Whoosh!
The door hurtled through the air, engulfed in roaring flames.
The three inside recoiled in shock. The Third Prince reacted first, slamming out a palm strike that shattered the incoming door into a spray of splintered fragments.
Sparks flew everywhere, scattering across the room and igniting the furniture in an instant.
“Which petty thief dares to ambush this prince?” the Third Prince snarled.
The General’s Youngest Son and the Prime Minister’s Grandson immediately positioned themselves in front of him, staring warily toward the doorway. A handsome youth strode in slowly, his face devoid of expression as he regarded them.
Gray flames draped his body like a cloak. His pupils were slit like a serpent’s, radiating a faint pressure laced with malice. One glance into those eyes sent a chill racing down the spine, as if staring down a man-eating evil dragon.
The intruder’s aura surpassed even the Third Prince’s. He was at least a Two-Star Mystic Master.
Moreover, those strangely colored flames—could they be the legendary Extreme Flames?
A Two-Star Mystic Master wielding Extreme Flames? The trio’s faces grew solemn.
The Third Prince spoke coldly. “Who are you? State your name at once!”
Yan Zhen offered no reply. He merely looked down on them with disdain. “One One-Star Mystic Master and two Nine-Star Mystic Scholars, thinking you can play king here? Are you even qualified?”
The Third Prince snorted. “A Two-Star Mystic Master wielding one of the Heavenly Extreme Flames? Impressive indeed. But don’t think that lets you act so brazenly before this prince. This is Black Horn Empire territory!”
The commotion drew Black Horn Empire students from the surrounding rooms. They poured out, sealing off Yan Zhen’s retreat. There had to be some three hundred of them, most at Five-Star Mystic Scholar level or higher. And facing him were a One-Star Mystic Master and two Nine-Star Mystic Scholars ready to join forces.
For him to charge in so recklessly? His fate was sealed—he wouldn’t die, but he’d barely escape with his life, if at all.
“Small fry are useless, no matter how many there are.”
Yan Zhen didn’t even glance back. He clenched his hand, and the Gold-Silver Fire Sword Embryo materialized out of thin air.
Gripping the blazing greatsword of gold and silver, Yan Zhen kicked off the ground. His figure vanished in a flash, becoming a streak of brilliant starlight as he closed in.
The three saw only a dazzling blur before a burst of gray flames exploded in front of the General’s Youngest Son. A Light Shield blocked it.
One strike, and he’d already forced out the enemy’s life-saving treasure. Yan Zhen clearly intended to kill!
The General’s Youngest Son paled to the extreme. He tried to retreat, but a surge of potent force slipped silently through the Light Shield and struck him, ruining his chance to pull back.
Internal Force!
The Light Shield dimmed rapidly as the Gold-Silver Fire Sword Embryo smashed toward him.
The blunt sword embryo carried scorching Extreme Flame heat and invisible sharpness. It slashed diagonally across the General’s Youngest Son’s body, carving a gruesome wound that nearly bisected his upper half.
Blood sprayed out only to be flash-baked into blue smoke by the Gold-Silver Fire. The air filled with the acrid stench of charred flesh.
The tremendous impact hurled him into the wall like a cannonball, cracking it in a spiderweb pattern. He crumpled to the floor, drawing in more breath than he let out—still alive, but unlikely to stay that way.
“One.”
The icy voice rang out, jarring the nerves of the remaining two.
Yan Zhen’s speed was blinding. They couldn’t react, couldn’t track him—couldn’t even follow with their eyes!
Was this guy really just a Two-Three Star Mystic Master?
“Protect His Highness!” the Prime Minister’s Grandson bellowed. “Everyone, attack together!”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than Yan Zhen’s figure vanished again. He became a trail of bright starlight, circling the man before reappearing at his unguarded back.
Yan Zhen swung the massive sword embryo down with brutal force.
Crack.
Amid agonized screams, the snap of shattering vertebrae echoed clearly. The Prime Minister’s Grandson flew sideways, smashing into the corner of the wall and passing out cold.
With his spine broken, he was half-crippled at best. Unless his family shelled out a fortune for treatment, he’d never recover fully.
Two swings, two near-kills. Yan Zhen paused, flicking his sword embryo clean. He stared impassively at the Third Prince, who stood nearly catatonic.
“You’re all that’s left.”
The Third Prince’s scalp crawled. This was the closest death had ever come to him.
One stroke per Nine-Star Mystic Scholar. No other students dared move.
Whoever rushed in to gang up on him was asking to die.
And from the look of it, Yan Zhen still had plenty left in the tank.
Where the hell had this monster come from!?
“Wait! With your strength, this prince can step aside. You can lead the eastern students… Why resort to violence and sour things between us easterners?”
“Angry?” Yan Zhen narrowed his eerie vertical pupils. “Bullying students from other kingdoms just because you’re a bit stronger—that’s your idea of Black Horn Empire harmony?”
At those words, realization dawned on the Third Prince. “You… you’re Yan Zhen of the Garo Kingdom?”
The top talent from some piddling little kingdom was this strong?
Yan Zhen dispersed the Gold-Silver Fire Sword Embryo and slowly clenched his fist. “You hurt her. Now it’s tenfold payback.”
Whoosh.
Three-Colored Flames gathered on his fist. Yan Zhen advanced on the Third Prince, step by deliberate step.
The Third Prince retreated step by step until his back hit the wall.
Suddenly, a figure burst from the crowd, channeling everything into a full-power strike from behind Yan Zhen.
Yan Zhen didn’t turn. The gray flames on his body coalesced into a miniature dragon shadow. It roared forth, slamming into the attacker.
The man never landed his blow. The Evil Dragon Flame Shadow sent him flying. His external wounds were minor, but his Sea of Consciousness suffered grievous damage. Amid the evil dragon’s furious roar, his mind descended into chaos. His eyes rolled back, foam bubbled from his mouth, and he collapsed unconscious.
The Black Horn Empire students trembled in terror. None dared step forward.
The Third Prince’s face turned ashen. He screamed, “Y-You, stay back… Come any closer, and this prince won’t hold back!”
Yan Zhen kept closing in until they were less than two meters apart. Then the Third Prince erupted. A hidden rune activated, unleashing a Mystic King-level Mystic Power Shockwave that engulfed Yan Zhen. The blast’s power demolished the wall where the door had been, scorching a ten-meter scar down the corridor and nearly hitting the crowd.
The Garo Kingdom group, just arriving on the scene, paled dramatically.
“Yan Zhen!”
“Cousin!”
Relief washed over the Third Prince. A smug smile returned to his face. “Garo’s so-called strongest? Small kingdom bumpkins with no vision. Did you really think this prince had no way to counter you? Naive!”
“And if you do?”
Yan Zhen’s voice rang out again, making the Third Prince shudder!
The glow faded. The eerie youth cloaked in gray flames reappeared unscathed under everyone’s gaze.
The Third Prince was utterly dumbfounded. That had been a Mystic King-level Mystic Power Shockwave—even a Mystic General would take heavy damage. Yan Zhen was just a Mystic Master; how was he fine?
In his daze, a gray-flame-wreathed hand shot out like a striking viper. It seized the Third Prince’s throat, hoisting him bodily into the air.
