Chapter 67: Didn't you just have a feast? Is that all the strength you have?

As the burly middle-aged man emerged, a ripple of recognition swept through the crowd, followed by startled exclamations:

“That’s Liu Three-Blades—he actually showed up!”

“Liu Three-Blades? Rumor has it he’s at the peak of Grandmaster. He once created his own triple-blade technique and slew a foe at the early stage of Great Grandmaster!”

“The young man’s skills just now weren’t bad, either. I wonder who’s stronger—this will be something worth watching.”

Voices buzzed throughout the gathering, most favoring Liu Three-Blades.

Hearing the crowd’s appraisal, Liu Three-Blades savored it, striding confidently to stand before Su Yifan. He spoke in a low, rumbling voice: “Kid, don’t blame me. Blame yourself for being so valuable.”

A thousand spirit stones—if he could get his hands on them and sell a portion, he’d not only amass great wealth but also gain power from their energy, enhancing his strength to new heights. With that, he’d be confident to kill even a mid-stage Great Grandmaster.

Facing Liu Three-Blades, Su Yifan arched his brow and said, “You seem polite enough. I’ll give you a chance: slap yourself a hundred times and step back.”

The moment those words left his lips, laughter erupted all around.

Was the kid scared? This was Liu Three-Blades—a figure even Great Grandmasters avoided provoking. Yet he dared speak so brazenly. Surely he’d lost his mind.

Liu Three-Blades felt utterly insulted. He snarled, “Don’t think killing a Grandmaster means you can be so arrogant. Today, I’ll show you the gulf between us.”

With those words, he launched a fist straight at Su Yifan’s face.

Su Yifan responded by flicking a wine cup from the table.

With a sharp crack, the cup smashed against Liu Three-Blades’ chest, forcing him back several steps.

“Good kid, I didn’t want to draw my blade—but you’re forcing my hand!” he growled.

He unsheathed the massive saber from his back, its gleaming edge flashing coldly, sending a chill through the crowd.

As Liu Three-Blades drew his blade, everyone held their breath, eager to witness his legendary technique.

Ye Zhantian narrowed his eyes, watching Su Yifan’s every move.

“First strike—Mountain Splitter!” Liu Three-Blades roared, springing into the air and bringing the saber down with both hands.

Su Yifan made no move to dodge, simply standing in place.

As the saber was about to descend upon his head, a shield shimmered instantly around Su Yifan.

A moment later—

Clang!

The blade struck the shield, producing a harsh, grating sound.

“What? Impossible!” Liu Three-Blades’ eyes widened.

He had used forty percent of his strength—even ordinary Grandmaster shields would have been shattered. Yet he couldn’t breach this youth’s shield?

“Didn’t you just feast? Is this all the strength you have? Or did the food end up in a dog’s belly?”

Su Yifan smiled faintly. Unable to break even his casually cast shield, yet dreaming of a thousand spirit stones? If you want to play, I’ll play along.

“Don’t get cocky, kid!” spat Liu Three-Blades. “Watch my second strike—Sea Sever!”

He channeled his inner strength into the blade, spun once, and hacked down with full force. As the saber fell, translucent energy surged along its edge.

Clang!

The blade slammed into the shield, but again, nothing—Su Yifan’s shield remained pristine.

Liu Three-Blades’ face turned ashen, as if he’d tasted dirt.

“No, I don’t believe it! I still have my third strike!”

He prepared to swing again, but Su Yifan had lost patience. He tapped the table, sending a droplet of spilled wine into the air.

With a flick of his finger, he sent the droplet speeding toward Liu Three-Blades’ head.

Whizz!

The wine flew like a bullet, heading straight for his brow.

Liu Three-Blades laughed, “Just a drop of wine? You think you can kill me with that? Who do you take Liu Three-Blades for?”

He quickly raised his saber, bracing it with both hands to block the droplet.

In the next instant, the wine drop made no sound as it pierced the blade and entered Liu Three-Blades’ brow.

If one looked closely, they’d see a tiny hole in the saber, and a small red dot appearing on Liu Three-Blades’ forehead.

“Why isn’t he moving?” someone in the crowd wondered, seeing Liu Three-Blades frozen in place, as if dazed.

A moment later—

Bang!

His body collapsed, lifeless.

“…What just happened?”

Everyone stood stunned.

“What in the world was that?”

As the crowd puzzled over the scene, a keen-eyed spectator spotted the hole in Liu Three-Blades’ saber.

“Look at the blade!” he shouted.

Everyone turned to examine it, quickly realizing what had happened.

“That kid truly has some skill,” murmured Ye Zhantian from a distance, shaken by Su Yifan’s display.

To break a blade with water was within Ye Zhantian’s ability, but Liu Three-Blades’ brow showed no wound—just a red dot. Yet he was dead.

How was that possible? Ye Zhantian knew he couldn’t replicate such a feat.

Just then, Su Yifan, sensing the moment was right, rose from his seat and swept his gaze across the crowd.

“Don’t waste time. Whoever wants to come forward, do it together. I know you’re all pressed for time.”

Silence fell.

Ye Zhantian’s expression darkened. Only a few minutes remained until the First Elder emerged. If no one stepped up, he’d have to go himself.

But he wasn’t confident he could kill Su Yifan—what to do?

Seeing no one move, Su Yifan chuckled. “If you lack the guts, then watch quietly. If anyone interferes, I’ll send them to reunite with their ancestors—understood?”

He knew exactly what these people were thinking. Earlier, when his strength was uncertain, they thought they could control him. Now, seeing his power, they all shrank like turtles.

The martial artists from each faction wavered, anger simmering beneath their calm.

This kid was far too arrogant—he didn’t regard them as worthy opponents!

Just then, two figures in the crowd could restrain themselves no longer. They strode forward, unleashing the formidable aura of Great Grandmasters.

“Arrogant brat, let the two of us—”

Smash! Smash!

With a single palm strike, Su Yifan reduced the brothers to two clouds of blood mist.

A gentle breeze carried the spray, dyeing the faces of all nearby.

“If you’re coming, hurry up. I grow tired of waving my hand,” Su Yifan said.

…