Fan Hao-ri snapped his head up, his gaze locked onto He Quan-xin, shining with an undisguised hatred.

It was a hatred carved deep into his bones; a single glance was enough to give everyone present a strange feeling—that this man’s remaining life would likely be spent entirely in the shadow of seeking revenge.

He Quan-xin shivered violently.

Even with his current tenth-level Neijin cultivation, he couldn't help but feel a chill sweep over him.

“These are the vambraces of my Uncle Xiao and Second Uncle Xiao.

Where did you get them?” Fan Hao-ri ground out through clenched teeth.

He Quan-xin frowned, his own mind swirling with questions.

These two vambraces had been fastened onto him by He Yi-ming just before he entered the ring, done with incomparable dexterity.

However, He Yi-ming’s movements had been so incredibly swift that not only others, but even He Quan-xin himself, only realized the vambraces were on him after they were secured.

By then, it was impossible to inquire about their origin.

Yet, who could have foreseen that today’s battle would be so perilous? Without these vambraces...

He Quan-xin’s gaze flickered towards Fan Shu-he, whose breath had already ceased.

Without these vambraces, it would have been his own body lying on the ground now.

Yuan Cheng-zhi’s eyes lit up.

Seeing Fan Shu-he dead, a massive weight seemed to lift from his heart, and he felt entirely uninhibited.

The Fan family was no grand lineage; it had been entirely propped up by Fan Shu-he, a peak Houtian expert at the tenth level of Neijin.

If they had been given a century or two to develop, perhaps they might have formed a new powerful clan.

But now that Fan Shu-he was dead, this minor family would never see a day of prosperity again.

Never mind that the Yuan family would certainly settle scores later and would never let the Fan family off the hook; even the families previously absorbed by the Fan family would seize this golden opportunity.

Seeing He Quan-xin frowning and silent, Yuan Cheng-zhi assumed He Quan-xin disdained to answer the man’s question.

He immediately stepped forward with an air of understanding.

“Nonsense.

What does a young boy like you know? You claim they’re yours just because you say so? I could just as easily claim everything belonging to your Fan family is mine.” His voice was loud, tinged with unconcealed glee, and the statement blatantly exposed his ambition to swallow the Fan family whole now.

Yuan Cheng-zhi wore a cold sneer of disdain.

“Eldest Young Master Fan, you saw your esteemed father’s attacks just now—every move was deadly, striking with lethal intent.

It’s just a pity his skills were inferior, and he ended up killed on the spot by Brother He.

This is what happens when one is ruthless and cruel; he brought disgrace upon himself.” He raised his head and bowed to the onlookers.

“Everyone, tell me, am I not right? Is it permissible only for your Fan Shu-he to kill, but not permissible for Fan Shu-he to be killed?” Fan Hao-ri’s face instantly turned ashen.

He spun around, only to see the servants and retainers from his household standing timidly behind him, shrinking backward.

Not a single one dared to step forward and stand beside him.

Furthermore, many among them were half-bowed, nodding repeatedly, seemingly agreeing with everything Yuan Cheng-zhi had said.

In that moment, Fan Hao-ri understood one thing: the Fan family was finished...

Suddenly, a clear, crisp voice rang out.

“What if I say these vambraces are mine?” Though the voice was not loud, sounding almost like a whispered murmur, everyone present heard it with perfect clarity.

A flicker of hope immediately appeared on Fan Hao-ri’s face, like a drowning man grasping at the last straw.

He knew that only if this person was willing to offer aid was there any chance left for the Yuan family’s ultimate rise.

Yuan Cheng-zhi’s gaze sharpened.

Facing this grand palanquin, he dared not show the slightest disrespect.

After all, the inexplicable, immense pressure felt days earlier had impacted them too greatly.

He hesitated for a moment.

“May I ask your distinguished identity...?” The curtain of the palanquin lifted gently, swaying without any breeze, and a tall figure slowly stepped out.

As he emerged, he instantly drew everyone’s gaze.

