Chapter 72 Severed Hand

Lin Feng stepped down from the arena and drifted away. Before leaving, he glanced at the central grandstand. A sliver of icy, chilling smile crossed his face as he spoke calmly, "Long Yaoyang, from today onward, I will be your lifelong nightmare!"

On the central grandstand, the Jisheng Society erupted in cheers. Wang Jisheng stood up leisurely. He drew a dagger from his waist and held it in his hand. Turning to face Long Aoyun, he smiled lightly and said, "Master Long, a wager is a wager. I offer you my right hand. Will you do it yourself, or shall I assist you?"

Long Aoyun was still reeling from the shock of his defeat in the arena, unable to recover for a long time. After a moment, his eyes twitched, his teeth clenched, and his fierce gaze radiated a murderous sharpness. His voice was hoarse and cold, "Wang Jisheng, leave a line today so we may meet again another day. Are you truly intent on a fight to the death with me, Long Aoyun?"

Long Aoyun was a martial artist; he knew intimately what losing a right hand meant to a practitioner. Decades of painstaking cultivation would be ruined in an instant!

"Heh, Long Aoyun, do these words have any meaning now? If I were the one who lost, you'd probably be eager to chop off my right hand. We've fought for three years, know each other's roots—let's not waste time with useless talk. Or do you want Master Lin himself to do it?"

Wang Jisheng's gaze was keen and to the point, invoking Lin Feng's name with calm confidence.

At the mention of "Master Lin," Long Aoyun shuddered, his heart hollowed out. That terrifying blade—he wouldn't dare endure it.

Long Aoyun's gaze grew savage as all his strength burst forth. A wild, dragon-like aura surged from him, raging like a storm. He looked at Wang Jisheng with a grim, twisted smile and laughed maniacally, "Master Lin? When I, Long Aoyun, roamed the martial world, that boy was still nursing at his mother's breast! Wang Jisheng, you want to sever my right hand? Absurd!"

With that, Long Aoyun swept his crimson cloak around him, spun, and made to leave.

However, just as Long Aoyun was about to stride off the central grandstand, a cool voice rang out from behind: "Long Aoyun, why so eager to leave? Our accounts aren't settled yet!"

Hearing the voice behind him, he halted and slowly turned, following the sound.

Lin Feng stood at the side of the grandstand, half-turned. Though dressed in casual sportswear and his demeanor was relaxed and calm, from head to toe he radiated a subtle, chilling aura that made the heart tremble.

It was the self-assured confidence of one who scorns all rivals, the bold dominance of an absolute master ruling over the world.

The evening breeze softly stirred, its whispering sounds brushing the ear. Long Aoyun gazed at Lin Feng, his eyes narrowing and his heart skipping a beat.

He had long known who Lin Feng was; indeed, it was he who ordered Long Yaoyang to humiliate and beat Lin Feng to curry favor with Liang Fengnian.

In his eyes, Lin Feng had been nothing but a wretched, lingering waste, entirely beneath notice.

But now, this so-called waste had risen fiercely, returning as a "Master," and with a mere gesture could wipe out the Tianlong Hall, which he had painstakingly built over years.

For the first time, Long Aoyun felt fear from a "nobody."

"Master Lin? Who would have thought? They say thirty years east of the river, thirty years west—never look down on a poor youth. It seems you really have turned your fate around, Lin Feng. What, do you intend to take vengeance in front of all these witnesses? Sorry, but this is China; vigilante justice isn't yours to dispense!"

Who could have imagined that Long Aoyun, the overlord of Binhai City's underworld, would invoke the law—what a joke!

"Vigilante justice? No, no, I am a citizen of China; I would never knowingly break the law. However, matters of the martial world are settled within the martial world. I heard you owe Wang Jisheng a right hand. To pay one's debts is only proper. Leave your right hand behind, then you may go."

Lin Feng's face bore a warm smile, his brows gentle, as if he were a benevolent Buddha.

Long Aoyun, seeing Lin Feng's strange smile, felt a cold shiver down his spine. The fear in his heart only grew.

"Heh, since it's Wang Jisheng's debt, it should be up to him to collect. What does it have to do with you, Master Lin?"

"True, Wang Jisheng should collect it himself. Wang Jisheng, the knife."

"Yes, Master Lin!"

Long Aoyun relied on his superior strength to Wang Jisheng, sure that even if Wang tried to use the knife, he couldn't harm him in the slightest.

But Lin Feng would never let him have his way.

Taking the dagger from Wang Jisheng, Lin Feng twisted it in his right hand, and the aura of the blade exploded around him. A trace of the terrifying intent from the "Three Blades of Abhidhama" infused the dagger.

"All right, Wang Jisheng, use this dagger to take Long Aoyun's right hand."

"As you command, Master Lin."

Though Wang Jisheng couldn't discern the intricacies, he followed Lin Feng without doubt or hesitation. If Master Lin ordered him into a bottomless abyss, he would go.

Wang Jisheng took the dagger, turned it over in his hands, inspecting it carefully, but saw no change.

"No matter, Master Lin is never wrong!"

Wang Jisheng, dagger in hand, stepped forward, while Long Aoyun felt a chill in his heart.

Wang Jisheng was no martial artist and had no idea that the dagger now carried the blade's aura. But Long Aoyun, a martial artist of considerable cultivation, sensed distinctly a dangerous energy emanating from the blade.

It was the same energy that had felled Cheng Qianfeng moments before!

Cold sweat broke out on Long Aoyun's forehead, his legs grew weak, and as Wang Jisheng drew closer step by step, he retreated step by step.

There was not a shred of the Tianlong Hall's masterly dignity left.

"Lin Feng! What do you want? If you must kill or punish, take it out on me—I'll bear it all!"

Long Yaoyang, also a martial artist, felt the terrifying blade aura and knew Lin Feng's actions were meant for revenge. In defense of his father, he grew hysterical.

Long Aoyun, desperate to protect his son, roared, "Yaoyang, this is my wager, it has nothing to do with you. Get out!"

Seeing Long Aoyun's timid expression, Wang Jisheng's heart settled. He raised the dagger and, with a mocking flourish, gestured at Long Aoyun, "Long Aoyun, don't dodge!"

Unexpectedly, Wang Jisheng only swung the dagger through the empty air, and a cold flash shot forth from the blade, transforming into a visible arc of blade energy in midair.

"Clang—"

The blade energy streaked through the air, tearing a sharp sound as it struck Long Aoyun's right arm.

"Ah!"

Long Aoyun had no way to evade. He tried to raise his fist to block, but the blade energy would cut through gods and buddhas alike—unstoppable and razor-sharp.

In an instant, Long Aoyun's right hand was severed cleanly at the wrist, blood spurting everywhere as his hand rolled onto the ground.

The central grandstand was awash in blood.

"Father!"