Chapter Forty-Three: The Three Great Masters

"Crack, crack."

That was the sound of bones breaking. In the instant their clash began, Lin Fan had already seized the upper hand. He struck again—divine radiance cascaded from the heavens, and in that moment, Lin Fan seemed a god-king descended to earth. His mighty hand blotted out the sky, descending with irresistible force.

A shrill scream rang out as his opponent was flung across the courtyard, blood spraying from his lips—gravely wounded.

"That's the direction of the Lanxin Hall! Has someone come into conflict with the Sons of Heaven Alliance?"

"Who could it be, daring to oppose the Sons of Heaven? Don't they know the chosen one has already become the undisputed sovereign of the Heaven-Man realm?"

"If he dares stand against them, he must have powerful backing—perhaps someone from Yunxi's faction."

By now, those near Lanxin Hall had all taken notice of the altercation, each calculating their next move.

With a thunderous boom, the wind and clouds surged, as several torrents of vital energy shot up into the sky. The terrifying pressure swept outwards, suffocating the onlookers. Several masters approached from all sides, their combined auras surging like a cataclysm, a volcanic eruption. Linked together, they became even more fearsome.

Figures emerged one after another, even those who had been lurking in the shadows stepped forward—four in total. The others, already wounded, had retreated.

"No one may defy the authority of the Sons of Heaven Alliance. Whoever you are, today you are destined to die in a pool of blood," one of them declared coldly. He wore azure robes and carried a small golden pagoda—Ji Changkong, ranked sixteenth among the inner sect, a truly formidable figure.

"There's nothing more to say. Kill him at once. If the chosen one is angered, none of us will escape blame," another said, his tone icy and domineering. He, too, was a prominent inner sect elite, his ranking surely not beneath Ji Changkong's.

"Kill him!"

It was decisive—this was the swordsman who had first attacked Lin Fan, a master whose blade was infamous for its silent lethality.

An oppressive aura spread across the ground, as if this place had become a land of death. The earth itself cracked and split. Even those in the Meridian Condensation realm dared not intervene lightly, for within the circle stood only the most prodigious geniuses. Each had already surpassed the tenth stage of physical cultivation, and together, even a cultivator at the Meridian Condensation level would fall before them.

"So, this is the Sons of Heaven Alliance," Lin Fan murmured.

His gaze was cold and sharp; he knew exactly who stood before him. Ji Changkong, ranked sixteen, renowned for his prowess—he had once held his own against a Meridian Condensation expert and lived to tell the tale. Though nearly among the top ten, he kept a low profile, and thus was placed at sixteenth.

The swordsman was Jian Wufeng, ranked thirteenth. His blade was said to kill without a drop of blood—a terrifying reputation.

The third was Zhang Xiwen, ranked eleventh, a scion of the Zhang family, one of the great clans of Tiandu Sect. His strength was unfathomable, his physical power unmatched.

Yet Lin Fan's attention was most drawn to the final figure.

This man was tall and slender, his skin so pale that women would envy it. Most striking of all, he wielded a massive halberd, taller than himself and as thick as a baby's arm—an impossible weapon for most to grasp.

"Jiang Yun, seventh in the inner sect," Lin Fan whispered, his fighting spirit surging. He knew little of Jiang Yun, but the title alone said enough—this was a formidable foe.

"You three are not my match. Let Jiang Yun come forth," Lin Fan declared, for the first time revealing his true mettle before the crowd. He ignored the three mighty adversaries, his arrogance boundless.

"Courting death!"

The trio were incensed, their killing intent soaring as they erupted with their full strength.

"Who is this man, so arrogant? Those three, even together, could slay a Meridian Condensation master—could he be one himself?" the onlookers muttered, each drawing sharp breaths in disbelief.

"We'll see soon enough if he's truly so powerful or just stirring up trouble to make a name for himself. If he really is this strong, then Tiandu Sect will have produced yet another prodigy," someone remarked, full of emotion.

"But no matter his strength, once Jiang Yun takes the field, he will surely turn the tide. It's said he's already slain a Meridian Condensation expert," most still doubted Lin Fan. After all, he alone was an unknown, while the others were famed for their strength.

At that moment, Jiang Yun, who had been silent throughout, finally spoke.

"All three of you, attack together. This one's strength is considerable," Jiang Yun said gravely. He keenly sensed Lin Fan's power, yet would not deign to fight an unknown himself, preferring to test him through others first.

"Very well!"

The three exchanged glances, nodded, and attacked in unison. The ensuing roar was as mighty as a volcanic eruption, the force surging like a boiling sea. The bystanders changed color and staggered back.

A small pagoda descended from the heavens, thunderous and majestic, rays of light cascading like a suspended galaxy—Ji Changkong had struck, wielding his semi-divine weapon from the outset, intent on crushing Lin Fan.

This was his most powerful technique. He had once driven back a newly-advanced Meridian Condensation expert with this very pagoda, securing his fearsome reputation.

Lin Fan's expression did not change. He struck with a trembling fist, golden light shooting from his eyes to crash against the falling pagoda, ringing out with a deafening clang.

"A semi-divine weapon like this is wasted in your hands. I don't care for it either—get lost!"

Lin Fan roared, his fist-force surging to the heavens, torrents of vital energy flooding the battlefield. He met the pagoda head-on, unleashing the Creation God Fist—each blow carried the power of twenty elephants. Cracks snaked across the pagoda, the sound ringing in the ears of all present.

Ji Changkong spat blood, his body trembling. The pagoda was his life-bound treasure—its fortune tied to his own. Now, with the pagoda grievously damaged, he could not escape harm.

"I'll help you!"

Jian Wufeng cried out, his long sword slicing through the air, sending a sword beam a hundred feet long crashing down on Lin Fan. The piercing shriek of the blade made every ear ache unbearably.

"Perfect timing!"

Lin Fan shouted. He had clearly anticipated Jian Wufeng's move. A brilliant light soared to the heavens, seven stars spinning above his head, a sea of stars manifesting in the air.

With the Creation God Fist driving the Seven Star Fist, he summoned forth a starry sea—this was once the peak secret art of an ancient sect. The power of the stars was boundless, representing infinite personal might. With such a technique, he was virtually invincible.

Lin Fan advanced with the stride of a dragon, the bearing of a celestial sovereign among the stars. Every movement brimmed with overwhelming force. He raised a single finger, pointing directly at the sword beam.

"Arrogant brat, I'll cut that finger clean off!"

Jian Wufeng's face was cold. He had never expected Lin Fan to attack so brazenly, and his heart blazed with fury and murderous intent.