Yang Yi glanced toward the opposing side, his figure flickering as he swiftly moved to the entrance of the grand hall. Seeing Chen Hu storming over with a group of men, he couldn't help but smile. "Hall Master Chen, three days have passed, and your imposing aura has certainly grown."

"Hmph, less nonsense. Since you've come today, all of you will stay right here!" Chen Hu snorted coldly.

"Heh heh, I gave you three days to surrender, yet you remain stubborn. In that case, I have nothing more to say. Move out!" With a single command from Yang Yi, over thirty Black God Guards surged forward.

Chen Hu swept his gaze over the group, a deep shadow passing through his eyes. These people were clearly no ordinary men; they were on an entirely different level from his own crew. However, the situation offered him no time for further thought. He immediately raised the broad saber in his hand and roared, "Charge! Cut down these fools who dare demand the Hungry Wolf Gang surrender!"

"Kill!" A horde of thugs wielding sabers, street punks, and callow youths who only knew how to follow the crowd rushed headlong against the Black God Guards.

Yang Yi did not move, merely standing quietly, watching Chen Hu, and said, "You are no match for me. Why don't you bring out your Gang Leader?"

"Hmph. If you want a fight with our Leader, you'll have to get past me first." Chen Hu maintained his perpetually disdainful snort.

"Then this grandma will let you taste what it’s like to have both your hand tendons and hamstring severed!" Feng Jiu, utterly annoyed by the self-important air of the so-called Chen Hu, who was also sneering repeatedly at her Dragon Lord brother, felt an infinite killing intent rising within her.

"Swish, swish!" A meter-long soft sword struck the spot where Chen Hu had been standing. He leaped backward, narrowly evading Feng Jiu’s attack.

"Little girl, you should gauge your own strength. Isn't this just playing house for you?" Chen Hu seemed to look down on Feng Jiu, and he spat out cruel words.

"It’s over, Chen Hu, you’re finished," Yang Yi muttered under his breath upon hearing what Chen Hu said about Feng Jiu.

"Hmph, you talk too much. I’ll show you what 'playing house' truly means!" Snap! Feng Jiu tensed her entire body. The meter-long soft sword transformed like a serpent, constantly weaving and striking toward Chen Hu, moving in lockstep with Feng Jiu’s figure.

"The gap is too wide, alas!" At that moment, a middle-aged man appeared on the second-floor railing, watching the duel between Feng Jiu and Chen Hu. He spoke with a tone that suggested both reluctance and anger.

Just as he finished speaking, he distinctly felt a wave of cold killing intent, met by a pair of eyes as deep as distant stars, accompanied by a smile that was both detached and weary. His heart clenched. It seems this youth is the leader of the Black God Gang.

"So, the Hungry Wolf Gang Leader also enjoys watching from the sidelines? Aren't you planning to enter the fray yourself?" Yang Yi glanced at Zheng Shen, a surge of excitement rising within him. Since he began his journey, he hadn't encountered an opponent who matched his own strength. How could this not thrill him?

Yi Jin Jing at the seventh layer, lower tier—he still hadn't broken through to the eighth. Although his internal Zhenqi had become considerably turbid, Yang Yi understood too many miscellaneous martial arts, which was why he hadn't broken through to the eighth level yet, let alone aspired to the rank of a Minor Grandmaster. In Huaxia, true masters were countless. Therefore, encountering a master in this small A-City made Yang Yi exceedingly excited.

"Hmph. Even if you are the leader of the Black God Gang, today I will let you taste death." Zheng Shen placed one hand on the railing, leaping down in one motion, landing directly in front of Yang Yi, staring at him with a grim expression.

Yang Yi maintained his placid smile, staring at Zheng Shen for a long moment before the smile slowly vanished, replaced by an expression of chilling coldness. Whoosh!

Two figures rushed toward each other simultaneously, their speed so extreme it seemed they were isolating the air around them. Boom! Yang Yi and Zheng Shen’s open palms collided. Their eyes locked onto each other. Yang Yi practiced the Yi Jin Jing, the most profound martial art of Buddhism, while Zheng Shen also practiced martial arts, though his style seemed somewhat insidious.

"Your martial arts are decent, but they are a bit too treacherous. Furthermore, your internal energy, precisely because of this, prevents your meridians from enduring the flow of Zhenqi for long!" Yang Yi flashed a ghostly smile, then delivered a kick, his hand forming a claw shape. Thump!

"Hmph, you insignificant whelp. I’m not so easily judged by you." Zheng Shen coldly snorted, shaking off the arm Yang Yi had grasped.

But in the next moment, he regretted it. After all, the opponent’s real target was not his arm, but his ribs. Crack! Yang Yi’s eyes sharpened; he drove a palm strike fiercely beneath Zheng Shen’s ribs. An estimated two bones had shattered, emitting a faint sound.

A trickle of blood seeped from the corner of Zheng Shen’s mouth. A strange, demonic glint flashed in his eyes as he swiftly delivered a palm strike and then recoiled, glaring furiously at the youth before him. While their power levels were equal, he was no match for this young man. Zheng Shen never expected that in the twenty-first century, such an ancient martial artist would still exist. Of course, there were many things Zheng Shen did not know. Indeed, in contemporary society, even encountering someone who understood martial arts was rare, though not impossible.

Moreover, in vast Huaxia, could the essence and power of martial arts truly be severed? In every corner of the world, there were hermits, and martial arts foundations passed down through ancient families—these were the priceless treasures handed down generation by generation by the people of Huaxia.

Pfft! Zheng Shen couldn't summon his Zhenqi; instead, it felt corroded, and he spat out a mouthful of blood.

Yang Yi narrowed his eyes, watching him, his face devoid of smiles, only pale. That palm strike from Zheng Shen had been quite malicious. He had merely used his hand to block Zheng Shen’s attack, but unexpectedly, his hand had now turned completely black. He quickly circulated his Zhenqi to seal the meridians of his left hand, then declared with palpable killing intent, "I will give you one last chance: surrender or submit."

"Hmph. For me to surrender to you? Even if I die, I will never surrender!" Zheng Shen was truly a resolute man; otherwise, he wouldn't show absolutely no inclination to surrender despite his injuries.

"Very well, then die now!" Yang Yi said coldly, his figure beginning to blur.

Zheng Shen watched the youth hurtling toward him, struggling with extreme difficulty to stand upright. Ignoring his own body, he forcibly summoned his Zhenqi. Crackling sounds! Zheng Shen’s internal organs were already ruptured. "Aargh—I’ll fight you to the death!"

Zheng Shen, his face contorted into a savage mask, met the murderous Yang Yi. Their fists connected. Crunching sounds! Bones shattered. The two remained locked in a stalemate for a significant period. Finally, one figure collapsed. This person was undoubtedly Zheng Shen, now dead. Yang Yi glanced at Zheng Shen, his eyes flickered, and then—Pfft!—he spat out a mouthful of blood. It must be admitted that Yang Yi was also injured, suffering from the toxic essence of Zheng Shen’s insidious martial art.

The battle here had barely concluded when the fighting elsewhere ended. At this moment, Feng Jiu's meter-long soft sword was drenched in blood. Chen Hu lay on the ground, convulsing incessantly, his eyes wide open as if he had endured unimaginable torment. Indeed, Feng Jiu had severed his hand and leg tendons, a form of agonizing torture far more exquisite than a swift death.

[Urgently seeking collections! Brothers, please don't forget to collect just because you’re enjoying the read! Rise up!]