Chapter 660: Murderer

Chi Tian Yi Lang stood at the edge of the Arena, his complexion iron‑blue like a piece of iron repeatedly hammered.

He stared at Song Ben, lying motionless on a Green Stone Slab far away, his fingers gripping the railings so hard his knuckles turned white.

After several breaths, he slowly released his hand, turned around, faced Qiao Zhenyu, and a smile slowly tugged at the corner of his mouth.

The smile was ferocious, like the fangs bared by a beast enraged.

His voice was as deep as it could be, each word seeming to be forced out from between his teeth, bearing a restraint that suppressed a raging Anger yet held it hard.

"Of course, I'm surprised."

He fixed his gaze on Qiao Zhenyu, then shifted his eyes toward the direction where Lin Yanqian had left, lingering on that violet silhouette for a while.

"Your Tianzhou Martial Arts can produce such a Heavenly Pride, defeat the strong with the weak, even break through on the spot and turn the tables on my Ying Kingdom warriors. It truly makes one… look at you with new eyes."

When he said this, there was not a hint of appreciation in his Tone, only a chilling coldness that made the back shiver.

General Qiao slightly furrowed his brows, but said nothing.

He could of course hear the unmistakable threat in Chi Tian Yi Lang's words, yet he still restrained himself, not flipping his temper outright.

Chi Tian Yi Lang continued, his voice sinking even lower.

"General Qiao, but I must advise you! Historically, geniuses are the most prone to downfall. It's not easy for your Tianzhou Martial Arts to produce such a genius; I hope you'll watch her closely."

He paused, flashing a set of stark white teeth; the smile gleamed especially harsh under the afternoon sun.

"If this Heavenly Pride were to die like this, your Tianzhou Martial Arts would have no successors thereafter, ha ha!"

General Qiao's complexion darkened sharply, his eyes becoming as sharp as knives.

He of course heard the threat in Chi Tian Yi Lang's words.

But he did not erupt.

He took a deep breath, suppressing the surging Anger, and his voice returned to that Recovery of a military commander.

"Chi Tian Yi Lang, no need for idle words. Who will you choose for the second match? Come quickly."

Chi Tian Yi Lang looked at his anger‑suppressed demeanor, the smile on his face deepening further.

He waved his hand, his Tone neither hurried nor slow.

"No need to be so eager, General Qiao, are you so eager to send your men to their deaths?"

He turned around, clapped his hand toward the row of shade canopies behind him; his voice was low but carried a crisp, commanding brevity.

"Zhongcun, it's your turn to perform. Remember, give the Xia Kingdom a big lesson."

As his words fell, a shorter figure emerged from the shadow of the shade canopy.

The figure was very short, about half a head shorter than most present, wearing a gray‑white kimono with a loosely tied belt at the waist.

A neatly trimmed eight‑character moustache sat above his lips; his face was ordinary, but his tiny eyes were narrowed into slits, his gaze cold and sharp like a Poison snake eyeing its prey.

He walked as lightly as if stepping on Cotton, barely making a sound.

General Qiao let out a cold snort and stepped toward the Arena.

Having made up his mind, since Lin Yanqian won the first battle, he would have to fight the second himself. As long as he could claim a single victory, Tianzhou Martial Arts would lock in the win.

He was the only Tianzhou practitioner still possessing a fairly full Qi and blood in the Heavenly Human Realm, perhaps a bit strained against Chi Tian Yi Lang, but against others he had enough Confidence.

But before he could take two steps, a gaunt yet strong hand reached out from the side, firmly pressing his shoulder.

The hand's force was not small, like an iron clamp clamping onto his shoulder blade, causing his body to pause slightly.

General Qiao turned his head and saw Lu Zhanlian's pale‑blue, weathered face.

The old man's white hair fluttered slightly in the wind, his gaze fixed on the short figure emerging from under the shade canopy, flames seeming to burn within his eye sockets.

