Mr. Chen?

“If we don’t kill a few of you today, do you think the Chinese are easy to mess with? Do you think China is a place you can just stroll into casually? Since you’ve come, you won’t be leaving today.”

At that moment, Chen Fengyun’s cold voice rang out. Suddenly, an overwhelming aura burst forth from him, indiscriminately assaulting the five foreign masters around him. With a thunderous force, he sent them crashing back into doors, windows, and walls, hurling them all away like ragdolls.

This was the scene witnessed by the Northern Sect’s disciples and other Chinese warriors as these foreign masters advanced. Suddenly, a figure soared into the sky, hovering above everyone’s heads.

All eyes focused intently. The figure was none other than the youngest youth of the Southern Sect. Yet, suspended midair, he calmly took step after step downward, as if invisible stairs were laid out in the void, until he finally landed on the ground.

The five foreign masters staggered and fell to the ground. Although they scrambled up immediately, each looked disheveled and bewildered as they gazed at Chen Fengyun descending from the air.

“Gentlemen, he has acquired a powerful artifact, which has greatly enhanced his strength. If a master obtains such an item, he could dominate the entire world. Why don’t we join forces and seize it together?” Suddenly, Takeda Kurao from the Land of Wa sneered maliciously. Some Chinese masters nearby heard this and turned to look at Chen Fengyun, a few with eyes gleaming.

“Nonsense! Mr. Chen doesn’t need any artifact to kill you pests. You simply don’t know him well enough,” came a sharp retort.

At that moment, Feng Tianbao and the Southern Sect disciples appeared. Seeing some Chinese masters’ reactions, he shouted loudly, fearing some might be tempted by the artifact and join the foreigners in attacking.

“What? That kid is Mr. Chen?” Wan Jianlin exclaimed in shock.

“Mr. Chen? Could he be the same Mr. Chen from Rong City?” Wei Zhifu of the Southeast was startled and immediately dismissed his earlier thoughts.

“Mr. Chen is so young—could this really be true?” Li Dongsheng of Northern Guizhou’s eyes brightened as he scrutinized Chen Fengyun.

“Such a Mr. Chen, able to fight five masters at once and leave them in such a sorry state,” Ye Bufan of the Imperial Capital felt his fighting spirit surge; he was a true martial enthusiast.

“If he really is Mr. Chen, no wonder the Southern Sect seems so confident,” Luo Wanfeng of Jiangnan nodded and took a slight step back.

“The Southern Sect actually invited Mr. Chen to come. I wonder if he truly obtained the artifact beneath the Rift. Though, the figure in the medicinal garden earlier did resemble this Mr. Chen,” mused Zhou Zixu of Xi’an.

“You are the Chinese Mr. Chen? Are you the one who schemed to kill Senior Anjing?” Hearing the name, several foreigners were still unclear, but Takeda Kurao of the Land of Wa pointed his long blade at Chen Fengyun and shouted.

“If you mean that old codger Anjing Kazuo, yes, he died by my hand. Hmph, a mere Wa man dare stir trouble in China—he was courting death. That includes you. Since you dared attack me today, there’s no chance you’ll leave alive,” Chen Fengyun said proudly with a smile.

“This is bad, the Southern Sect has Mr. Chen with them. Could they be about to strike us?” Some young disciples of the Northern Sect paled; they were well aware of the decades-long feud between the Northern and Southern Sects.

“Dingdang, did you see Mr. Chen fight inside the Rift?” Hong Zhongshan asked Martin Dingdang with a grave expression.

“Don’t worry, Uncle Hong. Though I’m no match for Mr. Chen either, he won’t attack us,” Martin Dingdang replied with a smile.

“Why is that? I heard Mr. Chen is close to the Thirteenth Uncle of Hangzhou. If the Southern Sect calls him to fight us, probably only you and I can escape; none of the other disciples would survive,” Hong Zhongshan pressed.

“It’s simple. I’m friends with Mr. Chen now,” Martin Dingdang smiled faintly.

“Everyone, today we’ve encountered the super-strong Chinese warrior Mr. Chen. If we don’t unite and give it everything we’ve got, none of us will return alive.

“Remember, Senior Anjing Kazuo was a peak master, just one step shy of becoming a grandmaster. Yet he was schemed against and killed by him and other Chinese. So, this is our one shot,” Takeda Kurao whispered to his companions.

“Then let’s fight him. It seems he hasn’t obtained the artifact, so if we attack together, we might stand a chance; otherwise, no one can defeat him,” the Dark Blood Assassin Wilson urged the others.

“Then fight we shall. Even if we can’t kill this Mr. Chen, if we can injure him, we’ll have a chance to escape,” said Lee Linxi of Korea, his face grim, knowing the Chinese did not favor him.

“Hiss…”

At once, the five unleashed their full strength, attacking Chen Fengyun. Takeda Kurao raised his Wa blade overhead, soared skyward, and then pounced down, striking Chen Fengyun’s head with a dazzling light that blazed through the air.

“Humph…”

Thailand’s Gulayemo shouted fiercely, spreading his legs into a horse stance, sinking his body low. His fists intertwined in a snake-like coil, emanating a massive glowing punch aimed at Chen Fengyun.

“Whoosh…”

Lee Linxi, a Jeet Kune Do expert specializing in close combat, darted to Chen Fengyun’s side with a swift motion and delivered an inch strike toward his neck.

“Roar…”

Russian Ivan Davsky bellowed, unleashing a shockwave toward Chen Fengyun. His body suddenly swelled, and his fist gleamed with silver light as it shot forward.

“Whoosh…”

Most strangely, the Dark Blood Assassin Wilson vanished from sight in an instant. Then a blood-red lightning bolt appeared beneath Chen Fengyun’s feet, wrapping around his ankle.

Seeing the five foreign masters simultaneously attack Chen Fengyun, the Southern Sect’s crowd held their breath for him. Other Chinese warriors wore complex expressions—some anxious, some uneasy, some focused, others hopeful.

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