Chapter Ninety-Eight: Arrogant Ambition

The entire banquet descended into chaos, utterly ruined by the commotion. The guests fled in panic, hardly daring to remain in the private room.

Lin Feng, seeing this, was rather pleased to have some peace and quiet. He savored a sip of red wine, then prepared to leave.

Unexpectedly, just as Lin Feng turned, applause suddenly echoed from the nearby staircase.

“Clap, clap, clap—”

Following the sound, Lin Feng saw a middle-aged man in a Tang-style robe descending the stairs slowly, accompanied by an elderly figure. The man wore a smile and bore a humble demeanor as he spoke:

“You must be Lin Feng. I am Tang Yulin. Pleased to meet you! Truly, your reputation is well-deserved—one move and you defeated Sun Xiang of the Tenglong Group’s reserve team. I ought to congratulate you!”

Tang Yulin’s tone was dripping with sarcasm beneath his courteous words.

Lin Feng frowned slightly. So this was the second master of the Tang family, Tang Yulin?

“You’re the second master of the Tang family?”

“Honestly, I’m a bit embarrassed by the nickname ‘Second Master’—it’s just a courtesy from some acquaintances in the underworld. Still, I must congratulate you. Just now, I handed over all shares of the Jisheng Company to Wang Jisheng. From today onward, you are the true master of Jisheng Company!”

Tang Yulin’s lips curled into a faint smile.

Lin Feng’s brows knitted tighter, unsure what game Tang Yulin was playing.

At that moment, Wang Jisheng hurried down the stairs, quickly approaching Lin Feng’s side and whispering:

“Master Lin, you’ve walked into a trap! By injuring Sun Xiang, you’ve offended the Sun family. They wield considerable influence within the military. Moreover, the second master of the Tang family covets a spot in the Five Provinces Martial Arts Tournament. The elder with him is no ordinary man!”

Tang Yulin, seeing Wang Jisheng’s report, ceased to hide his intentions and smiled:

“We’re all smart people here, so I won’t beat around the bush. How about this? You hand over the tournament spot and continue ruling your coastal city underworld. I’ll attend the Five Provinces Martial Arts Tournament, and we’ll keep to our own realms.”

Lin Feng glanced at Tang Yulin and shrugged indifferently:

“Keep to our own realms? Tang Yulin, what right do you have to negotiate terms with me?”

“Heh, as expected, you remain arrogantly self-important! Do you even know who you just fought? That was Sun Xiang, the sole heir of the Sun family. Old Master Sun was once a marshal’s bodyguard and commands extraordinary influence within the military. Not even my father dares to offend him, let alone you—a mere underworld boss!”

As he spoke, Tang Yulin plastered a fake smile as he helped Sun Xiang to his feet.

“Oh dear, Young Master Sun, what happened to you? Who dared to strike you like this? Don’t worry, I’ll contact the Sun family immediately and ensure the culprit is severely punished!”

Sun Xiang staggered up, his eyes burning with hatred as they fixed silently on Lin Feng.

Tang Yulin, soothing Sun Xiang, then turned back to Lin Feng, a sinister smile playing at his lips as he sneered:

“Lin Feng, do you know what martial artists lack most? Intelligence! Let me offer you a clear path: kneel and kowtow to Young Master Sun, confess your guilt. If you hand over the tournament spot obediently, I can mediate on your behalf. Otherwise, if the Sun family unleashes their wrath, even three heads won’t save you!”

Tang Yulin lounged arrogantly, settling Sun Xiang into a seat with a smile directed at Lin Feng.

From the start, he had anticipated Qin Chao’s plan.

Hence, he had meticulously set this trap—to lure Lin Feng in.

The Sun family’s blade was entwined with the Huaxia military and Yun Qianshang.

Against the Huaxia military, even the martial genius Xiong Wanhong had been forced into a humiliating retreat. Lin Feng was hardly a match.

Hearing this, even Wang Jisheng was caught in a dilemma, unsure how to respond.

