Chapter 72: Forceful Confrontation with Fang Heng

The moment that name left his lips.

Zhang the Butcher blinked, his mind still foggy.

As he gradually came to his senses, fear swiftly darkened his bearded face.

Like Lin Baiwei.

In the martial world, this was likewise a name existing only in rumor.

Two bare hands could subdue mountains and rivers; the demons slain beneath his feet could pile up into a mountain of flesh. He caught the attention of the Regional Commander of Qingzhou, who took him as a private disciple and taught him an unparalleled supreme art.

So…

Yet such a person came to visit, carrying only a few tangerines.

Zhang the Butcher, though confident, knew the man wasn’t here for him; he awkwardly said, “My lord, I’m just renting this place—my landlord is out.”

“Where did he go?” Fang Heng forced down his impatience.

“He…” Zhang the Butcher clicked his tongue and pointed toward the courtyard gate: “There—he came back with food.”

Fang Heng turned to look.

There stepped into the courtyard a handsome young man in dark robes, a black-bladed saber slung at his waist, carrying two food boxes, walking slowly.

Not a single wound on his body; his gaze was clear and profound; the cloud patterns on his sleeves had now become two distinct lines.

“Master Shen, someone’s here to see you!”

Zhang the Butcher suddenly shouted aloud—whether this visitor was here for kin or trouble, he needed to give the other side time to react.

But it probably wasn’t trouble…

If it were, today I’d be lying here dead.

Shen Yi paused slightly.

He’d sensed Fang Heng’s presence long ago—he simply hadn’t expected him to come bearing gifts.

He walked into the room at a calm, unhurried pace.

“What do you want?”

Shen Yi thought he’d made himself perfectly clear last time.

Between them, there was no relationship, nor any grudge.

“… ”

Zhang the Butcher privately worried: back in Baiyun County, Shen Yi had always seemed indifferent—how had he remained this cold and detached since arriving in Qingzhou?

If he could only forge a connection with Fang Heng, wouldn’t the matter of the Qingfeng Mountain Jiaomo be settled?

With his power, a single order could rescue him from peril.

“Huh.”

Fang Heng breathed evenly and shoved the items into Zhang the Butcher’s hands.

He narrowed his eyes, carefully choosing his words, then bowed: “I’ve inquired—you’re the one Li Xinhan brought from Baiyun County.”

“Hm?” Shen Yi didn’t quite follow.

“You don’t understand Qingzhou well; if he misled you, that’s not your fault—it was my presumption.”

As he spoke, Fang Heng slightly bowed: “Today, I come first to clear up the misunderstanding and offer my apologies.”

At this, the butcher couldn’t help but open his mouth wide.

His breath even froze for a moment.

A… apology?

Shen Yi glanced sideways, noticing the man’s tense, trembling frame, and sighed faintly.

Of course.

Fang Heng straightened up, parted his palms, clenched his fingers, and slowly exhaled a thick breath.

Bai Xi’s orders must be complete.

His eyes burned with intensity: “Secondly, to make amends—I’m taking you back. If you still refuse, I’ll have to force you. After we return, I’ll apologize again.”

As he spoke, a surging aura rapidly spread, making the air grow hot.

“Damn.”

Zhang the Butcher snapped his mouth shut, face twisted—so it was trouble after all!

His body stiffened, yet he still strained to reach behind his waist.

He stole a glance beside him, utterly baffled: ever since meeting Shen Yi, trouble had never stopped following him, each time worse than the last.

Previously, he could lend a hand—but this time… even if he died, he couldn’t stop the enemy’s slightest move.

Finally, that familiar voice reached his ears.

Not the panic he’d expected—but casual, almost lazy.

“No need. Next time you want to fight, just say so.”

Shen Yi gently placed the food boxes on the table and stood with hands at his sides.

His complete lack of defense made Fang Heng’s eyes flicker with surprise, then he let out a self-deprecating laugh: “Reputation… once lost, it’s nearly impossible to regain.”

Before he finished speaking, he vanished in a blur.

This time, he wouldn’t hold back—he’d reclaim what he’d lost with his own hands.

The dense aura of Jade Fluid Realm mid-stage flooded the room, crushing all breath from the air!

