Chapter Fifty-Two: Are You Calling Me? (Part Three)

"Lin Dong, you must do your best!" Gu Feifei clenched her small hands, her blood boiling, and stood up abruptly.

Liu Shao, Wang Shao, Li Mengxue, and the others all rose, shouting, "Brother Dong, go for it!"

We martial artists swallow the world whole.

On the stage, Lin Wangtian, Lin Dong, Zhang Lei, and Yuan Tiangang faced each other.

"Tiangang, I have already ascended to the rank of Grandmaster. I’ll give you a chance—call your comrades and leave now. Years ago, your father overreached himself and acted unjustly. I crippled his legs as a lesson."

Enemies meeting, their eyes burned with hatred. Lin Dong glared furiously, exerting all his strength as he lunged at Lin Dong, "That lesson was far too harsh for my father."

Yuan Tiangang, like an old ape grasping the moon, smashed down from above.

Lin Dong exploded into motion, hands and feet flying, his palm splitting gold and shattering stone.

Zhang Lei’s momentum soared; a warrior of China, growing braver with each battle, never retreating.

With my hot blood, I spread it across the land.

Facing a Grandmaster of internal force, or even a master, Zhang Lei stood firm and did not retreat.

The four clashed, and the crowd below the stage grew lively, marveling at the sight of master and disciple fighting side by side. On Yuan Tiangang’s side, he was risking his life, locked in fierce combat with Lin Dong.

Xia Qinghan’s jade fingers gripped the handle of her chair, her body trembling slightly. Though she did not cheer aloud like Gu Feifei, Liu Shao, and the others, her physical reaction revealed the excitement stirring within her.

This was the true secular martial artist. Those so-called fighting experts from earlier were nothing but flowery fists and embroidered kicks, unworthy to share the stage with real martial artists.

Liu Shao and the others looked on with envy, eyes shining like tiny stars. Was this what it meant to be a secular martial artist?

"So domineering, truly domineering," Wang Shao applauded.

Jiang Yu remained calm, the plates of pastries at his side suffering under his relentless fingers.

To him, the moment the fighting began, the outcome was already decided. Zhang Lei, a half-step Grandmaster, facing a true Grandmaster of internal force—this half-step was not merely a chasm, but a gulf between heaven and earth. Without becoming a Grandmaster, he could never comprehend the vast and unending power of such a master.

"Jiang Yu, you still have the appetite for pastries at a time like this?" Xia Qinghan looked at Jiang Yu in annoyance, wishing she could snatch the pastries from his hand.

Gu Feifei tugged at Jiang Yu, "Why aren’t you cheering for Brother Lin Dong?"

Jiang Yu smiled, "Yuan Tiangang is no match for Lin Wangtian and his disciple. The result will be decided soon."

As he spoke, everyone focused their gaze, and indeed, as Jiang Yu had said, Zhang Lei was clearly losing. Lin Wangtian, on the other hand, had one hand behind his back, looking relaxed. To outsiders, Lin Wangtian’s palm appeared light and effortless, but when it landed on Zhang Lei, it was like being crushed by an armored vehicle.

If Zhang Lei hadn’t reached the half-step Grandmaster level, he might have been sent flying by Lin Wangtian’s palm long ago.

On Yuan Tiangang and Lin Dong’s side, their fists and feet exchanged blows, neither gaining the upper hand.

"Lin Dong, do you remember what your teacher taught you?"

Suddenly, Lin Wangtian spoke a cryptic line.

Lin Dong paused, biting his teeth in frustration, "I remember, Master."

Then, he swept his leg at Yuan Tiangang, taking advantage of this opening, Yuan Tiangang punched Lin Dong’s body. Lin Dong was sent flying, landing on the stage, a thin trickle of blood slowly oozing from the corner of his mouth.

Anyone with a discerning eye could see Lin Dong had deliberately yielded to Yuan Tiangang. Though he lost, he did not lose his manners, nor his bearing, nor his grace.

Lin Wangtian was, indeed, a man of great virtue and honor.

"Lin Dong, rise."

Yuan Tiangang shouted.

Lin Dong got up, smiling, "I have lost."

That punch had already left Lin Dong seriously injured. Martial artists battling was nothing like street fights, where one could take a few punches and kicks and still get up, brush off the dust, and keep fighting. A master of condensed force could deliver a punch with a force of a thousand pounds, capable of killing a brown bear.

Yuan Tiangang’s face was complicated. After standing for a few minutes, he finally exhaled, "Ah, Lin Wangtian, you crippled my father’s legs, and now you conquer people with virtue. I only regret that my strength is lacking and I cannot avenge my father."

If he continued fighting, it would only embarrass himself.

Vengeance is important, but the Yuan family’s dignity cannot be lost.

On Lin Wangtian’s side, Zhang Lei suffered in silence. His palm, capable of splitting a millstone, found no opportunity against Lin Wangtian. His tiger’s mouth was numb from the shock, his left arm dislocated, his internal organs aching terribly—he was hanging on by a thread, desperately holding on.

"Is this the true power of a Grandmaster?"

Zhang Lei did not give up; instead, his eyes gleamed with resolve.

"This farce ought to end now."

Lin Wangtian stood calm and composed, exuding the bearing of a true master. At this moment, his hands moved through the air, and wisps of mist appeared out of nowhere, instantly enveloping the stage like the clouds of a heavenly paradise.

"Cloud-Dropping Hand!"