Although there were streaks of white hair at his temples, the man radiated a powerful vitality that everyone could sense.

It was precisely because of this vitality that no one could accurately determine his age.

The expressions of Yuan Cheng-zhi and his entourage instantly changed dramatically.

Though they did not recognize this man, his appearance and dress matched the description given by the servants guarding the manor gates days earlier almost exactly.

At that moment, all their lingering hopes were utterly shattered.

A Xiantian expert—the Yuan family truly had a Xiantian expert.

What baffled them, however, was why, possessing such a powerful backer, they had wasted time letting the Fan father and son fight first, leading to the unexpected death of Fan Shu-he.

After emerging, the man spoke slowly, drawing everyone’s scrutiny.

“I am Lü Xin-wen.

Have you heard of me?” As soon as this question was uttered, the entire scene fell into absolute silence.

A moment later, a soft thud echoed.

The crowd, jolted from their stupor, looked toward the sound.

In the Yuan family’s contingent, a middle-aged man’s weapon had slipped from his grasp and clattered to the ground, his face utterly drained of color.

Not only him, but everyone in that direction wore nearly identical expressions—as if shrouded by a dark cloud, appearing lifeless.

Conversely, Yuan Ze-wei and the others were overjoyed.

Especially the servants and retainers of the Fan residence—they cast off their previous deathly pallor.

Those who had just been bowing and scraping moments before now looked as if they had swallowed a fly, unable to utter another word.

Lü Xin-wen’s gaze immediately fell upon the golden vambraces worn by He Quan-xin.

He said softly, “The Jingli Golden Elixir was consumed by your young master, and the vambrace treasures are being worn by you.

My three disciples must have been killed by you all, correct?” He Quan-xin fought the urge to turn around.

He now understood that He Yi-ming must have been responsible for this.

But what was this Jingli Golden Elixir business? He had no time to ponder it now.

Taking a deep breath, he said, “Yes, this was done by this junior alone.

I am willing to bear all responsibility.” “Your doing?” A mocking look crossed Lü Xin-wen’s face.

“With your meager strength, how could you possibly kill three of my disciples?” He Quan-xin was instantly struck dumb.

Any person with a bit of sense now knew that the Xiao brothers and the tenth-level Neijin expert who had provoked them that night were Lü Xin-wen’s disciples.

Judging by Lü Xin-wen’s tone, all three were already dead.

Just what kind of person possessed such terrifying power? He Quan-xin’s lips moved, about to speak, when his vision suddenly darkened.

He started slightly, then looked closer to see a rectangular strip of cloth obscuring his view.

His heart tensed, and he quickly called out, “Yi-ming...” “Eldest Uncle, leave it to me.” He Yi-ming’s voice, carrying a faint smile, rang out.

The sound seemed to possess a strange magic, causing He Quan-xin’s despairing heart to beat strongly once more.

He Yi-ming smiled lightly.

“Junior He Yi-ming pays his respects to the senior.” Lü Xin-wen let out a dry chuckle.

“Since you have stepped into the Xiantian realm, there is no longer any distinction between senior and junior.” He Quan-xin’s mouth fell open, his eyes wide.

He stared at his nephew, his expression bordering on stupefaction.

What had Lü Xin-wen just said? He looked around blankly.

Everyone else wore the same ghostly expression.

In that moment, nearly everyone thought they must be hallucinating! He Yi-ming let out a soft laugh.

His voice carried far, snapping everyone back to attention, but the way they looked at him had changed entirely.

Especially those who had spent significant time with him, like He Quan-xin and Yuan Cheng-zhi—their faces showed sheer disbelief, the despair in their eyes replaced by a new, glimmering hope.

He Yi-ming spoke loudly.

“May I ask, Brother Lü, are you so certain your disciples are dead?” Lü Xin-wen lowered his eyelids.

“Has Brother He only recently entered the Xiantian realm? Why do you not understand such a basic principle?” He Yi-ming’s expression sobered.

