Chapter 654: What Do You Want?

Qiao Zhenyu's voice echoed across the open Training Ground, like a stone striking a calm water surface.

He stood at the edge of the Arena, his gaze like a torch, staring straight toward the back of the Arena.

The watching soldiers and martial artists followed his gaze and saw, under a row of shade canopies on the side of the Arena, a figure in a black kimono slowly rise.

The figure was not tall, but very lean and sturdy.

He wore a black silk kimono, his hair neatly combed, revealing a thin, sharply chiseled face.

He was about forty years old, his features grim, his gaze sharp, like a hawk scrutinizing prey.

After standing, he walked at an unhurried pace to the edge of the Arena and stood with his hands behind his back.

From the height above, looking down at Qiao Zhenyu, a faint, chilling smile curled at the corner of his mouth.

"General Qiao, you speak too heavily. It's merely a subordinate Disciple's prank gone too far."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over Lu Fangzhou, whose breathing had slowly steadied after Jiang Feng's treatment, and his smile grew more enigmatic.

"This is my Ying Kingdom Martial Arts' new Heavenly Pride, at Half-step Celestial Realm; perhaps it's its first time in Xia Kingdom, some techniques itching to be released, so the strike was heavy. I hope General Qiao won't find it offensive."

Qiao Zhenyu's complexion darkened, but he did not flare up.

He glanced at Jiang Feng behind him, then at Chi Tian Yi Lang's face bearing a false smile, let out a cold snort, and did not pursue the matter further.

At that moment, Lu Fangzhou, lying on the ground, let out a faint moan.

His eyelids twitched a few times, then slowly opened. His gaze was still a bit unfocused, his sight vaguely watching the sky above, then shifting to the white‑haired elder's tear‑streaked face; his lips moved, his voice hoarse and weak.

"Master... Master..."

Lu Zhanlian, hearing that, seemed struck by something, lunged forward and seized Lu Fangzhou's hand.

His hand trembled, his voice trembled, carrying a post‑catastrophe exhilaration and excitement.

"Fangzhou! You're awake! You're fine! Wonderful! Wonderful..."

His Tears finally could not be held back, spilling from his eyes.

He gripped Lu Fangzhou's hand tightly yet dared not press too hard, fearing to hurt him; that cautious demeanor made the onlookers feel heart‑ache.

Lu Zhanlian lifted his head, looked at Jiang Feng, his cloudy eyes full of gratitude.

He released Lu Fangzhou's hand, turned to face Jiang Feng, and bowed deeply.

"Old brother Qingfeng Martial Arts Hall's Lu Zhanlian, thank you, sir, for stepping in and saving my Disciple's life! Your great kindness, Qingfeng Martial Arts Hall will never forget!"

Jiang Feng waved his hand, saying nothing.

His gaze lingered on Lu Zhanlian, then shifted, landing on Chi Tian Yi Lang in the distance.

He glanced again at the sparse spectators around the Stand and the silent martial artists, his brows twitching slightly, but he said nothing.

Qiao Zhenyu came over, stood beside Jiang Feng, lowered his voice, speaking at a volume only the two could hear.

"Uncle Master, Qingfeng Martial Arts Hall was once the largest hall in Tianzhou, its founder Lu Zhong was a Heavenly Person Peak strongman, once the cornerstone of Tianzhou Martial Arts. Unfortunately, thirty years ago he perished in a battle with Ying Kingdom warriors, and since then Qingfeng Hall has withered. Yet even in this decline, they remain a mainstay of Tianzhou Martial Arts. This Hall Master also possesses Heavenly Person Initial Stage strength."

Jiang Feng glanced at Lu Zhanlian, his gaze flickered over him for a moment, and he shook his head slightly.

"Although it's Heavenly Person Initial Stage, his qi and blood are depleted; I'm afraid this bout will be life‑or‑death."

Qiao Zhenyu was silent for a moment, offering no reply.

He certainly knew Lu Zhanlian's condition; Tianzhou Martial Arts had for years been sustained by lives, every person still standing there was gambling their lifespan and qi.

He sighed, saying no more.

He turned, his gaze returning to Chi Tian Yi Lang, his voice regaining that commander's steadiness.

