The commotion spread far and wide, pulling the vast majority of cultivators out of their meditative states in the Misty Rain Pool. When they beheld the pitiful, wretched states of Ye Fu and her usual band of arrogant bullies, shock rippled through the crowd.
Who was this guy? How dare he lay hands on Ye Fu? Was he tired of living?
Whispers erupted among the onlookers.
Yan Zhen halted right in front of Ye Fu, utterly unmoved by her pleas for mercy. “No, you don’t get it,” he said flatly. “You’re only begging with your mouth. Deep down, you’re seething with resentment, already plotting to sic your suitors and the Enforcement Hall on me the moment you get out of here, aren’t you? What an idiot. You’ve got a stellar background and extraordinary talent, but instead of setting a respectable example, you bully the weak and revel in stepping on others. Only when someone slaps you down do you drop to your knees and beg. Aren’t you just pathetic?”
As he spoke, Yan Zhen couldn’t resist delivering another kick, sending the struggling Ye Fu sprawling back to the ground.
“Go on, call your backers,” he commanded. “Whether it’s your brother Ye Qingtian or your grandpa Ye Long, bring them all here at once. Let’s get this over with—I’d save some time.”
Ye Qingtian, the chief disciple of Rain God Peak, was a Seven-Star Mystic Lord whose strength placed him at the very bottom among the Seven Peaks Chiefs. He would make a perfect test for Yan Zhen’s limits.
As for Rain God Peak’s Grand Elder Ye Long, a Nine-Star Mystic Venerable, Yan Zhen had no worries there. If the man dared strike at a junior, the Yu Shizun would handle him.
And if the Yu Shizun couldn’t intervene for some reason, Yan Zhen still had the Primeval Ashen Land and his Trump Card (Tier 5) to fall back on.
He had little fear of any foe below the Saint Realm.
Truth be told, ever since learning the script’s later developments, Yan Zhen’s mind had been consumed with recovering his past life’s memories, toppling the Demon Domain, achieving emperorship, and charting the path to the Heavenly Emperor Realm. He had zero patience for pests like Ye Fu.
Perhaps in his previous life, he’d forged the Extreme Flame into a trump card precisely to avoid wasting time on such trifles.
“Go, now!” Yan Zhen bellowed, his irritation boiling over. “Don’t waste my time!”
Long Ying poked her head out, baring her teeth ferociously as she snarled, “Hurry up and call for reinforcements! I’m going to wipe you all out in one go!”
Mentor Yu Xuan and Cousin Sister Yu Die watched them both with faces full of worry.
By all rights, they should have stepped in to stop Yan Zhen from escalating things. After all, he’d only just entered the holy land—being too flashy would draw unwanted scrutiny. But he didn’t seem driven by hot-blooded impulse; everything felt deliberate, calculated.
For the moment, the two women were at a loss.
“Stop this at once!”
A sharp feminine shout rang out. The beautiful middle-aged deacon in charge of guarding the Misty Rain Pool descended gracefully, landing between Yan Zhen and Long Ying while shielding Ye Fu.
“What is the meaning of this? Fighting is forbidden in the Misty Rain Pool. Who gave you permission to start throwing punches?”
Ye Fu latched onto Deacon Wu like a drowning woman grasping a lifeline. “Deacon Wu, thank goodness you’re here! Seize this lowly scum right now. He’s just a measly One-Star Mystic King, but his speed is freakishly fast. I suspect he’s from the Demon Domain—practicing some demonic art!”
Deacon Wu swept her gaze around, spotting Mentor Yu Xuan. She immediately recalled that the young man before her was Miss Yu Xuan’s fiancé, and a headache bloomed behind her eyes.
“You’re Yan Zhen, right? You’re new to the holy land—best keep a low profile. Otherwise, even with your ties to the Yu Family, trouble will find you at every turn.”
Yan Zhen’s expression didn’t so much as flicker. “Deacon Wu, if you didn’t have the guts to show up earlier, then don’t bother now. Don’t come in here playing favorites.”
