Chapter 657: How Could You Have Escaped?

Chi Tian Yi Lang stood There, and when he heard Jiang Feng say that Lin Yanqian should go into battle, he was stunned for a moment, then as if he had heard the funniest joke in the world, he looked up and burst into loud laughter.

The sound of his laughter echoed across the open Training Ground, carrying an unmistakable mockery.

The four or five Ying Kingdom warriors behind him also laughed, their gazes sweeping over Lin Yanqian as if appraising an amusing toy.

Chi Tian Yi Lang, having laughed enough, wiped the corner of his eye, looked at Qiao Zhenyu, and his voice bore a cold disdain to the extreme.

"General Qiao, is this also your decision? To let a mere Martial Artist Ninth Grade decide the future of Tianzhou Martial Arts? Your Tianzhou Martial Arts has already fallen to this level?"

Qiao Zhenyu stood There, without answering immediately.

His gaze lingered on Lin Yanqian for a moment, and the knot in his heart felt twisted into a tangled braid.

A Martial Artist Ninth Grade facing a Ying Kingdom Heavenly Person Realm Expert is such a vast gap that he dares not even imagine the scene.

At that moment, Lu Zhanlian let out a cold snort and stepped out of the crowd.

The old man's white hair was blown into disarray, yet his gaze remained steadfast.

"Commander Qiao, no matter what, Tianzhou Martial Arts cannot be left to a Female child to decide life and death. Among the Lu family's juniors there are still plenty of Pre‑Heaven Grandmaster; if Commander Qiao says a word, they would gladly die for Tianzhou!"

The few Qingfeng Martial Arts Hall disciples behind him puffed out their chests; though they said nothing, the meaning in their eyes was clear.

Wu Tong of Zhenhai Martial Arts Hall also rose to his feet, his voice loud and resolute.

"My Wu family can also die for Tianzhou! Commander Qiao, though I, Wu Tong, have lost the Zhenhai Technique, I am still at the Master Peak; a fight to the death can still vindicate Tianzhou Martial Arts!"

Qiao Zhenyu looked at the two elder hall masters, his face full of emotion, his lips moving as if about to agree.

But before he could speak, Jiang Feng's voice rose faintly.

"Believe me, if my disciple steps forward, Tianzhou will surely win."

Qiao Zhenyu's pupils snapped shut.

He looked at Jiang Feng's calm‑as‑water face, and his mind raced in a quick circle.

In front of him stood a genuine Martial Arts Sovereign. This person despises the entire Tianzhou Martial Arts, yet he absolutely cannot bear to let his disciple die.

If Jiang Feng dares to let Lin Yanqian take the field, it shows he has complete confidence.

Even if everyone thinks this is a certain loss, as long as Uncle Jiang says they can win, he will believe it.

Qiao Zhenyu inhaled deeply, his gaze becoming steadfast again.

At that moment, Chi Tian Yi Lang spoke again, his voice bearing a hypocritical magnanimity.

"What? General Qiao also doesn't know what to choose? If Tianzhou Martial Arts truly has fallen to this point, Old brother guarantees that to deal with this little girl we will send only a Grandmaster; if she can defeat the Grandmaster, even if your Tianzhou wins, what then?"

The words sparked a low chorus of angry curses from the Stand.

Someone gritted their teeth, berating the Ying Kingdom people's shamelessness.

Letting a Martial Artist Ninth Grade face a Pre‑Heaven Grandmaster is like pitting a Female child against a ferocious tiger; not to mention winning, merely surviving is a huge stroke of luck.

But Qiao Zhenyu did not hesitate.

He looked at Chi Tian Yi Lang, his voice carrying an unprecedented composure.

"Since that is so, Sister Lin, fight for Tianzhou Martial Arts."

Lin Yanqian, standing behind Jiang Feng, felt her body stiffen slightly upon hearing the words.

She turned her head toward Jiang Feng, her voice carrying a barely perceptible tension.

"Master… should I also go?"

Jiang Feng looked at her, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly, revealing a faint smile.

"You are my Kunlun Disciple; how could you be cowardly?"

He paused briefly, his gaze becoming a few degrees more serious.

"Believe me."

Lin Yanqian looked at his calm eyes, the panic in her heart feeling as if something were pressing it down, gradually calming. She released her clenched fist, inhaled deeply, and then nodded.

"Alright."

She turned around and walked toward the Arena.

Her steps were hesitant at first, but after a few strides they became resolute.

She passed the warriors and soldiers watching her, passed Lu Zhanlian and Wu Tong's concerned gazes, reached the edge of the Arena, braced her hands on the platform, flipped and climbed up.

The Green Stone Slab of the Arena was cool, its surface giving a faintly rough sensation underfoot.

She stood in the center of the Arena, facing a horde of ferocious Ying Kingdom warriors; against the massive Arena her figure seemed somewhat slight.

Chi Tian Yi Lang stood at the edge of the Arena, his gaze coldly sweeping over Lin Yanqian, then landing on a roughly twenty‑year‑old young man behind him.

The young man was not tall but sturdy, wearing a white training robe, the black belt at his waist tied tightly.

His features were ordinary, yet his eyes were cold, bearing an indifference as if steeped in murderous intent for years.

"Song Ben."

Chi Tian Yi Lang's voice was pressed down low, low enough that only he and the young man could hear.

"You go. With your strength, dealing with a Martial Artist Ninth Grade should take less than half a minute."

He paused again, his voice growing even more grim, as if squeezed out from between his teeth.

"I want this woman to die without a burial place."

Song Ben gave a slight nod, let out a snarl, glanced at Lin Yanqian, said nothing, and stepped onto the Arena.

His steps were short, but each landed firmly, the Green Stone Slab emitting a dull thud. He reached the center of the Arena, stood opposite Lin Yanqian, hands hanging down.

His gaze stared at her indifferently, as if looking at an object about to be crushed.

The Training Ground fell silent.

Everyone's eyes converged on the Arena, focusing between the two vastly mismatched figures.

Song Ben spoke, his voice stiff, bearing a heavy accent.

"Little girl, if you kneel and beg for mercy now, I might consider only breaking one of your legs."

She looks at the indifferent‑eyed young man opposite her, her heart pounding like a drum, yet her legs do not tremble.

She says nothing, merely bends slightly at the waist and assumes a starting stance.

That is the Foundation opening move of the Purple Jade Qingfeng Technique; she has practiced it for three days, hundreds of times, and it is now ingrained in her heart.

Song Ben sees her posture, a slight curl at the corner of his mouth, then he moves.

His figure seems suddenly pushed by something, turning into a blurred afterimage that rushes toward Lin Yanqian.

He lifts his right palm, the palm center gathering a clump of dark‑cyan true Qi, exuding a pressure that makes the very air shiver, and strikes straight at Lin Yanqian's chest.

That speed is too fast—so fast that Lu Zhanlian on the Stand pales, Wu Tong clenches his fist abruptly, and Qiao Zhenyu's pupils contract violently.

Bad!

The power gap is still too great!

If this move lands, this Lin Family miss, death is certain!

What a pity!

Lin Yanqian stands there, watching the blurred afterimage press toward her. She knows she cannot react in time; that speed is beyond her reach.

Yet her body responds in that instant.

It is not thought, but Instinct driving her.

Like a gust of fresh wind, fleetingly passing!

Snap!

Song Ben's palm shatters the Arena's surface, yet Lin Yanqian's figure has already drifted to the opposite side.

"Damn! How could you evade?"