The voice was filled with supreme dominance, its majesty overwhelming, like thunder from the nine heavens, shaking people's hearts.
Even though those present were all martial arts grandmasters, their expressions changed slightly, and they looked in the direction of the sound.
A figure, like a great roc spreading its wings, was rushing over.
The man was burly, his powerful aura filling heaven and earth, possessing a terrifying pressure that eclipsed all the grandmasters present.
Fu Qinglei naturally felt this might. With a glance, he did not stop, but instead punched towards Chen Fan.
"Kill Chen Tianjiao first!"
He shouted sternly.
However, the reactions of the other six grandmasters varied.
Mo Ran and Zhao Canghu's pupils contracted as they stepped forward, attacking Chen Fan from other directions.
But Song Wuji stood still.
Gui Yunguang, the remaining one, retreated.
Finally, Feng Yinian and Cheng Zhonghong's faces changed dramatically, as if they had seen a ghost, staring intently at the approaching figure.
Feng Yinian, the eldest among these seven grandmasters, was already over sixty. At this moment, he blurted out, "Jing Wusheng?"
As soon as he uttered this cry, Cheng Zhonghong's body trembled again.
However, Fu Qinglei had no room to stop now. He brought his fist down on Chen Fan's head.
His momentum was sharp, his killing intent chilling.
With one punch, he could shake mountains.
True qi condensed and compressed, like black water and white mountains submerged by endless snow, a vast land, a solitary moon hanging high, shining brightly.
The Changbai Sect, a martial arts sect with hundreds of years of inheritance, possessed its own unique skills.
Chen Fan swayed, swallowed by the vast snow.
The snow swirled, turning into a storm, devouring everything, tearing apart any enemy.
Chen Fan threw a punch to meet it.
His punch was like a dragon soaring through the clouds, looking down on the nine heavens, his fighting spirit unyielding!
Rumble!
After the collision, Chen Fan staggered back.
Fu Qinglei advanced, striking a fatal blow. His second punch fell, stronger, fiercer, and more ruthless than the previous one.
Regardless of how unbearable his character was or how incompetent his disciples were, Fu Qinglei was, after all, a seasoned martial arts grandmaster.
Chen Fan was like a solitary rock in an endless blizzard, on the verge of toppling.
But he still stood tall like a green pine, fighting to the death without retreating.
Pfft…
He spat out a mouthful of blood, blocking Fu Qinglei.
At this moment, Mo Ran struck with another saber.
As Chen Fan raised his hand to block, with a bang, his clothes were torn, a bloody gash appeared, and his body staggered.
Zhao Canghu attacked. After exchanging a punch with Chen Fan, Chen Fan was sent flying and fell to the ground.
Fu Qinglei advanced again to finish him off.
But at this critical moment, a large hand swept across.
True qi condensed into a waterfall, rolling in.
Fu Qinglei's expression changed. He glanced at Chen Fan deeply and crossed his arms.
But his body was sent flying like a kite with a broken string.
Zhao Canghu attacked Chen Fan from another direction.
But the burly figure who had blocked Fu Qinglei stepped forward and attacked, his long arm extending like a kunpeng's claw, grabbing down.
Zhao Canghu retracted his hand and blocked.
With a crack, Zhao Canghu's body plummeted from the air.
A hand that could not be stopped, pierced through, and struck his chest.
With a bang, Zhao Canghu, a generation's grandmaster, looked down in disbelief. His body flew backward, blood scattering in the air.
Blood seeped from all seven orifices of his eyes, ears, mouth, and nose. He fell to the ground, his head tilted, and he was no more, his breath completely extinguished.
Killed with one palm!
The newcomer did not stop. He leaped forward, attacking Fu Qinglei, "Do you take my words as bullshit? Anyone who dares to touch Chen Tianjiao dies!"
Full of dominance, looking down on all heroes.
Fu Qinglei watched Zhao Canghu's death, his face terrified, and retreated hurriedly, "Jing... Jing Wusheng!"
"What kind of trash dares to run wild in the capital? What do you think the Great Xia Imperial Capital is?"
Jing Wusheng roared, attacking through the air.
Fu Qinglei's face was filled with panic, and he continued to retreat, shouting, "Help me!"
