Under One Person: Feng Shui Master, I Will Protect the Mountains and Rivers with My Own Body

The summer sun in Jiangxi is quite scorching, especially in places like the martial arts training ground where there is no shade.

Just as Yan Sen had said, the battle on the field quickly came to an end.

A young man wielding a rope dart remained calm, barely even out of breath. With a flick of his wrist, he retracted the steel dart head into his sleeve, bowed slightly to his opponent, and turned to leave the arena.

On the other hand, the middle-aged man opposite him, who claimed to be a successor of the Chen-style Tongbei Quan, was now flushed, clutching his wrist which had been cut by the镖头 (镖头 is a person who has been slashed by a镖头), and was being supported by two disciples on either side of him. He was muttering inappropriately, "I'm not in good shape today... I haven't fed the pigeons at home yet, and I was thinking about them, so I got distracted. It's not a loss, it's not a loss..."

The audience booed, but no one actually called out his lame excuse.

Under the shade of the tree, Yan Sen leaned against the trunk, his legs crossed high, a straw in his mouth, watching the farce with a bored yawn.

"The next one to perform is—"

Liang Youyi stood in the center of the arena, his gaze sweeping over the crowd and landing precisely on the large tree beneath him. He gathered his strength in his dantian, and his voice, booming like a great bell, resounded throughout the arena: "Yan Sen, of the Earth-Walking Master lineage!"

The sidelines erupted in chaos.

"Yan Sen? Who's that?"

"A tomb raider? What's that? It sounds similar to those tomb raiders."

Most of the extraordinary individuals looked at each other, their eyes filled with confusion.

The circle of extraordinary individuals is neither too big nor too small. Apart from a few top sects and families, there are countless independent cultivators and small sects. Who has time to remember a name they've never heard of?

"Did you lose your ears? Or did you forget to bring them with you at the hotel?" A well-informed fat man next to him said with a look of disdain, "Didn't you hear what Grandpa Wang and Master Lü were saying? That guy carrying two little girls in is Yan Sen! I heard he's a big shot in front of the Celestial Master!"

"So what if you're a celebrity?" The Chen surname Tongbei Quan master next to him, who had just been dejectedly making excuses for his failure, sneered, looking like a rational and objective person.

"We're at Longhu Mountain right now. This Yan Sen is said to have ancestral ties to Longhu Mountain, which is why he was able to cultivate there. In the end, he's just a relative, and he hasn't even formally become an apprentice. Old Master Lü only praised him a few times out of respect for the Celestial Master. Look at his age, is he even fully grown yet? Even if he's a genius, what kind of achievements can he possibly attain if he starts practicing Qi from the womb?"

His arrogant attitude of being the only one sober in a world of drunks made many people who disliked him roll their eyes. Damn it, why didn't that guy with the rope darts beat him to death?

"Come on, Old Chen." Someone who knew this Mr. Chen immediately stepped in to expose him, "When you were his age, you hadn't even attained Qi yet. You couldn't even out-compete a dog while scavenging for scraps on the street. You've been practicing for years, but I've never heard Master Lü praise you once!"

"You!" Old Chen was so choked up that his face turned red and his neck bulged.

Yan Sen listened to the surrounding chatter, but he wasn't annoyed. Instead, he stretched and slowly stood up.

"Yes, sir!"

He straightened up, patted the dirt off his backside, put his hands in his pockets, and swayed as he walked to the center of the training ground.

His sleepy look made Zhang Zhiwei on stage twitch.

The Zhou Tian Grand Ceremony doesn't have many rules for sparring; there are no death contracts or rankings.

Since Yan Sen has been named, he is essentially the champion. Anyone who wants to test his mettle can simply raise their hand.

"Those of you who wish to come up on stage for a duel, please raise your hands now." Liang Youyi stood at the sidelines, his gaze sweeping over the crowd, a look of anticipation on his lips.

As soon as he finished speaking, a wave of arms shot up from the audience.

Just kidding. The high-ranking officials of the Celestial Master's Mansion are too much to handle, and the elites of the Lu, Wang, and Lü families dare not provoke them. Now, a nobody has finally come along. Isn't this a golden opportunity to make a name for yourself?

If they win, they will rise to power by stepping on the useless connections of the Celestial Master's Mansion and become famous throughout the world.

