Chapter 711: Jun Aoshan

The golden figure in the high sky wavered as if about to fall.

Zheng Tianxiong hovered over a hundred zhang above, his arms hanging at his sides, trembling slightly.

The most shocking sight was the wound on his chest, slashing from his right shoulder to his left rib, deep enough to expose bone.

Zheng Tianxiong gasped heavily, lifted his head, and stared at the calm figure opposite.

Jiang Feng stood opposite him in the air less than twenty zhang away, his hands naturally at his sides, not a single hem disturbed.

The two fought for almost the length of an incense stick. In that time, Zheng Tianxiong exhausted all his lifelong knowledge, yet none of his moves could truly wound Jiang Feng.

The white figure was like a bottomless water wall; no matter how much force struck it, not a single ripple rose.

His Golden True Qi collided with the white light like a mud ox sinking into the sea, vanishing without a sound.

Zheng Tianxiong had roamed the Yunding Secret Realm for nearly two hundred years, and no one had ever forced him to this point.

Even the old monsters who first entered the secret realm back then could at most only match him.

But the young man before him seemed to play cat‑and‑mouse the whole time, not exerting any extra effort.

He now understood. Jiang Feng's strength was not merely a Martial Ancestor… but far beyond him.

Having lived nearly three hundred years, at this moment he felt a pressure from the young man he had never experienced before.

It was not a crushing force, but something deeper, more fundamental, telling him—if Jiang Feng wished to kill him, a single move would suffice.

His lips moved, and then he made a move that no one on the ground could believe.

He turned and fled.

It was not a retreat, not a detour, but a genuine escape.

The golden figure transformed into a meteor‑like beam shooting into the distance, so fast that it left a long afterimage in the sky.

The guests on the ground who looked up to watch erupted in a roar.

The Zheng Family patriarch, Martial Ancestor Zheng Tianxiong, ran away?

But the next second they realized Zheng Tianxiong wasn't running.

The golden light sharply turned a corner above Zheng Tiancheng, shooting toward the highest peak on the east side of the city.

"Jun Aoshan!"

Zheng Tianxiong's voice cracked like thunder, exploding over the whole Zheng Tiancheng.

His voice was hoarse and urgent, carrying a roar born of being forced to the brink.

"If the Zheng Family perishes, your Jun Family cannot remain untouched! If the Yunding Secret Realm loses the Zheng Family's protection, do you think those old monsters outside will spare you?"

When he reached the last few words, his voice trembled—not from fear, but from anger.

Zheng Tianxiong had roamed the world all his life; when had he ever bowed his head to anyone? Yet now he had no choice. He couldn't defeat Jiang Feng, the three Half-step Martial Ancestor Elders had already been crippled by Jiang Feng, and the Zheng Family's greatest reliance—himself—was soon to become a corpse floating in the sky.

He must seek aid.

At the peak, the third breath of that voice that fell down suddenly flashed.

The moment the blue light ignited, the whole peak trembled lightly, then a cyan pillar shot skyward from the summit.

The pillar coalesced in midair into a vague human silhouette.

The person wore a cyan long robe, a Jade Belt at the waist, a lean face, long hair tied at the back with a Jade Hairpin; he looked no older than his early fifties, yet his eyes held the stillness of an ancient well that only someone who had lived several hundred years could possess.

He hovered a hundred zhang above the peak, keeping less than thirty zhang from Zheng Tianxiong, his gaze sweeping over the shocking wound on Zheng's chest before shifting to the distant white figure, his pupils flickering slightly.

"Brother Zheng, what are you…"

Jun Aoshan stopped mid‑sentence, for he had already seen the dense cracks covering Zheng Tianxiong's body, the golden blood mist still seeping outward, and the once‑formidable opponent of two hundred years now reduced to a ragged, almost unrecognizable state.

He had not intended to intervene in this matter.

Zheng Tianxiong and he were not on good terms; the two great families had fought over territory and resources in the Yunding Secret Realm for over two hundred years, countless overt and covert clashes. Zheng Tianxiong being beaten could, from a certain perspective, even be a cause for his satisfaction.

