Chapter Seventy-Two: The Three Guardian Generals Are Defeated with a Single Blow!

“Greetings, Commander Qin.”
“Greetings, Commander Qin.”
“Greetings, Commander Qin.”

The three wardens whom Qin Feng had singled out stood trembling as they heard his words and beheld his blood-soaked figure. Their faces were ashen, hearts filled with terror, but none dared defy him—Qin Feng’s might was overwhelming, so much so that any thought of resistance was crushed before it could arise.

“You three, watch over my spoils of war,” Qin Feng commanded. “If even a single item is missing, you’ll meet the same fate as this!”

With that, he brought his hammer down upon the stone lion at the Chen family’s gate, shattering it to pieces.

“But if you do your job well, rewards await you.”

He let out a cold snort. Then, his chilling gaze swept over the assembled martial artists.

“Let it be known—whoever dares touch my spoils will pay with their life!”

“We wouldn’t dare!”
“We wouldn’t dare!”

Those gathered felt a cold dread seize their souls, not daring to meet Qin Feng’s eyes. The oppressive force radiating from him commanded their utmost respect and fear. Having witnessed his power, none would risk provoking him while he still lived.

Step. Step. Step.

Qin Feng strode toward the Zhao residence.

Today, he would trample the Chen family, annihilate the Zhao family, and execute Qian Yun’gao. None would stand in his way. Victory was certain.

With every stride, he could feel his body’s formidable regenerative powers knitting his wounds, his strength swiftly returning to its peak.

After Qin Feng departed, the three martial artists he had named dared not leave, dutifully standing guard over the ruins of the Chen estate.

Huang Ningbing, Chen Yunlong, Liu Xiang, Zuo Taoming, and Lin Xiaozhong arrived in quick succession. Hearing that Qin Feng was heading toward the Zhao family, they hurried after him.

“Commander Qin... he actually...”

Huang Ningbing’s eyes brimmed with disbelief. When Qin Feng had purchased the thousand-year-old spirit medicine, she had thought him merely preparing to ward off Zhao family threats. Never had she imagined such ferocity lay beneath his patience—his eruption was like a tidal wave.

In a single strike, he had razed the Chen family, rivers of blood flowing as their vast estate was reduced to rubble.

Chen Yunlong, Liu Xiang, Zuo Taoming, and Lin Xiaozhong were left utterly shaken, scarcely able to believe their eyes.

They had underestimated Qin Feng’s power. The Chen family had boasted a mid-level commander, nine wardens, more than twenty experts of the inner force, and over four hundred guards. Yet they were swept aside, their household left in ruins. Qin Feng’s strength far surpassed anything they had imagined—beyond even their wildest estimations.

...

“Patriarch, Qin Feng has destroyed the Chen family and is headed for us.”

Zhao Taotu’s eyes narrowed sharply as he received word from his informant, horror flickering across his features. He knew well the strength of the Chen family; that Qin Feng could annihilate them spoke volumes of his own power—truly extraordinary, formidable to the extreme.

“I never imagined Qin Feng possessed such audacity!” Zhao Weichuan declared, rising from his seat, his brows full of unshakable confidence and pride. “To strike first against five commanders—he has my respect for that alone. But his luck ends here. Daring to lay hands on the Zhao family is like an egg thrown against a rock—utterly futile!”

“Summon one thousand guards to come with me! Let Qin Feng learn that to oppose the Zhao family is to court death!” Zhao Weichuan’s voice thundered.

“Yes, Patriarch!”
“As you command!”

Zhao Taotu and Zhao Hongzhong bowed with fists cupped, voices ringing loud.

Ten minutes later, Zhao Weichuan, Zhao Hongzhong, and Zhao Taotu—one late-stage commander and two mid-stage commanders—set out with twenty wardens and a thousand inner force and lower-level martial artists, all intent on destroying Qin Feng.

“It’s the Zhao family!”
“Step aside, the Zhao family approaches!”
“That’s the patriarch, Zhao Weichuan—they say he’s been at the late commander level for twenty years. Only the lack of a Human King cultivation method has kept him from breaking through. His strength is so awe-inspiring that even the governor shows him deference.”
“With three commanders moving together, not even Qin Feng at his peak could resist. And now he’s gravely wounded from the Chen family’s destruction.”
“To challenge the Zhao family now is sheer suicide!”

The martial artists who had followed Qin Feng to witness the spectacle blanched at the sight of the three commanders rushing forth, hastily retreating in awe and fear.

“I’m surprised you have such nerve,” Zhao Weichuan said, eyes fixed on Qin Feng’s youthful face, his tone tinged with regret. “But your actions are reckless in the extreme. Do you really think you alone can shake the Zhao family? Overestimating yourself—sheer folly!”

A sneer curled his lips as he continued coldly, “The Zhao family may be powerful, but to me, you are nothing but clay chickens and straw dogs. I alone am enough to wipe you out.”

Qin Feng’s gaze locked on Zhao Weichuan, Zhao Hongzhong, and Zhao Taotu. Blood roared in his veins, his fighting spirit surging to the heavens—he could hardly wait to cut them down.

“Qin Feng, I admit you are a rare genius—perhaps the greatest in the history of the Great Chu Dynasty. But a fallen genius is worth less than a pile of dung!” Zhao Weichuan snarled.

“Kill him!” he roared, striking out with a two-meter blade crackling with thunder, aimed straight at Qin Feng.

“Kill!”
“Kill!”

Zhao Hongzhong and Zhao Taotu charged without hesitation, blades glinting murderously, intent on slaying Qin Feng.

“Kill!”
“Kill!”
“Kill Qin Feng!”

Twenty wardens and a thousand lesser martial artists surged forward, blades drawn, murderous intent boiling as they swiftly encircled Qin Feng.

Though their strength was unremarkable, even ants can bring down an elephant when united—they could interfere, biding their time for the perfect moment to strike.

“You dare face me head-on? You are unworthy!”

Seeing Zhao Hongchuan’s blade descending, Qin Feng’s lips curled into an icy smile as he swung his hammer.

Boom!

The thunderous hammer struck the blade, unleashing a terrifying force of 264,000 jin.

“Ah!”

Zhao Hongchuan’s face twisted in shock and agony as he was sent flying, blood spraying as he crashed through the air.

“Patriarch!”
“Patriarch!”

Zhao Hongzhong and Zhao Taotu, racing toward Qin Feng, saw Zhao Hongchuan flung aside and recoiled, readying themselves to catch him.

“Stay back!”

Zhao Hongchuan’s arms trembled violently, the muscles torn, his hands slick with blood, his blade bent out of shape. Seeing Zhao Hongzhong and Zhao Taotu preparing to support him, his face contorted as he shouted in warning.

He knew better than anyone the sheer force he had just endured—far beyond what Zhao Hongzhong or Zhao Taotu could withstand. If they tried to catch him, they would surely be injured as well.