Chapter Fifty-One: The Curtain Falls

Boom!

On the arena, the black blade arc like a crescent moon and the white sword shadow collided with a thunderous crash.

The entire arena was blasted apart.

Old Master Meng wanted to intervene, but his aura was already locked down by Zhang Yuanqin. If he dared to make a move, he would undoubtedly face Zhang Yuanqin’s frenzied assault. Though Zhang Yuanqin sensed the terror of Lu Han’s martial skill, Lu Han was, after all, only at the Eighth Layer of the Acquired Realm, so Zhang Yuanqin was confident in his own strike and not particularly worried. All he needed to do was keep Old Master Meng in check and let Lu Han die beneath that blade.

Lu Han’s talent surpassed even Meng Liangchen’s and would surely become a major obstacle to the City Lord’s Mansion in the future.

“If you want to blame someone, blame the fact that you’re Old Meng’s grandson.” The thought flashed viciously through Zhang Yuanqin’s mind.

The arena was shattered, debris flying everywhere, a thick cloud of dust enveloping the stage so that neither Lu Han nor Zhang Mang could be seen. The spectators quickly retreated.

After a moment, figures in the arena began to emerge from the haze.

“How is this possible!”

All eyes turned to the stage, wide and bulging in disbelief.

In everyone’s opinion, no matter how monstrous his talent, Lu Han could not possibly withstand the attack of a Xuan Lord.

Yet the outcome disappointed them.

The arena had collapsed. Lu Han knelt on one knee, sword in hand, gasping for breath, his face pale—he had just brushed past the edge of death.

As for Zhang Mang, he had been frozen into an ice sculpture, hands still gripping his blade in a forward stance.

“Mang’er!” Zhang Yuanqin, seeing the state on stage, shouted and rushed forward.

“You little bastard, I’ll kill you!” Zhang Yuanqin glared at Lu Han, Xuan Energy gathering in his palm, about to strike.

“Old Zhang, have you no shame? The duel was fought with Xuan Energy weapons—now you want to lay hands on my grandson? If you so much as harm a single hair on him, I swear I’ll drag you down with me in this Tianlan City!” Old Master Meng was no slower in response, moving to stand before Lu Han with a cold snort. He slammed his dragon-headed cane into the ground, cracking the earth.

Sensing Zhang Yuanqin’s murderous intent, Lu Han slowly stood up with Meng Lei’s support and looked at Zhang Yuanqin. “Old fool, if you kill me, Zhang Mang won’t survive either!”

“What? Mang’er’s still alive!” The saying goes that love makes one reckless. Zhang Mang, with his outstanding talent, was deeply favored by Zhang Yuanqin, who had pinned all his hopes and learning on him. Seeing Zhang Mang frozen, he had assumed the boy was dead.

“So then, who won this duel?” Lu Han looked at Zhang Yuanqin with a hint of mockery.

“Release Mang’er, and the Meng family shall be the City Lords of Tianlan City. From tomorrow, we will withdraw,” Zhang Yuanqin said.

“Father…” Zhang Ren tried to speak but was interrupted.

“No more words.”

Before the eyes of the entire city, Lu Han had no fear of Zhang Yuanqin breaking his promise. With Meng Lei’s assistance, he walked over to the frozen Zhang Mang and placed his right hand on Zhang Mang’s icy form.

Soon, the frost on Zhang Mang began to melt away.

“Mang’er, are you alright?” Zhang Yuanqin asked anxiously.

“I’m fine, Grandpa.” Zhang Mang shook his head. He had no idea what had happened—after the clash of blade and sword, a white chill had enveloped him, freezing him bit by bit. He had exhausted the last drop of his inner power unleashing his Xuan Blade, with nothing left to resist.

“Let’s go.” Zhang Yuanqin waved his hand, shooting Zhang Ren a stern glare.

“Father…” Zhang Ren watched as Zhang Yuanqin left with the City Lord’s retinue and hurried to catch up.

In the awed and admiring gazes of the crowd, the Meng family supported Lu Han back to Meng Manor.

