Fighting the Oirat Guardian General Barehanded

Chapter 83: Bare-handed Dragon Fight, Oirat's Shocking Change!

Lin Zhao sat cross-legged on the bluestone slab of the blacksmith shop, his fingertips lightly tracing the Mystic Iron ingot on his knee. This was the final payment from Xuan Yao Pavilion, three hundred and five gold coins, enough for him to purchase the batch of Dragon Yuan that the merchant guild would auction next month.

He knew clearly that with his current cultivation speed, as long as he gathered enough materials to break through to Peak Martial Master and took Ling Song's head before Meng Yanshan ran out of steam, it wouldn't be difficult.

But he held back. Although Ling Song was weak, he was the father-in-law of Baxia, the Guardian General of the Nation.

Lin Zhao still hadn't figured out Baxia's background. All he knew was that the man was a Heavenly Gang Realm Grandmaster Warrior capable of tearing ferocious beasts apart with his bare hands. Such a person's protectiveness of his own was definitely not comparable to minor figures like Black Tiger Yama.

"Baxia must have arranged guards around Ling Song, perhaps even a Grandmaster Warrior-level backup," Lin Zhao opened his eyes, a hint of calmness flashing in their depths. "Taking a risk might succeed, but only by proceeding steadily can I keep winning."

He took out the note from his pocket, which listed the remaining materials: ** ,煞尘 (Sha Dust), Netherworld Grass.

"Just these three left. Once I get the Dragon Saliva Fragrance, I can refine Qi and Blood Pills to reach the peak of Postnatal." Lin Zhao crumpled the note into a ball and tossed it into the furnace. The flames leaped up with a "whoosh," reflecting a burning heat in his eyes.

More than a month passed in a flash, and the three-hundred-year founding anniversary celebration of Oirat finally commenced.

Lanting City was completely abuzz. Bright yellow wolf flags hung from every street and alley. Disciples from martial arts schools practiced their moves in the streets, dressed in their training attire. Even the beggars outside the city walls received two steamed buns.

The highlight of the celebration was the "Bare-handed Dragon Fight" grand performance at the training grounds outside the city, starring the Guardian General of the Nation, Baxia.

Lin Zhao changed into a simple grey cloth outfit, tucked the Gilded Mask into his pocket, and headed to the training grounds early.

As soon as he reached the entrance, he saw Thousand Mile Guest waving his arm and shouting, "Brother Lin! This way!"

They walked inside with the crowd. Lin Zhao immediately took in the appearance of the training grounds. The place resembled an overturned giant bowl, with tiered bluestone seating capable of holding tens of thousands. The stone platform in the very front row was even engraved with railings forged from fine iron. Yet, even so, it couldn't contain the audience's enthusiasm.

Li Yue's chosen spot wasn't ideal; it was too close to the center of the arena. Lin Zhao could even smell the stench of beasts wafting through the air.

"I heard this Mystic Armored Pangolin Dragon was transported from the Northern Desert, and it's even bigger than the last one!" Li Yue rubbed his hands, his eyes shining as if about to emit light. "In all my life, I've never seen a live Pangolin Dragon!"

Lin Zhao remained silent, his gaze sweeping over the VIP stands at the very top. A group of richly dressed nobles sat there. Among them, a portly old man was none other than Ling Song, the Minister of Revenue.

Beside him sat a woman in a brocade dress, likely Baxia's wife. Flanking them were two guards with expressionless faces. Their Blood Essence fluctuations were subtle yet profound; they were actually Peak Martial Masters!

"They certainly know how to enjoy themselves," Lin Zhao sneered inwardly, his fingers unconsciously brushing against the long sword at his waist. "If I charged up now, could I kill Ling Song before the guards reacted?"

But he quickly suppressed the thought. Meng Yanshan hadn't revealed the location of the Dragon Yuan Divine Statue. Even if he killed Ling Song, it would be useless without finding the item, and he'd be putting himself in danger.

"Forget it. I'll observe Baxia's strength first, which will help me plan for the future."

Just then, the cheers from the stands erupted, like thunder striking his ears.

Lin Zhao looked up. At the entrance to the training grounds, a giant was slowly walking out.

It was Baxia!

Nearly three meters tall, his shoulders were as wide as two ordinary fighters. His bare upper body was covered in bulging muscles, each one like cast Mystic Iron, gleaming with a bronze hue.

