Chapter 677: Lu Zhanlian Goes to His Death!

Humiliation.

The utmost humiliation.

Zhongcun Jiben stood there, the hem of his gray‑green kimono fluttering slightly at the threshold; his figure froze at the instant he turned, his whole body like a bow drawn to its limit.

He had lived over eighty years, and had entered the Half-step Martial Ancestor realm for almost forty years; throughout the Ying Kingdom's martial world, he was a god‑like presence.

When the Disciple of Shinto Munenryu saw him, they knelt and bowed; ministers of the Ying Kingdom's Imperial Family performed the disciple's salute to him, and even the Divine Emperor, upon seeing him, gave a slight nod in respect.

All these years, wherever he was, he was revered by ten thousand people, surrounded by applause.

But now, he is being humiliated like this by a young man?

Zhongcun Jiben clenched his fist inside his sleeve, his knuckles turning white.

He could feel the sword intent he had nurtured for decades raging wildly within him, like a beast locked up too long that smelled blood and hammered desperately at the cage bars.

The arduous cultivation of Shinto Munenryu is the practice of Nourishing Qi; ordinarily he nurtures sword intent, like a blade hidden in its scabbard—when sheathed, its edge is undetectable, but once drawn it becomes Thunderbolt Ten Thousand Pounds, unstoppable.

He had cultivated this sword intent for decades and never displayed it lightly.

Because he knew clearly that each sword strike would consume a portion of his stored power, and he would not use it unless absolutely necessary.

But at this moment, he felt he could no longer hold back.

The sword‑intent seed he had suppressed for decades now erupted, proliferating, spreading, expanding wildly, as if something inside detonated, shattering his reason and restraint.

He stood there, head lowered, silent for a long while.

Then he slowly lifted his head; the squinting eyes snapped open, revealing pupils that had completely changed.

Whoosh—

The candles in the main hall flickered sharply, then all tilted to one side at once, as if driven by an invisible wind.

But it was not wind; it was an extremely condensed, tangible sword qi.

The sword qi burst from his body, like an invisible shockwave radiating outward, sweeping over tables and chairs, over walls, over the roof beams…

Where it passed, the wooden surfaces bore fine, knife‑scratched marks.

Heaven and earth changed color because of it.

Outside the main hall, the clear sky darkened in an instant, as if a massive gray curtain had been drawn over the sun.

The clouds floating above were stirred by an unseen force, forming concentric vortices, as if an invisible giant hand churned the heavens.

The lanterns hanging from the colonnades in the Governor-General's Mansion swung violently, creaking, as if they might fall from their hooks at any moment.

Du Jianchuan's complexion turned completely pale at that moment.

He felt the sword qi surge from all directions like an invisible tide, pressing against his chest, making even breathing difficult.

His legs began to tremble, his knees colliding repeatedly, producing a clacking sound.

He stared at Zhongcun Jiben's now completely cold face, at the two swirling silver‑white lights deep in his pupils, and the last sliver of hope in his heart shattered completely.

He fell to his knees with a thud, his knees striking the Green Stone Slab with a dull thump, the hem of his official robe crumpled, his forehead pressed against the cold ground.

"Sword Saint Nakamura! Please withdraw your Divine Power!"

His voice trembled, each word carrying an almost sobbing plea.

"They cannot represent Tianzhou! I am the Governor of Tianzhou, I make the decision! Lu Zhanlian's life is yours, elder! Please withdraw your Divine Power!"

Qiao Zhenyu stood there, watching Du Jianchuan prostrate on the ground in a submissive posture, the pressure in his chest ignited and exploded in an instant.

He pointed at Du Jianchuan's nose, his voice laced with a fury never before shown.

"Du Jianchuan! How can you be so shameless! Old Lu stepped onto the Arena for Tianzhou, for the Tianzhou heroes who fell at the hands of the Ying Kingdom! Now you would hand him over just to protect your own position?"

Du Jianchuan lifted his head, his voice sharp as a cracked gong.

