Dong the Fatty squinted at the pale-faced young man blocking his path and let out a cold snort. He didn't bother entangling with him—his figure blurred as he tried to slip around the guy. Right now, seizing Artifacts was what mattered.
But the other fellow was relentless. He shifted his stance and cut off Dong Qinghan's path once more.
Dong Qinghan chuckled lightly, his expression indifferent, though the aura emanating from his body was gradually turning dangerous.
"Since you're Yang Kai's ally, don't even think about getting past here!" The young man held his chin high, his tone dripping with arrogance.
"So it's young master Lu," Dong Qinghan said with a dismissive curl of his lips. He had seen this person before—none other than Lu Song, the one who had once brought people and supplies to Yang Kai's manor to pledge allegiance.
Unfortunately, the man had no sense whatsoever. After being egged on by Qiu Yimeng, he had angered Yang Kai and been thrown out, only to then be thrashed soundly by Huo Xingchen and his men.
That grudge had naturally made Lu Song hate Yang Kai to the core. After recovering from his injuries within Battle City, he had immediately sought out Yang Kang as his backer, determined to drive Yang Kai out of the city.
Among all the noble young masters participating in the war of succession, there were three who deeply despised Yang Kai—Xiang Chu of the Xiang family, Nan Sheng of the Nan family, and the man standing before him now, Lu Song.
For various reasons, all three wished nothing more than for Yang Kai to die without even a grave. Just moments ago during the scramble for Artifacts, the fighters from all three families had specifically targeted Yang Kai's faction.
Lu Song sneered. "Young Master Dong, truth be told, you and I have no grudge against each other. But you chose to side with Yang Kai, and that doesn't sit well with me. If this young master isn't happy, you won't be happy either. I'd advise you to distance yourself from Yang Kai sooner rather than later, before you bring a death sentence upon yourself."
"Go ahead and try!" Dong Qinghan knew he was trying to stall him here and couldn't be bothered with further talk. The words no sooner left his mouth than his plump body surged forward with startling grace—like a bolt of lightning tearing through the sky. Fast, fierce, and decisive.
The Wind and Cloud Twin Guards flanked him on either side, never stepping more than an inch away.
Lu Song's expression hardened. "You think you can leave? Not a chance! Stop them!"
Two Shenyou Realm seventh-layer cultivators at Lu Song's side moved in tandem to intercept the Twin Guards.
At the same moment, countless streaks of black light erupted from both of Lu Song's arms, and his face twisted into a savage mask.
Those black rays carried an oppressive, unpleasant aura. Threads of chilling energy poured into his palms, his momentum surging like a rainbow.
In an instant, two pitch-black spheres of energy materialized on his palms—each the size of a washbasin, brimming with killing intent.
He thrust his hands forward, and the two energy spheres spiraled in a crisscross pattern, carving a winding trail through the air as they bore down on Dong Qinghan.
Lu Song might lack perceptiveness, but he was still the son of a first-rate clan. Years of Cultivation had given him at least some tricks up his sleeve.
At the seventh layer of the Zhenyuan Realm, combined with the power of an Artifact, this strike was enough to leave many people scrambling in desperation.
Once caught within its reach, one would feel as if trapped in a mire—unable to break free.
Dong Qinghan's cultivation was higher than Lu Song's, but with both men wielding Artifact-enhanced attacks, that gap in base cultivation became negligible. If they really fought, Dong Qinghan might very well defeat Lu Song, but it would cost him no small amount of time.
And right now, time was the one thing he could least afford to waste.
Watching the twin spheres of energy bearing down on him, Dong the Fatty drew a deep breath. Under that breath, his slightly corpulent frame contracted subtly, and in a flash he transformed—standing tall and sharp-featured, his expression commanding. He let out a soft shout, and like a crack of spring thunder, a barrage of crescent-shaped wind blades materialized from thin air, sweeping forward to meet the incoming spheres of energy.
The violent energies collided, each dissipating into nothingness.
A flicker of surprise appeared on Lu Song's face. In that moment of distraction, Dong the Fatty had already shot past him like a bolt of lightning. His no-longer-plump frame was wrapped in the power of wind, infused with the mysteries of wind, pushing his speed to its absolute limit.
No one knew what wind-attribute Cultivation technique Dong the Fatty practiced. The first impression of an obese person was usually one of clumsiness, yet Dong the Fatty was now supremely agile, like an ape leaping through the mountain forests.
By the time Lu Song recovered, interception was already too late.
However, thanks to Lu Song's delay, the mysterious Artifact had already been seized by a warrior. Fortunately, this person was only at the eighth layer of the Zhenyuan Realm. No one knew which clan's young master he was. Caught off guard by Dong the Fatty's sudden, fierce assault, he had been beaten dizzy.
Realizing that despite being at the same cultivation realm, he was utterly no match, the man gritted his teeth and flung the soul Artifact straight out.
Whether intentionally or not, the direction he threw it was toward the crowd of onlookers.
Lu Song laughed heartily, spun around, and gave chase after the Artifact.
Dong the Fatty glared furiously at the man but had no time to continue the entanglement. He hurriedly retreated.
The Artifact trailed a streak of brilliant light through the air, gradually descending toward the crowd of spectators. Having witnessed the previous clashes, none of the onlookers dared to try and claim the Artifact now. They scattered to the left and right, unwilling to even touch it.
Only one man and two women remained in place.
A young man of twenty-seven or twenty-eight, and a pair of twin sisters—three pairs of eyes watched the incoming Artifact in stunned silence, all of them unable to help but laugh bitterly.