"Ye Chen, Champion King is formidable, and this battle is perilous. Even with my strength, I'm not guaranteed victory. If we fail, as my supporter, your fate will be grim. So, think carefully about whether you want to fight. If you choose to leave, I won't blame you," Li Feihuang said earnestly after a moment's hesitation.

Ye Chen raised an eyebrow.

Leave? I've come this far. The month-long journey would be a waste if he backed out now. Besides, Champion King? He'd seen the recording stone. Impressive, sure, but to Ye Chen, he was nothing special.

With a calm expression, Ye Chen replied succinctly, "What joy is there in life, what sorrow in death? Having chosen to support Your Highness, I won't back down now."

…

Li Feihuang's eyes widened, ready to persuade him further. Facing Champion King in the arena—or surviving the fallout of defeat—could be a death sentence. Yet Ye Chen's words, "What joy is there in life, what sorrow in death?" showed he was willing to risk his life for her.

Moved beyond words, she couldn't hold back a promise: "If I defeat Champion King and become empress, Ye Chen, you'll be one of the most honored figures in the Great Chu Empire."

Ye Chen was unfazed by her pledge. Stay in Great Chu? Only a fool would. His sights were set far beyond.

The Wang Clan members, however, frowned. Li Feihuang's Moon Phoenix Body was formidable, capable of crushing peers, giving them hope she could rival Champion King. But this battle was tied to their clan's survival, and they didn't trust an outsider like Ye Chen.

If Li Feihuang won and became empress, the Wang Clan, having taken such risks, deserved the lion's share of rewards. Yet Ye Chen clearly held her trust more—a threat they couldn't accept.

The Wang Clan patriarch spoke up. "Your Highness, our clan's Wang Ming is powerful, a mid-Golden Core cultivator with combat strength far beyond his peers. For safety's sake, let Wang Ming take this Fellow Daoist's place."

Li Feihuang shook her head firmly. "Fellow Daoist Ye's strength is exceptional. There's no need for a replacement." She knew Ye Chen's capabilities—only slightly below her own. He'd trounced Wang Lun; Wang Ming wouldn't stand a chance.

Undeterred, the patriarch pressed on, his tone resolute. "Your Highness, our Wang Clan stands fearlessly behind you, defying Champion King's threats. We're betting three thousand years of our legacy and the lives of five thousand clansmen. Please, consider our loyalty and the fate of our clan."

His words made Li Feihuang frown. Meanwhile, Wang Lun's face darkened. Ye Chen's not just a gift-giving machine, he's a shameless bootlicker too? Spouting lines like "What joy in life, what sorrow in death"?

Disgusting. But then, a sly smile crept onto Wang Lun's face as he chimed in, "Your Highness, this battle decides the throne's fate—it's critical. Why not let Wang Ming and Fellow Daoist Ye spar? The winner fights, ensuring a higher chance of victory."

Hearing Wang Lun's suggestion and seeing the Wang Clan's expressions, Li Feihuang glanced at Ye Chen. She trusted his strength, but the Wang Clan was her only ally. She needed to reassure them.

Li Feihuang relented. "Very well, Fellow Daoist Ye, you'll spar for the spot."

Ye Chen nodded nonchalantly. Seeing her agree, the Wang Clan members exchanged pleased smiles. Soon, a towering figure, easily over two meters tall, strode into the hall. His muscular frame radiated raw power, exuding an oppressive aura. He bowed to Ye Chen.

The Wang Clan patriarch introduced him with a grin. "Wang Ming possesses a Yang Spirit Root and innate divine strength. He's destined to become a great asset to Your Highness."

Li Feihuang gave a noncommittal nod.

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The Wang Clan, as a major family, naturally had an arena. The group relocated there, and Ye Chen and Wang Ming stepped onto the platform as the array activated.

Li Feihuang paid little attention to the match. Ye Chen couldn't lose. Wang Lun, however, watched with anticipation. He'd secretly instructed Wang Ming to go for the kill—or at least cripple Ye Chen—claiming it was an accident afterward. Li Feihuang wouldn't pursue it, clearing the way for Wang Lun to woo her unimpeded while securing the Wang Clan's dominance.

…

The battle began.

Wang Ming loomed over Ye Chen, his eyes dripping with disdain. In the cultivation world, true powerhouses were invited as sect elders. Only the mediocre settled for guest elder roles. A mere guest elder dared obstruct the Wang Clan? He deserves death.

Without a word, Wang Ming lunged forward, his massive frame closing the distance in a flash. His blood energy surged, and he swung a fist at Ye Chen's head. The strike echoed with the roar of a divine elephant, terrifyingly powerful, as if it could shatter Ye Chen's skull in an instant.

