Chapter 83: Grandmaster of Inner Strength

The two of them soon approached the ancient Liu clan fortress. The fierce battle between the two great noble families was still raging.

Suddenly, from behind a collapsed wall, a figure sprang out, brandishing a blade straight at Lu Yan. Lu Yan quickly retreated, leaving the old man at the front. The old man gave a slight snort, reached out, and with a sickening sound, his hand pierced through the attacker’s chest. He pulled out a still-throbbing heart and crushed it in his palm.

“This fellow—such ruthless methods, so much like the Martial Spirit. If he sets his sights on me, my chances are slim. I wonder what my odds would be if I tried to ambush him right now.”

Lu Yan’s gaze lingered on the back of the old man’s head, a glint of murderous intent flashing in his eyes, though it was quickly concealed.

He could not afford to take the risk. The old man’s depths were unfathomable, the gap between them too wide; even a surprise attack would likely fail. It would be wiser to wait for a better opportunity.

Lu Yan suppressed the urge to kill.

At that moment, the old man turned around, grinning. “Why are you staring at the back of my head? Planning to kill me?”

Lu Yan forced a sincere smile. “You overestimate me, sir. Even if you gave me the courage of ten men, I wouldn’t dare.”

Inwardly, he muttered, “This guy is so sharp—does he have eyes in the back of his head?”

The old man scoffed. “Keep leading the way.”

With the old man clearing the path, the two advanced unhindered. Even ambushes were easily dealt with.

Boom!

Within a collapsed section of the fortress wall, two figures were locked in fierce combat. Energy roared, stones flew, and no one dared approach. It was two Martial Lords, one from each clan, locked in battle.

“Are those the ones?” the old man asked, eyes fixed on the two Martial Lords.

Lu Yan shook his head.

They skirted around the battlefield, moving quietly deeper into the fortress.

Soon, they encountered another pair of Martial Lords fighting to the death. The old man asked again if these were the ones; Lu Yan still shook his head.

“Boy, you’d better not try any tricks. Against absolute power, your little schemes are useless.” The old man’s gaze grew cold, his patience thinning.

Lu Yan remained silent, once more skirting the battlefield and pressing deeper into the fortress.

Not long after, the sounds of intense crashing and combat reached their ears—clearly the clash of Martial Lords, and more than just two or three.

“They’re over there,” Lu Yan said.

“Follow me,” the old man replied, grabbing Lu Yan’s shoulder. They leapt soundlessly onto the rooftops and, with a few swift bounds, reached the rear of the fortress.

There, in a spacious courtyard, eight figures battled in a chaotic melee. All eight were Martial Lords, split into three separate fights.

Two of the battles were one-on-one, evenly matched and hard to call. The third was three against one.

The one beset by three was someone Lu Yan recognized—it was the Liu clan patriarch. His assailants were two burly men and a white-haired elder. The four were all terrifyingly powerful; wherever they clashed, sand and debris flew, walls crumbled, and devastation reigned.

The Liu patriarch was clearly at a disadvantage, forced into defense with no chance to counterattack.

“Hmm?” The old man’s gaze landed on the Liu patriarch, a thoughtful frown on his brow.

“He’s the one you brought me to find, isn’t he?” the old man said quietly.

Lu Yan nodded. At this point, the old man clearly saw through him—there was no point in lying.

He was prepared; if the old man tried to kill him, he would bolt into the fray, dragging the old man with him if need be. At worst, they would all perish together.

But the old man showed no intention of attacking him, instead focusing intently on the Liu patriarch.

Beset by three masters, the Liu patriarch was being driven back, barely holding on.

“Out of my way!” the Liu patriarch roared, knocking one of the burly men aside and forcing his way out of the encirclement, fleeing toward the courtyard’s edge.

The Wu patriarch and the Bei brothers refused to let him escape, chasing him out of the courtyard.

“Let’s go,” the old man said, grabbing Lu Yan’s shoulder and following in pursuit of the Liu patriarch.

In the darkness, the chase was swift; in the blink of an eye, they had covered several miles.

Ahead, two figures were fiercely dueling—another pair of Martial Lords, one from the Liu clan, one from the Wu clan.

