Chapter 122: Insulting Each Other Is Also a Form of Strength

Lin Zhan found it impossible to feel any goodwill toward such a disrespectful and despicable senior uncle. When the other suddenly struck a palm toward him, Lin Zhan showed no sign of panic. Instead, he immediately signaled those around and behind him to step back, and faced the incoming palm strike head-on, clenching his fists tightly.

The Flame Fist Technique!

A fist charged with indomitable courage, never retreating, was hurled with great force!

Meeting force with force had always been Lin Zhan’s first choice.

Boom!

The tremendous sound generated by the collision of fists and palms rolled through the arena, shaking the entire place.

The ground cracked beneath them, nearby buildings rattled loudly, and the crowd quickly retreated to avoid the blast.

Lin Zhan stood firm and unmoved, while Chong Liang staggered back five or six steps, his hair and whiskers bristling wildly.

It was no wonder his heart was shaken. Facing a mere miscellaneous disciple like Lin Zhan, his own cultivation ranked at the fifth grade of the Yellow Rank. The palm strike he had just unleashed was only at half his spiritual power, yet he was at a disadvantage and nearly made a fool of himself.

In contrast, Lin Zhan’s opening fists were almost always delivered at near full strength, as a way to gauge his opponent’s true power.

Lin Zhan’s battles had always been arduous. With limited talent and no master to guide him, he had painstakingly cultivated every bit of his strength through sheer perseverance. Every fight was a life-or-death struggle, especially today.

“An uncle like you is truly an honor,” Lin Zhan sneered coldly.

“Lin Zhan, you’re courting death! How dare you raise a hand against your own uncle and speak with such insolence!” The crowd, including numbers 144 and 174, erupted in indignation, hiding behind a wall of ice with expressions as if they had lost their parents.

Not far behind Lin Zhan, Ye Xiaoyao poked his head out from behind another shield and shouted, “You Zangjian Peak really have no shame! Defeated in the competition, outmatched by skill, and now you call upon your uncles for backup? Today, I, Ye Xiaoyao of Tiangang Peak, have truly learned something new!”

“Today I, Fang Daguang—” Fang Daguang valiantly tried to add fuel to the fire but was quickly silenced by Ye Xiaoyao’s hand over his mouth.

“Senior Brother Fang, do you want to die? You’re also a disciple of Zangjian Peak; you still have to return there,” Ye Xiaoyao whispered.

Fang Daguang reluctantly pressed his hand against the wall’s opening in frustration.

“Ye Xiaoyao, just wait. If you cross paths with a few of our Zangjian Peak senior brothers in the finals, you’ll be begging for mercy!” one of them retorted fiercely.

“Bah! A bunch of useless fools. You really think Grandpa Ye is someone you can threaten? I’ve never feared Zangjian Peak, you shameless lot who even lost your weapons, yet still brag openly. Go lick your master’s boots; maybe if he’s pleased, he’ll toss you a handful of swords,” Ye Xiaoyao shot back scornfully.

“Ye Xiaoyao!” The Zangjian disciples hurled a barrage of filthy curses in response.

When it came to verbal sparring, Ye Xiaoyao was exceptionally skilled. Although the Zangjian disciples lacked prowess in cultivation and power, none could outmatch them in hurling insults.

This entire scene left uncles Chong Guang and Chong Liang deeply frustrated, wishing they could wipe away the memory of this day by eliminating Lin Zhan, Ye Xiaoyao, and the others.

Their visit to Lin Zhan was already improper. Chong Liang’s earlier action in striking Lin Zhan had crossed some boundary. Killing a disciple from another peak during the competition would make them the target of universal condemnation in the Flame Mountain Range.

They had only come to reclaim Zangjian Peak’s swords and teach Lin Zhan a lesson, but hadn’t expected him to be so formidable. Now they found themselves trapped in an awkward position.