He wished to advise Lin Feng to be pragmatic—kneel and apologize, and the matter would be resolved. But how could Master Lin’s proud spirit endure such humiliation?

“Master Lin, though the Sun family’s power pales compared to the military god Yun Qianshang, their strength in the military sphere is formidable. Perhaps we should—”

Wang Jisheng struggled to speak, attempting to persuade.

Lin Feng, however, merely smiled faintly, turning his head with an icy gaze fixed on Wang Jisheng.

That cold, merciless look pierced the soul, silencing Wang Jisheng before he could finish his sentence.

Tang Yulin had planned everything—from using others as pawns to threats and temptations—every step calculated and interconnected.

But he had not accounted for Lin Feng’s temperament.

Across a universe spanning a hundred thousand years, trailing innumerable corpses, not one who dared threaten Lin Feng had lived to see the next day.

Lin Feng sat boldly in his chair, ignoring Tang Yulin, taking a sip of wine and calmly saying:

“Tang Yulin, I’ll give you one chance. Kneel and sever your right hand yourself, and I might spare your life. You have only this one chance—do not say I did not warn you!”

No sooner had Lin Feng spoken than Tang Yulin burst into uproarious laughter.

To him, Lin Feng was merely a dying man’s last act of bravado.

He laughed wildly, pointing at Lin Feng with contemptuous scorn:

“Hahaha! ‘Do not say I did not warn you’? Are you insane? To be so arrogant and reckless—I want to see just how you’ll die!”

“But this is fine—it spares me the trouble of negotiation. Master Modi, this stubborn fool is yours. Deal with him however you like.”

Tang Yulin turned to sit, downing a glass of champagne with great satisfaction.

Since you’ve invited death yourself, I’ll grant your wish!

“Tang sir, that’s the way it should be!”

The gaunt old man behind Tang Yulin, draped in tattered robes and with hands clasped in a mendicant’s pose, slowly approached Lin Feng.

Though his appearance seemed benevolent, when he spoke, the bloodthirsty glint in his eyes betrayed his true nature.

Lin Feng caught sight of his rotten teeth and instantly recognized the signs—this was a cannibal who fed on flesh and gnawed bones.

“Mercy of the Buddha. Dear benefactor, which of the eighteen levels of hell do you prefer?” the old man asked with a foul stench and a twisted grin.

“The Eighteen Levels of Hell? My favorite is the Avici Hell.”

“Excellent taste, benefactor! I love Avici Hell most too. The Buddha saves those with destiny—today, let me help you descend into Avici Hell! Ha ha ha!”

The old man laughed wildly, spreading his limbs as a fierce aura suddenly exploded outward.

His formerly withered and thin frame ballooned like an inflating balloon; his stooped back straightened abruptly.

Shiny sinewy muscles rose like endless mountain ridges over his gaunt skeleton.

In just seconds, the little man of barely five foot six transformed into a towering, muscular giant nearly six feet tall.

He radiated the fierce aura of a martial artist in the early realm of transformation.

Like a wild beast, he opened a bloodthirsty maw, chanting Sanskrit syllables that seemed to tear at the minds of those who heard.

“Whoosh—”

In a flash, he was before Lin Feng, his hands like iron pincers reaching for Lin Feng’s shoulders, his mouth wide open, ready to bite through Lin Feng’s neck.

This man was no disciple of the Buddha—he clearly cultivated demonic arts.

Yet, compared to the demonic cultivation across the entire Hongmeng universe, Lin Feng ranked second, with no one daring claim the first.

For the strongest demonic blade in existence was forged by Lin Feng’s hand.

Glancing at the charging old man, Lin Feng could not help but sneer inwardly.

Such a level of demonic cultivation was utterly mediocre—not even a fraction of the Nine Heavens Demonic Sovereign.

To cultivate demonic arts to the point of losing oneself was no different than a beast.

Lin Feng met the bloodthirsty maw rushing toward his face with a cold snort, softly uttering five words:

“Biluoye Zhatian!”