Chapter Fifty: The Martial Saint, Yang Lan!

As long as Yang Nan entered the City of Seeking Immortals, with the city sealed inside and out, and with Yang Cheng and the others—who had long been prepared—summoned, several grandmaster-level experts would besiege him. Without his spiritual weapon, what chance could Yang Nan possibly have left to turn the tables? Afterward, if Yang Nan were captured, he could simply explain to the Kunlun Sect that Yang Nan had been taken home by his own uncle to inherit the title of Duke. Such matters, being the affairs of mortals, were not ones that even the most powerful sects of the cultivation world would dare to interfere in! If Yang Nan fell into Yang Cheng’s hands, even if he survived, he would become a mere puppet. Such a living death would be far worse than dying outright!

This entire scheme, this elaborate plot, was clearly designed to bring about Yang Nan’s destruction!

Hearing the icy tone in Yang Nan’s voice, Li Hao showed not the slightest fear and replied, “Brother, have you never heard that fortune favors the bold? If I seek your support, how could I win it without taking risks? After this battle, won’t you also have to deal with Yang Cheng and the others? Without my help, you may find it difficult to contend with these worldly powers! We might as well support each other for mutual benefit. If you help me ascend to the throne, I will uproot Yang Cheng, Yang Lan, and the rest, so you can be rid of your heart’s hatred!”

Mutual cooperation was the only way both could achieve their desires! Li Hao’s gaze was bright, his face filled with expectation as he looked at Yang Nan. By his reckoning, Yang Nan could not possibly refuse.

Yang Nan withdrew his cold smile, nodding heavily. “Brother Li, your words are wise, and your calculations correct. Today, I shall accept this favor from you. I suspect they’re already here, aren’t they?”

His tone was glacial. He realized he’d walked straight into a trap, already bogged down and unable to extricate himself. If not for Li Hao’s warning, he would still be lost in a dream. This favor was a heavy one indeed.

“Well done, nephew. Such intelligence—no wonder you managed to travel so far alone to this place. Your uncle underestimated you!” A man clad in iron armor leaped over the wall, landing before Yang Nan with a steely clang, his very presence exuding an unending murderous aura.

His face was cold and black as iron, his voice as sharp as a blade cutting straight to the heart!

Yang Nan looked up, his gaze freezing over with a chill that reached his core. This man was resolute and cold, his will as unyielding as steel. The oppressive force he radiated descended like a storm cloud, making it nearly impossible to breathe—a terrifying pressure that only came from martial prowess at its peak.

He was none other than the current Commander of the Imperial Guards, the Martial Sage, Yang Lan.

Yang Nan’s twelfth uncle…

A Martial Sage—the equivalent of a Venerable in the world of cultivation! Few ever reached the path of martial enlightenment, and though this twelfth uncle of Yang Nan’s was hailed as a Martial Sage, in truth, he possessed only the power of a Grandmaster.

Nevertheless, his strength was far beyond anything Yang Nan could hope to match.

Yang Nan offered a warm, radiant smile, looking at the stern-faced man in armor not far away. “Twelfth Uncle, it’s been so long. Since you’re here, why not have all my uncles come out together?”

Yang Nan’s heart had already turned to ice, but his face remained gentle. Yang Lan, as a trusted aide of the Emperor, appearing here could only mean that the fate of the world was tied to the Sacred Scrolls. He had no choice but to come.

Yang Lan was determined to win. Though Yang Nan smiled cheerfully, his mind raced through countless thoughts. At this moment, if he lost his composure, it would mean certain death.

With a cold smile, Yang Lan spoke: “Since my nephew wishes it, you may all come in.”

One after another, figures entered from outside, and Yang Nan’s brow began to twitch. Fourth Uncle, General Yang Cheng, and Second Uncle, Vice Minister of Rites Yang He—there were three uncles present today! Even Yang He, a civil official, had come?

“Second Uncle, you’ve come to join the festivities as well? Are you now a Confucian grandmaster too?” Yang Nan’s lips curled into a faint smile, but his eyes were cold as ice. For a civil official like his second uncle to meddle here, things were truly getting lively.

“Nan’er, why not return with your uncles? They’ve promised not to harm you and to pass the title of Duke to you…” Yang He’s round face was earnest, his eyes filled with guilt as he looked at Yang Nan. For an uncle to turn against his nephew—how could this be what he wished for?

But with Chang’an now firmly in Yang Lan’s grasp, how could Yang He, a mere civil official, hope to resist?

Yang Nan shook his head with a sigh. “Second Uncle, having lost your title, you think everyone in the world cares so much for rank and position? I was willing to relinquish the title of Duke, so why must you push me so?”

Of all his uncles, Yang He was among the kinder ones, which was why he endured so much from his younger brothers. The old Duke had passed the title to him, but he had never dared accept it. If he had, he likely wouldn’t be standing here today.

A scornful smile appeared on Yang Cheng’s gaunt face as he spoke. “Yang Nan, if you hand over the Sacred Scrolls and return with us, and publicly swear that our family’s branch of the Confucian school supports the imperial line and the Crown Prince, then I’ll let you go. Otherwise…” His lips curled in a frigid sneer. This nephew was cunning as a fox—he had once managed to escape him over ten thousand miles. How could things be so easy for him today?