“I truly do not know.

I seek instruction.” Lü Xin-wen’s lips curled.

“We Xiantian realm experts retain an extremely deep impression of the aura of those close to us.

Any place they have stayed in for a short time cannot escape our perception.” He sighed lightly.

“In the low woods before the Yuan Family Manor, the strong auras of my three foolish apprentices remain.

This aura is extremely dense and intense, only released at the moment of violent death.” A look of realization dawned on He Yi-ming’s face.

Although he had advanced to Xiantian, he had not yet fully grasped some of the special abilities possessed by Xiantian masters.

Lü Xin-wen suddenly continued, “At first, I thought Brother He left these auras behind as a challenge to me.

Now I realize it was merely a lapse in Brother He’s vigilance.

If Brother He wishes to cover his tracks next time, he should perform a Xiantian martial form there; that would thoroughly disrupt the auras and render them undetectable.” He Yi-ming gave a wry smile, cursing inwardly.

If I had known that method, would I be facing you now? Lü Xin-wen asked slowly, “Brother He, I am very curious.

My three disciples were not reckless youths; they shouldn’t have provoked a Xiantian expert.

And since Brother He ascended to Xiantian at such a young age, surely he wouldn't covet mere pairs of treasure vambraces and a few Jingli Golden Elixirs.

Therefore, I wish to know why you took their lives.” He Yi-ming looked up in surprise.

Lü Xin-wen appeared genuinely perplexed by the matter.

Nodding slightly, He Yi-ming spoke seriously.

“That day, your disciple Zhuang Yuan spied on the Yuan family at night.

After he retreated, I followed him the entire way and encountered your three disciples in the low woods.

I didn't originally intend to act, but your three disciples declared they intended to invite your esteemed self to exterminate my entire He family, leaving not a single chicken or dog alive.” He paused here.

“Since they were so merciless, how could I spare their lives?” He Quan-xin and the others listened, their blood running cold, finally understanding the cause.

Anger now flared in their eyes as they looked at Lü Xin-wen.

If these men intended to wipe out the entire He family and were not killed, where was the justice in the world? Lü Xin-wen finally let out a long sigh.

“I understand now, so that is how it is.” He burst into laughter.

“Since annihilating your entire clan was the wish of my three disciples, then let me fulfill it for them.” A heavy, almost tangible killing intent slowly but steadily emanated from his body.

He Yi-ming showed no surprise on his face; he had known since Xiao Yi-fan proposed wiping out his clan that the feud between him and this elder was now irreconcilable.

Now that everything was completely out in the open, he naturally would not hold back.

Taking half a step back, He Yi-ming stood firm.

He did not remove the cloth sack from his back, but slowly raised both hands.

A profoundly mysterious hand seal materialized on his hands.

His fingers were interlocked, the palms hidden between them.

Where no one could see, the center of his palms bulged slightly, as if something was cushioned within.

The Hidden Needle Seal—it was a technique he had converted from the Cloud Rain Seal.

This was the very first time he was using it in actual combat since he created it.

He Tian-yi stared blankly at his sixth brother.

Among this crowd, only he had witnessed Lin Tao-li’s hand seal techniques before.

Although he couldn’t discern the specific variations of the technique, the basic posture of the hand seal looked almost identical at a glance.

Furthermore, he knew that the He family possessed no special techniques related to hand seals.

Thus, he felt a faint strangeness: could Lin Tao-li have actually passed his ancestral hand seal technique to his sixth brother? But that Lin Tao-li didn't seem quite so slow-witted! Once He Yi-ming took the stance of the Hidden Needle Seal, his entire person seemed to vanish.

Though everyone could see him with their eyes, in their perception, He Yi-ming was gone.

Compared to the powerful vitality surging from Lü Xin-wen, He Yi-ming seemed to have turned into a stubborn boulder, devoid of any trace of life force.

Everyone held their breath, their hearts filled with emotions that defied verbal description.

