Chapter Thirty-One: Terrifying Powers of Recovery

The Liu residence was vast. Incredibly vast. Within its walls were gardens, a training ground, artificial hills with winding corridors, streams meandering through the grounds, and in addition, two separate courtyards.

Yang Fan had already spent considerable effort dealing with the hidden guards. He had not even managed to kill them all when he sensed something amiss with the steward of the central courtyard.

Just as he was rushing over, intending to first kill the steward and several others nearby, he heard an alarm raised for this very man.

“At least I’ve dealt with most of them!” Yang Fan thought helplessly.

Since he had been discovered, there was no point in holding back. It was time for slaughter.

“Swift Step!”

He activated his divine power, seeming almost to cross the very fabric of space. The steward saw him coming, but could not evade in time—Yang Fan’s blade pierced through the man’s mouth, exited the back of his skull, killing him on the spot.

Ignoring the shocked and stupefied servants around him, Yang Fan stomped his foot, shattering the stone tiles beneath him into dust. In a single leap, he flew forward, crashed through a window, and brought the Black Cloud Blade down upon Liu Kaizong, who sat reclining in a chair.

This man was not lying in bed—he sat with eyes half closed against the back of his chair. In that instant, he opened his eyes, staring with a chilling calm at Yang Fan bursting through the window.

As the blade’s gleam slashed toward his neck, he raised his left arm. But the next moment, it was as if a sledgehammer struck his mind, dazing him for a breath. Yet he quickly recovered, and the arm that had nearly fallen now rose again to block the blow.

His eyes, however, turned blood-red, filled with a frenzied light.

Clang…

Liu Kaizong was knocked flying, smashing a hole in the wall behind him, but Yang Fan, landing on the floor, did not look pleased.

By his “Earth Sense,” Liu Kaizong’s inner vitality was only at the peak of Eighth Rank—still top-tier within the city. But with such cultivation, he should not have been able to resist Yang Fan’s aura of intimidation. Even if he didn’t pass out, he shouldn’t have recovered so quickly.

Something was off.

Just as Yang Fan was about to charge forward, Liu Kaizong returned. His massive frame seemed like a wall as he brushed dust from himself, those blood-red eyes fixed fiercely on Yang Fan.

“You’re the one who killed my son?”

He clenched his fists, encased in iron gauntlets tipped with spikes. His arms were protected by bracers, and though he’d just been slashed, only a faint mark was left.

“That’s right,” Yang Fan nodded.

For some reason, being fixed by the man’s gaze made him deeply uneasy. It was as if a venomous snake had its eyes on him.

He wasted no words, attacking again.

“Swift Step!”

His form flashed like lightning. With such a short distance, Liu Kaizong had no way to dodge, only defend. But Yang Fan twisted his blade, slipping past the bracers to stab at Liu Kaizong’s neck.

Liu Kaizong jerked his head aside, but still, a cut opened, blood spurting forth. He quickly clapped a hand to the wound, the other swinging a heavy punch that forced Yang Fan to retreat.

The space was too confined.

“Damn it, not even letting me ask a few questions first!” Even Liu Kaizong’s composure could not withstand the situation, and he cursed aloud.

He seemed entirely unconcerned with the wound at his neck.

But Yang Fan felt a chill run down his spine.

He knew full well that his blade had sliced open Liu Kaizong’s carotid artery—under ordinary circumstances, no one would survive that. Yet the man remained vigorous, and now the bleeding had stopped entirely as he released the hand clutching his neck.

Looking again, there was no sign of injury.

“Are you a beast in human form?” Yang Fan’s pupils contracted in shock.

“I am a divine beast!” Liu Kaizong slammed his fists together, producing a metallic clang. At that instant, Yang Fan sensed a crimson radiance suddenly flare at the man’s heart, spreading through his body in a flash.

Liu Kaizong’s vitality surged to a whole new level, his presence rapidly intensifying. Even his body swelled in size.

“What on earth are you?” Yang Fan thought, stunned by the transformation. The man hadn’t seemed especially strong, yet he possessed such inconceivable abilities.

