Chapter 167: Zhan Kuang
The dust hadn't even settled, yet the pressure had already arrived.
It wasn't loud. It wasn't explosive. It was silent—but it weighed down like a mountain, pressing into every corner of the room with suffocating intensity.
The assassins tensed instinctively, hands inching toward their weapons. Even Blood Wood took a cautious step back, eyes narrowing.
'What kind of aura is this?' His pupils constricted. 'Too calm... too composed... yet so terrifying.'
Su Tianhao's gaze locked onto the figure. His breath caught.
The man moved slowly through the fading cloud, robes fluttering lightly with each step.
Shaggy dark hair. Unkempt beard streaked with white. A battle-hardened face. Eyes like sharpened steel. His aura wasn't explosive—it was oppressive. The aura of a beast that had walked through a thousand battles and come out the other side of every one.
Su Tianhao's eyes widened.
'It's him!'
His mind flashed back two months ago—the Crimson Vine Tavern. This same figure had stepped forward during the confrontation with Ye Wenjie. He had demanded an apology for the demonic technique accusation. When things escalated, he had positioned himself as referee, granting Su Tianhao the first strike. Even now, Su Tianhao had never been able to figure out why.
"Who are you?" Blood Wood growled—though his voice lacked its earlier sharpness. His instincts were already screaming.
The man raised his head slightly, eyes carrying a faint contempt.
"Zhan Kuang."
The name struck like thunder.
Blood Wood's heart skipped.
Zhan Kuang. The Mad Warrior. A rogue cultivator known only by a few, and feared by those who knew him. Once accused of slaying an elder of the Xunhai Sect—the strongest of the Three Great Sects—yet he had walked away unscathed. No one knew his true cultivation level. Sometimes he appeared as a Martial Soul Realm expert. Other times, a Martial Master. But many believed his actual cultivation had long since surpassed both. A man with no faction, no ties—and no fear of anything.
"...That boy," Zhan Kuang added, tilting his head toward Su Tianhao, "...is under my protection."
He stepped forward. The temperature dropped.
"Now," he said, voice cold and even, "which hand were you about to break?"
"Z-Zhan Kuang..." Blood Wood's voice came out unsteady. Even a 7th level Martial Master felt it—that pressure, that instinctive alarm. "Su Tianhao is under your protection? You can't be serious."
"Do I look like I'm joking?" Zhan Kuang's aura rose, slow and deliberate.
He stepped forward, eyes fixed on Blood Wood and the assassins. "I'll give you a chance. Break your own hand and leg—and maybe I'll let you go."
Blood Wood's jaw clenched. "Zhan Kuang! Don't push this! Do you want to make an enemy of the Blood Shadow? We are a second-rate force in Longzhou!"
"Oh please." Zhan Kuang's lips curved into something between a smile and a sneer. "When have I ever been moved by threats? Besides—the Blood Shadow is barely a second-rate force. One Martial Lord at the top hardly justifies the claim. Compared to the Three Great Sects with thousands of years of legacy behind them, how does the Blood Shadow even dare make comparisons?"
His voice turned colder. "I once risked offending the Xunhai Sect. What then is your Blood Shadow to me?"
Blood Wood's face paled. The Mad Warrior hadn't earned that title for nothing. A man who didn't flinch at the Xunhai Sect's wrath wouldn't lose sleep over the Blood Shadow.
Beside him, the four assassins stood rigid. Trained to endure pain, trained to face death—yet the thought of breaking their own limbs on this man's word made them tremble.
Behind the receptionist's desk, the bound staff and protectors of the Cloudveil Resthouse watched the shift with quiet, disbelieving relief. The men who had seemed invincible minutes ago now stood uncertain before a single figure.
Su Tianhao stared. During their first encounter at the Crimson Vine Tavern, he had estimated this man was a Martial Soul Realm expert. Turns out he hadn't even come close.
Zhan Kuang's persistence wore through the last of Blood Wood's composure.
"I don't believe you can defeat all of us!" Blood Wood roared.
Boom!
His aura exploded outward—shockwaves ripping through the air, shattering furniture, cracking the polished floor beneath their feet.