"Alright, Chi Tian Yi Lang, let's forget what just happened. This time you came, how do you wish to duel? Please draw the line."

Chi Tian Yi Lang stood at the edge of the Arena, his gaze passing Qiao Zhenyu, landing on Jiang Feng, lingering for a while.

His eyes were grim, as if something churned within.

He had originally planned for Inoue Genichi to strike and eliminate Lu Fangzhou, the sole remaining Heavenly Pride of Tianzhou Martial Arts, intending a clean, decisive crush to stamp the Xia Kingdom warriors underfoot.

Everything proceeded smoothly as planned; Lu Fangzhou was blasted away, spitting blood onto the ground, his Heart Pulse shattered.

If a few more minutes passed, Lu Fangzhou would surely die. Then the entire Tianzhou Martial Arts would see morale collapse, and the next two contests would be swept away like withering reeds.

But this young man, whose origin was unknown, easily revived him.

The method he used, Chi Tian Yi Lang could not comprehend at all.

That golden‑glinting technique made him even doubt whether his eyes were deceiving him.

Nevertheless, Lu Fangzhou came back to life. The earlier crushing effect was greatly reduced.

Chi Tian Yi Lang forced down his murderous intent, refocusing his attention on Qiao Zhenyu.

He gave a cold smile, spread his hands, his tone neither hurried nor slow.

"General Qiao, I am the type who dislikes change the most. Otherwise, this year we'll proceed as usual: three matches, best two out of three."

He paused, his gaze becoming sharper.

"However this time, the stakes, well, need to be a bit larger."

Qiao Zhenyu's pupils contracted slightly, vaguely sensing something amiss. He stared at Chi Tian Yi Lang, gave no reply, waiting for him to continue.

Chi Tian Yi Lang's smile deepened, like an old fox seeing prey step onto the edge of a trap. He reached into his coat and took out a yellowed scroll.

The scroll was leather, its edges worn and slightly torn, faintly bearing the marks of time.

"This time I have brought the… that our Ying Kingdom luckily won against your Tianzhou…"

He paused, unfolded a corner of the scroll, revealing densely packed ancient characters.

"Zhenhai Technique."

Those words caused the Crowd to gasp sharply.

In the crowd, a burly middle‑aged man sprang to his feet, his eyes bulging, staring intently at the yellowed scroll in Chi Tian Yi Lang's hands.

His lips trembled, and from his throat came a beast‑like low growl.

"It is the Wu Family's Zhenhai Technique!"

That man was indeed the master of Zhenhai Martial Arts Hall, Wu Tong.

He clenched his fist, his knuckles turning white, Throughout his being seemed ignited, his chest heaved violently.

The Zhenhai Secret, passed down through his family's generations, was taken away in the disaster decades ago by Ying Kingdom martial artists under the pretext of a contest, Victory. That was the thing his grandfather risked his life to preserve, the foundation of the Wu Family's martial arts Heritage.

He searched for half his life, inquired for a lifetime, and still found no trace.

Now, that thing shines brightly clenched in Chi Tian Yi Lang's hand, displayed before everyone, like a knife thrust into his chest.

Chi Tian Yi Lang looked at Wu Tong's twisted, angry expression, and the Laughter on his face grew even more smug.

He did not glance at Wu Tong again; his gaze remained fixed on Qiao Zhenyu.

"How about it, General Qiao? Your Tianzhou Martial Arts, will you accept this match?"

The wind in the Training Ground ceased.

The sparse audience and martial artists on the Stand all held their Breath, everyone's gaze converged on Qiao Zhenyu.

Tianzhou's martial arts have decayed to the extreme, the few remaining Heavenly Person Realm Experts each suffering depleted Qi and blood, the younger generation never had time to mature.

Three rounds, two victories, they couldn't even gather three candidates worthy of being presented.

But that scroll of the Zhenhai Secret lay There, like a red‑hot branding iron, scorching the hearts of everyone.

Qiao Zhenyu Standing There, silent, his gaze falling on the yellowed scroll in Chi Tian Yi Lang's hand, saying nothing. His fingers on his thigh side tightened slightly then released, as if making an extremely difficult decision.

After a long while, he finally spoke slowly.

"What do you want?"