“Die!”

Yang Fan struck again.

With “Swift Step,” his speed was unmatched. His blade crashed down like a waterfall, the force so fierce that the very air split beneath it.

“You little brat, I almost got capsized in the gutter and died at your hands—and now you’ve forced me to reveal my hidden strength!” Liu Kaizong roared, charging forward.

The room was large, but for these two locked in deadly combat, it felt oppressively small.

In a matter of heartbeats, they clashed eighteen times, and Liu Kaizong was once more sent flying.

In raw power, he simply could not match Yang Fan. His body bore many new wounds, though none fatal.

“Die!”

Knowing he could not afford a drawn-out fight, Yang Fan pressed the attack, unleashing another wave of intimidation. Liu Kaizong only faltered for a moment.

The long blade fell, and as Liu Kaizong raised his arms to block, Yang Fan spun, shifting to the side, and swept the blade horizontally at the back of his head.

It was swift and unexpected.

Liu Kaizong was formidable—he shrank his neck, but still, he was a moment too slow.

A patch of scalp was sliced away, blood immediately streaming down his face, giving him a ghastly appearance.

“How can you possibly be this strong?” Liu Kaizong ignored the wound, retreating swiftly a full ten meters, glaring at Yang Fan. The ferocity in his red eyes was now tinged with disbelief.

He had activated a secret art, causing his power to skyrocket, firmly stepping into the Seventh Rank of martial cultivation, yet he was still no match.

In strength, he was utterly suppressed.

If not for his greater experience, he would have been killed inside the room.

That last blow had nearly sent his soul fleeing in terror, cold sweat pouring from him.

“Are you like me? Otherwise, there’s no way to explain this,” Liu Kaizong muttered, suspicion flashing in his eyes.

A fifteen-year-old at Seventh Rank, and without any apparent background? Impossible!

He licked the blood running down his face, swallowing it. Instantly, his aura grew even more savage. The wound atop his head was already healing rapidly.

“I would never consort with beasts!” The sight made Yang Fan’s scalp prickle. As he prepared to attack again, he suddenly felt a chill at his back.

He felt as if he were being watched.

Yes, watched.

He had grown extremely sensitive to such things, able to detect when others were observing him.

Yang Fan forced down the urge to strike, suppressing his intention to use the “Earth Surge” divine power. His “Earth Sense” revealed that the seven or eight surviving guards were already converging on this spot, along with several servants.

Yet he sensed no special presence among them.

None of those approaching even reached Ninth Rank, for all of the city’s top martial artists at that level had already been slain by his hand.

It made no sense.

Yang Fan grew more cautious, frustration simmering within.

“Beast?” Liu Kaizong sneered. “Your aura is pure, different from mine. But how did you cultivate like this? Did you take a mountain treasure? A rare pill? That’s the only explanation. But your blade work and battle experience are extremely rich—how did you acquire that? Are you truly a genius born of heaven?”

As he spoke, he continued shifting his stance, eyes locked on Yang Fan, as if searching for a flaw.

Stalling for time?

Yang Fan narrowed his eyes, knowing he could wait no longer.

“Kill!”

He charged once more.

This time he was even swifter, crossing the space in a flash. His blade fell fiercely, but Liu Kaizong managed to block it, using the recoil to launch himself backward.

“Get him! Kill him, and I’ll reward you with a thousand gold!” Liu Kaizong bellowed, turning and barreling into an adjacent room, smashing through the wall by sheer force.

“Kill him!” The guards’ eyes lit up as they attacked, but they were no match for Yang Fan. One strike for each—within moments, they all lay dead.

The other servants, witnessing this, retreated in fear with their lanterns.

But Yang Fan’s pupils contracted in shock.

With his senses, he detected that after entering the room, Liu Kaizong had destroyed the floor and dropped into a hidden chamber below.

There, against the northern wall, stood a blood-red altar. Atop its nine steps sat a sanguine wooden idol, before which Liu Kaizong knelt, his posture reverent and eerie.