Victory Dominance Over All

"Han Yue is actually being suppressed?"

Han Tieyi turned pale with shock!

Han Yue was also growing more alarmed as the fight went on.

His fists hitting Zhao Feng felt like striking ten-thousand-year profound iron; the recoil sent sharp pain through him, yet he couldn't even break his opponent's skin.

Meanwhile, Zhao Feng's fists, though seemingly ordinary, contained terrifying power.

Every punch that landed on him felt like being smashed by a massive mountain, leaving his internal organs churning.

"How is this possible... You are only at the early Golden Core realm, how can your physical body be this strong?" Han Yue asked through gritted teeth, panting heavily.

Zhao Feng did not answer.

He himself didn't know what was going on.

Ever since he joined the Heavenly Derivation Sect and became an outer sect disciple, he felt his body growing stronger day by day.

His physical strength had advanced by leaps and bounds, to the point where even he didn't know where his limits lay.

Zhao Feng guessed that it was highly likely due to the Nine-Revolution Body Sculpting Pill his Lord had once given him.

It was just that he had originally cultivated sword arts and was not adept at unarmed combat.

But as he fought, his control over his body became increasingly proficient.

His previously rusty punches and kicks became smoother and smoother.

Where he could initially only defend passively, he had now begun to actively counterattack.

"Hahaha! Again!"

Zhao Feng let out a loud laugh, his aura surging as he threw a punch.

This punch was heavier than any of the previous ones!

"Bang!"

Unable to dodge in time, Han Yue was viciously smashed in the chest by the fist.

He flew backward like a sack, spewing a mouthful of blood in mid-air, before crashing heavily onto the ground and sliding for over a dozen meters.

"Good!"

"Elder Zhao Feng is awesome!"

"Well fought!"

The surrounding rogue cultivators instantly boiled over with excitement. This flesh-and-blood Golden Core melee was simply too thrilling.

Zhao Feng pressed his advantage, and without waiting for Han Yue to get up, unleashed a stormy barrage of short punches upon him.

"Bang bang bang bang bang!"

The dense rain of fists landed on Han Yue, beating him until he had no power to fight back, leaving him curled up on the ground clutching his head.

"Senior! We yield! My Han family yields!!"

Han Tieyi's voice exploded, echoing across the entire venue like thunder.

He could see it—Zhao Feng wasn't fighting for his life; he was practicing his moves.

Using the Han family's late Golden Core genius as a training dummy!

If they kept fighting, even if Han Yue didn't die, his cultivation foundation would be utterly destroyed.

Han Yue was a direct descendant heavily nurtured by the family, ten times more important than Han Lie.

Zhao Feng stopped his fists, took a step back, and cupped his hands. "Thank you for the match."

Han Yue lay where he was, covered in blood, gasping for air.

He looked down at his hands—hands that had been soaked in medicinal liquids since childhood, hands capable of shattering high-grade magical artifacts with a single punch—they were trembling right now.

He had lost.

Lost to an early Golden Core cultivator.

Han Tieyi took a deep breath, suppressing the raging storm in his heart, and bowed deeply to Lin Yan on the stone platform.

"Senior, the Han family accepts our defeat! In the Three Realms Martial Discourse, the Heavenly Derivation Sect wins!"

"As for the reduction of the annual tribute, my Han family will definitely help Senior handle it. As for Han Lie... he is at Senior's disposal."

He straightened up and glanced at Han Lie, who was kneeling before the ant grave, his gaze complex.

Then he turned around and waved his large hand.

"Bring Han Qing, let's go."

Han Feng picked up Han Qing's corpse, and Han Yue leaned on Han Feng's shoulder. The three of them walked step by step out of the mountain.

The foot of the mountain fell silent for a moment before erupting into an uproar.

"The Heavenly Derivation Sect won! The Heavenly Derivation Sect actually won!"

"That's the Han family! One of the Four Great Families! With a thousand years of heritage!"

"An early Golden Core defeated a late Golden Core? How is this possible!"

"The Heavenly Derivation Sect is too fierce!"

"No, I need to go line up! Today I'm going to reach the eightieth floor!"

"I'm going too! Me too!"

"Don't push, don't push! Line up properly!"

...

The rogue cultivators surged toward the Heart-Questioning Pavilion like a tide, the line becoming several times longer than before.

Some were flushed red with excitement, some danced with joy, and some knelt before the ant grave, kowtowing to the stone stele.

"Lord Ant Immortal, please bless me! Let me reach the sixtieth floor!"

"Lord Ant Immortal, your disciple kowtows to you!"

"Lord Ant Immortal..."

...

Zhao Feng stood in the center of the arena, panting heavily.

His arms were bruised purple, the webbing between his thumbs and forefingers was split, and his ribs ached dully, but his back was perfectly straight.