“The Liu clan has six Martial Lords, but Wu clan has eight,” Lu Yan thought to himself, startled.

The Liu patriarch lunged toward the Martial Lords’ battlefield, aiming straight for the Wu clan Martial Lord. As a master at the peak of the Martial Lord realm, the Liu patriarch was too formidable; the Wu clan’s Martial Lord paled, trying to retreat.

“Old bastard, don’t even think about it!” the Wu patriarch bellowed, his voice thundering like a drum as he hurled his spear at the Liu patriarch.

But the Liu patriarch’s face betrayed not the slightest worry. Instead, a twisted smile crept across his lips. He swatted the spear aside with a palm, then abruptly accelerated, rushing the Wu clan Martial Lord at double his previous speed.

The Wu Martial Lord barely had time to react before the Liu patriarch seized his head—there was a sickening crack, and the entire head was torn away.

By then, the Wu patriarch had arrived, his massive palm sweeping in with a violent gust of energy.

But the Liu patriarch spun with blinding speed and struck with his own palm.

Crash!

Their palms collided with a sound like thunder. The Wu patriarch’s burly frame flew backward like a severed kite, smashing to the ground. Blood gushed from his mouth, and one of his hands was left a mangled ruin—bones and flesh ground together like a pile of sludge.

“Inner Strength… How could you have reached the Inner Strength realm?” the Wu patriarch shouted in disbelief, blood and fragments of viscera spewing from his mouth.

That palm strike had shattered his organs with inner energy. He simply couldn’t believe it, but the reality was undeniable. How had the Liu patriarch achieved this? He’d only obtained the Phoenix Blood Worm a few days ago; there hadn’t been time even to gather the auxiliary herbs, let alone prepare the Phoenix Blood Heart-guard Soup. To break through to Grandmaster in such a short time was impossible.

There was only one explanation: the Liu patriarch hadn’t relied on the Phoenix Blood Soup to break through—he had done so before that.

Everyone present, save for the Liu clan Martial Lord, was stunned—this was completely unexpected.

With a rush like the wind, the Liu patriarch closed in on the Wu patriarch and stamped his head into pulp.

At last, he had slain his lifelong rival. Elated, he laughed, “This is my true strength. There were too many eyes before to reveal it. I lured you here, to a perfect burial ground.”

With that, he turned on the Bei brothers.

The Bei brothers, terrified and desperate, realized escape was impossible. One drew a jet-black bone fragment, and together they poured their bone energy into it. Instantly, the fragment radiated a dreadful power, sending waves of black energy surging in all directions.

The Bei brothers, at the epicenter, were immediately engulfed by the black energy. Their faces contorted in agony, and they howled as their bodies shriveled at a visible rate.

In the next moment, the energy struck the Liu patriarch as well. Startled, he sprang backward, but still some of the black energy clung to him. It seemed to trigger something within him—he let out a guttural roar as his face twisted, his eyes bulging, his mouth gaping wide. From it emerged an octopus-like tentacle, writhing and twisting.

A dense black mist billowed from his body, uncannily similar to the energy from the bone fragment.

“Martial Spirit…” Lu Yan gasped.

The Liu patriarch was a Martial Spirit.

In an instant, Lu Yan understood much. Back when the Liu patriarch and two Martial Lords had hunted the Martial Spirit, only the two Lords had returned, claiming they had wounded the Spirit but failed to kill it.

Now it was clear—they had lied.

Most likely, they had slain the Martial Spirit and obtained from it the ritual to communicate with the Spirits. The Liu patriarch had used this rite, becoming a Spirit himself and breaking through to the Grandmaster realm.

That was almost certainly the case.

“Demon Bone,” the Liu patriarch growled, leaping into the air and shattering the black energy with his palms. He killed the Bei brothers and seized the bone fragment.

With their death, the black energy was drawn back into the bone, disappearing. The Liu patriarch gradually calmed, the black mist receding, the tentacle withdrawing into his mouth, and his expression returning to normal.

But now, his gaze shifted to the place where Lu Yan and the old man were concealed.

(End of chapter)