"What about my shamelessness? Qiao Zhenyu, could you let Sword Saint Nakamura withdraw his Divine Power and cease striking Tianzhou's people?"

The main hall fell silent for a moment.

The officials huddled in the corners; some bowed their heads, unwilling to look, others watched the standoff with complicated eyes.

After several breaths, a vague voice drifted from a corner, cautious as if afraid of being overheard.

"Though killing Old Lu is somewhat shameless… preserving the lives of tens of thousands of Tianzhou's citizens is also reasonable…"

The voice was soft, yet unusually clear in the quiet main hall.

No one echoed it, but the silence itself was already an attitude.

Qiao Zhenyu turned his head, his gaze sweeping the faces huddled in the corners, feeling his heart grow colder by the moment. He suddenly understood.

Du Jianchuan cared only about his own standing, and most of those officials were only thinking about how to protect themselves.

Heroes are praised when they fall on the battlefield, but when a hero's life and their own safety are weighed on opposite pans, most choose the latter.

At that moment, a gray‑haired yet still sturdy figure emerged from the shadows of the side door of the main hall.

Lu Zhanlian wore a gray short coat faded to near‑white, his white hair neatly combed, his back straighter than even on the Arena days ago.

He walked to the center of the main hall, stood beside Qiao Zhenyu, patted his shoulder—light in force but carrying the warmth an elder gives to a junior.

Then he turned, facing Zhongcun Jiben, his voice low yet each word crystal clear.

"Zhongcun, I killed him; if you're looking for him, look for me—it has nothing to do with anyone else in Tianzhou."

Zhongcun Jiben stood there, looking at the white‑haired elderly man before him, his mouth slowly curving into a cold smile.

His voice seemed squeezed from deep in his throat, bearing a chill that had been suppressed for too long now finally released.

"Very well, then you shall die."

The moment his words fell, a silver‑white sword qi shot out from his body.

The sword qi coalesced in the air into a visible sword‑shaped phantom, its whole form coursing with icy silver light, exuding a pressure that made the air crack, thrusting straight toward Lu Zhanlian.

It was so fast that even Qiao Zhenyu could not react in time.

His pupils snapped shut, his body instinctively lunged forward a step, but before his foot left the ground, the sword qi had already swept past his side, bearing a biting chill.

Lu Zhanlian stood there, watching the silver‑white sword shadow fly toward him, neither dodging nor retreating.

He even gently closed his eyes, as if waiting for an Outcome that had been prepared for a long time.

In the main hall, everyone couldn't help but close their eyes.

From their perspective, a practitioner of the Heavenly Human Realm facing the sword qi unleashed at full power by a Half-step Martial Ancestor had no chance of survival.

That silver-white sword light was like a meteor streaking across the night sky, bearing an unstoppable, verdict-like momentum, shooting straight toward Lu Zhanlian's chest.

Then, that sword light stopped.

It stopped at a point less than three inches away from Lu Zhanlian's chest.

It just hovered There, the silver-white glow still swirling, the sword tip still trembling slightly…

But it seemed to have struck an invisible wall, and no matter what, it could not advance even a hair's breadth.

That wall was unseen and untouchable, yet it truly existed between that sword qi and Lu Zhanlian's chest, like an invisible heavenly trench separating life and death.

In the main hall, those who had closed their eyes waited for a long time, yet they did not hear the expected sound of flesh tearing. Someone carefully opened one eye, and then everyone seemed nailed to the spot, motionless, watching the scene before them.

How could this be possible?

Zhongcun Jiben Standing There, his complexion had already shifted from cold hardness to an extremely unsightly iron‑blue.

His Pupils were violently contracting, his fingers trembling slightly, and he could feel that the sword qi he had released was being suppressed by a force completely beyond his Understanding Scope!

It was as if an invisible finger pressed against his sword tip, rendering it immobile.

Then, that lazy voice sounded again.

"I said, if you can kill a person, even you old turtle have the skill."