First Encounter

However, amid the chaotic battle, two figures stood out conspicuously.

They were the two leading men in tight-fitting attire, their long blades swinging like lightning with every strike, each blow carrying the force of thunderous might, devastating in power.

Moreover, their techniques were ruthless and precise; every slash found the vital points of the Prince's Estate guards, snatching away a life in an instant.

Clearly, the strength of these two men in tight-fitting attire far surpassed ordinary people—they were definitely Houtian-level Grandmaster experts!

Such masters, even across all of Great Yan, were beings capable of founding their own sects!

Just as the fierce clash reached its peak, a figure streaked through like lightning, moving so fast that no one could react in time.

"Clang!" Two metallic clashes exploded as the newcomer's long sword collided with the weapons of the two Houtian Grandmasters, sparks flying everywhere.

In the blink of an eye, all three figures simultaneously leaped backward.

When they landed, the blue brick ground bore footprints of varying depths, stomped into existence by sheer force!

Only after the newcomer fully settled did the onlookers make out his appearance.

He was merely a middle-aged man in coarse linen clothes, his face utterly ordinary, like any commoner from the marketplace—nothing remarkable about him.

Yet beneath that unremarkable exterior lay a pair of eyes as calm as an ancient well, their depths faintly concealing a chilling sharpness that stirred unease.

It was Wang Cang, the one Mu Bai called Uncle Cang!

"Houtian Grandmaster?! Who are you!" The burly man on the left narrowed his eyes sharply, his fingers gripping the sword hilt turning white from excessive force.

They were servants of the Langya Family, well aware that two Houtian Grandmaster-level martial artists had already fallen here at the Carefree Prince's Estate.

And at this moment, they could almost be certain that this inconspicuous middle-aged man was likely the culprit.

Wang Cang held his long sword horizontally before his chest, the dark patterns on the blade faintly visible under the shifting light and shadow.

His voice was exceptionally calm, like still water, devoid of any ripple: "I am Wang Cang, merely an insignificant nobody under the Carefree Prince."

The Prince's Estate guards stood frozen in place, their weapons trembling slightly.

Three days ago, this same middle-aged man had carried two jars of Shao Daozi, earning their willing shouts of "Brother Cang" as they sat in the back kitchen drinking and arm-wrestling.

Now, seeing the faint aura of true energy around him and recalling how he always claimed to be "old and frail, unable to lift a sword," they felt their throats tighten.

"Clatter!" The burly man on the right suddenly shook his numb wrist, the blade scraping a harsh sound against the ground: "So what if he's a Houtian Grandmaster? No one can save Mu Rongyi today!"

Before his words faded, he lunged forward, his blade transforming into a sky full of icy stars.

Wang Cang lightly tapped his toes, his figure darting like a ghost through the rain of blades.

His long sword slid three inches from its sheath, the tip flickering with cold light; seemingly casual thrusts precisely sealed off all of his opponent's attack routes.

In the span of a breath, they had exchanged over thirty moves, the surrounding guards unable to track the trajectories of sword and blade, only hearing the dense clashing like rain pounding on tiles.

Just then.

"Stop!" A clear voice rang out from not far away, as twelve lightly armored martial artists marched out in orderly steps.

The two at the lead concealed their aura yet harbored hidden sharpness, unmistakably Houtian Grandmaster-level experts as well.

The middle-aged man walking slowly in the center wore a dark brocade robe, a jade pendant swaying at his waist with each step—it was the Carefree Prince, Mu Rongyi.

"Greetings, Your Highness!" Wang Cang sheathed his long sword and knelt on one knee.

His aura instantly receded, reverting to that humble servant's demeanor, as if the fierce warrior who had just clashed with a Houtian Grandmaster was not him.

At this moment, the two men in tight-fitting attire from the Langya Family exchanged glances, their shock beyond words.

They had originally believed that the two Houtian Grandmasters who fell here earlier must have been careless and fallen into some trap set by the Carefree Prince's Estate, thus holding the estate in low regard.

Coming here this time, they even carried a hint of contempt, thinking capturing the Carefree Prince's Estate would be a simple task.

But the scene before them completely overturned their understanding.

Including Wang Cang, who had just fought, the Carefree Prince commanded three Houtian-level Grandmasters!

After all, Houtian martial artists numbered only a few dozen across all of Great Yan, each capable of founding a sect—true martial arts Grandmasters.

In the entire Great Yan martial world, the appearance of any single Houtian Grandmaster would stir a massive uproar, yet the Carefree Prince now possessed three—this power was beyond imagination.

Wang Cang's presence had already shocked them, and now two more equally terrifying existences emerged, causing their wariness to surge wildly.

Cold sweat trickled down their spines, soaking the fabric of their backs. They suddenly realized they had underestimated the Carefree Prince's Estate's strength, stepping into an extremely dangerous situation.

The burly man on the right gripped his long blade, his Adam's apple bobbing, his voice trembling involuntarily: "Carefree Prince, you've been hiding deep."

His words carried a trace of fear, though a stubborn glint lingered in his eyes.

The Carefree Prince curled his lips into a meaningful smile, his gaze sweeping over the two like a hawk: "Both of you traveled far, thinking my estate is a soft persimmon for anyone to squeeze?"

The mockery in his words struck like a sharp blade, stinging their hearts.

The burly man on the left suppressed his fear and said in a low voice: "So what if you have three Houtian Grandmasters? We two are also at that level—you won't defeat us easily!"

Yet, though his words were tough, his confidence was clearly lacking.

His voice quivered, and the hand gripping his long blade shook slightly, betraying his inner turmoil.

The two Grandmasters behind the Carefree Prince simultaneously stepped forward, their auras erupting abruptly, the air itself seeming to freeze.

An invisible pressure bore down, and the two Langya men felt their breathing grow labored, as if a giant hand named fear had clamped tightly around their throats.

The two members of the Langya Family knew full well that, given their current predicament, facing such a terrifying lineup left them with almost no chance of victory.

But as members of the Langya Family, they absolutely could not retreat easily, their hearts filled with conflict and struggle.

"Seize them, dead or alive!"

The Carefree Prince raised his hand slightly and spoke coldly.

Just at this critical moment, a Buddhist chant rang out from beyond the courtyard, drawing near from afar.

"Amitabha."