They lost, but they lost to a young genius specially cultivated by the Celestial Master's Mansion. Though they lost, they were still honorable.

No matter how you look at it, it's a win-win situation!

Yan Sen couldn't help but laugh as he looked at the eager faces below the stage.

So these people really think they're incompetent?

"I'll do it."

A slightly gloomy voice suddenly rang out. It wasn't loud, but it carried an undeniable arrogance.

The crowd automatically parted to form a path.

A burly young man stepped out. He was wearing an elaborate custom-made training uniform, had a buzz cut, and his narrow eyes were a carbon copy of Wang Ai's on stage.

He swept his cold gaze across the people with raised hands around him, a sneer playing on his lips: "I am Wang Jian from the Wang family. I'd like to spar with this young man Yan. Gentlemen, would you do me the honor?"

Without exception, everyone whose gaze swept over him chuckled awkwardly and withdrew their hands.

Wang Jia, one of the Ten Elders, is a successor of the Divine Scripture.

This reputation is so powerful in the world of supernatural beings that no one is willing to risk it for a chance to spar.

Thank you all for your kind words.

Wang Jian nodded in satisfaction, strode into the training ground, and stopped five meters away from Yan Sen.

"My name is Wang Jian, and I have come to witness Brother Yan's skill." Wang Jian cupped his hands in a perfunctory manner.

"Alright, Brother Wang." Yan Sen nodded with a smile. "Then let's do it. The sooner we finish, the sooner we can eat."

"Wait a minute."

Wang Jian raised his hand, stopping Yan Sen from speaking. A cold smile curled at the corner of his mouth, and his voice rose a few decibels, clearly wanting everyone in the room to hear.

"Brother Yan, since this is a friendly competition, there must be a distinction between the better and the worse. But for us cultivators to pursue such empty fame would be a step down from the proper path."

"How about this, the two of us juniors add a little prize between us, as a way to entertain our seniors. What do you think?"

Yan Sen raised an eyebrow, his mind perfectly clear. This bastard was after his earlier confrontation with Wang Ai.

"Logically speaking, people of the Taoist sect should be quiet and inactive, and should not agree to your proposal. This would be breaking the precepts..." Yan Sen pretended to ponder, looking troubled.

Only after seeing Wang Jian's impatient expression, as if he wanted to mock him as a "coward, weak, incompetent good-for-nothing," did Yan Sen slowly add the second half of his sentence: "But coincidentally, I'm not a member of the Taoist sect. So it doesn't matter. What do you want to bet?"

"Great! That's awesome!"

Wang Jian's eyes flashed with a cold light, his true intentions revealed: "If you lose, I will make you admit in front of everyone that your family's 'Free-Range Chicken' technique is nothing but a charlatan's trick, utter garbage! It's utterly worthless before my Wang family's divine magic! And then, apologize to my great-grandfather for your rudeness just now!"

These words caused an uproar in the room.

That's too ruthless!

A friendly exchange is fine, but when it escalates to the level of family inheritance, it's not a situation that can be easily resolved.

To admit that one's family heritage is worthless? This is not just denying one person, but denying the entire family and the hard work of generations.

Lu Lin, who had almost fully recovered, frowned and clenched her fists upon hearing this. "This is outrageous! What kind of bet is this? This is clearly an insult!"

"Reasonable."

To everyone's surprise, Yan Sen's smile remained unchanged, and even the curve of his eyes was exactly the same as before.

"What if you lose?" Yan Sen asked calmly.

"What a joke! I'd lose?" Wang Jian scoffed, his face full of disdain. "If I lose..."

On the stands nearby, Wang Ai, who was being protected by her great-grandson, was not very happy. Although she had a smile on her face, her eyes kept twitching.

This great-grandson of mine not only embarrassed the people of the Celestial Master's Mansion in front of so many people, but also spoke so confidently, leaving me no room for maneuver at all.

Alas, there is truly no one to carry on the legacy.

He was about to offer some advice when Tian Jinzhong grabbed his wrist with his good hand.

"Brother Wang, calm down." Tian Jinzhong looked at him with a smile. "It's common for the younger generation to have little squabbles. You just said that young people should know the rules. Since a bet has been made, that's the rule. We old folks will just watch."

