Jiang Feng was sent flying eight or nine meters through the air, crashing heavily into a pile of rubble, letting out a wretched cry on impact as several jagged stones nearly shattered his ribs. Had his physical constitution not far surpassed that of an ordinary person, his bones would most likely have snapped outright.

A vivid crimson handprint blazed across his face, swollen and burning red. He struggled to his feet, his gaze ice-cold, staring fixedly at Ye Fan. “You—” As a cultivator of the Divine Bridge Realm, when had he ever suffered such humiliation? To be sent flying by a mortal, in full view of so many onlookers — he wished he could find a crack in the earth and disappear into it.

“What’s so impressive about a Divine Bridge Realm cultivator? You still got slapped down by me, a mere mortal — nothing particularly special about that.” Ye Fan wore a faint smile as he spoke, rubbing his palm casually, taunting without the slightest mercy: “Though there is one thing unusual — your face is extraordinarily thick-skinned. My palm is still stinging. Does your face not hurt at all?”

This naked humiliation made Jiang Feng’s lungs feel as though they would burst from sheer fury, his humiliation pressed to an unbearable extreme. Divine Bridge Realm cultivators stood high above all others — to mortals, they were akin to gods dwelling in the clouds. What had transpired today was something he simply could not accept. It was a disgrace for all eternity. His voice turned frigid: “You’re courting death!”

Nearby, every cultivator present could scarcely believe their own eyes. Even with the divine power springs exhausted and divine arts forbidden, a Divine Bridge Realm cultivator was still not something a mortal ought to be able to shake.

Zhou Yi and Wang Ziwen stared at each other, both feeling as though they were caught in some unreal dream. They could not comprehend how Ye Fan — who knew nothing of cultivation — had swatted down someone they regarded as a lofty powerhouse as easily as swatting a fly. It left them both stunned and baffled.

Lin Jia’s beautiful eyes were wide and round, filled with pure disbelief. Liu Yiyi and Zhang Ziling stood slack-jawed, and then anxiety and worry crept across their faces — they were genuinely frightened for Ye Fan. With so many mounted soldiers present, they did not see how he could possibly escape.

Li Xiaoman stood dazed and lost in thought. She glanced at the Divine Bridge Realm cultivator, then fixed her gaze on Ye Fan standing not far away. Her heart would not settle.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The ground trembled. Though Jiang Feng could not use divine arts, his physical body was nonetheless extraordinarily powerful — he advanced like a human-shaped beast, his eyes shooting terrifying beams of light.

Ye Fan looked at the bloody handprint on his face and smiled brilliantly. “Are you looking down on me, great expert? Could you be any more superior? Any more arrogant? Then turn the other half of your face and smash it hard into my palm as well.”

“Die!” Jiang Feng’s killing intent erupted fully. He drove the blade of his right palm viciously toward Ye Fan’s neck while his left hand curled into a dragon’s claw, thrusting straight at Ye Fan’s chest, intending to tear it apart with brute force.

“Truly a powerful expert — every move aimed to kill, even when facing a mortal like me.” A mocking smile played at the corner of Ye Fan’s mouth. Both hands shot forward, instantly seizing the palm blade and the dragon’s claw in an iron grip, and with a sharp twist, the crack of breaking bone rang out immediately.

Jiang Feng’s expression turned wretched as the searing pain drenched him in cold sweat.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Their legs traded rapid blows below, dull thuds echoing out. Jiang Feng went pale with dread — he felt both his kneecaps shatter, no longer able to stand. With a heavy thump, he dropped to his knees on the ground.

It was a defeat too bitter to endure. Rage drove him nearly to madness. A dignified Divine Bridge Realm cultivator — yet his body was not as physically powerful as that of a mortal. He could not believe it.

“A man’s knees are worth their weight in gold, so kneeling before me like this — I’m truly unworthy of such honor. Best you stand back up.” Ye Fan stepped back one pace, then swung his palm with ferocious force, landing it squarely against the other side of his face, leaving behind another vivid, bloody handprint.

A spray of blood burst from Jiang Feng’s mouth as he was knocked tumbling backward, crashing once more into the pile of rocks. He could no longer rise. Through gritted teeth he glared at Ye Fan. “You little wretch—”

“Do you feel humiliated? What is this, compared to what you did? Two years ago, you were all hell-bent on taking my life — you hunted me until there was no road left in the heavens and no door left in the earth. What is this little humiliation of yours worth compared to that?”

