Returning after 10000 Years Cultivation - Chapter 73

“Jiang Tian is completely insane! If even Tiger Ye is this strong, how powerful must his master be? And yet he dares to speak such arrogance!”

In the audience, Lu Biyao stared in shock before shaking her head with a sigh, looking at Jiang Tian as if he were a fool, her lips curling in disdain.

“Let him die. After what he did to me yesterday…” Xue Feiyang muttered venomously, gloating at the thought.

“Tch. Clueless fool. Doesn’t even realize the situation he’s in!”

Liu Jinrong scoffed, shaking his head. “Does he think being friends with the Ye family’s princess gives him the right to act tough here? Can’t he see this is a fight to the death? Even Boss Feng couldn’t handle Xing Shanhu! This time, no one can save him!”

“You’re dead, brat!”

On the stage, Xing Shanhu’s roar erupted like thunder, his eyes blazing with fury.

His master, Lin Zhenyu, was the top martial artist of the Great Circle, a legendary grandmaster who stood above all others. Yet this arrogant punk dared to disrespect him? Unforgivable!

In the next instant, he lunged forward, closing the distance in a flash, and threw a devastating punch straight at Jiang Tian’s chest.

The force behind the blow was terrifying—air split, a gale howled, and condensed qi formed a translucent fist capable of smashing through armored steel.

“How am I supposed to explain this to Ziwei…?”

Ye Gufeng shut his eyes in despair, already picturing Jiang Tian reduced to pulp.

“Jiang Tian, watch out!”

Zhao Xueqing and Ye Ziwei screamed in unison, their hearts pounding in their throats.

“Hmph. So this is the full power of a so-called ‘minor mastery’ cultivator?”

Jiang Tian didn’t even flinch. Slowly, he raised his hand and flicked his fingers outward like a blade slicing through water.

Whoosh!

A razor-sharp wind blade materialized midair, effortlessly cleaving through the qi fist and continuing toward Xing Shanhu’s chest.

“Qi Manifestation—Grandmaster Level?!”

Xing Shanhu’s soul nearly left his body. Instinct took over—he kicked off the ground, leaping backward.

His qi fist had been strong enough to shatter steel, yet this kid had dispersed it with a casual wave?

CRACK!

The wind blade struck the stage, leaving a meter-long gash in its wake, the edges unnervingly smooth.

“What kind of technique is this?!”

Qiu Gong, now seated behind Ye Gufeng, nearly jumped out of his skin, his eyes bulging.

Jiang Tian had conjured a blade of wind—no, a sword of pure qi—and split Xing Shanhu’s attack like paper before scarring the reinforced stage.

“Impossible! How could a true grandmaster appear in a backwater like Linzhou?!”

Xing Shanhu’s mind screamed in terror. He was only at the minor mastery stage—against a full grandmaster, he stood no chance.

Without hesitation, he activated his movement technique, leaping into the air and darting across the audience’s heads like a gust of wind, making a desperate dash for the helicopter on the deck.

“Trying to run now? A bit late, don’t you think?”

Jiang Tian’s lips curled in amusement as he slowly clenched his right hand into a fist. Then, with a casual motion, he threw a punch toward the fleeing figure.

“Mountain-Crushing Fist!”

A massive golden fist, the size of a millstone, materialized midair and shot forward like a missile, tearing through the distance with a deafening roar.

The shockwave alone carved a fifty-meter-long trench through the stands, sending spectators tumbling like bowling pins.

“My God! Is this even martial arts anymore?!”

The crowd erupted in chaos. Even Ye Gufeng and Qiu Gong shot to their feet, faces pale with disbelief.

“What the—?!”

Hearing the eerie wail behind him, Xing Shanhu whirled around—just in time to see the colossal fist filling his vision.

“GRAAAH!”

He triggered his last resort—his bones crackled, muscles swelled, and his skin darkened to iron-gray as his body expanded into a two-meter-tall behemoth.

“Minor mastery cultivation plus the Thirteen Iron Body Refinement Technique! He could tank machine-gun fire now!” Qiu Gong gasped.

BOOM!

The golden fist plowed into Xing Shanhu with the force of a meteor.

His reinforced body crumpled like paper—bones shattered, blood geysered, and his organs turned to paste.

The impact sent him flying like a ragdoll, smashing into the helicopter behind him.

SCREECH—CRUNCH!

The multi-ton aircraft skidded five meters across the deck, tires screeching, black smoke pouring from its undercarriage as the frame groaned under the stress.