"I, Blood Wood, will not submit without a fight!"
His spatial ring flashed. A massive greatsword appeared in his grip, levelled directly at Zhan Kuang.
"Attack!"
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
The assassins' auras erupted one after another, filling the room with cascading force.
Su Tianhao dropped low into the corner, shielding his face with one hand—fingers parted just enough to watch. His golden spiritual energy flared, wrapping his body in a protective halo.
Swoosh.
The assassins closed in on Zhan Kuang in a flash, curved daggers gleaming under the dim light.
"Hmph. Too weak."
Zhan Kuang's voice was entirely unmoved.
"Across ten thousand miles of mountain and river, none can shoulder the weight of my might—Heaven-Crushing Gravity!"
His aura erupted.
In the next instant, monstrous pressure descended like a falling mountain—heavy, absolute, inescapable.
Blood Wood's charge halted mid-air for a single heartbeat before his body slammed into the floor, embedding into the floor. The assassins fared no better. The moment the technique landed, they dropped like puppets with severed strings, bodies crashing down with thunderous thuds that cratered the marble beneath them.
"Heavens!" Su Tianhao breathed. "This is power. The kind that ends a fight before it begins."
His fists clenched tightly.
'Blood Wood is a 7th level Martial Master... yet this—'
Realization flashed.
'Martial Grandmaster!'
Only someone at that realm could unleash absolute suppression like this. Su Tianhao stared at Zhan Kuang with new eyes, emotions churning beneath the surface. Never had he imagined—not in his wildest speculation—that the man who had presided over his match with Ye Wenjie was a Martial Grandmaster.
Zhan Kuang stepped forward, voice carrying bone-chilling calm.
"I gave you a path to salvation. Yet you chose suffering instead."
The pressure intensified.
Screams tore through the air. The assassins twisted and rolled against the floor, the sound of strained muscles and cracking joints echoing through the room. Even Su Tianhao felt his chest tighten watching it.
Blood Wood glared up with bloodshot eyes, blood trickling from his lips.
"I swear you'll regr—"
Wham!
Zhan Kuang's leg came down like a sledgehammer onto Blood Wood's right hand. Bones shattered. The scream that followed was raw and animalistic.
Before Blood Wood could draw another breath—
Wham!
The same leg drove into his right foot, sending another wave of unbearable pain coursing through his being.
Hiss.
Su Tianhao drew a sharp breath through his teeth.
Blood Wood gasped, face twisted, rage burning in his eyes—but this time, not a single word left his lips.
"Good." Zhan Kuang nodded with quiet satisfaction and slowly withdrew his aura.
Blood Wood sagged with relief, as though a mountain had been lifted from his back. The assassins—even with the pressure gone—remained crumpled on the floor, bodies twitching and moaning.
Zhan Kuang surveyed them with eyes full of domineering calm. "Leave. Before I reconsider."
Blood Wood gritted his teeth. His spiritual energy surged outward, enough to lift him despite the broken foot. As a Martial Master, shattered bones weren't the death sentence they would be for an ordinary person—spiritual energy could compensate for the loss in function, and the bones themselves would knit back naturally within weeks. With proper medicine, a matter of days. That was the gulf between a Martial Master's body and a mortal's.
He retrieved healing pills from his spatial ring and distributed them to the fallen assassins. Colour returned to their faces. Their breathing steadied. His aura expanded, supporting their weight as they climbed to their feet.
Before leaving, he turned to Zhan Kuang. His voice was low and controlled—but every word carried weight.
"I, Blood Wood, will not forget today's humiliation."
He cast one final glance at Su Tianhao. Killing intent burned in his eyes, cold and patient.
Then he turned away.
"Let's go."
Supporting himself and his men with spiritual energy, they disappeared into the distance.
Zhan Kuang watched them go, expression unchanged—like a man who wouldn't stir even if a mountain fell.
When he was certain they were gone, he turned to Su Tianhao with a smile.
"I am Zhan Kuang. A pleasure to meet you officially, Su Tianhao." He extended a hand.
Su Tianhao looked at it—but didn't take it. He stood on his own, eyes narrowing. "Why are you helping me?"
