Chapter 71: The Showdown
“No.”
Shen Jingxiao hadn’t expected that before he even stepped into the Emerald Bamboo Courtyard, he would be stopped by a few maids at the entrance—followed by Yu Chenyu’s cold and distant voice from within.
As the most powerful man under heaven, he was now barred from even stepping into his own wife’s backyard.
Though Shen Jingxiao was a man of deep composure, never showing joy or anger on his face, at this moment, displeasure rippled across his features. Beneath his wide sleeves, his fists clenched tightly.
Yet soon, he drew in a slow breath, calming his heart before speaking toward the figure hidden among the bamboo shadows.
“Whether you accept it or not, Shen Tian is our flesh and blood. These years of your indulgence toward Shen Yanzhou should come to an end.”
“You shouldn’t continue wasting affection on him.”
“At this point, we have no choice left.”
After finishing those words, he didn’t wait for Yu Chenyu’s response—he turned and left.
……
“Greetings, Your Highness.”
At the entrance to Shen Yanzhou’s courtyard, several guards saluted in unison.
Hearing the commotion, Ran Yi, who had been sitting idly within the pavilion, stood up.
Shen Jingxiao’s expression was as dark as still water. He stood at the gate for a moment before finally stepping inside—it was, in fact, the first time he had ever entered this courtyard.
In his heart, Shen Yanzhou was merely the lowly son of a courtesan. Even hearing the boy call him father always grated on his ears, feeling more like an insult.
Everything concerning Shen Yanzhou, he had left to the clan elders to handle, never willing to waste even the slightest energy or thought on him.
For so many years, it had always been this way—despicable, lowborn, useless…
Those were his only impressions of Shen Yanzhou: a wastrel relying on scraps of the influence he bestowed, leaning against the might of the Demon Suppression Prince’s Mansion, spending his days in drunken pleasure, stirring up trouble in the capital.
“Where is that unfilial son?” Shen Jingxiao asked coldly.
Ran Yi said nothing, only motioned with her eyes toward the tightly locked door.
The sword-bearing maid, Chunchao, standing at the door, suddenly felt a crushing pressure descend upon her. Her whole body trembled uncontrollably, and even the sword in her arms quivered, nearly slipping from her grasp.
A faint pallor spread across her delicate face, yet she didn’t move—not even half a step back. She still blocked the door.
“Won’t move aside?”
A chill rose in Shen Jingxiao’s heart, his once-calm voice carrying an edge of ice.
He had suffered humiliation at court earlier that day. Upon returning, Yu Chenyu refused to see him, barring him from the Emerald Bamboo Courtyard—and now even a sword-bearing maid by her side dared defy him?
“The Heir commanded that without his permission, no one may step inside.”
Chunchao met Shen Jingxiao’s eyes stubbornly, the sword in her arms humming as if ready to leave its sheath.
She knew well that the man before her was the world-renowned Demon Suppression King, the true master of this mansion.
And yet, she still chose to obey Shen Yanzhou’s order.
“Heh… this bastard grows bolder by the day. Has he forgotten who holds authority in this mansion?”
“Move aside.”
Shen Jingxiao’s gaze turned glacial. As a Second-Rank martial expert, he disdained to strike a mere maid—but a lesson was still in order.
Buzz!
The air vibrated as heaven and earth’s energy gathered. He raised his hand; the force condensed into a gust of wind, forming a palm imprint that swung toward Chunchao’s cheek.
But at that instant, the locked door suddenly opened. A slender hand reached out, grasping Chunchao’s thin arm and pulling her behind him.
From within, Shen Yanzhou stepped out—his voice laced with mockery.
“The great Demon Suppression King—so majestic indeed. To be humiliated in the Golden Luan Hall, only to return and vent his anger on a young girl.”
“No wonder my mother looks down on you, refusing to let you set foot in the Emerald Bamboo Courtyard.”
“You insolent brat…”
Shen Jingxiao’s face darkened. He hadn’t expected Shen Yanzhou to speak to him in such a manner. The timid, fearful boy who once cowered before him had utterly vanished.
“What now? Does the mighty Demon Suppression King intend to kill me?”
Shen Yanzhou met his gaze with a faint smile.
In a certain sense, this was their first true confrontation.
“Good… you don’t even call me father anymore. Truly a dog that can’t be raised properly.”
Shen Jingxiao’s tone returned to icy calm.
“Father?”
“Do you deserve the title?” Shen Yanzhou’s smile lingered.
“Unfilial beast—lower than an animal.”
Shen Jingxiao’s expression grew even colder.
The hand that had not withdrawn its strike gathered heaven and earth’s energy once more, forming a massive palm that descended toward Shen Yanzhou.