However, at this moment, two figures had already rushed out at lightning speed, fleeing into the distance.
It was Feng Yinian and Cheng Zhonghong.
As the saying goes, "Let my fellow Daoists die, not myself," they ignored Fu Qinglei's plight and pleas for help, and simply chose to escape.
Of the remaining four, Gui Yunguang's face was pale, and he retreated continuously. Song Wuji quietly shifted his position to stay further away.
Mo Ran's expression was also one of horror, and he blurted out in shock, "Jing Wusheng is still alive?"
"Bah, I won't die even if you do!"
Jing Wusheng roared, punching Fu Qinglei.
"Join forces to kill him!"
Fu Qinglei's face was filled with panic and unease. He shouted hoarsely, but had no choice but to meet Jing Wusheng's punch.
Targeted by a master of Jing Wusheng's caliber, Fu Qinglei knew there was no escape.
Jing Wusheng's reputation was truly awe-inspiring.
Since the founding of the current dynasty, this鎮國武聖 (Zhen Guo Wu Sheng - National Guard Martial Saint) had been a legend.
In the past hundred years, there had been people in the martial arts world who challenged official authority or acted unscrupulously due to their martial prowess, and all of them were brought to justice.
Especially in the 1980s and 1990s, due to the changing times, many ancient martial artists entered society, often acting without restraint.
It was Jing Wusheng who led the charge then, clearing them out one by one, eliminating countless wicked martial artists.
He even personally went to some ancient martial arts families and sects, demanding that those factions discipline their disciples.
Martial arts have no second place. At that time, official power was not very effective, and those ancient martial arts families and sects were naturally unwilling to comply. As a result, Jing Wusheng dealt with them one by one.
Among them were no small number of martial arts grandmasters, and even some reclusive grandmasters who personally came out were all subdued by Jing Wusheng.
Several martial arts sects that dominated a region and were extremely evil were also swept away by Jing Wusheng at that time.
In the past twenty to thirty years, Jing Wusheng had lived in seclusion, detached from worldly affairs. Moreover, he was already very old, so there were rumors that Jing Wusheng was no longer alive.
It was precisely because of this that a group of grandmasters had gathered here to witness the battle between Xiao Kai and Watanabe Kaiming.
They never expected that their attempt to surround and kill Chen Fan would alarm Jing Wusheng.
For a moment, Fu Qinglei's mind was a whirlwind of utter disbelief.
He had absolutely no defense against Jing Wusheng and had never considered this possibility.
Surrounding and killing Chen Fan alone did not require the mobilization of seven grandmasters… The reason for this arrangement was precisely to consider the possibility of Chen Fan calling for help, but they never imagined that the help Chen Fan would call for would be Jing Wusheng.
There were rumors that Jing Wusheng had already crossed the barrier between heaven and man, and was invincible in the world!
Facing such an opponent, Fu Qinglei naturally had no desire to fight, but he was experienced and knew he had to resist.
He placed his hopes on his companions.
"Brother Mo, Brother Song, let's resist together, otherwise none of us will be a match for him!"
Fu Qinglei unleashed his full power, his true qi surging like a torrent. With his first move, he unleashed nine thunderous sounds.
His fist intent was boundless, like a vast expanse of snow.
However, Jing Wusheng's domineering fist seemed to shatter the heavens, his punch dominating the world, like a great roc soaring ninety thousand li, no longer confined to a single realm.
Upon the first collision, Fu Qinglei knew it was bad.
With a bang, Fu Qinglei was sent flying backward, spitting blood.
Mo Ran gritted his teeth, stepped forward, his palms like sabers, and his saber energy danced wildly as he attacked.
Jing Wusheng sneered, but he could not ignore it. He struck back with a palm, as if opening the sky.
But at this moment, a figure flashed, getting close to Mo Ran, and placed a palm on Mo Ran's back, unleashing inner force.
Mo Ran grunted, and was sent flying by the palm.
He turned his head in disbelief, seeing the indifferent face of Song Wuji.
"Song Wuji…" Mo Ran roared, spitting blood, unable to believe it.
A hand struck down from the air, it was Jing Wusheng attacking him. He shouted in despair!