“Heavens… Qi Manifestation, a strike spanning hundreds of meters! A true grandmaster! No—a monster!”

Qiu Gong’s hair stood on end. Jiang Tian’s first attack had been too fast to see clearly, but this?

This was undeniable. A fist of pure energy, obliterating everything in its path.

“Hmph. For someone at ‘minor mastery,’ I expected you to last three moves. Pathetic—you barely made it to two.”

Jiang Tian stood with his hands behind his back, sighing in disappointment.

“To think Linzhou hid a real grandmaster… Dying by your hand… I’ve no regrets…”

Xing Shanhu’s lips twitched in something between a smile and a grimace, blood frothing at his mouth.

As the golden fist dissipated, his body—now little more than pulverized meat—collapsed in a heap, his eyes glazing over.

Dead.

Every bone broken, every organ ruptured. That he’d managed a final sentence was a testament to thirty years of brutal training.

Xing Shanhu—leader of the Great Circle’s Las Vegas branch, disciple of Lin Zhenyu—had fallen.

Silence.

“He’s… this powerful? Is he even human? Is this why he dismissed me so easily?”

Lu Biyao’s face drained of color, her mind reeling.

“So this is why he dared to hit me yesterday… If he hadn’t held back, I’d be dead!”

Xue Feiyang trembled like a leaf, drenched in cold sweat.

“What have I done? I need to beg Boss Feng—no, my father—to plead for mercy…”

Liu Jinrong’s guts twisted with regret. How could he have been stupid enough to covet this man’s woman?

Even Xue Mingyi paled. “I offended him two days ago… What now?”

As for Yang Kunpeng? He’d melted into his seat like a limp noodle, his face the picture of despair. With Xing Shanhu gone, who could stop this thing?

“My husband… he’s this strong? Was he telling the truth? Did he truly… reincarnate after millennia of cultivation?”

Zhao Xueqing covered her mouth, tears of joy blurring her vision.

“Xiao Tian won! Since when was he this powerful?!” Ye Ziwei wept with relief.

“Victory! We won!”

“Grandmaster Jiang’s might is unstoppable!”

Long Wu, Zhou Zhenghao, and the other Linzhou elites cheered, their pride restored.

“Not even thirty, yet already a grandmaster!”

“Wind blades, qi fists that span hundreds of meters, crushing a heavyweight like Xing Shanhu—even shaking a helicopter!”

“No wonder he ignored my threats and bribes! To someone like him, the great families of Jinling are ants! My ‘loans’? Worthless!”

Ye Gufeng stood frozen, staring at the calm young man on stage while his mind churned with realization.

He remembered their conversation two days prior—how he’d dismissed Jiang Tian as arrogant.

Now? Now he understood he was the frog at the bottom of the well.

With power like this, Jiang Tian could dominate all of China. Even a titan like Ye Gufeng could only look up in awe.

And he wasn’t alone. Every person in that arena shared the same thought.

A hushed reverence fell over the crowd, fear and awe mingling as they bowed their heads—as if facing a god of war.

Jiang Tian stood unmoved, his heart as still as deep water.

In his past life, he’d swept across galaxies, devouring stars, slaughtering demons and titans alike. A flick of his finger could split the sky; a single punch could shatter planets.

To others, Xing Shanhu was a legend. To Jiang Tian?

Less than an insect.

Now, at the Qi Refining stage, even veteran grandmasters were nothing to him. Lin Zhenyu himself wouldn’t make him blink.

Only one concern lingered—would Zhao Xueqing be disturbed by his brutality?

But when he glanced over, she was bouncing excitedly with Ye Ziwei, laughing without a care.

“Hah. This girl’s tougher than she looks.” He chuckled, relieved.

Noticing Jiang Tian’s smile, Yang Kunpeng finally saw a flicker of humanity in the demon before him.

“G-Grandmaster Jiang! Spare me! This was just business—no personal grudge!” he begged, his voice trembling.

“Spare you? Weren’t you planning to ‘have fun’ with my woman after killing me?” Jiang Tian’s smile turned icy.

He didn’t fear enemies. But threaten his loved ones?

Unforgivable.

After millennia of longing for them across the cosmos, he’d never tolerate such filth near them.

“Leave it to this old servant, Grandmaster!”

Gui Jiao Ti knew Jiang Tian wouldn’t slaughter openly with Zhao Xueqing present. With a flick of his wrist, a coin shot through the air—

THUD.

Yang Kunpeng’s body slumped, a neat hole between his eyes.