Chapter 95: The Victor

A brutal blow. Another brutal blow. A double one.
Wang Bing could not remember how many such crushing blows he had taken in those few dozen seconds.
So many did it seem that endless, stacked shadows of huge hands rose before his eyes, layer upon layer—
making him want to dodge,
yet utterly unable to do so.

Among all of Ye Yan’s many banner fiends, Lu Dashan had no single outstanding trick of his own, yet among all the demon spirits he was the strongest in close combat and the thickest-skinned of them all.
Wang Bing, as a cultivated outlier born beyond the ordinary, was no weak fighter by any measure either. But against Lu Dashan, a human-shaped tank, he fell far behind.
When it came to grappling, they were not in the same league at all.

“Bang!”
Once again he was blasted off the ground by Lu Dashan’s palm, and Wang Bing rocked up from the earth on unsteady legs.
By then his face was swollen like a roasted boar’s head, covered in deep red bruises.
Though he had been beaten into this state, Wang Bing still did not yield in spirit.
He was no ordinary man, but a practitioner of the Spirit-Restraining Summons, a so-called god of all demon spirits—how could such a petty seductress dare lay hands on him?

Before Wang Bing could finish his words, Lu Dashan had already closed the distance in one stride, grabbed his ankle, and delivered a flurry of ruthless combinations:
up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right… BA BA…

With that ankle seized, Wang Bing became nothing more than a spinning pinwheel, his face scraping the ground as he kept turning and turning through the dirt.
The scene grew bloody.
With a final bird-hug throw as the finish, the vast arena thundered with one huge boom.

Looking at Wang Bing at his feet, blank-eyed like a dead dog, Lu Dashan gave a disdainful snort.
“God?”
“No, that is a very feeble god.”

...

Wang Ai’s fingernails drove into his own skin, yet his face remained as grim and cold as always.
He watched his own grandson being ravaged by the banner fiends while he stood helpless.
He felt as if his heart itself were bleeding.
If conditions had allowed, Wang Ai truly wanted to leap from the platform and drag his grandson to safety at once.
But he knew with absolute clarity he could not.

Although Lu Qin and the Old Celestial Master had both given permission for him to enter, if necessary, that did not mean he should do so now.
If he stepped down, Ye Yan would surely enter as well.
Then he would not only fail to save his grandson, but might well entangle himself in disaster.
So he could not act impulsively. The best defense was to appear aloof.
The colder and more indifferent he looked, the better.
Only then would he avoid falling into the snare Ye Yan had laid.
It was the only way left to save his grandson.

After all, the Luo Tian Great Rite had clear rules against lethal combat.
Anyone who broke them would be, in effect, declaring war on the entire Celestial Master Hall.
He trusted Ye Yan to be smart enough not to do something so unwise.
His grandson was not in danger of dying, but bodily suffering was inevitable.

“Cursed be Ye Yan…”
Wang Ai braced himself on the rail and faced Ye Yan across the space between them.
Across the way, Ye Yan, half of his face hidden behind a fox mask and a cigarette hanging from his lips, wore a playful smile.
After their eyes met for several seconds, Wang Ai let out a cold snort and was first to turn away.

Seeing that, Ye Yan could not help but remark in grudging admiration.
“This old cur can really endure it—his own grandson reduced like this, and he remains unmoved. No wonder he’s such a master of the art of shrinking away.”

Wang Ai’s composure startled Ye Yan more than he expected.
Before arriving, he had investigated and knew well that this was Wang Ai’s most beloved grandson, his only direct descendant.
That was precisely why he had Feng Xingtong enter with a demon banner, to bait Wang Ai and stage this scene.
Now, with the stage set and all the performers already present, Wang Ai the supposed centerpiece simply stood on the spectator platform, watching, showing not the slightest sign of stepping into the arena.

That was disappointing.

Yet, disappointing as it was, Ye Yan could understand.
Wang Ai had always been notorious for his venomous nature, most fond of laying traps from behind.
To draw out such a retreating old fox, relying on Wang Bing as the only bait was obviously not enough.
He had underestimated him.

While Ye Yan was still thinking, Lu Dashan sent a mind transmission from below:
“Brother Yan, this boy is already knocked out. What next?”
“Come back for now.”

Ye Yan drew on his cigarette and answered quietly.

If that old dog would not come down, beating Wang Bing alone meant little.
In the end, this fool was merely bait—bait to lure a fish. He had fulfilled his role, and yet the fish was clever enough not to bite.
On top of the Luo Tian Great Rite’s regulations, Ye Yan could not simply kill someone in front of so many eyes.
Besides, his feud with the Wang family was already deep; it would have to be settled eventually.
Wang Bing was just a single piece. Better let him live a little longer.

“Understood.”
After receiving the order, Lu Dashan became a deep green light, flew back into the demon banner carried by Feng Xingtong, and vanished once more into concealment, as mysterious as when he had arrived.

Wang Bing lay in a blood-soaked pool, already in deep unconsciousness.
At the pitiable sight, it was clear that few of his bones were likely still sound.
Even if Ye Yan did not kill him this time, he would need at least a year and a half of recovery to come anywhere near whole.
Feng Xingtong, on the other hand, looked markedly weak in the distance; it was the lingering side effect after the Vital-Nourishing Art had ended, and he too would need time to recuperate.
He was fortunate, however, to have no truly mortal wounds.
Even so, he could not help but feel a moment of dread.
When Liu Kunsen had been released earlier, Wang Bing’s death-bright eyes were still burned into Feng Xingtong’s memory.
He had felt, in that moment, that Wang Bing truly meant to kill him.
Had Ye Yan not slipped him one of his own demon banners before the match, who that ruined body in the bloodied ground would belong to is hard to say.

Thinking of this, Feng Xingtong sent a grateful glance to Ye Yan.
Ye Yan returned it with a faint smile, offering quiet encouragement.
As Wang Bing collapsed completely, utterly without fighting strength, the referee announced at the proper moment:
“The winner is Feng Xingtong.”