A soft shout rang out, and the white clouds drifting above the stage were drawn inward, condensing into a single point, spinning rapidly between Lin Wangtian’s palms. An overwhelming, violent energy was brewing.

"Good!"

He struck, and the white point in Lin Wangtian’s palm drifted gently toward Zhang Lei.

To others, that spot of white light seemed so delicate that a mere wave of the hand could disperse it. Yet in Zhang Lei’s eyes, it was as if Mount Tai were collapsing; a sense of unprecedented crisis surged in his heart.

He summoned all his strength, clenched his fists, lowered his waist, and puffed his chest like a toad inhaling.

The moment the energy touched Zhang Lei, it transformed into a cloud, vibrating fiercely, an invisible wave spreading to all corners of the stage. Everyone felt a cold, unstoppable wind blow past, impossible to resist.

"Until you become a Grandmaster, you will never be my equal."

Lin Wangtian stood proudly.

Zhang Lei was sent flying, his clothing torn to shreds, his hair, eyelashes, and every pore on his body covered in a layer of frost.

It felt as if he were standing in the icy snows of Siberia.

Yuan Tiangang had defeated Lin Dong, and Lin Wangtian had bested Zhang Lei. Each had their victory and loss; neither could be considered disgraced.

This was Lin Wangtian’s deeper intention.

"Your friend may have lost to me, but my own disciple has also lost to you. In this way, neither of us suffers. Vengeance only breeds more vengeance. If you still feel dissatisfied, I, Lin Wangtian, before all the heroes of the world, will accept three moves from you, regardless of life or death."

"After three moves, the feud between me and your father will be erased. If I kill you, your friends and family will one day come seeking revenge. I can kill two or three, but I cannot kill all the thousands under heaven."

Lin Wangtian stood with his hands behind his back, his expression calm, lacking any trace of Grandmaster’s sternness. He seemed more like a kindly old grandfather from next door, emanating an aura of warmth to all he encountered.

This was precisely why Jiang Yu respected Lin Wangtian so much.

Yuan Tiangang looked at Lin Wangtian, his expression complex, "With all the heroes of Jiangbei present, if I were to attack you, wouldn’t it bring shame to the Yuan family? Enough, enough. My father was arrogant in his day and did many wrongs. Let this be his karmic retribution."

He stood before Lin Wangtian and saluted with a fist.

"A true Grandmaster’s bearing!"

Xia Qinghan’s eyes shone with admiration.

Many others looked at Lin Wangtian, their gazes full of goodwill.

This man deserved the reputation of being virtuous and respected.

"Who would have expected that among secular martial artists, you, Lin Wangtian, possess such integrity? The enmity between you can be resolved, but the hatred of Shadow Kill cannot. Only blood can wash away the shame of Shadow Kill."

A figure in a Zhongshan suit slowly walked toward the stage.

Shen Wan’an was about to make his move!

Step by step, he ascended the stage, exuding the aura of a true master, commanding authority without anger.

His voice was neither loud nor soft, but it echoed through every corner, and all felt as if thunder had exploded in their hearts, leaving them deaf and dazed.

Shen Wan’an, a half-step master, was about to deliver a spectacle.

"According to the rules of the stage, must I defeat you before challenging another?"

Shen Wan’an, with sword-like brows and starry eyes, made the stage tremble with each step, leaving cracks in his wake.

Lin Wangtian replied calmly, "Faced with a half-step master, I dare not overreach. There’s no need for you to act; I’ll voluntarily concede. If Master Shen wishes to challenge someone, then challenge whomever you wish. With hundreds present today, who could stop a master from doing as he pleases?"

Ha!

Shen Wan’an said arrogantly, "You know your place."

All held their breath, their eyes locked on Shen Wan’an standing on the stage.

Anyone who met Shen Wan’an’s gaze shuddered and quickly lowered their head. Before a master, all defer—unless another of equal rank appears.

"Shen Wan’an has appeared. The real drama begins."

Liu Shao and the others stared unblinking, afraid to miss a moment.

Xia Qinghan looked at Shen Wan’an with anticipation. This was a half-step master; since the founding of the Jiangbei stage tournament, nothing like this had ever occurred.

Gu Feifei’s beautiful eyes sparkled, smiling, "So domineering! I wonder, who can match Shen Wan’an?"

Xia Qinghan replied, "Except for that mysterious expert who killed Zheng Tianming, I fear none of today’s heroes can compare to Shen Wan’an."

Everyone knew what Shen Wan’an’s appearance meant.

As he himself said, the feud of Shadow Kill could only be cleansed with blood.

On the stage, Shen Wan’an spoke coolly, "The other night, my Shadow Kill organization’s chief in China, Zheng Mingtian; the South Asia chief, Arnold; and two top condensed force experts, were all slain. Their skills were lacking—dead is dead. But the reputation of Shadow Kill must not be tarnished."

As he spoke, he looked around, unperturbed, at the crowd of experts, "I know you are here. Today, I, Shen Wan’an, in the name of a master, challenge you to a duel."

The hall was silent; no one answered.

Many wondered silently: Could it be that person was afraid?

Minutes passed, and still no response. Disappointed, people shook their heads.

Muted discussions erupted.

All were asking: Faced with a master, had that person run away?

Suddenly, a cold voice echoed through the hall.

"Are you calling me?"

Jiang Yu, sitting beside Xia Qinghan, slowly stood up.