Wang Ai felt a lump in her throat, unable to breathe, and could only force a smile: "That's right, that's right."

In the middle of the scene, Yan Sen interrupted Wang Jian directly.

"If you lose, you'll do the same. Admit that your Wang family's divine art is trash, and then kowtow to me. How about that?"

"How dare you!" Wang Jian laughed angrily. "I promise you!"

"Alright, both sides, get ready... Begin!" Liang Youyi stood between the two men, gave the order, and simultaneously turned his back to Wang Jian, making a very subtle "throat-slitting" gesture towards Yan Sen.

Xiao Yan, fuck him to death! Fuck this little bastard to death!

"Divine Paint..."

Wang Jian reacted extremely quickly. The moment Liang Youyi finished speaking, he used his footwork to retreat rapidly, intending to create distance.

At the same time, the specially made painting brush in his hand danced rapidly in the air.

The brilliant Qi, like vibrant paints, poured from the tip of a brush. The air was instantly filled with a seven-colored divine charm, as if a giant scroll was slowly unfolding.

"Mountain Lord!"

Wang Jian let out a low shout, and with a turn of his brush, the seven-colored Qi energy instantly twisted, vaguely transforming into the shape of a striped tiger.

A gasp of surprise came from the audience.

"Wow, so fast! This Wang Jian's mastery of the Divine Coating Technique is even higher than the one he just fought against the young master of the Lu family! Not only can he manifest Qi, but the speed is just too incredible!"

"I don't know about Yan Sen, but if I were there, I probably wouldn't be able to withstand even one of those tiger's claws."

However, just as Wang Jian had finished adding the eyes to the "mountain king" and completed the last stroke, the head of the striped tiger was just taking shape.

"call--"

A sudden gust of wind arose from the center of the field without warning.

A figure flashed past the center of the field at a speed that almost exceeded the visual capture limits of most people present.

Wang Jian felt a blur before his eyes, and the figure that had been lazily standing five meters away seemed to have vanished into thin air.

Shrinking Earth Technique!

next moment.

A smiling face, yet with icy eyes, suddenly appeared right in front of him, so close that they could feel each other's breath.

"God-level paint? You're kidding me."

Yan Sen's voice was soft, with a hint of mockery.

Wang Jian's pupils suddenly contracted, and the hairs on his body stood on end. He instinctively wanted to retreat, to parry with his pen, and to activate his protective qi.

late.

too slow.

Faced with absolute speed, all resistance is futile.

Yan Sen didn't use any fancy moves; he simply and extremely brutally threw a punch.

This punch was enveloped in a thick, suffocatingly yellowish-brown halo.

Spleen Earth Golden Light · Buzhou Mountain (Small)

"Bang!!!"

A dull thud that made your teeth ache was heard, like a heavy hammer striking rotten leather.

That punch landed squarely on Wang Jian's lower abdomen.

The colorful divine aura that was originally flying in the air shattered and dissipated instantly under the pressure of this punch, like a fragile soap bubble.

"vomit--!"

Wang Jian's eyes suddenly bulged out, and his eyeballs were covered with blood vessels.

He didn't even have time to scream before he was hit as if he had been rammed by a car with its accelerator floored. His body arched at an exaggerated angle, like a shrimp, and his feet left the ground as he flew backward.

"Boom!"

Wang Jian crashed heavily onto the stone slab ground more than ten meters away, his body sliding along the ground, leaving a deep groove, until he finally stopped at the edge of the training ground.

The painting brush in his hand rolled to the side and broke in two.

The entire room fell silent.

Everyone remained frozen in their previous expressions, mouths agape, staring blankly at the boy in the arena who was still in the punching stance.

From start to finish, it takes less than a second.

The so-called divine technique, the so-called prestigious skill, vanished without a trace.

Yan Sen slowly withdrew his fist, shook his hand as if he had just swatted a fly.

He looked at Wang Jian, who was lying on the ground convulsing like a dead dog in the distance, a mocking smile curving his lips. His tone was calm, yet it was utterly devastating:

"Brother Wang, you really don't understand the rules. A friendly sparring match should be a back-and-forth exchange..."

"I haven't even used any force, how come you've already fallen?"

"I'll give you ten numbers. If you still don't 'come', I'll just keep going."