Yang Nan looked up with a laugh. “And if not? You’re only at the master’s level yourself—how dare you act so wildly here? Were you blind at the Hot Springs Pass, and are you still blind now?”

He showed no courtesy to this venomous uncle.

“Courting death!” Murder flickered in Yang Cheng’s eyes as he stepped forward, but Yang Lan raised a hand, a surge of raw power halting him. “No rush. Let him despair first. We’re not in a hurry to kill him.”

At Yang Lan’s words, several shadows stepped from the darkness, their forms clear under the strained gazes of Yang Nan and his companions.

A master of the seventh rank of the Daoist sect, demon energy surging—a demon grandmaster. Confucian energy soaring—a scholar grandmaster. Brilliant talismans—a Talisman Master. Deathly aura—a Corpse Master. Sword light like the Milky Way—a Sword Master.

Six grandmasters stood there, plus Yang Lan, a martial grandmaster! Yang Cheng, a master at the highest rank, and outside the walls were hundreds of elite soldiers, each an innate martial artist!

A net of heaven and earth, inescapable…

Yang Nan glanced behind him: the master-level Chiyang, Prince Chun who was no fighter, the Golden-winged Roc demon now reduced to seventh rank after using the Thunder Pearl, a thousand demon soldiers, and himself—fourth rank and master level! Prince Chun had two grandmasters with him.

Three grandmasters and two masters against seven grandmasters—one of them a grand grandmaster! Plus hundreds of elite soldiers with powerful crossbows!

No wonder Yang Lan spoke of despair…

Looking at the formidable power arrayed before him, Yang Nan suddenly raised his head. “Senior Brother Li, you might as well come out. Without you, how could there be such a grand lineup for a mere seven grandmasters?”

As soon as he spoke, Li Yun’s figure appeared overhead. With a chuckle, he said, “Junior Brother Yang, I won’t intrude on your family matters. My two fellow disciples and I will simply observe from the side. If you win, I’ll congratulate you. If you lose, I cannot help you. Please forgive me.”

Though he claimed not to interfere, he and two other inner sect disciples sealed off Yang Nan’s escape route above. Three massive spiritual weapons hovered around them, gleaming like an iron net.

Should Yang Nan try to escape by air, the three would strike without hesitation!

Every calculation had been made—if Yang Nan was not captured today, there would never be another chance.

The grandmasters flicked their arms, and the three unconscious women—Dieyi and her companions—were tossed before Yang Nan like so much straw. At last, his expression changed. If he didn’t have complete confidence today, neither Li Yun nor Yang Lan would dare act so boldly.

Yang Nan waved his hand, drawing the three women to him. They had been attacked in the city, but fortunately, Yang Lan only wished to intimidate, not kill these young demon girls, and so they survived by luck.

With a gentle touch, Yang Nan lifted the seal on them. Dieyi, seeing the terrifying experts gathered in the small courtyard, turned pale and looked at Yang Nan in despair. “Young Master… I’m sorry, it’s all our fault for implicating you!”

Yang Nan gave a faint smile. “It’s not your fault. Today’s events are due to my own carelessness.” At this point, blaming anyone else was useless. He could only fault himself for being too arrogant; if he had stayed hidden in Spirit Beast Mountain, how could he have ended up in such peril?

Yuniang stood calmly to the side, face pale but resolute, pulling Dieyi and the other girl close. She looked at Yang Lan and the others with determination. In her heart, if the young master died, they would not survive either. In that case, what was there left to fear?

Yang Da and Yang Er, seeing this scene of uncles forcing their nephew to the brink, flushed with anger. Drawing their swords, they cried out, “Sirs, how could you treat the young master this way? How will you face the old Duke in the underworld?”

Yang Cheng sneered, pointing his halberd. “Yang Da, you are but a servant of the Yang family. Since when do you question your masters? If a servant defies his lord, his death is well deserved!”

Chiyang laughed coldly from the side. “How grand you are, how fearsome! Men who chased their own nephew instead of mourning their father—what kind of noblemen are you? For us, there is only death today!”

He knew that, besides Chun Prince and Yang Nan, none of them would escape alive. If Yang Lan did not kill everyone present, once word of this scandal spread, he would be in serious trouble.

The Kunlun Sect was not to be provoked, nor were the scholars of the world, nor Yang Nan’s father-in-law, the Marquis of Iron Square.

Yang Lan would surely kill them all to silence them.

“Prince Chun, if you leave now with your two grandmasters, I’ll let you go. Take it as if you were never here,” Yang Lan said, his gaze like lightning as it swept across Li Hao’s face, sharp as a blade.

Li Hao shook his head, eyes flashing with righteous resolve, and smiled faintly. “Though I have no strength for battle, I am not one to fear death. Yang Lan, my royal brother lies gravely ill, yet you, Commander of the Imperial Guards, appear here in this distant city. You are truly loyal, aren’t you?”

Faced with Yang Lan’s threat, Li Hao, a prince by birth, would never be cowed by a mere servant. He retorted in kind.

Yang Lan smiled coolly, clenching his fist. “Your Highness means to question me? A mere vassal prince—what right have you to interfere in the affairs of the Imperial Guards? If you do not leave, do not blame me for being merciless!”