But Zheng Tianxiong said something true…

The Yunding Secret Realm is the foundation of the Three Great Families.

If the Zheng Family were truly eliminated by a single person, the Jun Family and Xie Family could not remain untouched.

The old monsters outside, forever coveting this secret realm, would rush in like sharks at the scent of blood.

Jun Aoshan sighed inwardly.

He was not unaware of Jiang Feng's background.

Just now, the white figure in the high sky pressed on every move Zheng Tianxiong made; from the summit he saw everything crystal clear.

Each motion and strike of that figure was as precise as a finely tuned machine, wasting no effort, using no extra technique, every blow hitting the vital point directly.

He did not wish to provoke such a person.

But now that things had come to this, he had no choice.

Jun Aoshan took a step forward.

The step was not swift, yet the instant he lifted his foot, the cyan light atop the peak flared dramatically, a massive Martial Ancestor aura burst from him like floodgates opened, surging outward in all directions.

Zheng Tianxiong watched Jun Aoshan release the aura; the heart that had been hanging in his throat finally settled back halfway.

His lips moved, as if to speak, but a rush of blood taste in his throat forced the words back. He merely nodded, then turned to face Jiang Feng again.

One golden, one cyan, the two Martial Ancestor silhouettes floated side by side in the high sky.

Moonlight struck them from the side, casting both silhouettes onto the swirling clouds below. The scene was as magnificent as a painting.

Jiang Feng stood there, gazing at the two Martial Ancestors before him, his face showing not even a ripple.

"Martial Ancestor…"

He spoke, his voice low, yet everyone in the night sky heard him clearly.

"The two of you are rather interesting."

Jun Aoshan's brows twitched slightly.

It was not a feigned composure, but a genuine, bone‑deep calm. As if, in his eyes, the two Martial Ancestors were no different from two straw men.

This feeling makes Jun Aoshan very uncomfortable.

He has lived for nearly three Hundred years, has seen countless masters, but he has never experienced this sense of being completely ignored from anyone.

His Mouth moved slightly, about to speak, but Zheng Tianxiong beat him to it.

"If you withdraw today, Old brother can let it go. Lin Qinghan, you may take him away, and all the losses suffered by the Zheng Family can be written off. But if you insist on attacking the foundation of our Zheng Family… then today don't blame the two of us old fellows for using numbers to bully the few."

When he said this, his gaze locked dead onto Jiang Feng's face, as if waiting for a step. If Jiang Feng is willing to step down, then today's absurd affair will be over.

Although Shame, it is still better than losing one's life.

Jiang Feng, upon hearing this, first fell silent for a moment.

Then he Laughter. That Laughter was faint, the corners of his Mouth only slightly upturned, yet everyone felt an indescribable sense of oppression in that Laughter.

That was not the oppression of power, but a higher‑level, from the depths of the soul, a feeling of looking down.

"Do the two of you think that joining forces can change the outcome?"

He shook his head, Tone still as flat as if saying the moonlight tonight is fine.

"Very well, since your Jun Family insists on wading into this murky water…"

He paused briefly, then uttered that sentence.

"The next one is the same as well."

Jun Aoshan's Pupils suddenly contracted. He looked at the young man before him, at those eyes as calm as a pool of dead water, and a wildly absurd premonition rose in his heart. The words spoken by this young man might not be empty bluster.

And Zheng Tianxiong stood beside him, the Anger in his eyes already burned into a blaze.

His Fist clenched, and on that dark Metal-colored Bone frame rose a layer of flowing Golden Light, like magma flowing through cracks. His voice squeezed out from deep within his throat, bearing a roar born of complete Anger.

"Then let Old brother see, just how great your skill truly is!"

The moment the words fell, a Metal and a cyan figure moved simultaneously. Metal-colored beams and cyan torrents burst from the night sky with a roar, lunging toward that white figure.

The Battle of the Martial Sovereign was sounded again.