He wouldn’t kill him—but he would make him suffer.
From within the courtyard, Ran Yi shook her head ever so slightly, sighing.
What was the point? Why not just yield? He could still live as the Heir, bask in wealth and honor.
Given the current situation in the capital, the Demon Suppression King surely wouldn’t truly harm him; if anything, he’d compensate him for the “false Heir” identity.
After all… that was Shen Jingxiao’s way—he always made things look perfect to win hearts.
Chunchao knew Shen Yanzhou’s condition well. Having practiced only the Selfless Sword Heart, she possessed no true cultivation. If that palm landed, wouldn’t her bones be broken and tendons snapped? She’d be bedridden for months.
“My lord Heir…”
“Don’t push yourself,” Shen Yanzhou said quietly.
She instinctively tried to move him aside, but no matter how she strained, she couldn’t budge him—he stood as unshakable as a bronze wall.
Lifting her head, Chunchao suddenly found Shen Yanzhou before her strangely unfamiliar.
In the next moment, her eyes widened in disbelief.
That enormous palm, condensed from the energy of heaven and earth, was about to strike Shen Yanzhou—but it vanished soundlessly, as if some invisible barrier before him had dissolved it completely.
The courtyard fell silent, the only sound the whisper of wind through birch leaves.
Not only Chunchao, even Ran Yi, who watched from the side, stood dumbfounded.
“Where did you gain such power?”
Shen Jingxiao’s expression shifted again and again—there was a trace of surprise in his eyes.
Even though that strike of his had been casual, it was not something an ordinary person could possibly withstand, much less dissolve so silently.
He had always ordered people to keep an eye on Shen Yanzhou’s movements, forbidding him from coming into contact with anything related to the Martial Path.
Yet now, Shen Yanzhou felt… different. Very different.
“Take a guess.”
Shen Yanzhou was still smiling faintly. The swirling wind of true force dispersed, not even stirring the corner of his robe.
“It seems that trip outside the capital brought you quite a few fortuitous encounters.”
Shen Jingxiao’s face darkened further.
At the side, Ran Yi could not help feeling bewildered and doubtful. She hadn’t sensed any fluctuation of energy when the Demon Suppression King’s palm strike dissipated—how had that happened?
Was it Shen Yanzhou’s own strength? Or someone secretly aiding him?
“Yes, I did gain a few chances,” Shen Yanzhou smiled, “and besides that, I also got rid of a rather troublesome fellow.”
Shen Jingxiao’s expression instantly turned ugly.
Now that Shen Yanzhou had admitted it himself, Shen Tian’s disappearance was undoubtedly tied to him.
Under the wide sleeve of his robe, Shen Jingxiao’s other hand suddenly produced a greenish-blue gu insect, its body like carved jade toad. Wisps of aura, like the Breath of the Netherworld, flowed across its surface, chilling to the bone.
However, when Shen Jingxiao attempted to activate the gu, intending to trigger the Nether Curse within Shen Yanzhou’s body, something unexpected occurred—the gu gave off a feeling of resistance.
In the past, he could clearly sense Shen Yanzhou’s physical condition through it. But now, that feeling of total control had become… blurred.
With a snap, a mass of filthy blood burst in his palm, splattering into drops of bluish fluid.
Shen Jingxiao’s face grew even gloomier—the Nether Curse had been silently dissolved by Shen Yanzhou.
“What’s wrong? Trying to control me with the Nether Curse? Feeling disappointed?” Shen Yanzhou asked with a faint smile, as if he knew exactly what Shen Jingxiao had just done.
“When did you discover it?”
“When did you remove it?”
Shen Jingxiao’s tone turned cold—he had laid his cards on the table. There was no need to pretend anymore. The two of them had already torn their last pretense of civility.
“Does that matter?” Shen Yanzhou replied.
“So, it must’ve been someone from the Southern Border who helped you. The Nether Curse isn’t easily broken—especially without me noticing anything.”
“You worked with those people from the Southern Border to plot against Shen Tian, luring him into Hidden Moon Mountain?” Shen Jingxiao had already guessed the truth, his expression turning even icier.
“That fool, compared to you, was simply brainless. A few words were enough to stir his emotions. He insisted on killing me and chased me all the way. Since he brought himself to my doorstep, how could I not oblige him?” Shen Yanzhou said with a faint smile.
Negative emotions from Shen Jingxiao +30 +40 +61…
Very good. As expected of you, Shen Jingxiao—you’re even more nourishing than Shen Tian, that pitiful leek.
The smile on Shen Yanzhou’s face deepened.
“Good. Very good.”
