Chapter 31: The Terrifying Power of the Martial Marquis

After mending the bones in his hand, Lu Yan continued to dash madly towards the outskirts of the mountain.

Before long, he heard voices. Creeping closer, he discovered they belonged to the Crimson Guards. Among them was a young man from the Liu family, in his twenties—a cultivator who had broken through four times. Beside him stood a retainer of the Liu family.

By now, it was deep into the night. Hidden in the darkness, Lu Yan pondered his next move. In truth, his plans depended entirely on whether Liu Xingren was alive or dead. If Liu Xingren still lived, there was no way he could return to the Crimson Guards; Liu Xingren would never let him go. If, on the other hand, Liu Xingren had perished, he could simply pretend nothing had happened and remain with the Crimson Guards.

Thus, for now, Lu Yan decided not to approach the Liu family’s men.

The five members of the Liu family had spent the entire day searching the mountains and were clearly exhausted. The three Crimson Guards formed a protective circle around the young Liu and his retainer, allowing them to rest.

Moments later—

“Someone’s coming.”

Suddenly, Lu Yan looked towards the depths of the mountains. A figure came hurtling out of the night, as if fleeing for his life.

By the faint moonlight, Lu Yan soon recognized who it was. His heart jolted, and his expression turned grim.

It was Liu Xingren.

At this moment, Liu Xingren was in a pitiful state—clothes in tatters, covered in blood, one arm riddled with wounds to the point that bone was visible, swinging limply at his side.

“Who goes there?”

The five Liu family members were startled, gazing warily into the darkness. But in seconds, they recognized Liu Xingren.

“It’s Young Master Liu!”

“He’s hurt!”

The five hurried to meet him. Seeing his own people, Liu Xingren finally let out a breath of relief. He staggered, nearly collapsing—a testament to the severity of his injuries.

Lu Yan quietly crept closer; he wanted to eavesdrop on their conversation. Fortunately, the darkness was thick and he was cautious enough not to make a sound, so none of them noticed his presence.

“Young Master, what happened? How did you come to be so gravely wounded?”

The retainer steadied Liu Xingren and asked.

“Quickly, return and report to the Elders. The Martial Spirit has been found and is undergoing the ‘Demonization Ritual.’ Summon the Elders to exterminate it.”

Liu Xingren spoke rapidly, then coughed up a mouthful of blood.

The faces of the others changed dramatically.

A Martial Spirit, here in Giant Tooth Mountain.

“Young Master, your injuries are too severe to risk moving further. Stay here and recover; I will guard you,” the retainer said. “Young Master Xingfeng, you must return at once to report the Martial Spirit’s appearance to the clan Elders.”

“Understood.”

Liu Xingfeng, the Liu family prodigy who had broken through four times, departed with a Crimson Guard at great speed.

The retainer remained with the other two Crimson Guards, guarding Liu Xingren.

Liu Xingren pulled out a piece of dried martial rations, chewed it, and began circulating his energy and blood to heal.

Lu Yan remained absolutely still in the shadows.

According to his earlier plan, since Liu Xingren wasn’t dead, his only option was to return to Changfeng City and flee with his parents. But seeing how severely Liu Xingren was injured, Lu Yan’s thoughts shifted.

Why not simply find an opportunity to kill Liu Xingren?

But now was not the time to strike. The two Crimson Guards were of little concern, but the retainer was not to be underestimated—a martial artist who had broken through five times, no less. He was elderly, in his sixties or seventies, and had spent many years cultivating. His martial prowess was undoubtedly profound; to kill him would be extremely difficult.

After breaking through four or five times, a martial artist’s energy and blood became robust, their life force formidable. Absent illness or injury, they could live to around one hundred and twenty. Sixty or seventy was not old—still the prime of life. Only after ninety would their vitality begin to wane.

Unless he could kill them all, there was no point in acting.

Lu Yan thus lay in wait, biding his time.

After about three or four hours, two figures arrived like a whirlwind.

These were two elders, both seemingly past sixty, their hair and beards snow-white, yet their frames were powerfully built—each well over two meters tall, towering above Liu Xingren.

