Chapter 112: Idol Voting! (Third Chapter!)

Leaving Yanggu County, they traveled all the way into Changlu County.

The orderly divine procession moved without pause along its route, preparing to restock supplies in the nearest major city before nightfall.

Suddenly, a towering figure blocked the path ahead, holding a broadsword horizontally across the road, grinning arrogantly at the caravan.

Ye Yonglie frowned and shouted from within the procession: “Who are you? If you seek a challenge, submit your formal invitation. After we reach the next city, Master Fang Can will grant you your duel.”

As he spoke, the entire procession continued forward without stopping.

They had anticipated such roadside provocations—these were merely wannabes hoping to fight Fang Can and gain fame across the land.

If they lost, they could claim they were defeated by the number one on the Shenglong List, and that was nothing to be ashamed of.

But if they won, everyone who mentioned Fang Can would link him to the defeated challengers—far more effective than playing the role of a mere law enforcer.

As the procession advanced, three Xiangxiang martial artists hurried forward to shove aside this obstructing commoner.

This was both clearing the riffraff and filtering out the strong.

If you can’t even defeat three civilian Xiangxiang martial artists, what dream are you dreaming of challenging Fang Can?

As they stepped forward, their Xiangxiang energies surged wildly—only to find themselves split apart like water striking a blade’s tip.

‘This…’ The three exchanged glances, all realizing they faced a formidable opponent.

This sensation was eerily similar to when they had sparred with Fang Can—this man, too, could conceal his Xiangxiang.

“Heh, since you struck first, don’t blame me.”

The man casually twisted his thick arm, and in the next instant, his body vanished from where he stood.

With a thunderous explosion beneath his feet, the earth split open in a rapid crack.

In the blink of an eye, the man’s towering frame closed the distance to within a zhang of the three Xiangxiang martial artists.

As their pupils contracted, a massive broadsword, swung high, rapidly filled their vision—crashing toward them with a savage, overwhelming blade intent.

“Strength! Strength! Strength!”

Before the gale-like rush, the three tried to block, crossing their arms before their bodies—but they felt the entire world charging into them.

“Boom! Boom! Boom!!!”

With three metallic clangs, the three Xiangxiang martial artists were flung backward by the broadsword’s wide blade.

In an instant, the procession halted. The musicians and chanters froze mid-performance, their gazes all locking onto this unexpected intruder.

‘This is it. This is how it should be!’

Feeling all eyes converge upon him, Wan Chenyu’s excited phantom limbs twitched with delight—he was born to be the center of attention!

Just imagining the moment he defeated Fang Can, and watching these brainwashed fans’ despairing, indifferent expressions, he could barely contain himself.

“What’s the panic for?”

Watching the halted procession, Ye Yonglie frowned in displeasure: “Keep playing, keep dancing. It’s just one troublemaker. Can’t you even maintain your composure?”

At Ye Yonglie’s words, the caravan resumed its duties—those playing lutes played again, those reciting poetry resumed, and the tense atmosphere softened once more.

“Tch!” Watching the procession restore order, Wan Chenyu was displeased.

But he said nothing, for he had his own procession.

At this moment, dozens of li away, a thousand-strong procession was approaching, their suona horns blaring relentlessly toward this spot.

As Ye Yonglie had said, any martial artist with a modicum of fame had his own worshipers.

Wan Chenyu was no exception.

As the 325th-ranked expert on the Qilong List within Dayan, he had drawn massive public attention and was now one of Dayan’s hottest rising martial stars!

Thus, as standard for god-making, he naturally had his full divine procession equipped.

Ordinarily, as two sect deities, even if they intended to duel, they would exchange formal invitations and fight with proper ceremony.

But Wan Chenyu was too lazy to bother with such formalities—he simply drove his divine procession straight here.

In his view, as long as he kept winning, all other trivial matters could be swept aside.

Even the musical instruments had been uniformly replaced with suonas; he himself had advanced ahead to intercept Fang Can, intending to beat the number one on the Shenglong List into a bloody pulp.

‘When those worshipers see their god humiliated and broken, and then hear the distant blare of the suonas… that moment of shattered faith…’

Wan Chenyu’s mind already churned with malicious fantasies.

In the shadows, several companions who had come together watched Wan Chenyu’s actions and sighed, rubbing their foreheads.

“Wan Brother has gone too far—this humiliation is… excessive,” Li Zhengyang said helplessly.

They were all new-generation martial deities of Dayan, and they had come here intending to curb Fang Can’s arrogance.

After all, competitors are rivals. Since Fang Can’s debut as Shenglong List number one, their worshipers’ loyalty had grown unstable, even showing signs of small-scale defections—this was simply too much.

“Fighting has wins and losses,” said the refined young man beside him with a smile.

“Wan Brother is right—if you can’t endure even this level of humiliation, why bother training? Just go home and sleep.”

“Wan Brother has advanced fastest among us precisely because of this pure, unyielding heart—that’s why the clans allowed us to come out.”

“Youngsters brawling among themselves—even Jiejian Mountain wouldn’t interfere.”

After all, Jiejian Mountain itself invited all the Tui Fan martial artists from across the land; if they truly came, they can't be such sore losers.

…

As they spoke, Wan Chenyu had already knocked down five or six Xiangxiang martial artists.

For these men, his strikes were measured—only broken bones and torn sinews, no fatal injuries; they would recover in three to five months.

Watching the martial artists fall one by one amid the music, Wan Chenyu raised an eyebrow: “Finally ready to show yourselves?”

As he stared, the sedan’s door opened, and a handsome young man revealed half his body, lifting the curtain.

The man calmly scanned the scene; when he saw the fallen martial artists, his brow twitched slightly, then fixed on Wan Chenyu: “You did this.”

“Correct. I’m here today to provoke.” Wan Chenyu made no effort to hide his malice.

“Good.” Fang Can said nothing, his gaze shifting left: “And the four of you over there—will you come out on your own, or must I drag you out?”

“Hmph, no need for them. I’ll handle this myself.” Before Wan Chenyu finished speaking, a vast sea of blood surged toward them.

‘This Xiangxiang…’ Wan Chenyu’s eyes widened—within this overwhelming torrent, even his method of solidifying his spirit was useless.

He felt himself reduced to a tiny skiff, ready to be swept away at any moment by the crimson tide.

(End of Chapter)