“Shen Yanzhou, you’re courting death.”
Shen Jingxiao’s voice was low and cold, his eyes sharp as ice.
For so many years, he had never been this furious—especially now, with that mocking smile on Shen Yanzhou’s face. For the first time in his life, he felt he had been played for a fool.
He had never once noticed anything abnormal about Shen Yanzhou.
And he had always treated him as a useless idiot.
“Courting death?”
Shen Yanzhou laughed indifferently, stepping forward from his room. With every step, the aura around him surged stronger and stronger.
By the time he reached the center of the courtyard, that mighty, torrential pressure—like the collapse of mountains and seas—forced Shen Jingxiao to take half a step back, eyes filled with disbelief.
“Shen Jingxiao, with your power alone—can you kill me?”
Shen Yanzhou asked again, the smile fading from his lips.
“Where did you get this strength?”
Shen Jingxiao’s face darkened. A subtle sense of danger crept into his heart—there was truly a power within Shen Yanzhou that could threaten him.
Ran Yi and Chunchao, standing within the courtyard, were both utterly stunned.
“If I were to use this power and kill you here, how great an uproar would sweep through the capital, do you think?”
“When you entered the capital to face the Emperor, I’m sure you didn’t dare to use your avatar. Since it’s your true body that stands before me, if you die, it’ll be your total annihilation—body and soul alike.”
“I really do want to give it a try.”
Shen Yanzhou’s gaze blazed, his eyes fixed on Shen Jingxiao, a radiant smile spreading across his lips.
“My lord Heir, don’t be rash.”
“If His Highness meets with an accident, you won’t be able to leave the capital alive either.”
Hearing this, Ran Yi—no longer caring about her confusion—hurriedly spoke up to dissuade him.
Chunchao, still holding her sword, stood there helpless and dazed. In her heart, she felt lost… When had Shen Yanzhou become so powerful? Where had such terrifying strength come from?
“You want to kill me?”
“What an unfilial, rebellious son.”
Shen Jingxiao’s eyes were icy as he glared at Shen Yanzhou, seemingly on the verge of laughing. He hadn’t expected this brat to be even more ruthless than he imagined.
He had only wanted to control his life and death—to teach him a lesson, not to kill him.
“Maybe I’ll just give it a try.”
Shen Yanzhou smiled.
In truth, his original plan had been to wait until Shen Jingxiao returned to the mansion, then feign weakness and develop secretly. After all, he could harvest negative emotions to increase his own power.
Given enough time, he could stand at the pinnacle of the world.
But Shen Jingxiao’s domineering attitude had made him realize that if he continued pretending to be a coward, he’d only sink deeper into humiliation. And that… was unbearable.
He had a system, and an “old master” and a “female sword immortal” by his side.
Why should Shen Jingxiao still dare act arrogant before him?
Thinking that, Shen Yanzhou suddenly felt that he’d been holding back too much. He should’ve claimed the title of “Successor of the Martial God” back at Hidden Moon Mountain.
A few more troubles would’ve been worth it.
Otherwise, the longer he endured, the more stifled his heart became.
“I’d like to see what tricks you have left, that make you bold enough to speak to me this way.”
Shen Jingxiao’s gaze turned glacial, killing intent rising.
In the next instant, his broad sleeves flared open.
The air trembled—winds roared, colors of azure and violet intertwined as the gathered energy of heaven and earth condensed into countless blades of light, slashing down toward Shen Yanzhou with thunderous roar.
“I want to see for myself what power a Second-Rank martial expert like you truly possesses.”
Shen Yanzhou raised his hand calmly, pressing down with his palm.
That overwhelming power, not his own, now filled his hand—enough to crush mountains with ease.
He struck forward. The sword-lights shattered instantly, unable to even approach him.
“Power that doesn’t belong to you is nothing more than rootless driftwood.”
Shen Jingxiao could tell—this strength was borrowed from elsewhere; it did not belong to Shen Yanzhou himself.
He gathered his fist-light, his body moving like thunder—vanishing from sight. In the next moment, he appeared behind Shen Yanzhou, his motion so fast it was like teleportation.
Though Shen Jingxiao carried a refined, scholarly air, his fist carried terrifying bloodlight, fierce and forceful enough to shatter mountains and crush peaks.
Boom!!!
Shen Yanzhou met it head-on with his own punch. At the same time, the Breath of Primordial Chaos within him surged violently—every Primordial Qi vortex within his body erupted, streaming the Breath of Primordial Chaos to envelop his fist.
This power might not have been his own—it came from the lingering will of the Martial God Lin Qingcang—but guided by his body’s instinct, it naturally drew upon the Breath of Primordial Chaos.