Their bodies were as robust as water buffalo, radiating palpable heat from their energy and blood even at a distance.

Such was the manifestation of energy and blood at its peak: blood like a furnace, force sinking into bone.

Marquises of the Martial Path.

Lu Yan scarcely dared to breathe, holding himself motionless high in a tree.

It was said the Liu clan boasted only five Marquises, yet here were two at once.

One of them carried Liu Xingfeng as easily as if he were a chick.

“Greetings, Elders.”

Liu Xingren, the retainer, and the two Crimson Guards bowed in unison.

In the Liu family, the Marquises were gods among men. No matter how gifted Liu Xingren was, with hopes of becoming a Marquis himself before thirty, as long as he had not yet achieved that rank, he had to show the utmost respect before them.

“Xingren, where is the Martial Spirit? Lead the way.”

One Marquis set Liu Xingfeng down and then seized Liu Xingren.

“Deeper into the mountains…” Liu Xingren pointed towards the direction of the Scarlet Sleeve Army’s stronghold.

The two Marquises, taking Liu Xingren with them, sped off like the wind.

After a moment’s thought, Lu Yan decided to follow. While he was curious to witness the battle between the Marquises and the Martial Spirit, his true aim was to seize the chance, during their battle, to kill Liu Xingren.

He crept quietly toward the stronghold.

His speed was naturally far inferior to the Marquises. By the time he arrived, the battle had already erupted.

The two Marquises were besieging the Martial Spirit.

In just a few hours, the Martial Spirit’s strength had increased noticeably. Now, the two Marquises could barely keep him in check.

Could it be the Martial Spirit had completed the “Demonization Ritual”?

So Lu Yan surmised.

The fierce combat drew all of Lu Yan’s attention. Lying prone atop a cliff, he watched from on high.

Boom!

Thunderous crashes echoed.

The two Marquises, their energy and blood surging, had arms and hands covered in red scales. Already towering and powerful, they seemed to grow even more imposing—like beasts of legend.

When they stomped the ground, the hard stone shattered beneath their feet, sending shards flying. A single strike could pulverize a boulder larger than a man.

Anything that stood before them was instantly reduced to rubble.

The sheer power took Lu Yan’s breath away; he was utterly awed.

So this was the strength of a Marquis—inhuman, far beyond the reach of those who had merely broken through five times.

It was said that in the realm of the Marquis, energy and blood entered the bone, giving rise to bone force, which in turn tempered the flesh and skeleton until the whole body became steel and iron—impervious to ordinary blades, unstoppable and tyrannical. Now he saw the truth of it.

Yet, despite their might, the two Marquises could not subdue the Martial Spirit.

Once demonized, the Martial Spirit not only possessed martial prowess but also wielded certain supernatural abilities—such as the power to induce hallucinations.

Moreover, his vitality was astonishing. Lu Yan saw clearly: even when one Marquis struck the Martial Spirit’s chest, crushing ribs and shattering flesh, the Martial Spirit retaliated as if unharmed, his combat strength undiminished.

Amazingly, as the battle raged, his wounds healed rapidly. In moments, he was as good as new.

Lu Yan stared in disbelief.

This explained why, despite their advantage, the two Marquises could not bring him down.

“My father once said the Martial Spirit possessed immortality—could it be true?” Lu Yan wondered.

He had doubted it before, but now, seeing this, he was beginning to believe.

“Liu Xingren.”

Lu Yan scanned the area, and suddenly his eyes brightened.

Outside the stronghold, a short distance from the gate, he glimpsed a figure.

Though it was hard to make out through the darkness, the outline was unmistakably Liu Xingren.

Lu Yan quietly crept closer, inching towards his target.

A savage roar shook the air.

The Martial Spirit and the two Marquises had fought their way out of the stronghold, tearing through the main gate like three unstoppable machines, splintering the doors to bits.

With a single strike, a tree as thick as a thigh exploded into splinters, toppling in two.

The three figures clashed among the trees.

Lu Yan dared not move, crouching behind a massive stone, breath held, utterly still.

Liu Xingren, too, was paralyzed with fear, scarcely daring to breathe.