“I thought my carelessness last time would teach you a lesson.”

Fang Heng appeared behind Shen Yi, his gaze calm as an ancient well, his knotted muscles radiating terrifying power.

Vein-Severing, Dragon-Grabbing!

“Don’t worry—Bai Xi’s technique is excellent. It’s just a little painful. Good for remembering.”

In his eyes, Shen Yi’s countless meridians instantly flared into view.

Full power unleashed!

Fang Heng’s palms slammed forward with boundless force!

Shen Yi turned slightly—same motion, yet infinitely more natural, effortless.

Not fast by any measure—just a fraction quicker.

In an instant, his fingertips landed on Fang Heng’s two arms, then his palms became fists, delivering a plain, unadorned Cloud-Pushing Palm Strike straight to his chest.

Thud!

With a dull crash, Fang Heng flew backward, rolling several times on the ground.

Both arms hung limp at his sides, trembling slightly.

Everything happened in the blink of an eye—no chance to react.

Fang Heng lay still on the ground, swallowing the metallic taste in his mouth, staring blankly at the sky, lost in thought: “… ”

Inside the room.

Shen Yi adjusted his collar, sat at the table, opened the food boxes, took out two pairs of chopsticks, and handed one to Zhang the Butcher: “Eat.”

The bearded man looked outside, then at Shen Yi, then down at the chopsticks in his hand.

His features slowly twisted.

He tugged fiercely at his beard.

He widened his eyes, straining his mind to find a rational explanation for this scene.

Either Fang Heng isn’t Fang Heng—or Shen Yi isn’t Shen Yi.

“Give me a tangerine.”

“Oh.”

Zhang the Butcher, his train of thought broken, silently handed it over.

He suddenly remembered what Chen Ji had once said.

Someone like him? Nothing surprises you.

“… ”

Shen Yi peeled a tangerine, glancing sideways at Fang Heng in the courtyard.

Since he’d said someone could heal him, this time he’d gone a bit harder—Fang Heng wouldn’t be able to move for at least two months.

This kind of martial madman—unless you break him, he’ll keep causing trouble.

After being nourished by Jade Dew, his aura wasn’t just strengthened—he’d improved in every aspect, further enhanced by the Jiaomo ’s power.

In Shen Yi’s current eyes, Fang Heng was slow, weak, and his techniques were all too familiar—he had no chance at all against him.

He joined the Demon Suppression Bureau to kill demons.

Why keep himself locked in that courtyard?

If the Jiaomo really came seeking revenge, he’d have no idea how to cry.

Moments later.

Fang Heng rose without expression, spat out blood, and walked into the room with his arms hanging.

He sat directly beside the table: “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t either,” Zhang the Butcher agreed, picking up a chicken leg: “What’s wrong with your hands? Want some?”

Fang Heng opened his mouth, bit into the chicken leg offered, and chewed hard.

Shen Yi picked up a stalk of greens with his chopsticks, mixed with rice, chewed slowly, and looked over: “Aren’t you going to get healed?”

“Not today.”

Fang Heng remembered Bai Xi’s final warning, stood, and walked toward the side room: “I’ll sleep here tonight. I’ll leave tomorrow.”

His silhouette looked somewhat lonely.

As he reached the door, he turned his head slightly, his face flushed: “Do you think the things I said earlier were ridiculous?”

Shen Yi put down his chopsticks: “No, you’re geniuses—geniuses have pride, that’s normal.”

“Aren’t you a genius too? Why don’t you have any pride?” A look of confusion crossed Fang Heng’s face.

“I’m certainly not.” Shen Yi stretched lazily—there’s no genius in this world who needs thirty years to learn the Demon-Slaying Blade Art.

“...”

Hearing this, Fang Heng fell silent for a long while, and a trace of respect gradually appeared in his expression.

So in the eyes of true prodigies, the likes of us are merely arrogant fools who show off their talent and invite ridicule, clueless about humility—how laughable.

“Had I been born ten years earlier, and had I not already joined a sect, I would have gladly made you my master.”

With those words, he lowered his hands and walked into the next room.

Only Shen Yi remained, slightly baffled; he pursed his lips and pondered for a moment before realizing... the other man had misunderstood him.

(End of Chapter)