He turned around, dropped to one knee toward Lin Yan on the stone platform, cupped his fists, and lowered his head.

"My Lord, this old servant has fortunately not disgraced his mission!"

[Ding! Outer sect disciple Zhao Feng has defeated the Han family genius. Reputation has significantly increased. Sect Points +200]

Lin Yan leaned back on his stone throne, his legs crossed, the corners of his mouth turned up slightly.

"Zhao Feng."

"This old servant is here."

"Stop calling yourself 'old servant' from now on. You are an outer sect deacon of the Heavenly Derivation Sect, not a slave."

Zhao Feng froze for a moment, then kowtowed heavily.

"Yes! This old servant obeys!"

Lin Yan shook his head speechlessly. Forget it, let him call himself whatever he wants.

At this moment, Azure Cloud Mountain was completely boiling over.

The three great battles had left everyone's blood boiling with excitement.

Su Wanqing stood at the edge of the crowd, still holding the sword she had brought out from Sunset Valley.

The words "Sunset" carved on the scabbard were smeared with blood, but she didn't wipe them off.

Years ago, when Sunset Valley was wiped out, she had hidden in a secret passage, listening to the screams outside, covering her mouth and not daring to make a sound.

Her father's voice, her mother's voice, her senior brothers' and sisters' voices—one by one, they disappeared.

In the end, she was the only one left.

She thought her life would just be like this forever, with no hope for revenge, merely surviving in degradation.

But three days ago, she climbed to the sixty-third floor of the Heart-Questioning Pavilion and became an outer sect disciple of the Heavenly Derivation Sect.

The Sect Master bestowed upon her spirit medicines, granted her divine abilities, and gave her a new life.

Today, she killed Han Qing with a single sword strike!

A genius descendant of a thousand-year-old aristocratic family!

Su Wanqing lifted her head and looked at the white-robed figure on the stone platform. Her tears finally could not be held back, sliding down her cheeks.

Li Tianxing stood beside her. His face was calm, but the hands resting at his sides were trembling slightly.

It had been three years.

He had been hunted by the Yellow Springs Sect for three years, hiding everywhere like a stray dog.

Fleeing from Cangwu Commandery to Azure Cloud City, he had nearly died on the road several times. He originally thought he would spend the rest of his life running like a stray dog, hiding everywhere, only to eventually die in some desolate corner.

Until he met Lin Yan.

Until today, when he used his mid-Foundation Establishment cultivation to forcefully resist a peak Foundation Establishment expert, forcing the opponent to break through mid-battle.

He didn't win, but he didn't lose either!

Li Tianxing took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, his eyes were filled with calm.

He glanced at the white-robed figure on the stone platform and silently said in his heart: Sect Master, this life belongs to you from now on.

Liu Bai stood at the very back of the crowd, holding that worn-out iron sword in his hand.

There was no expression on his face, but the veins on the hand gripping the sword were bulging.

He didn't fight today, but he saw it all.

He saw the magnificence of Su Wanqing's sword strike, the composure of Li Tianxing's continuous dodges, and the domineering aura of Zhao Feng facing down a late Golden Core expert.

He believed that one day, he would be just like them.

Standing in the center of the arena, fighting for the Heavenly Derivation Sect, fighting for the Sect Master.

...

Lin Yan ignored the excitement of the crowd.

His gaze passed over the seething crowd and landed on one person.

Mo Wentian!

Unlike the restless excitement of the surroundings, Mo Wentian was still standing in front of the ant grave, stabbing his sword into Han Lie, one strike after another.

The tip of the sword struck Han Lie's throat with a soft ding, failing to leave even a faint white mark on the skin.

He was not discouraged. He withdrew his sword and thrust again.

Withdrew, and thrust again.

His movements were mechanical and his gaze completely focused, as if everything else in the world had ceased to exist.

Lin Yan approached Mo Wentian.

Sensing someone drawing near, Mo Wentian halted his blade and turned his head. Upon seeing Lin Yan, he hurriedly sheathed his sword, dropped to one knee, cupped his fists, and lowered his head.

"Sect Master!"

Lin Yan looked down at him.

"Why haven't you gone to challenge the Heart-Questioning Pavilion?"

He was certain that with Mo Wentian's state of mind, ascending to the sixtieth floor would be effortless.

Mo Wentian raised his head, his eyes resolute.

"The Sect Master decreed that only when this disciple slays this man may I become an outer sect disciple."

Lin Yan paused for a moment, taking a deep look at Mo Wentian.

The firmness of this young man's will far exceeded his expectations.

"Very well. I shall wait for you."

With those words, Lin Yan turned, took a single step, and vanished into thin air.

Mo Wentian remained kneeling on the ground. He stared in the direction where the Sect Master had disappeared and stayed silent for a moment.

Then, he stood up, drew his sword, and resumed his thrusting.

One strike, another strike, and yet another.