Chapter 114: Crushing! Humiliating!

At this moment, the sky was thick with dark clouds.

Fang Can stood on one foot, his broadsword plunged slanting into the ground, his gaze dominating the five men before him.

Invisible yet terrifying aura erupted from his body.

“Croak! The Divine One has unleashed his might—surely he’ll crush these troublemakers into kneeling!”

“Hehe, I can’t wait to see these worms get punished by the Divine One!”

“We must humiliate these ignorant bastards thoroughly!”

…

As the tide turned, the surrounding disciples cheered wildly, each as jubilant as if it were the New Year.

Ye Yonglie frowned sharply and barked: “What are you all standing there for? Keep playing, keep dancing—show the Divine One’s might!”

The next instant, the solemn, sacred prayers of the martial cultivators merged with the background music, resuming their chant.

“Fake gods and demons.”

Wan Chenyu sneered coldly; though his aura had weakened by a third, he still forced his fighting spirit to resist the flood of mental images: “I refuse to believe you’ve ascended to the heavens.”

As he spoke, Fang Can’s enlarged, crimson left palm swept forward, like five colossal pillars pressing down, as if the entire world were being crushed into a single inch.

One of the mental-image cultivators carrying the palanquin behind him saw this and tears streamed down his eyes.

Fang Can was using his unique supreme technique: the Veil-Heaven Palm Seal.

But what Fang Can now wielded—his aura, technique, power, speed—was vastly superior to what he had ever shown before.

It was as if the entire heavens had truly been sealed within the span of his palm.

Watching the Divine One use his own technique—and so much more powerfully—he felt immense pride.

But as the target, Wan Chenyu’s mindset was far from calm.

Facing Fang Can’s relentless palm, Wan Chenyu felt every direction sealed shut—he could not evade anywhere.

No dodging! No avoiding! No slipping away!

In this Zhichizhijian , every year of his martial cultivation told him this truth: he would be crushed beneath Fang Can’s palm!

If so—

Then don’t dodge! Don’t avoid! Don’t flee!

We martial cultivators—if heaven presses down, we split the sky; if earth tramples us, we shatter the ground.

The next instant, Wan Chenyu’s eyes blazed with determination and defiance—he charged straight into Fang Can’s Veil-Heaven palm, unyielding.

“Slap!”

With a soft squelch of flesh being crushed, Wan Chenyu’s skull was firmly gripped in Fang Can’s palm.

Under the terrifying pressure of his fingertips, the skin and flesh of his skull deformed, pain transmitting through nerves to his brain.

Fang Can held Wan Chenyu’s skull tightly, his right fist raised high, poised to strike.

But before he could, Wan Chenyu’s right arm swung forward with crushing force toward Fang Can’s face.

“Boom!”

A muffled sound like a war drum echoed around, drowning out the prayers.

Amid the explosive air, Wan Chenyu’s eyes widened.

Under his full-power strike, his own right-hand bones had cracked—but what of Fang Can’s cheek?

Unharmed!!!

At least seventy percent of that punch’s force was deflected by the Tiger-Slaying, Dragon-Subduing Golden Body.

The remaining thirty percent, under this “One Pillar Piercing Heaven” state, caused only slight distortion of skin and muscle—no bruise even formed.

‘How is this possible!’ Several noble youths stood frozen: ‘Could this guy really be a Heaven-Ascended martialist?’

“I let you land one punch. Now it’s my turn.”

Fang Can’s voice, low and muffled, came from behind the fist pressing against his cheek.

As he spoke—he raised his hand—he struck!

With his left hand gripping Wan Chenyu’s skull, his right arm swung like a colossal hammer.

Under this mountain-splitting, rock-shattering punch, Wan Chenyu realized in despair: his head was held too tightly to escape.

So—

“Boom!!!”

At the moment of impact, his nasal bridge shattered into fragments.

Bone and flesh sank deep into his skull.

Beneath the ruined face, Wan Chenyu’s once defiant eyes were crushed into pulp.

In a single punch, his face was utterly deformed—blood and flecks of pale-white brain matter spurted from his ears under pressure.

Behind him, once-lush trees were stripped bare by the wild wind of his punch.

Time seemed to leap to late autumn, countless leaves rustling as they fell to the ground.

Now, fist against fist, face to face, their fates stood in stark contrast.

“Brother Wan!”

Seeing Wan Chenyu’s horrific, unconscious state, Li Xiangyang and others cried out instinctively.

The moment he shouted, he realized he’d called out too soon.

Fang Can tossed Wan Chenyu’s limp body aside like discarded trash, his crimson eyes locking onto the group:

“Still got time to care about others? I was busy dealing with him—I forgot about you.”

“Run!”

A frantic voice echoed in Li Xiangyang’s ear.

But where to run? Where to flee?

In his vision, a figure rapidly expanded—he snapped back to awareness only as his body was flung upward, weightless and spinning.

Like a spear, Fang Can hurled Li Xiangyang’s body straight at the three fleeing noble youths.

‘Damn it!’

Hearing the whistling wind behind him, one of them cursed inwardly.

He turned, crossed his arms, ready to intercept this flying projectile.

But the so-called projectile was a man—Li Xiangyang, their own companion?

Worse, Li Xiangyang’s body didn’t fly straight—it arced unnaturally through the air and slammed into his ribs.

“Puff!”

As blood sprayed, ribs shattered, the four men were skewered like a string of dogs, flung headlong together.

‘Young man, do you even know what spear-fighting technique is?’

Fang Can silently thought, gazing at the four as if they were dead dogs.

Of the five who came, only the one with the broadsword had decent strength—the rest were worthless.

‘Useless trash—daring to come here and challenge us?’ Fang Can sneered.

He stepped forward, but one of them, clutching his injured ribs, cried: “Fang Shaoxia, we were in the wrong before. Now that the outcome is clear, why not—”

“Why not sacrifice you to raise our banner?” Fang Can grinned.

“Someone, strip these men naked and hang them on poles—we’ll deliver them to the capital for free.”

As he spoke, his body twisted and reshaped, returning to his original height of one meter eighty.

His previously crimson skin turned white again, his face pale from blood loss, appearing frail and delicate.

But everyone knew this was merely his disguise—within his body lay demonic power.

Seeing Fang Can’s cruelty, the once-refined man’s face flushed crimson: “You dare!”

The next instant, Fang Can’s right foot stomped down, crushing the man’s skull into the earth.

“I did it. What can you do about it?”

(End of Chapter)