At this moment, Lin Zhan received a covert transmission from Ye Xiaoyao: “Brother Lin, Zangjian Peak clearly won’t let this drop easily. Why not give them a few swords, let them save face? Otherwise, a direct confrontation will only bring trouble.”

Ye Xiaoyao’s advice was sound. Before the competition, any unexpected incident would be disadvantageous.

Lin Zhan still held a slight upper hand. A bit of compromise now was no humiliation. Waiting until the final match to overwhelm a few Zangjian disciples would be far more satisfying.

“Lin Zhan, return the swords of Zangjian Peak. We won’t trouble you further today!” Chong Guang was calmer than Chong Liang. He had already made up his mind. Speaking in front of the disciples of several peaks, it wasn’t the time to act rashly. Once back, he would instruct the finalists to put full pressure on Lin Zhan, even if it meant killing him several times.

It was worth noting that besides Fan Ning, the current peak master’s personal disciple, Zangjian Peak had many seed disciples who had advanced to the final rounds. Many had cultivated for years, reaching the fourth or fifth grade of the Yellow Rank.

“If you had said so earlier, I would have returned the swords long ago,” Lin Zhan shifted his tone from defiance to compliance.

However, not all the swords could be returned. One was given to Fang Daguang, another to Lian Ming, and Fan Ning’s Thousand-Flower Sword had pledged loyalty to Lin Zhan himself, serving as his aerial transport. These three were absolutely not going anywhere.

Lin Zhan summoned a chaotic cluster of a dozen or so swords from his spatial array and clanged them onto the snowy ground, wearing an expression as if to say, “Take them or leave them.”

“Two uncles, these are the swords of your Zangjian disciples. Take them all back. I won’t even charge a storage fee.”

Chong Liang’s anger flared, but Chong Guang stopped him with a wave of his hand. Then, a dozen individuals, previously hiding, surged forward to claim their respective longswords.

Soon, all the swords on the ground were taken, except for those belonging to numbers 144 and 174.

“Uncle!”

“Lin Zhan, where is my sword?”

Both were on the verge of tears, their disappointment deeper than before.

Another voice chimed in, “Fan Ning’s Thousand-Flower Sword was taken by him too. It’s not here now!”

If only all the swords were missing, perhaps the law wouldn’t punish the mass. But with only two swords missing, the sense of loss and injustice was especially acute.

Chong Guang fixed his gaze on Lin Zhan. “Are there three swords you haven’t shown us?”

Lin Zhan shrugged and smiled. “These swords aren’t anything special. I showed you all just now. As for those missing, are you sure you lost them while in my possession? Heh.”

“Lin Zhan, you—” Number 144 was so overwhelmingly frustrated that dark blood surged into his mouth. Already wounded, he fainted from anger and shock.

Number 174 was equally miserable, collapsing to the ground with a look of utter despair.

Several figures swept in swiftly from a distance, and Chong Guang’s face darkened instantly.

They were stewards from Flame Peak.

“Chong Guang, so it’s you two brothers. Someone just threatened my Flame Peak disciples. Which peak are they from?” The Flame Peak men, likely having heard of the situation, deliberately mocked.

“Heh, Elder Jin, long time no see. My master often speaks of you,” Chong Guang bowed with a forced smile.

While the two stewards negotiated, Ye Xiaoyao, Fang Daguang, and the others moved closer to Lin Zhan.

Fang Daguang grabbed Lin Zhan’s arm, scrutinizing his face closely.

“What is it, Brother Fang?” Lin Zhan grinned, thinking, Go ahead, try to recognize me. I’m not the same as before; you won’t know me now.

Fang Daguang let go, scratched his head awkwardly, and chuckled, “I have a little brother named Lin Zhan too, hehe.”

Lin Zhan had no time to explain. With the Flame Peak stewards here, they would undoubtedly inquire about his identity. His head ached again. The Daisy Hall had been disbanded. Could he still conceal his status as a miscellaneous servant of the Green Bamboo Hall?