Zhan Kuang's smile didn't waver. "Shouldn't you be saying thank you before asking questions?"
Su Tianhao's brows jumped. He'd been rude. He quickly cupped his fists and offered a deep bow. "Thank you, Senior Zhan Kuang, for your timely intervention."
"Hahahaha!" The laughter boomed through the room. "Just call me Senior."
He paused, expression easing. "As for your question—let's just say I find you interesting."
"Interesting?" Su Tianhao frowned.
Zhan Kuang nodded, eyes gleaming. "In all my long years of wandering this world, you are the first young man of the current generation I have ever truly acknowledged."
Su Tianhao raised an eyebrow. "And what does that mean?"
Zhan Kuang smiled. "It means I've been watching you."
He stepped forward, tapping a finger toward Su Tianhao's chest. "You have caught my attention."
Then he turned, gaze drifting to something distant.
"Over a hundred years ago, I was a young boy in a small town—obsessed with reaching the peak of cultivation." His eyes grew nostalgic. "I passed through hardship and trial, but I reached great strength and a long life. And yet—by the time I did, I found myself alone. Friends and family had grown old, moved on, built lives of their own. They had left without me."
He paused. "Do you know what I did next?"
Su Tianhao shook his head, listening.
He wasn't surprised by the lifespan. Martial Grandmasters could live well past two centuries—some reaching three hundred before fading. A man who had cultivated to that realm over a hundred years ago would look exactly as Zhan Kuang did now.
"With no family and no home, I became a wanderer," Zhan Kuang continued. "My sole purpose became battle—wielding strength, growing stronger, finding worthy opponents. It became my way of easing the boredom."
He trailed off deliberately. Then turned abruptly, eyes locking directly onto Su Tianhao's.
"Everything changed when I met you."
Su Tianhao felt it—the weight of that gaze, the sense of being seen completely.
Zhan Kuang chuckled. "You became my source of entertainment. I followed you. Watched you. Waited for the day you would rise and soar like the dragon you are."
Su Tianhao's expression shifted. 'Could he know my secret?'
But he caught himself. It's only an expression.
"Many young talents out there call themselves dragons and phoenixes—but compared to your potential, they are nothing. So how could I stand by and watch my source of entertainment be bullied?"
Su Tianhao's lips twitched. 'So that's how it is.'
He exhaled quietly.
Zhan Kuang straightened, expression turning serious. "Tianhao—today you have seen the cruelty of this world. Only by growing stronger can you ever be truly free."
Su Tianhao's eyes widened slightly. Then he nodded and bowed. "Thank you for the advice, Senior."
"Good, good." Zhan Kuang's expression lightened. "Since we're meeting officially, it would be rude of a senior to come empty-handed."
"Wait—what?" Su Tianhao blinked.
Before he could process it, Zhan Kuang produced a semi-transparent box from his spatial ring. Inside it, a small purple crystal pulsed with soft ethereal light.
Su Tianhao's breath stopped.
"The Ethereal Mind Crystal!"
"I believe you have use for this," Zhan Kuang said, weighing the box in his palm.
"How—how did you acquire it?" Su Tianhao asked, eyes wide.
Zhan Kuang shook his head, his voice cutting the question clean. "How I got it is not your concern. Your concern is knowing how to use it."
Without waiting for a response, he set the box down on the floor between them. "I've noticed you have the habit of rejecting kindness. I'm leaving it here. Whether you take it or not is entirely your business."
With a casual flick of his sleeve, he turned and walked away—robes billowing behind him like dark clouds, heavy with the weight of unspoken battles and years beyond counting.
Su Tianhao watched him go. Then his eyes fell to the box on the floor.
He hesitated.
Then slowly crouched and picked it up.
He looked toward Zhan Kuang's retreating figure. "I will repay this favour one day," he said quietly. A vow, not a courtesy.
Then a voice bloomed inside his mind—low, unhurried, carried on the thread of telepathy.
'Go and continue your journey. With this little episode from me, the fabricated story about your illusory master remains hidden.'
Su Tianhao's eyes went wide.
'He knows.'