Chapter 85

Zheng Biao had been watching the commotion from the side, feeling a great sense of satisfaction as he saw Chang Jingwang and his group getting a good beating. However, when he saw Yun Yong suddenly appear, holding a large wooden club taller than himself and charging towards him, he was terrified, his heart almost stopping. He shouted loudly, “Damn big idiot, are you blind? I haven't even made a move; I'm just here to watch the show, a mere onlooker—”

Several disciples of the Changkong Sword Sect shot him looks that could kill.

Zheng Biao's heart turned cold, and he bitterly smiled to himself: "I've offended these ancestors—"

Yun Yong didn't care about the ins and outs of the situation. Knowing that these people were causing trouble, he decided to strike first, especially with that banner they were holding, which really pissed him off.

The Changkong Sword Sect disciples were stunned by Yun Yong's impressive physique and imposing presence. They thought to themselves, "Is this the little Taoist who beat up Zheng Biao? That body, even adults would be envious. Is he really seven or eight years old? With that beard, he must be around twenty-seven or twenty-eight, right?"

With the precedent set by Ye Qingxuan and the little Taoist who had just acted, they dared not make a move, all on high alert.

Yun Yong, holding the large wooden club in one hand, shouted loudly, “Die—”

“Yun Yong, get back here—” a loud voice bellowed, and Yun Yong, who had suddenly stopped, almost fell flat on his face.

“But, Little Uncle, I—”

“Shut up, get back within three meters—”

Yun Yong reluctantly shouted, swinging the large wooden club several times, the wind whistling through the air like thunder. The Changkong Sword Sect disciples gulped, feeling a sense of helplessness.

These Qingyun Temple Taoists are all monsters...

Yun Yong walked back dejectedly, turning to shout at the Changkong Sword Sect disciples, “I am Yun Yong of Qingyun Temple. Next time you want to fight, call me by name. Those who don’t dare to respond are cowards—”

“Get back here, damn it!”

“Yes, Little Uncle—”

Yun Yong slung the large wooden club over his shoulder and ran back obediently.

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The competition between Qingyun Temple and the Changkong Sword Sect was essentially over, but the square became even more chaotic. The crowd, eager to get a closer look at the victorious little Taoist from Qingyun Temple, surged forward, the noise and commotion rising.

“Brother, brother...”

Two young siblings were frantically searching for their lost little brother... They had been so engrossed in the spectacle that in the blink of an eye, their four-year-old brother had been separated from them in the crowd. They called out anxiously, but their voices were drowned out by the roaring crowd.

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Chang Jingfan felt a deep sense of regret. Turning his head, he saw several of the Zheng family's guards still holding the banner that read "Wu Hui Qingyun." Remembering their arrogance when they first arrived, he felt an overwhelming sense of shame and anger. He shouted, “Are you fools? Haven't you taken it down yet—”

Thinking of Chang Jingwang, the organizer, made him even angrier. His face turned ashen as he glared at the dispirited Chang Jingwang. If looks could kill, Chang Jingwang would have been torn to pieces a thousand times over.

Although he didn't want to admit defeat, Chang Jingfan would never make such a foolish move in public.

Chang Jingwang, the fool, not only led their side to defeat but also lost all dignity, lacking the grace of a disciple from a prestigious sect. This loss not only made them a laughingstock, but his fellow disciples resented him deeply, and the Changkong Sword Sect's reputation would likely suffer as a result...

Damn—how could I have been so foolish as to listen to this idiot's advice?

Chang Jingwang—useless and troublemaker...

“Jingwang, get back here—”

Chang Jingwang, nearly in a state of mental breakdown, was stunned by the scolding, and then a wave of regret washed over him.

Chang Jingwang regretted—

Why did I meddle so much? Why did I get involved in this?

Chang Jingwang was filled with rage—

It's his fault, damn Zheng Biao. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't have been in this situation...

It's his fault, damn Chang Jingfan. If it weren't for his boasting about his martial arts, I wouldn't have believed we would win...

It's his fault, damn that little Taoist Ye Qingxuan. If it weren't for his intervention, everything would have been different...

Chang Jingwang, filled with overwhelming anger, walked back to his group in a daze, silent like a volcano about to erupt. He had not only failed to bring down Qingyun Temple and showcase his talent but had also earned the resentment of his own side. His heart was filled with hatred, unable to release it.