"Commander Qiao…"

Lu Zhanlian's voice was hoarse and deep, carrying a weight as if a volcano suppressed for over a decade had finally found an outlet.

"Let Old brother handle this second match."

General Qiao followed his gaze to the short man with the eight‑character moustache, his Brain racing through possibilities. He suddenly remembered!

Ten years ago, also on this Training Ground, on a similar afternoon, a Ying Kingdom warrior named Zhongcun had once come to Tianzhou.

At that time Zhongcun was only at the Master Early Realm, but on the Arena he fought ruthlessly, killing Lu Zhanlian's most prized Disciple on the spot under the pretense of sparring.

That Disciple was named Lu Yong; Lu Zhanlian regarded him as his own, a prodigy of the younger generation of Tianzhou Martial Arts, who entered the Grandmaster Middle Realm at a young age with limitless prospects.

In a single clash, he was crushed by a palm, dying on the Arena before his Master's eyes.

Ten years ago Zhongcun was only at the Master Early Realm, and now he has already entered the Heavenly Human Realm?

Ten years to leap from Master Early Realm to Heavenly Human Realm—such a cultivation speed is terrifying.

General Qiao instinctively wanted to stop Lu Zhanlian; he knew all too well Lu Zhanlian's current physical condition!

His Qi and blood were waning, his lifespan near its end, and his strength at the Heavenly Person Initial Stage was already heavily diminished.

Facing a prime, Qi‑full Zhongcun, he had almost no chance of victory.

"Old Lu, you!"

General Qiao opened his mouth to advise.

But before he could finish, Lu Zhanlian had already released his shoulder, walking toward the Arena.

The old man's hunched back, white hair, and even a slight stumble in his steps, yet the resolute and fierce determination emanating from his very bones made General Qiao swallow the words at his lips.

He watched Lu Zhanlian climb the Arena step by step, standing in the center of the platform littered with shattered Green Stone Slabs, facing the short man with the eight‑character moustache, his gaze burning with a heat that seemed ready to scorch a person through.

Zhongcun stood on the opposite side of the Arena, looking at the white‑haired elder before him, his mouth slowly curling into a smile tinged with amusement and contempt.

He tilted his head, speaking in a heavily accented, drawn‑out Xia Kingdom dialect.

"Oh! Aren't you that old thing from ten years ago?"

He pointed to his own Brain, as if straining to recall.

"What was his name… Oh, the master of that waste I killed?"

Lu Zhanlian's fists clenched tightly, his fingernails nearly embedding into his palms.

His voice squeezed out from deep in his throat, carrying a clenched‑tooth, beast‑like low growl of fury.

"Zhongcun dog thief, do you still remember me?"

"Of course I remember. That waste who died in my hand ten years ago—wasn't he your Disciple? What was his name... Lu... Lu what was it? It's too far back, I can't recall the name clearly."

He took a step forward, Standing less than five chi in front of Lu Zhanlian, those eyes narrowed to slits swept over Lu Zhanlian's weathered face, then glanced at his body trembling slightly from anger, and his Laughter grew even more smug.

"What? Today you also come to meet death?"

"You!"

Lu Zhanlian's eyes instantly turned scarlet as blood.

A powerful surge of Qi burst violently from his body, like a beast trapped for ten years finally breaking free of its chains.

His hunchbacked frame straightened a few degrees in that instant, his white hair fluttered backward in the Qi's vibration, and the surrounding airflow churned as if stirred by something, emitting a low, suppressed hum.

"Old brother today, must avenge Yong'er!"

His voice was like a flash of thunder, echoing across the open Training Ground.

Zhongcun looked at Lu Zhanlian's demonic, maddened demeanor, and the Laughter at the corner of his Mouth showed no Silk at all.

He only lifted his chin slightly, like a hunter watching a beast charging at him, bending his knees unhurriedly, and assuming an extremely casual opening stance.

"Then come at me, old thing."

His voice was very light, so light that only he could hear it.

"Let you and your waste Disciple reunite."