A Shocking Display

Yang Fan had never imagined that the power of a mortal martial artist could be so overwhelmingly strong.

At this moment, Yuwen Lie stood, radiating a golden aura that enveloped a radius of several feet around him, suspending him in the air like a celestial warrior from the heavens. The immense pressure and invisible force around him exuded an otherworldly terror, causing every living being nearby to tremble instinctively, gripped by an unprecedented sense of insignificance.

The sheer force emanating from Yuwen Lie was enough to make even cultivators beneath the Foundation Establishment stage feel a deep unease, unwilling to face such a threat directly. Yang Fan considered if he himself could stand against this inhuman presence without employing the "Netherworld Demon Flame" or the Iron Armored Puppet. The thought troubled him.

Opposite Yuwen Lie, Wushuang, clad in his flawless white robe, stood calmly amidst the storm of swirling dust. His face, plain and undisturbed, exuded an air of tranquility, and an ever-so-subtle transformation in his aura began. In this dangerous situation, he did the unthinkable: he slowly closed his eyes, and a faint silver glow shimmered around his form, as light as the breeze and equally ethereal.

"Dragon's Might Break!"

Yuwen Lie unleashed his attack first. With a thunderous roar, a phantasmal dragon-snake figure emerged, its claws extending fiercely, its oppressive presence unmistakable. The beast surged forward with a devastating momentum, intent on swallowing Wushuang whole.

Yang Fan observed closely, his curiosity piqued. How would this seemingly ordinary youth counter such a formidable technique, one capable of severely injuring or even destroying a cultivator in the Condensation stage?

Earlier, Yang Fan had harbored some doubts regarding Yuwen Lie's rumored feats of slaying Condensation-stage cultivators, but seeing this firsthand, he was now fully convinced.

The dragon-snake phantom rushed forward, nearly upon Wushuang. The onlookers' hearts pounded in their chests, their breath held in fearful anticipation.

At the last moment, Wushuang finally responded. His eyes snapped open, and he cast a calm, indifferent glance at Yuwen Lie.

In Wushuang's enigmatic, black eyes, a sword appeared. It was an intangible blade, so elusive that even with Yang Fan's omniscient senses, he could not fully grasp its form. It seemed to exist beyond time and space, as if shrouded by an impenetrable veil.

*Slash—crack!*

That invisible sword moved ever so slightly, and in an instant, the dragon-snake phantom shattered, dissolving into countless stars.

Yang Fan's mind reeled. For a brief moment, he experienced a strange sensation, as if his spiritual perception and omniscient abilities were clouded and rendered useless. He hadn't clearly seen how the attack was dispelled. All he had caught was the fleeting gleam of that ethereal sword.

"Break—"

Yuwen Lie barely finished uttering the word when the golden radiance surrounding him retracted sharply. The gleaming golden scales on his body became denser, exuding a more ancient and weighty aura.

*Whoosh!*

In a blink, Yuwen Lie's figure flickered like a shadow, appearing before Wushuang in an instant. His palms moved in a slow yet powerful motion, crossing before him as he struggled to push forward with a tremendous strike.

As Yuwen Lie's attack landed, the space before him seemed to buckle under an unimaginable weight, like an invisible force crushing everything under a mountainous pressure.

Wushuang's face showed a fleeting hint of color, a testament to the suffocating force pressing down on him. Yet, deep within him, an indomitable will refused to yield, allowing him to endure the most crushing moments of that force's peak.

Watching from afar, Yang Fan felt a surge of shock and awe. The pressure was so intense that even the little princess, standing nearby, held her breath, her face filled with worry.

Yuwen Xin's beautiful face, too, was clouded with concern, her hands clenched tightly, small beads of sweat forming in her palms.

"The pinnacle of mortal martial power can unleash such terrifying strength…" murmured the elderly Cheng by Yang Fan's side, his gaze toward the two combatants tinged with reverence. As a cultivator himself, Cheng couldn't help but feel fear for the power these mortals wielded, a fear that would be hard for most cultivators to understand.

"I've heard that the kingdom of Yuyang boasts a 'Martial Saint,'" someone from a nearby noble house whispered. "His martial prowess is unmatched, and he's lived for over two centuries, undefeated for nearly a hundred years. He's regarded as the peak of martial artists…"

A Martial Saint?

There was an existence even stronger than this? Yang Fan found it hard to believe. The two fighting before him were already as powerful as monsters, yet they were not the strongest? What level could this so-called Martial Saint have reached?