He carried no weapons. Only a piece of beast hide was tied around his waist. When his footsteps landed, even the stands trembled. A fierce Blood Essence pressure wafted over with the wind. Li Yue, beside Lin Zhao, instinctively clenched his fists, his face turning pale.

"Is... is this even human?" Li Yue swallowed, his voice trembling.

Lin Zhao also narrowed his eyes. He had seen many Peak Martial Masters, but never had he encountered such fierce Blood Essence!

Baxia's aura was like a volcano on the verge of eruption. Just looking at him made one's heart pound with fear.

"Baxia's Descent! Guardian General of the Nation!"

"Guardian God! Kill the Pangolin Dragon!"

The audience in the stands roared like madmen. Some even threw their hats. Fighters in the front rows slapped their thighs and shouted. Even the young nobles from the upper floors leaned forward, forgetting to fan themselves with their folding fans.

Baxia raised his hand to signal, and the cheers instantly subsided.

He opened his mouth, his voice like a great bell echoing throughout the entire training grounds. "May the Holy City be eternal! Long live Oirat!"

With that roar, Lin Zhao felt his eardrums buzzing. The Blood Essence within his body even stirred. This wasn't just speaking; it was like shaking it out with Blood Essence!

The audience in the stands went even wilder, their faces flushed red as they shouted in unison, "Long live Oirat!"

Soon, a figure in bright yellow appeared on the highest stands – the Oirat Khan.

He wore an imperial robe embroidered with wolf patterns, surrounded by a group of ministers. He declared loudly, "Baxia! My divine general! You have protected Oirat for ten years. Today, let the ten thousand people of the Holy City witness how strong the God of War of our Oirat truly is!"

He paused, then swung his arm down forcefully. "Release the Pangolin Dragon!"

"Rumble—"

The iron gate on one side of the training grounds slowly rose. Deep roars emanated from the dark opening, and a thick smell of blood wafted out, making even the wind turn colder.

Then, a colossal figure suddenly charged out – it was the Mystic Armored Pangolin Dragon!

Its body was easily ten zhang long, covered in dark brown scales. Its claws were like polished fine iron. When it raised its head, it was higher than the railings of the stands. Its pair of scarlet eyes stared fixedly at Baxia.

"Roar!"

The Pangolin Dragon's roar shook the dust into the air. The audience in the stands instinctively recoiled, but Baxia stood his ground.

He clenched his fists, the muscles in his arms bulging. A layer of dark Blood Essence power emerged from his skin, like an iron armor coating.

"Good!"

Baxia roared, and the bluestone floor tiles beneath his feet cracked with a "crunch." He shot forward like a cannonball.

The Pangolin Dragon was not to be outdone. Its massive head slammed forward with the sound of the wind, its force capable of collapsing a small house!

Lin Zhao's heart leaped into his throat. He had expected Baxia to dodge with agility, but he never anticipated the man would go head-to-head!

"Bang!"

Fists and a dragon's head collided, a dull thud echoing throughout the arena.

Lin Zhao could even see a few dragon scales flying off the Pangolin Dragon, and Baxia's body shook. But he quickly regained his footing, his other fist, wreathed in black energy, smashing into the Pangolin Dragon's neck. With a "crack," the Pangolin Dragon's neck was forced to the side, a bloody gash appearing along the gaps between its scales.

"So strong!" Li Yue couldn't help but exclaim.

Lin Zhao clenched his fist. If it were him, even wearing Mystic Iron Cold Scale Armor, he would probably have his ribs broken by the Pangolin Dragon.

Is this the power of a Heavenly Gang Realm Grandmaster Warrior?

No wonder Baxia could suppress the Oirat Khan and become the guardian god of the Oirats.

The Pangolin Dragon, in pain, became even more ferocious, its tail whipping towards Baxia like a steel whip.

Baxia leaped onto the Pangolin Dragon's back, his fists relentlessly smashing against the dragon scales. Black energy exploded again and again, more and more scales flew off, and dragon blood rained down onto the ground, dyeing the bluestone of the training ground red.

"Anyone who can stand at the peak of the Martial Path truly has no weaknesses," Lin Zhao thought to himself.

Baxia's strength was already formidable, and his speed was just as astonishing; the Pangolin Dragon's attacks hadn't touched him once.

He thought of his Blood Poison Technique and Swift Falcon Technique and suddenly felt the vast gap between them. Just this sheer, powerful Blood Essence alone would take me years to catch up to.

Before long, the Pangolin Dragon's movements grew slower, and the wound on its neck widened.

