavement as they shot toward Luo Zhen.
The crowd braced for the impact, but Luo Zhen did something inexplicable. He didn't raise his saber. He didn't dodge. Under the bewildered gazes of the onlookers, he sheathed the Green Sheen Saber and put it away.
Before the confusion could turn to mockery, the air around Luo Zhen crackled.
Zzzzt!
Countless arcs of blue-white lightning erupted from his skin. These weren't small sparks; each bolt was as thick as a human arm, dancing and jumping with a keen, predatory spirituality.
The lightning expanded, creating a domain. Within a thirty-meter radius centered on Luo Zhen, the world became a blinding cage of thunder.
It was the ultimate defense against energy attacks.
Descent of the Thunder Realm!
The swarm of twenty red blade shadows plunged headlong into the lightning field.
"Senior Brother Luo, look out!" Gu Shi screamed, shielding his eyes.
"Hmph! Careful or not, he's finished!" Hong Yue sneered. The Hundred-Shadow Frenzied Slash was an Emperor-level technique. Even if imperfect, it was not something a mere King-level cultivator could shrug off. It had been the cornerstone of his dominance for years.
Hong Yue stood tall, arrogance radiating from his posture. But in the next second, his jaw dropped.
The moment his blade shadows entered the Thunder Realm, the lightning pounced. Like hungry wolves, the arcs of electricity slammed into the red energy blades.
Crack! Sizzle!
In moments, the blade shadows were obliterated, blasted into harmless powder by the tyrannical lightning.
The Emperor-level technique had been dismantled. Effortlessly.
The silence that followed was heavy.
"What… what is happening?"
"The blade shadows… they just evaporated."
"I didn't expect this. That was the Hundred-Shadow Frenzied Slash! Luo Zhen broke it? A technique of that level?"
The whispers of the crowd turned from mockery to unease. Hong Yue's face darkened, the humiliation burning hotter than before.
"It seems I underestimated you," Hong Yue spat, his voice trembling slightly with suppressed rage. "But don't get cocky. I still have one more move. The one that ends fights."
"Oh? Is that so?"
Luo Zhen's voice was flat, bored even. He extended his right palm. Suddenly, a strange fire erupted from his skin. It wasn't normal flame; it was the Profound Crystal Fire—a semi-solid, crystalline energy that possessed the terrifying heat of a star. The fire swirled and condensed, forming a magnificent, long blade of pure thermal energy in his hand.
The appearance of the Crystal Fire Blade sent a primal shiver through the audience. Even without knowing what it was, their survival instincts screamed that this weapon was dangerous.
Hong Yue felt the threat. His expression turned grim. He stopped holding back, pouring every ounce of his Yuan power into his saber.
"Witness true power!"
A terrifying momentum erupted from him. On the edge of his Crimson Fiend Saber, the red light condensed, compressing until it formed a solid, crescent-shaped blade of energy. It was only half a meter long, but it shone with a condensed brilliance that made eyes water.
"It's Severing Moon!" someone shrieked.
"Holy crap, he's actually using it!"
"Hong Yue is using his ultimate move? Has he been pushed this far?"
"Severing Moon is a single-target execution skill. He used this to kill peak King-level experts! Luo Zhen is dead. There is no coming back from this!"
Elder Wu saw the crescent blade and panicked. "Hong Yue! Taking lives is forbidden! Put Severing Moon away immediately! Do not force me to intervene!"
"Punish me later!" Hong Yue roared, his eyes bloodshot with madness. "As long as I destroy him, I'll accept any punishment! Die!"
He slashed.
The Severing Moon tore through the air, piercing space itself with a high-pitched whine, flying straight for Luo Zhen's neck.
It's over, the crowd thought collectively.
Luo Zhen didn't move his feet. He simply watched the attack come. Then, with the casual grace of a painter adding a final stroke to a canvas, he extended a finger and tapped the air.
Responding to his will, the Crystal Fire Blade shot upward.
The collision was shocking in its lack of fanfare. There was no stalemate. There was no struggle. The Crystal Fire Blade sliced through the Severing Moon like a heated knife through butter. The ultimate technique, the pride of Hong Yue, shattered instantly.
But the fire blade didn't stop. It carried its momentum forward, flashing past Hong Yue's guard.
Swish.
A red arc sprayed into the air. An arm, still gripping a saber, spun away and landed on the cold stone.
"AHHHH!!"
Hong Yue's scream was a wretched, high-pitched sound that curdled the blood. He collapsed, clutching the stump of his shoulder, rolling in the dust as the agony of the cauterized wound overwhelmed his mind.
Silence.
Absolute, graveyard silence descended upon the plaza.
The sequence of events—from the shattering of Severing Moon to the amputation of the arm—had taken less than two seconds. The reversal was so absolute, so violent, and so fast that the human brain struggled to process it.
The spectators stood like statues, mouths agape, eyes wide.
Twenty seconds passed before the first whisper broke the spell. Then, chaos.
"Se… Severing Moon… it was broken?"
"Hong Yue lost?"
"He didn't just lose. He was butchered."
"Am I dreaming? Did that just happen?"
People rubbed their eyes, desperate for this to be a hallucination. Hong Yue, the untouchable titan of the Outer Sect, the man who was invincible among his peers, had been swatted like a fly.
He had used his strongest attacks. He had fought with the intent to kill. And he had lost to a newcomer who barely moved.
And that was the most terrifying part.
If Luo Zhen had struggled, if he had bled and panted and barely scraped a victory, the crowd could have accepted it.
But this?
Luo Zhen stood there, the lightning fading from his skin, the Crystal Fire Blade floating obediently by his side. His face was blank. He looked bored. He looked like a man who had just taken out the trash, not someone who had just dethroned the strongest disciple in the sect.
The crowd looked at his indifferent face and felt a chill deep in their bones.
Give us a reaction! Their minds screamed. Be happy! Be arrogant! Be relieved! Anything!
But Luo Zhen gave them nothing. His indifference said more than any boast could: Hong Yue was never a threat to me.
In the crowd, Ma Jinghuan was shaking. His face was as pale as ash. The terror he felt was a physical weight in his gut.
Hong Yue was defeated. Instantly.
Ma Jinghuan knew Hong Yue's strength intimately. For the fight to end this way meant only one thing: Luo Zhen was a monster. A monster that Ma Jinghuan had spent the last week insulting and provoking.
He thought back to his arrogance at the orientation meeting, his boasting, his petty bullying. It all seemed like a suicide note now.
I have to fix this, Ma Jinghuan thought, panic clawing at his throat. I can't just be a bystander. I have to show loyalty. Now.
He turned his head and saw the Deng brothers. They were frozen in shock, their mouths hanging open like fish.
Perfect targets.
Smack!
A crisp, brutal slap echoed.