Ye Fan strode forward. “It is time to collect on an old debt. When you swore to kill me, I made a decision of my own — that I would take your life.”

Seven or eight towering figures rushed forward, blocking Ye Fan’s path. They had wanted to move long ago, but Jiang Hanzhong had held them back — he had wanted to see just how powerful Ye Fan’s physical body truly was.

Ye Fan did not retreat a single step. He continued walking forward. When the first man struck at him, Ye Fan moved like lightning, sidestepping the blow and reaching out — crack — snapping that man’s wrist and wrenching the gleaming longsword from his grasp in one motion. He reversed the blade and slashed across, sword light sweeping in a horizontal arc. With a thud and a burst of crimson, a severed head rolled across the ground.

“Those who stand in my way die!” Ye Fan held the sword and swept his gaze across the crowd, advancing with long, resolute strides, his eyes sharp as blades.

Swish. Swish. Swish.

Several figures surrounded him — some bearing long spears, others gripping swords — all attacking Ye Fan simultaneously.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Ye Fan moved swift as a shooting star, wielding the strength of a mighty serpentine dragon. The sword in his hand blazed with dazzling radiance, sending every weapon in the hands of the others flying. The blade fell straight down — thud — cleaving a mounted soldier clean in two, blood pouring freely.

Hiss!

A reverse slash, the blood-soaked sword cutting backward at speed, lopped off a cultivator’s head on the spot. It flew spinning more than ten meters before landing, while the headless body sprayed blood and collapsed heavily into the dust.

“Who dares stand against me!” Ye Fan swept his gaze over the crowd, took several rapid strides, and brought the blood-dripping divine sword down in a diagonal slash. The cultivator who charged at him was immediately cut diagonally from shoulder to hip, toppling forward into a pool of blood with a heavy crash.

Everyone’s expressions went rigid. Ye Fan’s physical body was overwhelmingly powerful — immense in force, dominating in momentum. That blood-soaked longsword in his hands seemed heavier than ten thousand pounds and could not be overcome at all. It was less like a sword and more like a mountain.

Boom!

Ye Fan struck out with his sword, directly shattering the cultivator blocking his path. The sheer force completely destroyed the mounted soldier’s body, splitting it to pieces, blood flying wildly in all directions.

He stepped into the rubble pile in one stride and raised his sword to cleave forward. With a thunderous clang, Jiang Hanzhong — the elder of the Jiang Family — personally intervened, using a long spear to deflect Ye Fan’s sword, then snatched Jiang Feng up and retreated more than ten meters in an instant.

A chill ran through Ye Fan’s heart. This old man was formidable. Even unable to use divine arts, his physical strength was no weaker than Ye Fan’s own — truly shocking. One had to remember that Ye Fan had consumed a sacred fruit, and after advancing to the Life Spring Realm, the medicinal power had gradually dissolved through him, bringing his physical shell to an almost terrifyingly powerful state.

“I truly did not expect this…” Jiang Hanzhong’s expression was cold as he fixed his gaze on Ye Fan. “After a mortal consumes sacred medicine, they can become this physically powerful. The sacred medicine truly lives up to its name — no wonder it has been renowned throughout the Eastern Wasteland since ancient times.”

“You all walked the path from mortal yourselves. Yet you say ‘mortal this’ and ‘mortal that’ at every turn, full of contempt, carrying that high-and-mighty air as though you truly believe yourselves gods.” Ye Fan advanced with long strides, the divine sword in his hand dripping blood and dragging along the ground as he pressed toward the elder of the Jiang Family. “You saw me as an insect, intended to send me to my death to pick divine medicine for you — did you truly think you could control everything in this world?”

“Excellent!” Jiang Hanzhong’s eyes shone with a strange light. Rather than anger, a faint smile crossed his face. “The more powerful your physical body, the more medicinal power you have absorbed — meaning you should be able to withstand the force of the cursed aura from the Ancient Abyss, which gives the task of picking the divine medicine a greater chance of success.”

“Do you think you can control me? You’re far too full of yourself.” Ye Fan shot forward like lightning.

