"Good! Senior Brother Li's punch has already surpassed his teacher—truly blue surpassing blue!"
"With such power, even most Insight God cultivators would have to back away."
The Chen clan members all exclaimed, clearly impressed by Li Tong's strength.
However, as that earth-shattering punch came crashing forward, Yang Cheng simply lifted his hand.
He raised one finger—light, effortless.
There was no surge of blood energy, no brilliant aura bursting forth. It looked like a casual gesture, so slow that even the spectators could see the smooth arc of his finger joints unfolding.
But the instant his fingertip met Li Tong's fist wind—
Time seemed to freeze.
The fist carrying the Seven-Star Formation pattern, roaring with tidal waves of force, halted abruptly three inches from Yang Cheng's fingertip.
The starry glow flowing around the fist froze like water turned to ice. The seven constellation lines dimmed visibly, and the Big Dipper formation shattered inch by inch.
"Chi!"
A faint, mosquito-soft sound rang out—but it pierced through the roar of the collapsing air currents.
Yang Cheng's fingertip didn't seem made of flesh and bone at all, but like a divine sword forged in chaos—silent, yet brimming with overwhelming might.
No matter how vast the star power, how intricate the array patterns, all of it crumbled before that single finger.
The qi surrounding Li Tong's fist burst like paper. The star beast phantom condensed from his power let out a voiceless cry before it dissolved completely.
The punch strong enough to shatter bluestone and make bronze bells tremble—was erased, inch by inch, without even stirring a ripple in the air.
Even more terrifying, the finger's force didn't stop there. It pierced through the collapsing punch and flowed backward like invisible lightning, traveling along Li Tong's arm meridians.
In the next instant, Li Tong's snarl froze on his face. His pupils dilated. Seven lines of blood streaked up his arm from his fist to his chest—
The Seven-Star Formation lines, now shattered, were tearing him apart from within.
"Pfft!"
A spray of blood burst from Li Tong's mouth. His body flew backward at triple the speed he had charged in, smashing hard into the golden pillar of the Chen clan's main hall.
The thick nanmu pillar cracked clean through, splinters flying everywhere. Li Tong slumped to the ground, motionless, a single bloody hole between his brows. The Seven-Star pattern on his fist was completely gone.
The hall fell utterly silent.
Everyone stared blankly.
They had seen how strong Li Tong's punch was—yet Yang Cheng had stopped it with just one finger?
The calm on Yu Hongluan's face vanished. Her pupils tightened slightly.
This youth's power was far beyond her expectations!
Yang Cheng's gaze passed over the shocked crowd and landed squarely on Yu Hongluan. "You planned to deal with Dao Wuyin?"
Yu Hongluan drew a deep breath, forcing her composure. "And what if I am?"
"No need," Yang Cheng said indifferently. "Dao Wuyin's strength is about equal to mine. If you wish to prove the power of the Hundred Formation Monastery, defeating me will be the same as defeating him."
His words detonated through the hall like thunder.
This youth actually dared to speak to Yu Hongluan like that?
Yu Hongluan's anger turned into a cold laugh. "Such arrogance! Since you're so eager to die, I'll grant your wish!"
Before her words even finished, a crack split open between her brows. Countless thin red threads shot out, weaving through the air to envelop the entire Chen clan hall. Each thread shimmered faintly, releasing eerie ripples that attacked directly at the mind and spirit.
She had struck first—fast and ruthless—giving Yang Cheng no time to react.
"That's the Soul-Locking Red Thread Formation!"
Chen Xuanshan gasped. "Master Yu actually refined such a spiritual array into her own body?"
Yu Hongluan's lips curved into a cold smile.
She had cultivated this formation for hundreds of years. A boy as young as Yang Cheng—no matter how strong his true energy—could never match her in spiritual power.
In her mind, this battle was already won.
But in the very next instant, Yu Hongluan's smile froze.
Yang Cheng's eyes slowly closed. Inside his Sea of Consciousness, the Soul Refining Ancient Method began to circulate at full speed. A boundless tide of spiritual power burst out—vast like the starry sea—condensing into countless invisible blades of pure mental energy that slashed toward the red threads.
His spiritual power was no weaker than his true qi—if anything, it was even stronger.
"Hiss, hiss, hiss—"
As the red threads collided with those invisible sword qi, they snapped apart like paper, dissolving into motes of fading light.
"Ah!"
Yu Hongluan screamed. Blood seeped continuously from the crack between her brows, her face draining to a deathly white.
She stared at Yang Cheng in disbelief. "Impossible! How can your spiritual power be so strong?"
Yang Cheng slowly opened his eyes, his tone flat. "It's not that I'm strong. It's that you're weak."
Then his gaze shifted away from her, sweeping calmly across the Chen clan hall. His expression was tranquil, yet that faint glance carried the weight of a mountain, as though he stood above all living beings. The Chen clan disciples felt their hearts tighten, chills creeping down their spines.
At that moment, a young man stepped out from the crowd. He wore a brocade robe, his face handsome but full of wild arrogance.
It was Chen Wangxu—the most gifted genius of the Chen clan's younger generation.
Hot-blooded and proud, he had long been unable to tolerate Yang Cheng's domineering presence. Taking a step forward, he glared at Yang Cheng. "Yang Cheng! This is the Chen clan. You can't act recklessly here!"
Yang Cheng gave him a brief glance, his eyes as cold as ice. "And who are you to speak to me?"
Five hundred years in the future, Chen Wangxu would become a powerful figure. But right now, in Yang Cheng's eyes, he wasn't even a speck of dust—less than a minor fish, a shrimp in the shallows.
"I am Chen Wangxu of the Chen clan!"
With a roar, Chen Wangxu unleashed his aura. A terrifying force surged from his body—the strength of a Second Realm Martial Emperor. The air around him trembled violently, and several weaker Chen disciples were forced back by the shockwave.
Chen Wangxu's face shone with pride. He knew he wasn't Yang Cheng's match, but as long as he showed his potential, Yang Cheng would surely reconsider before offending the Chen clan further. That, he believed, would be enough.
But Yang Cheng only smiled faintly and took a single step forward.
That step looked plain and unremarkable, yet it carried the weight of heaven and earth. As his foot touched the ground, an invisible pressure descended over Chen Wangxu like the judgment of the Dao itself.
"Kneel."
Yang Cheng uttered the word softly, but it struck like divine decree—undeniable, irresistible.
Chen Wangxu's face twisted in rage. "You dare command me to kneel, you—!"
The Chen clan erupted in outrage.
"This is too much! He's humiliating our Chen clan!"
"Wangxu is the hope of our family—how dare Yang Cheng insult him like this!"
But before the crowd could act, Yang Cheng's gaze turned sharp as lightning. A surge of spiritual power exploded from his eyes, vast and crushing like a tsunami. It slammed straight into Chen Wangxu's Sea of Consciousness.
Chen Wangxu's expression changed drastically. He tried to rally his spiritual force to resist—but against Yang Cheng's vast, ocean-like power, his defense was like an ant trying to stop a collapsing mountain.
"Thud."
A dull sound echoed through the hall. Chen Wangxu's knees buckled, his body trembling violently, and he crashed to the ground with a loud thump.
He knelt.