Chapter-31.

Although Su Zheyan looked like a pampered young master with too much arrogance and too little brain, he wasn't completely worthless.

He was from Longyao's capital, after all—where the best resources, the fiercest competition, and the sharpest talents gathered. Among the younger generation, his name still carried some weight. At just nineteen, he had already reached the Martial Master realm—not a genius among monsters, but certainly a prodigy among men.

The moment Yin Cheng's calm reply landed, Su Zheyan's patience snapped.

He lunged forward, a sharp punch exploding toward the boy's chest with trained aggression. His aura flared—sharp and hot—and his fist roared through the air with killing intent.

Yin Xue's eyes widened.

"Brother!" she shouted.

But unfortunately for Su Zheyan...

Yin Cheng moved first.

There was no excess movement, no fancy technique. Just a single step forward, and a counter punch aimed directly at Su's fist.

Boom!

A dull thud rang through the air as the two fists collided. Wind kicked up around them, and dust burst outward from the impact.

For a moment, it looked even.

Then—

Crack!

A crisp, horrible sound echoed across the shrine entrance as Su Zheyan's arm bent the wrong way.

He staggered backward, clutching his wrist, his body skidding along the dirt path before he fell to one knee.

The entire group froze.

A child—just seven or eight—had broken the arm of a martial master.

That wasn't just shocking. That was impossible.

Even in Longyao's capital—where geniuses trained under grand sects and noble clans—no one had ever heard of a Grandmaster at that age.

Not once.

And yet here he stood. Small. Cold. Calm.

Yin Cheng didn't even look surprised. His arm didn't tremble. He stood firm like stone, as if what just happened was expected.

The silence lasted barely a second.

Then Su Zheyan's furious scream cut through it.

"WHAT ARE YOU ALL GAWKING AT?! ATTACK!! All of you, at once!"

He held his broken arm tight, face twisted in rage and madness.

"This is definitely connected to the immortal inheritance! Do you want to die empty-handed!?"

His words snapped the others out of their daze.

Everyone began drawing their weapons and flaring their Qi. A dozen martial master spread out, surrounding the siblings in a loose ring.

Even Protector Zhou, who had been leaning heavily on a walking stick at the rear, slowly tossed it aside. His eyes sharpened. Blood flushed into his limbs. Even half-recovered, Great Grandmaster was still a Great Grandmaster.

And yet—

Inside the shrine, a boy sat cross-legged on a worn stone mat.

Lin Haoran.

The air inside the shrine was quiet. Not just in sound—but in essence. The walls were lined with simple bricks. A few cracked tiles let in streaks of soft daylight.

He had already noticed the visitors. He had sensed the commotion the moment Su Zheyan stepped onto the path below. He had even recognized the Qi fluctuations during the strike.

But he didn't get up.

He didn't speak.

He didn't even shift his weight.

His hand rested on the side of a bamboo scroll. His other hand lazily supported his chin.

"Hmm..." he murmured to himself.

He was curious. But not about the attackers.

They were too weak.

No aura above The Great Grandmaster. Nothing unusual.

They weren't worth out now.

Instead, A faint smile touched his lips.

He was far more curious about something else.

How far had the siblings come?

...

The first to attack wasn't a Grandmaster—but a Martial Master with twin hooked blades.

He dashed forward like a hunting dog, yelling to draw attention as two more Masters flanked behind him. It was a formation—standard siege tactic. The Grandmasters would only move once the children were exhausted.

Yin Cheng met him head-on.

The man slashed down with both blades, a red glow igniting along the curve of the steel—his Qi surged into the edge, making them ripple like fire.

Yin Cheng's foot stepped forward—Iron Palm surged.

Boom!

With a single slap, his bare palm met both blades.

Metal groaned.

Then shattered.

The man barely had time to scream before Yin Cheng's second palm crashed into his chest. A crack rang out like dry wood splitting in winter. His ribs caved in, and he was flung backward into a tree with a dull thud.

One move.Dead.

The flanking attackers hesitated for just a second—and that was enough.

Yin Xue moved.

She didn't run. She glided.

Her sword was still sheathed.

With Stone Skin active, she dashed between the two men in a blur. One slashed wildly, Qi-enhanced axe burning with green light.

She twisted her hips, dropped low, and shoulder-checked his knee.

The axe-wielding man shrieked as his leg bent sideways.

She spun.

Her knee slammed into his jaw, and he collapsed.

Still, her sword was sheathed.

The first wave was broken—but now the Grandmasters moved.

The first was Gong Heshan, a burly man and the oldest of the Grandmasters, He had led the failed assault against the beast in the forest—now he looked furious to be facing children instead.

His fists burned crimson. Flames crackled along his knuckles.

Flaming Iron Fist—a brutal inner-city technique. Every strike was like a furnace exploding.

"Out of the way, runt!" Gong Heshan roared.

Yin Cheng met him head-on.

Boom!

Fist met palm.

Another punch—Yin Cheng blocked again.

The ground cracked beneath his feet. Smoke hissed off his forearms from the flame-wrapped Qi.

But he didn't move.

Then—he struck back.

Yin Cheng stepped in low, body rotating, and Iron Palm surged.

Crunch!

Gong Heshan's elbow shattered like brittle wood. His roar turned into a scream.

Yin Cheng's second palm slammed into his chest. The massive man flew backward and crashed into a tree trunk, leaving a deep dent before slumping to the ground, coughing blood.

Another Grandmaster down.

But the others didn't pause.

The second Grandmaster—a woman in tight black robes wielding a long silver spear—rushed toward Yin Xue. A thin mist of icy Qi surrounded her weapon, frost forming along the shaft.

And behind her, a third Grandmaster—a lean, hawk-eyed man with hooked daggers glowing blue—flanked from the side.

Yin Xue exhaled.

This was the moment.

She stepped forward, unsheathing her blade in a blur.

"Windrazor Slash."

The air split.

SHHK—!!

The silver flash tore across the spearwoman's chest, from shoulder to hip. Blood exploded in an arc. She collapsed mid-lunge, body twitching.

Before the second Grandmaster could react, the edge of the Windrazor passed just across his side—ripping through his left arm and hip with a scream-inducing gash.

He dropped to one knee, clutching his side, his Qi now flickering and unstable.

Windrazor Slash had landed cleanly. One Grandmaster dead. One nearly crippled.

Yin Xue landed lightly on her feet, exhaling slowly as the glow faded from her sword.

She sheathed it again without a word.

A faint pulse moved through her hand.

Cooldown initiated. 2 minutes remaining.