Baxia seized the opportunity, grabbed the dragon's scales with both hands, and tore fiercely. With a "rip," a large section of scales, along with flesh and blood, was ripped away. The Pangolin Dragon let out a piercing roar, crashed to the ground, and lost its life.

"Guardian General of the Nation!"

Cheers erupted from the stands once more. The audience clapped, some even jumping up in excitement.

Baxia stood on the Pangolin Dragon's corpse, panting heavily, his bronze skin covered in dragon blood and sweat.

He also had several wounds, some deep enough to expose bone, but he acted as if he felt no pain. He raised a hand to wipe his face and cupped his hands towards the stands.

But just then, Baxia's body suddenly swayed, and his steps faltered.

He looked down at a wound on his chest. The wound, originally bright red, was now turning a blue-purple at a visible rate, and the surrounding skin was also darkening.

"Poison?" Lin Zhao's heart leaped. He was quite familiar with poisons; this blue-purple color was clearly the potent toxin brewed from "Heart-Rotting Grass." It could spread through the Blood Essence once it touched blood, paralyzing the entire body within half an hour!

Before Lin Zhao could react, white smoke suddenly emerged from the four corners of the training ground. The white mist spread like a tide, quickly covering half the arena.

Spectators in the stands began to cough, some feeling dizzy and falling directly from the stands, foaming at the mouth and convulsing.

And those who remained standing had, at some point, donned bronze masks, their long sabers glinting coldly in their hands—they were the rebels who had been lying in wait!

"Not good! It's a trap!" Lin Zhao grabbed Li Yue, who was about to stand up, and whispered, "Crouch down! The white smoke is poisonous, don't breathe!"

Li Yue's face turned pale, and he quickly crouched down, covering his nose.

Screams from the stands instantly drowned out the cheers. People ran towards the exit like madmen, but the arena gates slammed shut with a "boom." The crowded masses quickly caused a stampede, and cries of weeping and screams rose one after another.

Baxia in the center of the arena gritted his teeth, suppressing the poison within him. His eyes seemed to spew fire as he glared at the stands and roared, "Who did this? Cowards hiding in the shadows, show yourselves if you dare!"

His gaze swept towards the highest stands—chaos had erupted there.

The Oirat Khan's imperial robe was torn open. A middle-aged man in Ministry of War uniform, holding a dagger wreathed in black energy, was withdrawing it from behind the Khan. Blood dripped from the dagger onto the ground, and the Khan's body slumped down limply.

"Brother, don't blame me." The Minister of War tore off his official hat, revealing a sinister face. The Blood Essence pressure emanating from him erupted—he was a Heavenly Gang Realm Grandmaster Warrior! "You've long become Baxia's puppet. The Oirats cannot fall into the hands of an outsider!"

After speaking, he leaped down from the stands. Soon, he was clad in Mystic Iron Armor, and the surrounding rebels swarmed around him, kneeling on one knee: "Welcome, New Khan!"

The Minister of War—now the New Khan—pointed at Baxia and sternly declared, "Baxia! Today is your death day!"

Baxia wiped the blood from his face, suddenly grinning. His laughter was filled with arrogance. "Just you? I, Baxia, have never wanted the position of Khan in my life! Do you think you can kill me with a mob of rabble and a rat who poisons people?"

As his voice fell, a black shadow suddenly shot out from the white smoke, its short knife aimed directly at Baxia's back! The shadow moved with incredible speed, and the Blood Essence fluctuations emanating from it carried the aura of a Heavenly Gang Realm Grandmaster Warrior!

Baxia let out a cold snort. Without turning around, he threw a punch backward.

Black energy collided with the shadow's short knife with a crisp "ding." The shadow was forced back a few steps, revealing a Night Raven Mask.

"Mystic Shadow?" Baxia raised an eyebrow, his eyes filled with disdain. "I didn't expect you to sell your life for power. What, do you think the two of you can defeat me?"

He flexed his wrists. Although the black energy on his body had faded slightly, its fierce aura had not diminished at all, even growing stronger than before. "Let me tell you, even if I'm poisoned today, even if the two of you attack me together, you still won't win! Because the gap between you and me is like that between ants and dragons; we are not on the same level!"

Lin Zhao, below the stands,'s eyes lit up—this was a rare Grandmaster Warrior duel!

Even watching from his corner, he could feel the terrifying collision of Blood Essence in the arena, his heart pounding.