68: When I'm speaking, trash shouldn't interrupt.

Two hundred miles of wasteland isn't far for a Martial Artist.

But the wasteland within the ruins was fraught with danger.

Ruin Beasts were merely the most basic threat; the truly fatal ones were the ancient traps lurking in the shadows, fragmented Formations, and... hunting teams from other countries.

Lin Fan led the team at a pace that wasn't particularly fast.

On his shoulder, a miniature Qiongqi yawned lazily, but its crimson vertical pupils scanned the surroundings constantly, occasionally letting out a low, warning growl.

"God Fan, three miles ahead, there are energy fluctuations." Wang Xiaoming held the Dragon-Seeking Compass and lowered his voice. "It's very subtle, but persistent... like some kind of protective Formation."

Lin Fan looked up.

On the horizon, the faint outline of a cluster of buildings could be seen.

Different from the grand white jade of the Sword Palace, these buildings appeared more ancient and weathered, mostly constructed from blue-gray giant stones. Many had already collapsed, but several halls in the core area were still enveloped in a layer of pale green light.

"That's the place." Lin Fan cross-referenced the map he had snatched from Lancelot. "The second point marked by the Sanctuary—suspected to be the ruins of an ancient Pill Sect."

A Pill Sect!

Everyone's eyes lit up.

In the world of martial arts, the importance of a Medicinal Pill went without saying.

Healing, breaking through realms, Body Tempering, extending life... a high-grade Medicinal Pill was sometimes more precious than an Earth Rank Martial Skill!

And how many good things would be hidden inside the ruins of an ancient Pill Sect?

"Speed up." Lin Fan licked his lips. "Don't let others beat us to it."

The team quietly picked up the pace.

However, just as they were less than a mile from the ruins...

Boom!

A violent explosion suddenly erupted from the direction of the ruins!

Following that was the clanging of weapons clashing, the roar of Martial Skills colliding, and... angry curses and screams!

"Someone's fighting!" Wang Xiaoming's expression changed.

Lin Fan narrowed his eyes and signaled for the team to stop, hiding behind a stretch of broken walls and debris.

He leaped onto a high section of a broken wall and looked toward the ruins.

At the entrance of the ruins, a corner of that pale green protective light shield had already been shattered.

Outside the shield, three groups of people were in a chaotic battle!

One side consisted of Japanese Martial Artists dressed in black samurai attire with long and short twin blades at their waists. There were about a dozen of them, their blade techniques sharp and eerie, their auras cold.

Another side was Middle Eastern Martial Artists wearing white robes and wielding scimitars, with fierce auras. Their numbers were slightly higher, and their blade techniques were bold and unconstrained, filled with the wild aura of the desert.

As for the third party... Lin Fan's pupils constricted slightly.

They were Martial Artists wearing blood-colored robes and ghost masks on their faces!

There weren't many, only six, but each had an eerie aura and struck ruthlessly. They were actually fighting one against two, simultaneously taking on both the Japanese and Middle Eastern sides without falling into a disadvantage!

"Ghost Mask Men..." Su Muyu appeared beside Lin Fan at some point and whispered, "They are people from the Blood God Temple."

"Blood God Temple?" Lin Fan raised an eyebrow.

"An international underground organization. They act secretively and use cruel methods, specifically hunting Geniuses from various countries to snatch Legacies and resources."

Qin Yue also walked over, her expression grave. "They rarely operate in the open. For them to appear directly in the ruins this time... I'm afraid there's a conspiracy."

Lin Fan looked at those six Ghost Mask Men.

Their Martial Skills were very strange. When they struck, they carried a thick scent of blood, and blood-red light flickered between their Moves. Martial Artists wounded by them would have their wounds rot quickly, and their vital energy and blood would drain extremely fast.

"Interesting." Lin Fan rubbed his chin.

At this moment, the battle in the field became increasingly intense.

"Baka! Scum of the Blood God Temple! This ruin was first discovered by our Great Japanese Empire!" a Japanese swordsman roared, his long blade slashing out a sky full of blade shadows.

"Humph! In an ownerless land, the strong take all!" a burly Middle Eastern man grinned hideously, his scimitar turning into a blood moon as it cleaved toward a Ghost Mask Man.

That Ghost Mask Man didn't dodge or avoid it. He simply raised his right hand, curled his fingers into a claw, and... fiercely grabbed the blood moon blade light!

Screech!

The blood moon blade light was actually crushed by him with brute force!

Immediately after, his figure flashed like a phantom in front of the burly Middle Eastern man, and a claw lunged toward his chest!

"Watch out!" his companions cried out in alarm.

The burly Middle Eastern man's face changed drastically. He wanted to retreat, but it was already too late.

Puchi!

The ghost claw pierced through his Protective Aura and lunged straight into his chest!

"Ugh, ah!" The burly man let out a shrill scream.

The Ghost Mask Man twisted his wrist, and a heart that was still beating was ripped out by him!

Then, under everyone's horrified gaze... he opened his mouth and stuffed that heart into it.

Chewing.

Swallowing.

"Tastes not bad." The Ghost Mask Man licked the blood from the corner of his mouth, his eyes under the mask crimson like blood.

"Monster!!!" The Japanese and Middle Eastern Martial Artists turned pale and instinctively retreated.

"The Heart-Devouring Demonic Technique of the Blood God Temple..." Qin Yue said in a low voice. "They feed on the hearts of Martial Artists. Their cultivation speed is extremely fast, but they gradually lose their humanity and turn into monsters that only know how to slaughter."

Lin Fan looked at the Ghost Mask Man who had consumed the heart, his gaze gradually turning cold.

"This kind of thing deserves to be called a Martial Artist?"

He took a step out from the ruins.

"Hey."

The voice wasn't loud, but it spread clearly across the entire battlefield.

The three parties in the chaotic battle all froze simultaneously.

Everyone turned their heads to look at Lin Fan.

A Japanese swordsman grinned hideously. "If you don't want to die, get lost!"

Lin Fan ignored him.

He looked at those six Ghost Mask Men and pointed his finger:

"You lot, from the Blood God Temple?"

The leading Ghost Mask Man, who had just consumed the heart, looked at Lin Fan with crimson eyes, his voice raspy like sandpaper rubbing together:

"Lin Fan?"

"It seems you know me." Lin Fan grinned.

"Of course I know." The Ghost Mask Man licked his lips. "Your heart... must taste very good."

"Is that so?" Lin Fan nodded. "Then you can try."

He raised his hand and crooked his finger at the Ghost Mask Man.

"Come."

"Let me see, you heart-eating trash..."

"How much weight you carry."

[Ding! Faced with a three-way chaotic battle, directly provoking the most ferocious Blood God Temple, prestige value +3000!]

[Current prestige value: 90,570 points!]

...Dead silence.

The Japanese and Middle Eastern Martial Artists were all stunned.

Is this kid... crazy?

Didn't he see that Middle Eastern burly man having his heart ripped out alive just now?

He actually dared to take the initiative to provoke the Blood God Temple?!

"Courting death!" a Japanese swordsman sneered. "Perfect, let the monsters of the Blood God Temple deal with you first, then we'll..."

Before he could finish his sentence.

Lin Fan moved.

He didn't rush toward the Ghost Mask Man.

Instead.

His figure flashed, appearing in front of the Japanese swordsman who was speaking.

He raised his hand.

Slap!

A loud ear-slapping sound!

The Japanese swordsman was sent spinning three times in mid-air, a mouthful of teeth mixed with blood spraying out as he crashed heavily onto the ground.

"When I'm speaking," Lin Fan shook his hand, "trash shouldn't interrupt."