Long Ying chimed in eagerly. “Yan Zhen Zhen’s absolutely right! When that short-haired cousin sister of mine was surrounded earlier, where were you, you old auntie?”
Deacon Wu’s face froze, fury twisting her features in humiliated rage. “When this seat decides to act is none of your business. The Misty Rain Pool has rules: no fighting. Violators are expelled and barred from entry for the entire month. These are the superior’s decrees—no one gets to break them.”
“Rules only matter when they’re applied fairly to everyone,” Yan Zhen replied coolly. “Selective enforcement is a load of crap. The superior’s rules are perfectly sound, but you’re not worthy of wielding them against me.”
“Insolent whelp!”
Deacon Wu struck out in anger. The intangible pressure of a Mystic Ancestor expert blanketed Yan Zhen completely. Then, her Wood Mystic Force summoned silver-blue flowering vines that coiled tightly around him, siphoning the mystic power from his body.
Any other Mystic King or even Mystic Lord would have been helpless once ensnared—the more they struggled, the tighter the vines constricted.
“Don’t try that trick on me,” Yan Zhen said without a trace of fear, his face instead twisting in disdain. “What are you, some widow picking fights with lolis?”
Deacon Wu’s brows furrowed. She was about to teach him a lesson when a pink-haired loli popped up right in front of her. Before she could react, the little girl thrust out a seemingly feeble pink fist.
Boom!
Space itself trembled. Deacon Wu hastily crossed her arms, summoning wooden shields to block, but they shattered in an instant. She stumbled back through the air uncontrollably before steadying herself mid-flight, her face etched with stunned uncertainty.
This five- or six-year-old girl… she had Mystic Ancestor cultivation?
Long Ying gave her no chance to think. With a tap of her toes, she rocketed upward, unleashing a barrage of pink fists on Deacon Wu. Each punch carried faint traces of spatial power—utterly unstoppable for a mere Mystic Ancestor. The deacon was forced into a steady retreat.
Ye Fu and her group gaped in disbelief. They never imagined Yan Zhen’s pink-haired loli companion would be this ferocious, strong enough to overwhelm even a Mystic Ancestor deacon. That put her on par with the peaks’ chiefs!
Yan Zhen ignited his Extreme Flame, the domineering crimson blaze incinerating the vines around him to ash. He turned a cold gaze on Ye Fu. “The deacon can’t save you. Call your brother Ye Qingtian or your grandpa Ye Long. Otherwise, you won’t be leaving the Misty Rain Pool today.”
Ye Fu’s swollen face twisted with venomous hatred as she glared at him. “Since you’re so eager to die, this young lady will oblige you!”
She crushed the protective talisman her grandfather had given her.
He’d told her to use it only in true life-or-death peril, but she couldn’t swallow this humiliation. She couldn’t touch Yu Xuan, but this scum of a man would pay— even if it meant alarming the Yu Shizun.
The talisman shattered. Visible ripples spread through space, fracturing like dropped porcelain. No figure had yet emerged, but the terrifying pressure of a Mystic Venerable descended.
Rain God Peak’s Grand Elder Ye Long was a Nine-Star Mystic Venerable who’d lingered in that realm for years. In terms of raw power, he could stand toe-to-toe with a First-Rank Supreme.
“Who dares bully this old man’s granddaughter?”
At the familiar voice, Ye Fu sighed in relief. A warped smile stretched across her grotesquely swollen cheeks.
Grandpa was here. Time for payback against everyone who’d humiliated her!
But just as that thought crossed her mind, she sensed something else: amid her grandfather’s Mystic Venerable pressure, an unfamiliar energy surged violently upward.
Everyone else felt it too. Hundreds of eyes turned toward the source, locking onto Yan Zhen.
In his hand had appeared a swirling vortex of flame like a miniature galaxy, pulsing with energy so alarming that a single glance seemed liable to trigger an explosion—or melt anyone who drew too near.
Ye Fu’s eyes bulged. “What… what is that?”
Yan Zhen offered no reply. Expressionless, he hurled the mini-galaxy into the spatial rift.
Then he uttered a single icy word:
“Boom.”
EXPLOTION 💥🔥💥