"It seems the mortal world is not as simple as I once thought."

Yang Fan's attitude shifted as he discarded his previous arrogance, no longer thinking that being a cultivator gave him free reign over the mortal realm.

Suddenly, a low, rumbling sound echoed through the void, causing everyone's blood to surge and their souls to tremble.

Wushuang struck with his palm, a faint, deep-colored cold light flickering within his hand as it met Yuwen Lie's space-crushing strike head-on.

The moment their palms collided, a deafening boom resounded, followed by a shockwave that rippled outwards for dozens of yards. The ground split, leaving deep gashes, and buildings within the royal estate crumbled under the impact.

Visibility was all but lost in the chaos of dust and debris...

But Yang Fan, his senses far sharper than ordinary people's, caught sight of two figures flying back from the impact, both accompanied by faint groans.

*Thud! Thud!*

Amidst the flying dust, both Yuwen Lie and Wushuang spat out blood, clearly gravely injured, before they staggered and landed heavily on the ground, their footsteps leaving half-foot deep imprints as they struggled to steady themselves.

"Father…"

The little princess cried out in panic and rushed forward. Yuwen Xin, too, looked extremely worried, though her weakened body prevented her from moving quickly. She glanced at Yang Fan with pleading eyes, seeking his help.

Yang Fan nodded calmly. "They're gravely injured but not fatally so. Their lives aren't in danger."

Yuwen Xin sighed in relief, her bright eyes tinged with confusion. "I don't know why, but just now, I was deeply worried about my father's safety. When he was fighting Wushuang, I felt incredibly anxious…"

Yang Fan cast a glance at the distant Wushuang, who stood aloof upon a rooftop, his snowy white robes fluttering in the night breeze. Deep down, Yang Fan felt a strange sensation, an inexplicable intuition that this man was destined to become a terrifying force in the future.

In all his twenty years of life, Yang Fan had only ever encountered two people who gave him such a feeling. The first was Hu Fei of the Rainmist Manor, and the second was the man before him, Wushuang.

The former gave him the impression of a madman, fearless of heaven or earth. The latter exuded mystery, strength, and an unyielding will. The common thread between them was their terrifying potential—potential that struck fear into the hearts of others.

"I have the same feeling," Yuwen Xin said softly. "If they were to fight again, I believe my father would lose…"

Though neither had sustained life-threatening injuries, their wounds were undeniably severe.

Yang Fan's gaze drifted from Yuwen Lie to Wushuang. It seemed as if he was formulating some plan in his mind.

"Please, Master Healer, can I ask you to attend to my father?" Yuwen Xin pleaded sincerely.

"Of course," Yang Fan replied readily. He was more than willing to treat a warrior of this caliber. Healing someone so powerful was an opportunity not to be missed.

But his gaze shifted toward Wushuang in the distance, who stood alone on the rooftop, draped in white. "I can't let him slip away either. Healing them could be even more rewarding than treating a regular Condensation-stage cultivator."

In the dim night, Wushuang, with his flawless white robes, seemed somewhat out of place, exuding an air of solitude and loneliness. Perhaps sensing Yang Fan's gaze, Wushuang's sharp eyes suddenly turned to meet his.

*Whoosh!*

In a flash, Wushuang gracefully leaped from the rooftop, landing silently before Yang Fan.

"Protect the healer!" Yuwen Lie shouted urgently from afar.

*Swish!*

From the shadowed corners of the royal estate, a figure darted out, quickly positioning itself between Yang Fan and Wushuang.

Yang Fan's expression shifted as he took in the sight of a gaunt, shadowy man clad in black robes and a mask that obscured his features.

"Shadow?" Wushuang chuckled softly. "Half a year ago, you might have been worthy of a fight, but now…"

The disdain in Wushuang's voice was unmistakable, his tone cold and mocking.

"True, I am no match for you," Shadow rasped in a voice like the whispers of the abyss. "But don't forget your current condition…"

"Is that so?" Wushuang remained calm, his lips curling into a faint smile as his hand slowly moved to grip the ancient sword on his back.

"You…"

Shadow froze. His voice, his expression, even the blood in his veins seemed to

 stall, as if an invisible force had strangled the life out of him. He could see it—clearly see the invisible sword in Wushuang's eyes, the same sword that had defeated Yuwen Lie.

"You'll regret forcing me to do this," Shadow muttered, his eyes revealing a glint of steely determination.