Jiang Hanzhong flung Jiang Feng away with one hand — he was caught by other cultivators — and then leveled his long spear at Ye Fan, thrusting forward with savage, unstoppable force, as though he intended to pierce through the very void. The spear’s tip erupted with brilliant radiance.

Clang!

Ye Fan parried with his sword, producing a piercing metallic vibration — as though two iron mountains had collided — making every person’s eardrums hum and ring.

The sword moved like a rainbow. Ye Fan slashed horizontally and cut vertically as if swinging a great mountain — his force heavy, his momentum fierce, utterly unstoppable.

The long spear in Jiang Hanzhong’s hand seemed capable of hurling mountains into the air, its power surging and savage beyond measure — like a bolt of lightning raging through the void.

Swish!

Suddenly, Ye Fan shot forward like a bolt of electricity, bursting directly toward the crowd, his target locked squarely on Jiang Feng.

Several mounted soldiers moved to block him, all of them deeply frustrated — with their divine arts sealed, they could only rely on the most ancient forms of combat, the feeling of strength they couldn’t unleash weighing heavily on them. They felt that if they could use their divine techniques, a mere flick of the hand would be enough to reduce Ye Fan to ash.

Thud!

Ye Fan was utterly cold. The divine sword moved like lightning, instantly severing a cultivator’s head.

Thud!

The sword gleamed with cold light as Ye Fan brought it straight down, splitting another cultivator in two.

Thud!

The blade, slick with blood, pierced through a cultivator’s heart, blood gushing forth.

Ye Fan moved simply and directly, passing through the crowd as though it were empty ground. Every person who stood in his way was cut down with a single sword stroke, blood and light bursting outward — none could withstand him.

Slam!

He grabbed Jiang Feng in one hand, drifting through the crowd like a wisp of smoke. Jiang Hanzhong’s spear pierced through only his afterimage, striking empty air — it hadn’t even grazed the hem of his robe.

“The debt from two years ago — I collect it today!” The moment Ye Fan finished speaking, with a sharp crack, he snapped Jiang Feng’s neck cleanly and tossed him to the ground.

Jiang Feng died with his eyes wide open. Blood continued to seep from the corners of his mouth, his eyes stretched impossibly wide. A dignified Divine Bridge Realm cultivator — his neck wrung by the very mortal he had looked down upon. He drew his last breath carrying humiliation and despair.

Li Xiaoman, Zhou Yi, Lin Jia, and the others were all shaken to their core, their minds filled with incomprehension. Never had any of them imagined Ye Fan could be this powerful. All of them wore expressions of utter disbelief.

In that same moment, the old mounted soldier of the Yao Guang Sacred Ground, Xu Daoling; the elder of the Ji Family, Ji Yunfeng; and the elder of the Jiang Family, Jiang Hanzhong, all converged simultaneously, boxing him in from all sides.

Ye Fan was perfectly calm. His divine spring continued to bubble and flow — it had not run dry. With this trump card in hand, he feared no one.

The Ji Family elder Ji Yunfeng spoke with a cold, detached voice: “Such a powerfully built physical body is truly rare. To kill you here and now would be something of a waste. Go up the mountain. If you succeed in picking the divine medicine, I will grant you a whole corpse — a clean death.”

“There’s no waste in it. Extinguish his divine sense, keep the body intact — it can still be put to use.” A cold smile played at the corner of Jiang Hanzhong’s mouth.

The elder of the Yao Guang Sacred Ground, Xu Daoling, shook his head and sighed: “What a waste of that sacred medicine — squandered on him. If we had consumed it, our strength would surely have soared enormously.”

“Do you truly believe you can kill me?” Ye Fan laughed coldly.

Jiang Hanzhong produced an ornate brocade box, opening it with a casual air as he spoke: “In truth, killing you requires no effort at all. We could reduce you to ash with the greatest of ease.”

Ye Fan’s heart lurched immediately. A sense of danger swept through him — that box was no ordinary object. He quietly celebrated that he had not recklessly played his trump card; that would be his final hand.

“Very well. Clear those skeletal remains from my path, and I will go up and pick the divine medicine for you…” Ye Fan’s mind moved at lightning speed. He wanted to use these people’s strength to sweep away the dangers on the mountain — to turn them against the mountain itself in the service of picking the divine medicine.