As he walked, a small figure suddenly darted in front of him, blocking his path. Chang Jingwang, eager to vent his anger, kicked out, “Get out of the way—”

Pang—

Ah—

A young, innocent cry echoed as the small figure flew into the air.

The world seemed to pause for a moment...

“Zhi'er...” a pained cry, and two figures suddenly flew towards the falling child.

The small figure that Chang Jingwang had kicked was the youngest boy from the acrobat family. Separated from the crowd, he had seen his parents across the street and ran over in excitement, only to encounter Chang Jingwang.

The boy was clearly severely injured. His face was pale, his mouth full of blood, but he still clung to his parents' hands, weakly saying, “Dad, Mom... Little Three, it hurts...” His voice trailed off as he fainted from the pain.

“Zhi'er—” the woman cried out in anguish, holding the child and shouting uncontrollably.

Seeing that he had kicked a child, Chang Jingwang felt no remorse but instead shouted, “Damn, a good dog doesn't block the way...”

“Beast—” the tall man suddenly turned, his face twisted in rage, his eyes filled with murderous intent. He roared, “I'll kill you—” and lunged at Chang Jingwang, his palm striking with immense force.

Chang Jingwang, never expecting an acrobat to have such astonishing skills, tried to dodge but was too late. He raised his arms to block the incoming palm, but someone grabbed him from behind and threw him back. At the last moment, he narrowly avoided the man's powerful strike, but his arms were still hit by the force, breaking with a crack. He was sent flying into the air by the explosive internal power.

If he hadn't been thrown back, the strike would have broken more than just his arms, but his entire chest. Chang Jingwang's life was saved, but at the cost of his arms.

Chang Jingfan saved Chang Jingwang's life in the critical moment. Although he hated him, he couldn't allow an outsider to kill a fellow disciple, especially one from the same sect, no matter how much of a scoundrel he was.

This was a matter of the Changkong Sword Sect's honor, and Chang Jingfan couldn't stand by and watch. If he did, his future in the sect would be over.

But this Chang Jingwang was truly a scoundrel, capable of attracting all sorts of trouble.

Chang Jingwang was sent flying, spinning through the air. His scream was cut short as he saw a large figure charging at him, shouting, “Fierce—Tiger—Descends—Mountain—”

In mid-air, Chang Jingwang had no chance to dodge.

Pang—

The double palm strike hit him in the lower abdomen and between his legs, causing intense pain in his dantian and lower body. The world seemed to shake, and he blacked out, flying sideways and spitting foam as he lost consciousness.

Chang Jingfan's eyes turned red with rage. He couldn't hold back any longer and shouted, “Harming my fellow disciple, you deserve death—”

With a command, several Changkong Sword Sect disciples drew their swords and charged at the acrobat family and the fat man who had struck Chang Jingwang.

“Little Uncle, look—it's Yun Zhong—”

With his glasses, Yun Cong had excellent eyesight. He had been watching Yun Yong walk back and saw everything happening in the square. He immediately recognized the fat man who had severely injured Chang Jingwang as Qian Yunzhong.

Yun Cong's call brought Ye Qingxuan, who was halfway through the temple gate, back.

Turning around, he saw the small boy lying on the ground, covered in blood; the mother holding the child in pain; several martial artists being cut down by Changkong Sword Sect disciples; and Qian Yunzhong being relentlessly pursued and trying to escape.

A surge of anger rose in Ye Qingxuan's mind, and his vision turned red. He shouted, “You dare to harm someone outside my temple? None of you will leave—”

The Qingyun Temple disciples were momentarily stunned.

“What are you waiting for? Get your weapons and attack—”

Good—over a dozen Qingyun Temple disciples responded in unison, charging at the Changkong Sword Sect disciples like tigers out of a cage.

“Hahaha... Just what I wanted—everyone, get out of the way, the strongest one is for me—”

Ma Yunyong, finally getting his wish, swung his large wooden club, blocking several charging fellow disciples. With a roar, he charged forward.

The fellow disciples who almost got hit by the club cursed Ma Yunyong but could do nothing as he ran out.

Unfortunately, the one leading the charge was not Yun Yong but Yun Cong...

Yun Cong was not far from Yun Yong, and the swing of the club did not stop him. Yun Cong was too short, and Ma Yunyong's powerful swing, forgetting to consider Yun Cong's height, missed him entirely, passing just above his head.

“Damn... Yun Cong, don't steal my business...”

Yun Cong cursed the fool in his mind. At this moment, who would think of fighting instead of saving the child...

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