Chapter 138

137. The Wrath of a Martial Artist?

At this moment, at the other end of San Yang City.

This was where the Han Family Martial Arts Hall stood.

At this moment, Han Jin, the resident master of the Han Family Martial Arts Hall, had received some critical news: Zhao Ge of the Zhao Family Martial Arts Hall had reappeared at the city gate, killing a Blood Refining martial artist from the Jin family, then riding into the city and vanishing without a trace; also, the Zhao Family Martial Arts Hall had produced a powerful senior brother, currently advancing toward the Jin Family Martial Arts Hall, and according to the latest reports, Jin Dadao, the resident master of the Jin Family Martial Arts Hall, was already dead.

The opponent is extremely strong—likely a Qi Channeling expert. Under normal circumstances, he has probably already clashed with Jin Zhihuan, the master of the Jin Family Martial Arts Hall.

The outcome may already be decided, but the news has not yet reached us.

If Jin Zhihuan won, all would be well—at least the Han family would not need to sacrifice disciples to face an elite attacker. But if he lost, the situation would be dire.

Damn it! Wasn’t Zhao Ge already struck by your Crushing Heart Palm, his soul damaged and drained to the brink of death by us? How is it that after several days, he’s not only still alive, but returned to San Yang City, caused chaos, and somehow found a secret disciple?

Han Jin suddenly slammed his hand on the chair and stood up, pacing anxiously inside the main hall.

The dozen or so Blood Refining martial artists seated on the eighteen chairs remained silent, rubbing their palms, feeling immense pressure.

Even Jin Dadao was killed—Zhao Family’s senior brother is undoubtedly a Qi Channeling expert.

If he claims the Listening Wind Blade, the Han family is truly doomed.

“Han Jin, calm down. As a resident master, how can you be so unsteady? A minor incident like this throws you into panic—how will you ever lead the Han Family Martial Arts Hall?”

At the main seat, a fifty-something man with a full beard growled.

He was Han Tianbao, a Qi Channeling expert and the master of the Han Family Martial Arts Hall.

Han Jin stopped pacing and bowed his head in apology: “Master is right. Disciple was suddenly overwhelmed by this upheaval and lost composure. Please punish me.”

“It’s not entirely your fault. Who is Listening Wind Blade Jin Zhihuan? A top-tier expert of San Yang City. Even at sixty-plus, with his blood qi declining, his heart’s blood still burns. If he forces it to restore his peak power, who in Xingzhou would dare face him? Even I wouldn’t fight him.”

“If Zhao Family’s senior brother truly killed Jin Zhihuan with his own hands, the Han Family Martial Arts Hall faces an unprecedented crisis. That old bastard Zhao Ge truly has luck—he was on the brink of death, yet somehow turned it around and pulled out such a figure.”

Han Tianbao sighed inwardly, then sneered: “But don’t panic. Even if Zhao Ge survives, he’s no threat. He’s injured, won’t recover quickly. Even if he can still fight, he’s at best six or seven tenths of his former strength. If he dares show his face before me, I’ll crush him with one palm. As for Zhao Family’s senior brother—he wants my hall? Let him first defeat Listening Wind Blade.”

“Master is right. Zhao Ge is no threat. And Zhao Family’s senior brother hasn’t yet defeated Jin Zhihuan. We shouldn’t inflate the enemy’s strength or diminish our own. Besides, Master is a renowned Qi Channeling expert—your blood qi remains at its peak, unweakened. If the enemy comes, it’s only death awaiting them.” One of the Blood Refining martial artists immediately stood and declared.

Han Jin nodded in agreement—he mustn’t always expect the worst; he must also consider the best, to stabilize morale.

“Wait for news. If there is a battle, I’ll let them feel the true power of my Crushing Heart Palm. Don’t worry.” Han Tianbao’s expression remained calm as he slowly closed his eyes.

He needed to conserve his strength for the battle that could come at any moment.

Seeing this, everyone in the hall patiently waited.

Moments later.

A Bone Refining disciple rushed in, face tense.

“The scout has returned.”

Han Jin strode forward immediately, cutting off the disciple before he could speak: “What’s the situation at Jin Family Martial Arts Hall? Has Zhao Family’s senior brother and Jin Zhihuan settled their victory? Who won?”

The disciple, trembling, replied: “Senior Brother, the Jin Family Martial Arts Hall has lost. Listening Wind Blade Jin Zhihuan was killed by Zhao Family’s senior brother in the front courtyard.”

“What?”

Han Jin’s eyes widened in shock—the very thing he feared had come true.

Listening Wind Blade had lost.

“How? Jin Zhihuan was a seasoned expert! How could an unknown upstart take his hall?”

“Impossible! He’s a Qi Channeling expert! Once he unleashes his heart’s blood, he regains peak power—who in San Yang City could kill him?”

“Is Jin Zhihuan truly dead? Are you certain the news isn’t wrong?”

Instantly, the Blood Refining martial artists in the hall rose in shock, speaking over each other, unable to believe Zhao Family’s senior brother had actually seized the hall. Could this unknown martial artist truly be so terrifying?

“Yes, the news is true. Jin Family Martial Arts Hall is in chaos—the Jin family swordsmen are now killing anyone they see, demanding twenty heads to present to Zhao Family’s senior brother in exchange for their lives. I saw the unrest and fled immediately to deliver the news.”

With these words, all illusions shattered.

The Jin Family Martial Arts Hall was truly finished.

Utterly, completely finished.