Wherever you are, the strong are always revered.

…

At this moment, the whole of Tianlan City was in an uproar, with everyone discussing the recent contest.

Though Meng Liangchen had bested two opponents in a row, his feat was still overshadowed by Lu Han’s dazzling performance.

The duel between Lu Han and Zhang Mang became the talk of the town—rumors even claimed Lu Han had survived a direct blow from a Xuan Lord without the slightest injury. Stories spread like wildfire.

Lu Han now sat cross-legged in a guest room at the Meng residence, his robe damaged in battle already changed.

“Boy, if not for me, you wouldn’t be sitting here in one piece,” came a gentle glow from the azure ring before him. Old Ling’s voice held a note of admonishment.

Had Old Ling not wrapped Lu Han in power at that critical moment, even the Heaven’s Garment technique would not have spared him from serious injury.

Old Ling continued, “If you weren’t about to return home for the clan assembly, I wouldn’t have intervened. If you were gravely injured and unable to attend, you’d regret it for a lifetime.”

Lu Han remained silent.

“Have you noticed how your heart has grown arrogant lately? Ever since you defeated that vice captain Zheng Qi, and then the City Lord’s leader, you’ve become conceited.” Old Ling watched him closely. “The continent is vast. In this tiny speck of Tianlan City, just Zhang Mang nearly cost you your life. There is always someone stronger. In the great cities of the Xia Empire, you wouldn’t even rank among the younger generation. Your path is still a long one.”

Lu Han listened quietly to Old Ling’s instructions. Indeed, these past days he had grown prideful, never truly regarding Zhang Mang as a threat.

“I see you understand. Remember, never underestimate anyone.”

With a swoosh, Old Ling retreated into the azure ring, eager to study the Tenfold Nether Crow Finger.

Knock, knock…

“Young Master Han, the Old Master invites you to dinner.”

A knock sounded at the door.

“I understand. I’ll come right away.”

…

At the City Lord’s Mansion.

“Father, are we really leaving Tianlan City?” Zhang Ren hesitated before voicing his question to his father.

“Hmph. What else can we do? As City Lord, you made a public promise before the entire city,” Zhang Yuanqin replied, unable to hide his disappointment.

“Then what do you plan to do?” Though Zhang Ren held the title of City Lord, it was Zhang Yuanqin who made all the decisions.

“Bring me that fellow we captured—Cao Dong, I believe. I hear he knows something about Lu Han. I have questions for him.”

After Cao Dong woke up, he had fled the Meng residence, only to run into Duan Jiang on the street, who captured him and brought him to the City Lord’s Mansion, where he had been locked up ever since.

“Han, we have you to thank for this. Otherwise, who knows when we’d have regained the City Lord’s seat, or fulfilled our family’s legacy,” Meng Lei sighed.

Whenever a Meng became the clan patriarch, he would learn the family’s teachings. Meng Lei had worked toward this all his life, never imagining his nephew would help realize his dream.

In recent days, Lu Han had drunk with Chen Jun and Niu Gao a few times. At first he found the liquor too harsh, but after a couple of rounds, he grew accustomed.

Lu Han raised his cup to Meng Lei. “Uncle, you overstate it. We’re family—no need for such formality.”

“Haha, well said, Han.”

“Father, do you think Zhang Yuanqin will really leave Tianlan City? Will we face any obstacles taking over the City Lord’s Mansion tomorrow, and what about the Empire…?” Meng Lei asked Old Master Meng with some concern.

“Zhang is obsessed with saving face. With Zhang Ren’s public statement, they’ll surely leave. As for the Empire—as long as our tribute remains unchanged, they will hardly interfere,” Old Master Meng replied with confidence.

Suddenly, Old Master Meng turned to Lu Han. “Han, can’t you stay a few more days? The clan assembly is still some days off—no need to leave tomorrow.”

“I want to return quietly to Maple Leaf City first and look into a few things.”

“If you’ve made up your mind, I won’t force you.”

…

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