Ye Chen frowned slightly but didn't move. A golden shield materialized before him, effortlessly blocking the blow without so much as a ripple.

Wang Ming's eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed with colder intent. "Divine Elephant Transformation!" His muscles bulged further, lightning crackling around him. Each punch now carried thunder and elephant roars, as if capable of rending the heavens. The sheer force was staggering.

Beside Li Feihuang, the Wang patriarch nodded proudly. "Wang Ming's not just naturally strong. He consumed a Divine Elephant Fruit, and our clan secured him the Earth-grade Divine Elephant Scripture. Apart from his brother Wang Lun, he's peerless among his generation."

Li Feihuang nodded absently.

…

On the arena, despite Wang Ming's ferocious onslaught, his earth-shaking fists couldn't breach Ye Chen's shield. Ye Chen stood with hands behind his back, unmoving, gazing at Wang Ming calmly. "You want to kill me?"

Every strike from Wang Ming targeted vital points, brimming with murderous intent. Frustrated after failing to even graze Ye Chen, Wang Ming's blood energy exploded again, his punches conjuring faint elephant silhouettes. The impacts reverberated beyond the arena, shaking the Wang residence. He transmitted coldly, "Of course I'll kill you—rip your body apart."

Ye Chen smiled.

The shield vanished. Wang Ming, thinking Ye Chen had faltered, unleashed a killing blow. Ye Chen still didn't move, casually raising a hand to throw a relaxed punch.

Wang Lun sneered from below. Even I wouldn't dare clash physically with Wang Ming. Ye Chen's courting death.

Li Feihuang frowned, wondering if Ye Chen was overconfident.

The next moment, everyone's eyes widened in shock.

Ye Chen's casual, almost leisurely punch unleashed a dragon silhouette. The instant it appeared, Wang Ming's surging blood energy was forced back into his body. The divine elephant phantom, poised to roar, shattered instantly.

As their fists collided, terror flashed in Wang Ming's eyes. His muscular, mountain-like body exploded into a mist of blood, sent flying backward.

The Wang Clan patriarch and others below gaped in disbelief. Li Feihuang frowned slightly. Was Ye Chen's attack too ruthless?

On the arena, Ye Chen glanced at Wang Ming, half his body reduced to blood mist, and raised an eyebrow in mild surprise. Still alive? A faint glow of potent vitality emanated from Wang Ming's chest, barely preserving his organs. Clearly, he had some fortunate encounter.

But Ye Chen's lips curled into a smirk. For the first time, he moved, his body drifting like a breeze to hover above the still-flying Wang Ming.

The Wang Clan's eyes turned bloodshot. The patriarch erupted with aura, charging toward the arena. "Stop!"

Li Feihuang's frown deepened. Ye Chen intends to finish him off? Regardless of intent, the Wang Clan was her supporter. Killing their prodigy outright would cause significant issues, especially when her priority was the throne contest. Ye Chen was being reckless, disregarding the bigger picture.

She spoke up. "The match is decided, Ye Chen. Stop."

The Wang Clan's roars and Li Feihuang's command reached Ye Chen's ears, but his hand didn't waver. Under Wang Ming's horrified gaze, he smashed down a fist. Wang Ming's head exploded, and the spark of vitality in his chest snuffed out.

Wang Ming was dead, killed in the Wang Clan's own arena.

The Wang Clan's fury boiled over, their glares at Ye Chen dripping with murderous intent. Li Feihuang's eyes flared with anger.

Amid the crowd's stares, Ye Chen, in his pristine green robe, untouched by blood, turned with a carefree smile. "My apologies—my hand slipped."

Silence gripped the hall. Who couldn't see it was intentional?

The Wang Clan patriarch trembled with rage. As a late Golden Core cultivator, he yearned to charge forward, but the aura of Ye Chen's punch sent chills through him. Wang Lun paled, lacking the courage to confront Ye Chen.

They turned to Li Feihuang. "Your Highness, this man killed our clan's prodigy in a mere spar! Our Wang Clan has been loyal, striving to ease your burdens. Please, deliver justice!"

Li Feihuang's phoenix-like eyes narrowed, her commanding presence tinged with fury as she fixed on Ye Chen. "Why did you kill him? You owe me an explanation!"

Ye Chen chuckled softly, his body rising to float in the air, hands clasped behind him as he gazed down at the crowd. "I, Ye Chen, act as I please. Why should I explain myself to anyone?"

His words stunned the room into silence. Li Feihuang's eyes widened in disbelief.

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