"I'll be right back."
Wang Yiwu rose and headed out, while Wen Lianmu remained seated, calmly ordering himself a cup of tea to savor—the tea in the Grand Marshal's Mansion was always of rare quality.
Just as he was confident in his own judgment, he had no doubts about Wang Yiwu's strength.
And Wang Yiwu himself strode with a dragon-like gait, his demeanor composed.
Being undefeated in his realm was Jiang Mengxiong's requirement for him, and also his own consistent confidence.
Countless battles had attested to this, and numerous challengers had contributed to this reputation.
From the Roaming Meridian realm to the Cycle realm, from the Cycle realm to the Heaven-Piercing realm, there had been no exceptions.
In the Heaven-Piercing realm, he had even achieved the pinnacle of history.
Now, in the Soaring Dragon realm, there would certainly be no exceptions.
That Zheng Shangming? He couldn't be bothered to even glance at him.
It didn't matter how he relied on his own strength instead of connections, how he persevered, how stubborn and hardworking he was.
What did any of that amount to?
The number of geniuses he had defeated was far more than one or two.
Even that fatty Chong Xuan Sheng—if not for Chong Xuan Zun, would he even know who he was?
He could hear the clamor outside the mansion.
"How dare you cause trouble here!"
The servants of the Grand Marshal's Mansion were furious. As the saying goes, "A third-rank official at a prime minister's gate"—the servants of the State-Defending Grand Marshal's Mansion were figures who could shake the ground with a stomp when outside. When had they ever seen someone dare to make a ruckus before the mansion?
Only Zheng Shangming's voice was equally unrestrained: "You're not even worthy of talking to me. Tell Wang Yiwu to get out here!"
Wen Lianmu had been right—this man was contradictory and difficult. He seemed to be able to endure anything, to suffer any hardship. But once he truly lost his temper, he would recklessly lash out.
Wang Yiwu thought this, but his face remained expressionless, and his pace neither quickened nor slowed. Every step was constant. From the moment his feet touched the ground, he maintained a state optimal for exerting force at all times.
This allowed him to launch the most powerful attack at any time, in any place.
And as he walked out of the Grand Marshal's Mansion under the respectful gaze of the servants, he immediately saw the furious Zheng Shangming, who hadn't even had time to change his clothes.
Dressed only in the attire of a porter, he had run all the way here without stopping.
He looked truly wretched, and truly enraged.
Wang Yiwu looked at him, his eyes devoid of any ripple, and simply asked: "You're looking for me?"
The moment Wang Yiwu appeared, everyone in the State-Defending Grand Marshal's Mansion fell silent. It was clear that his position as master here was deeply rooted.
No wonder some in Linzi called him the Young Marshal, treating him as Jiang Mengxiong's own son.
Zheng Shangming was furious beyond measure.
Anyone who was framed without cause, used as a pawn and moved around at will, could not help but be furious.
Especially since he was Zheng Shangming.
His pride had never been less than that of those young masters—rather, it was sharper, more intense.
He had rushed straight from the military camp, not stopping once along the way. The more he thought about it, the more aggrieved he felt, the anger in his heart burning brighter and fiercer.
"Do you know who I am?" he asked angrily.
Of course he knew Wang Yiwu, and he believed Wang Yiwu couldn't possibly not know him.
No one could slight or frame him without cause.
Not even the War God himself, let alone just his disciple!
"Who are you?"
Wang Yiwu was still asking, but his foot stepped forward, and without hesitation, he raised his fist.
"Anyone who dares to cause a disturbance at the State-Defending Grand Marshal's Mansion, it doesn't matter who you are!"
The moment his fist struck, the wind surged and clouds gathered.
There was no opponent, no self.
Zheng Shangming had come prepared to settle accounts, and was ready to fight for it.
He had heard of Wang Yiwu's strength, had anticipated it.
But nobility, fame, and strength should never be reasons to frame him, Zheng Shangming, at will.
He was furious.
This fury made his blood boil.
It made him clench his fist early.
It made his fist filled with power.
Dao essence burst forth uncontrollably, blood surged like a torrent, surging and turbulent.
Force and power unified perfectly, all his fury condensed into this single punch.
Then he threw the punch, head-on, steel against steel, clashing directly with Wang Yiwu's fist!
He didn't dodge, and Wang Yiwu didn't either.
The moment their fists collided, it was as if everything froze.
Time slowed, space expanded.
Sound, breath, all had been lost... then regained.
Zheng Shangming seemed to hear a crisp sound; he felt an unstoppable, overwhelming force bearing down on him. Unstoppable, unavoidable.
He even felt as if his entire arm had been shattered by that single punch!
But that was only an illusion.
He quickly realized this fact.
Because Wang Yiwu had already withdrawn his fist.
After easily crushing his offensive, crushing his fist, crushing his fist's power, he had just as easily withdrawn.
The gap in strength was so immense!
Zheng Shangming had considered that he might lose, might not be his match, but he would still give it his all, never making it easy for Wang Yiwu.
But he had never imagined the gap could be this vast.
Wang Yiwu looked at Zheng Shangming, without a trace of triumph in his eyes, and coldly asked: "You are proud, but what is the basis of your pride?"
Zheng Shangming felt as if struck by lightning.
His fist had been crushed, his fury shattered along with it, and with it his rarely-exposed pride.
He had never doubted himself. He had completely rejected any connections from his family, relying solely on himself, rising from the very bottom of the military.
He had joined the Rain-Slayer Army on his own, become a squad leader on his own—even with his strength, he should have at least been a commander. And if he had used his father's connections, he could have had his pick among the Qi Nine Corps; to say nothing else, a deputy general position would have been guaranteed.
He considered himself a hero who did not compromise with this world.
But he had never heard of any hero being so utterly defenseless.
Before Wang Yiwu, who had framed and manipulated him, he had not the strength to land a single blow.
This cruel reality nearly destroyed the pride hidden in his heart—indeed, up to this point, everything had been within Wen Lianmu's calculations, including his psychological changes at this very moment.
How to manipulate Zheng Shangming's mood afterward, control his emotions... naturally, there was a complete design for that.
And Wang Yiwu had given Wen Lianmu sufficient trust, everything proceeding according to the established plan.
First let Zheng Shangming witness the gap in strength, crush his confidence, polish his hatred, minimize the negative impact. Then capture him, lock him up, and proceed to the next steps.
Seeing Zheng Shangming's dazed and dejected state, Wang Yiwu completely lost any interest in saying another word, and simply reached out his hand: "Trespassing in the Grand Marshal's Mansion—I'll lock you up for a few days first!"
"Wait!"
A sudden voice sounded from the distance.
The voice was powerful, majestic, and righteous.
It was still distant when it first sounded, but when the voice fell, the person was already near.
A palm, held vertically like a blade, slashed down diagonally.
Though it was a flesh palm, it was like a heavenly blade.
Because everything before them seemed to be split apart by this single "blade"!
It was a blade of heavenly justice, destined to be so.
Wang Yiwu's outstretched hand had to withdraw.
He even had to retreat two steps before he could maintain his peak offensive stance under the newcomer's sharp aura.
...
And in the Grand Marshal's Mansion, Wen Lianmu, who had been savoring his tea, suddenly stood up.
"How can this be?"