89: Chapter 89 Third-Rank Grandmaster!

His gaze cut through the surging crowd and landed precisely on the young man in the corner who was carrying a long, black cloth bag on his back.

Then, he lifted his foot and walked over.

The people from the Duan Shui Sect surrounded him like stars orbiting the moon, aggressively parting the crowd as they headed straight toward the corner where the Longxing Sect was located.

The surrounding Martial Artists hurriedly made way, whispering to each other, their interest in watching the spectacle instantly ignited.

"Look! It's Soul-Severing Sword Nie Shu!"

"He's going to cause trouble for that group from the Longxing Sect!"

"There's going to be a good show!"

Uncle Song's body instantly tensed, and he subconsciously stepped in front of Chen Fan, his face full of wariness.

Nie Shu stopped three steps away from the Longxing Sect group, a look of undisguised mockery and contempt hanging on his handsome face.

"I was wondering which stray dog was hiding in the corner, too afraid to show its face."

His voice was neither loud nor soft, yet it clearly reached the ears of everyone around.

"So it was you, Brother Chen."

He deliberately emphasized the words "Brother Chen," the mocking tone self-evident.

"What's the matter? Your wounds haven't even healed properly, yet you're in such a rush to come to Tianchi Mountain to embarrass yourself?"

Uncle Song trembled with rage, his face turning the color of pig liver. "Nie Shu! Don't you dare go too far!"

Nie Shu didn't even glance at him, as if he were merely air.

"Going too far?" He sneered, continuing to stare at Chen Fan. "I'm just curious, where does a piece of trash who can barely hold a sword get the courage to stand here?"

He glanced at Uncle Song, and his tone shifted, becoming even more biting.

"Oh, I forgot. Like master, like Disciple. It's only natural for people from a backwater place like Yanzhou to be thick-skinned."

"You!" Uncle Song's blood boiled, and he nearly drew his sword.

"Junior Martial Uncle."

A hand gently pressed down on his arm.

Chen Fan walked out from behind Uncle Song and met Nie Shu's gaze calmly.

"Brother Nie, you jest."

His reaction was beyond everyone's expectations. No anger, no agitation; he was as calm as a deep pool of water.

"Some people use their swords on the arena, fair and square," Chen Fan said slowly. "Others, however, prefer to use their swords in the gutter, specializing in shameful, underhanded deeds."

"It seems Brother Nie has a particular fondness for the scenery in the gutter."

Once these words were spoken, the entire venue went silent for a moment, followed by an irrepressible burst of laughter.

Nie Shu's handsome face twisted instantly.

Chen Fan's words didn't contain a single curse, yet they were more piercing than any vicious insult.

His most proud scheme was laid bare by his opponent in front of every Martial Artist in the world, nailed to the pillar of shame in the "gutter."

"You're courting death!"

A bone-chilling killing intent erupted from Nie Shu. The long sword at his waist let out an overwhelmed hum.

Chen Fan was completely unfazed, merely looking at him indifferently.

"What? Did I hit a sore spot?"

"Or is that how the Duan Shui Sect's sword techniques are used? If you can't win, you play dirty tricks. And when someone calls you out, you want to silence them?"

"You!" Nie Shu's chest heaved violently with rage, and he nearly drew his sword on the spot.

"I'll be waiting." Chen Fan calmly spat out the three words.

"Good! Very good!" Nie Shu laughed in extreme anger. He stared fixedly at Chen Fan and said, word by word, "You've got guts! I hope that later on the arena, your bones are half as hard as your mouth!"

"If you dare to step onto the arena, I will kill you!"

After throwing down this threat, Nie Shu flicked his sleeves violently and left with his people without looking back.

Just at this moment.

Dong—!

A distant and heavy bell toll came from the top of Tianchi Mountain, instantly suppressing all the noise in the square.

It was as if the sound of the bell was not striking a bronze bell, but directly striking everyone's heart.

The clamor of tens of thousands of people in the square was instantly choked off by an invisible giant hand, coming to an abrupt halt.

An indescribable pressure descended from the sky.

It was not Internal Energy, nor was it Aura; it was a higher-level sense of oppression, like the might of Heaven itself.

Martial Artists with weaker strength felt their chests tighten and breathing become difficult, with some even having the urge to kneel and worship.

Chen Fan's heart also contracted sharply.

He could clearly feel that the world around him seemed to have frozen.

A figure had appeared on the central main arena, though no one knew when.

It was an old man wearing a cyan Daoist robe with white hair and a white beard. He held a horsetail whisk, possessing an ethereal, immortal demeanor, and just by standing there quietly, he became the center of the entire world.

He did not release any Aura, but everyone felt that they were as insignificant as a grain of dust before him.

Is this... a Grandmaster?

Chen Fan's mind went completely blank.

This pressure was more terrifying than any life-or-death crisis he had ever experienced.

"It's... it's Deputy Alliance Master Daoist Priest Qingxuan of the Righteous Alliance!" Uncle Song's voice carried a trace of imperceptible trembling and reverence.

"Third-Rank, Great Grandmaster!"

Daoist Priest Qingxuan surveyed the entire venue. He said nothing, but everyone felt that their entire being was being seen clearly.

"The annual Sword Testing Conference."

His voice sounded—not loud, yet it echoed clearly in everyone's ears, carrying an unquestionable majesty.

"The rules remain the same."

Uncle Song whispered to Chen Fan from the side, "On the path of martial arts, the ninth rank is the entry level, and the fourth rank is a hurdle."

"Below the fourth rank, everyone is mortal. Even a fourth-rank expert has a Lifespan of no more than one hundred and fifty years."

"But once one steps into the third rank, it is like a fish leaping over the dragon gate, undergoing a rebirth! Not only will strength undergo a qualitative leap, but Lifespan will also increase significantly!"

Uncle Song's face was full of longing.

"And a Grandmaster, at the third-rank realm, has a Lifespan of five sixty-year cycles!"

Five sixty-year cycles!

Chen Fan's heart gave a fierce jolt.

One sixty-year cycle is sixty years; five cycles is a full three hundred years!

Three hundred years old...

This can no longer be called a human.

This is clearly a terrestrial immortal!

Chen Fan finally understood how great the gap between above the fourth rank and below the fourth rank really was. It was no longer a quantitative accumulation, but a leap in the level of life.

On the arena, Daoist Priest Qingxuan gently flicked the horsetail whisk in his hand.

"The Sword Testing Conference, now—"

"Begin!"

With Daoist Priest Qingxuan's command, the drums sounded, rumbling, and the entire venue instantly boiled over.

The crowd cheered one after another, welcoming the start of the conference.

Soon, the first Martial Artist of the Sword Testing Conference stepped onto the martial arts platform.

"I am Little Overlord, and today, here, I ask the heroes of the world: who dares to come on stage and fight!?"