After a brief silence, all eyes turned to Han Tianbao at the main seat.

With the Jin family gone, it was now their turn.

Han Tianbao remained seated, eyes closed, unmoved. He was no green youth—he had weathered storms all his life. Even a hall seizure of this magnitude couldn’t shake him.

“Master, what do we do now?” Han Jin stepped forward, desperate.

Han Tianbao slowly opened his eyes, coldly: “Of course, we fight Zhao Family’s senior brother. After I kill him, I’ll take over the Jin Family Martial Arts Hall as well. Then the Han Family will dominate San Yang City. I know what you fear—you think I’ll lose to him.”

“But I tell you this: I won’t lose. He’s already exhausted from fighting Jin Zhihuan. If he dares come here, he’ll die here. Open the gates. Let them in. Don’t block them. Don’t let anyone say the Han family is cowardly, hiding behind closed doors, afraid to fight. Hmph.”

“Yes, Master.”

One Blood Refining martial artist immediately stepped out and ordered the disciples to open the Han Family Martial Arts Hall gates.

With the gates open, the martial spirit surged—everyone felt a renewed sense of confidence.

After all, their own master, Han Tianbao, was a famed expert, rested and ready—how could he lose?

Thinking this, they sat back down, waiting in silence.

Indeed.

Moments later.

Outside the Han Family Martial Arts Hall gates, the crisp clatter of hooves approached. A black steed carried a tall, muscular young man clad in a flying fish robe, radiating an aura of unmatched dominance. He treated all martial heroes as nothing—even before the Han Family Martial Arts Hall, he spurred his horse forward, showing no respect whatsoever.

Behind him followed a woman—likely a servant, unworthy of attention.

“He’s here.”

Han Tianbao suddenly rose, his broad hands clasped behind his back, his massive frame moving forward like a mountain, stepping to the hall’s entrance.

He looked up, his gaze locking onto the imposing young man on horseback.

“Where’s Han Tianbao? Come out!”

Li Yi spurred his horse forward, roaring: “Come out!” His powerful voice, laced with martial energy, rippled through the air, kicking up dust—his presence alone was intimidating.

“How dare you!”

“Arrogant!”

A chorus of furious shouts echoed as the dozen top Blood Refining martial artists surged out, surrounding Li Yi and Rong Niang instantly.

“You’re Zhao Family’s senior brother? Young, indeed. But you’re too bold. This is the Han Family Martial Arts Hall—not your playground. Even if you’re a dragon, you’ll coil here. Otherwise, my dozen Blood Refining martial artists will spill your blood three feet high and show you what a martial artist’s wrath truly means!” Han Jin shouted.

Don’t lose face—this aura must be maintained.

“Martial artist’s wrath? I’ve already seen it at Jin Family Martial Arts Hall. Your martial artist’s wrath amounts to banging heads against the ground—nothing to fear.” Li Yi laughed loudly from his saddle, wild and unrestrained.

“Banging heads against the ground? You dare insult us like this?” Han Jin roared, eyes red, ready to strike.

Li Yi’s smile vanished. “Insult you? To me, you’re all corpses already. What insult is that? Step aside. Let Han Tianbao come forward.”

“Don’t think I’m afraid just because you’re a Qi Channeling expert. If our twenty-plus Blood Refining martial artists and a hundred Bone and Marrow Refining disciples charge you together, we might still drag you down. Once your strength is spent, you’ll die just the same.” Han Jin now showed a resolve to die standing rather than live in shame.

He wanted to mobilize every disciple, exhaust Li Yi’s strength, and give Master Han Tianbao the perfect opening for victory.

“Exhaust me? Come, try.”

Li Yi’s eyes gleamed, his killing intent flaring—his pupils instantly narrowed into vertical slits, like a hungry dragon awakening, ready to devour the Han martial artists.

“Your eyes… are you human, or a demon?”

Under that gaze, Han Jin froze, stepping back instinctively.

He’d never seen such a being. That look triggered memories from his youth, when he’d encountered a one-horned giant python in the mountains—its eyes had been the same: cold, ferocious, viewing him as prey, ready to kill him at any moment.

He never imagined, after all these years, he’d feel that same terror from a human.

Seeing Han Jin’s aura crushed, Han Tianbao knew he must appear. He stepped forward, chest raised, back straight, his massive frame like a mountain anchoring the hall—ready to support his disciples and bolster their courage.

“I am Han Tianbao, master of the Han Family Martial Arts Hall. You are Zhao Family’s senior brother? Since you’re a man of standing, introduce yourself properly. State your purpose. Avoid misunderstandings and embarrassment.”

Han Tianbao’s voice was deep, like a lion holding back its roar, sizing up his opponent.

“Oh? I must introduce myself? Since you’re so polite—calling me ‘senior brother’—I’ll oblige.” Li Yi’s smile vanished. He dismounted, bowed formally, his vertical pupils fixed coldly on Han Tianbao: “I am Li Yi, senior brother of the Zhao Family Martial Arts Hall. I’ve come here for one thing only: to kill you all—or be killed by you all.”

Silence.

Oppressive silence.

At that moment, not just the Blood Refining martial artists—even Han Tianbao’s eyes blazed with fury.

They’d met arrogant men. But never one this arrogant.

To say such a thing, right before the entire Han Family Martial Arts Hall.

“This senior brother’s mouth… is terrifying. Never let him speak again,” Rong Niang muttered, stepping back several paces, fearing that if he suddenly attacked, she’d be caught in the storm and die without understanding why.