Every single person knew that the duel between these two men represented the final outcome of the day.

The victor would undoubtedly reap immense rewards, but the loser might forfeit even their life.

Though they were not participating on the field, the worry and fear in their hearts far surpassed what the two Xiantian experts facing each other felt.

Suddenly, Lü Xin-wen seemed to move.

He took a step forward, and everyone’s eyes blurred—he had appeared three paces in front of He Yi-ming.

No one could discern how he moved; it was as if he had suddenly disappeared and reappeared.

The onlookers blinked, certain they hadn't misjudged.

A few timid souls even wondered in their hearts if this man was some legendary demon or ghost, or how else could he cause such hallucinations? However, at that very moment, He Yi-ming also moved.

His hand shifted slightly, and every eye caught the fleeting gleam of a thread of golden light.

It flashed, not even lasting the span of a single blink.

Lü Xin-wen’s figure convulsed bizarrely, and he retreated backward with unbelievable speed.

If his advance was invisible to all, then his retreat was clearly seen by everyone as a streak of afterimages.

From three meters in front of He Yi-ming, a chain of Lü Xin-wen figures stretched backward until he reached beyond twenty meters.

Only then did he raise a palm and hold it flat before his chest.

A flicker of golden light pulsed in his palm before vanishing into nothingness.

Having intercepted that golden light, Lü Xin-wen’s figure seemed to pause momentarily before finally turning again.

This time his movements were even faster, circling He Yi-ming several times in an instant.

In the eyes of the crowd, the old man’s figure had already disappeared.

They seemed to see a formless, ethereal mist swirling rapidly across the ground.

Even He Quan-xin, a grand master of the tenth level of Neijin, was now like an ordinary person, completely unable to follow.

His face turned extremely grim.

He had indeed heard from He Wu-de many times that the gap between Xiantian experts and Houtian masters was vast, impossibly so.

In the eyes of a Xiantian master, even a peak Houtian tenth-level master was merely a slightly larger ant.

Though he had heard this until his ears were calloused, a shred of doubt always remained in his heart.

But now, he finally believed it completely.

In the battle raging on the field, both He Yi-ming and Lü Xin-wen could take his life whenever they wished.

His only solace now was that Yi-ming had become a Xiantian expert, and his only prayer was that Yi-ming would win this fight.

If he proved insufficient and lost, they must still find a way to escape with their lives.

As long as Yi-ming was alive, there would be a day for revenge.

While the onlookers nursed their own thoughts, the two figures in the center had poured all their focus onto their opponent.

Lü Xin-wen’s footwork was like the wind; his figure had transformed into a cloud, a mist.

This cloud and mist continuously circled He Yi-ming.

With every rotation, the surrounding air seemed to condense a fraction more, increasing the pressure within.

He Yi-ming could clearly sense a vortex-like energy gradually forming and squeezing in on him relentlessly.

A water-attribute cultivation method, and a Xiantian one at that.

In this moment, He Yi-ming understood the attribute of the Xiantian technique Lü Xin-wen practiced.

Facing the pressure constantly squeezing in from all sides, He Yi-ming remained unmoving as a mountain.

His ten fingers shifted with lightning speed, and strands of Xiantian True Qi were alternately and continuously launched from the palms of his hands.

Each needle seal launched from the Hidden Needle Seal acted like a giant puncture in the surrounding cloud layer, instantly creating an outlet for the seemingly natural compressive force, preventing it from bearing down on him.

The speed at which He Yi-ming launched his needle seals clearly exceeded Lü Xin-wen’s expectations, and also exceeded his capacity to endure.

The old man let out a sudden, sharp cry, his figure shooting upward, instantly retreating dozens of meters.

Only then did the onlookers see clearly that he was holding a piece of white cloth in his hand.

It turned out he had been using this cloth, waved at extreme velocity, to create the cloud-like, misty illusion just moments before.

However, the cloth was now riddled with holes, utterly shredded...

P.S.: Another chapter in two minutes^_^