"Even Uncle Wang admits it. It seems, Master Yang, you really are terrifyingly strong."
Cang Xuanji sighed softly. "Good thing I'm always cautious. I came prepared. I brought along the two Peacock Plumes left to me by the Cang Clan."
As she spoke, two hidden compartments in the walls behind her slid open with a quiet click.
Inside were two cylindrical tubes forged entirely of gleaming gold. The mouths of the tubes locked precisely onto Yang Cheng's position.
In that instant, Yang Cheng felt a powerful sense of being targeted—like invisible chains had wrapped around him.
For the first time, it seemed as if he had stepped into a trap from which there was no escape. If he wanted to live, he'd have to do exactly as Cang Xuanji said.
"You could have chosen to negotiate properly with Great Zhou," Yang Cheng said evenly. "Why resort to this?"
"Because if I used ordinary diplomacy, Great Zhou would never agree to my terms in full."
Cang Xuanji smiled slightly. "And besides, I'm a rather forceful person. I like to control the situation. I don't like it when things get out of hand."
Yang Cheng's gaze stayed calm. "And have you considered that I might simply refuse?"
"No. I don't believe you will."
Her tone dropped to ice. "Because if you refuse, you won't walk out of here alive."
Instantly, dozens of killing intents locked onto him from every direction.
Yang Cheng, however, showed not the slightest trace of panic. "Doesn't your Cang Clan have any elders?" he asked lightly.
"What do you mean?"
Cang Xuanji frowned. "For negotiations like this, there's no need for them. I have full authority. Besides, my clan's elders are divine beings—they cannot easily enter the Wasteland Realm."
"So in other words," Yang Cheng said slowly, "your elders have no idea what you're doing here today?"
Cang Xuanji snorted coldly. "What are you trying to say? The clan gave me supreme authority over Wasteland affairs. I don't need their permission for anything."
"I see."
Yang Cheng nodded faintly. "If your clan's elders were here, they would understand what it means that I killed Night Owl. They'd never let you attempt such a foolish scheme."
Night Owl was nothing like Su Lingchen.
Su Lingchen had been famous, but his reputation outshone his real power.
Night Owl, on the other hand, was an assassin who hid in the darkness—his name little known, but among true masters of the martial path, his strength was the stuff of whispered legends.
To slay him was no ordinary feat.
Even most deities would struggle to do so.
That was why Yang Cheng stood so calmly now.
Killing Night Owl had been more than revenge—it had been proof of his strength.
He no longer feared even those at the Insight God realm.
"What nonsense are you spouting?" Cang Xuanji's expression hardened.
Yang Cheng looked at her as though gazing down from a great height. His eyes were cool, detached, completely unmoved by the threat surrounding him.
"For someone from the Cang Clan," he said slowly, "you're astonishingly ignorant to dare scheme against me. If I were you, I'd kneel right now, bow, and beg for forgiveness. If my mood's good, maybe—just maybe—I'd let you live."
"Yang Cheng, you arrogant bastard!"
Cang Xuanji's face twisted in fury. "If you're trying to provoke me, congratulations—you've succeeded!"
"Miss," said the Ninth-Layer Martial Sovereign beside her coldly, "there's no need to waste words. Let us subdue him first. Once he's on his knees, he'll remember how to speak properly."
"Fine. I'll leave it to you."
Cang Xuanji's pretty face turned to ice. "Since he insists on courting death, I see no reason to keep talking."
The three Martial Sovereigns moved at once, their auras crashing together like tidal waves as they closed in on Yang Cheng.
"A bunch of small fry."
Yang Cheng took a single step forward—and in that instant, his figure vanished.
Almost simultaneously—
Whoosh!
A piercing sonic boom split the air.
A beam of blazing light erupted from one of the golden cylinders embedded in the wall.
In less than a heartbeat, it struck where Yang Cheng had been standing, exploding outward like a peacock spreading its feathers—each flare carrying annihilating force.
This was the Peacock Plume.
Under normal circumstances, its destructive power would have obliterated not only the top floor but the entire building beneath it.
Yet the restaurant only shuddered violently, without collapsing.
Lines of runes shimmered across the walls of the top floor—protective inscriptions, woven together into a complex sealing formation.
Cang Xuanji had even gone so far as to inscribe array runes into the very walls of the building.
However, the deadly strike from the Peacock Plume—an attack powerful enough to threaten even a god—missed its mark.
Yang Cheng had already vanished from where he stood.
He didn't target just one Martial Sovereign. He attacked all three at once.
"Everyone, strike together!"
The Ninth-Layer Martial Sovereign roared.
Instantly, all three Martial Sovereigns unleashed their killing moves at the same time. Their combined power surged like a storm, tearing through the air as their terrifying attacks converged on Yang Cheng.
Yang Cheng raised his right hand, two fingers together like a sword, and casually drew a line through the air.
It looked utterly ordinary—light, effortless, almost careless.
But it was a sword strike from his Shura Sword Domain.
The pupils of all three Martial Sovereigns shrank violently. Fear filled their faces. But by then, it was far too late.
Their ultimate moves shattered in an instant, dispersed like dust before a hurricane.
The next moment, their heads flew from their shoulders.
With just one sword finger—just one move—Yang Cheng beheaded three Martial Sovereigns.
That was his strength now.
With his Ten-Star Golden Dantian and his cultivation at the Half-Step Martial Sovereign Realm, his combat power had reached a terrifying level.
In the Wasteland Realm, where even deities could not freely descend, Yang Cheng was absolutely invincible.
As the three severed heads thudded to the floor, the two hundred black-clad cultivators surrounding them all trembled uncontrollably. Many dropped to their knees on the spot, unable to withstand the suffocating pressure.
"No… this isn't real…"
Even Cang Xuanji's face lost all color, turning as pale as paper.
The scene before her shattered her entire understanding of the world.
Yang Cheng—he was only twelve years old.
And yet, this twelve-year-old boy had just slain three peak Martial Sovereigns with a single finger strike.
"Miss!"
The middle-aged woman behind her didn't run. Instead, she stepped forward and stood between Cang Xuanji and Yang Cheng, her presence flaring.
Her aura erupted like a tidal wave—she was a Half-God.
"You're loyal, I'll give you that," Yang Cheng said calmly.
At that moment, chaos rippled through the restaurant.
"What's happening?"
"What a terrifying burst of power!"
On the top floor, several disciples of the Sword Institute leapt to their feet, their faces pale with shock.
"It's coming from the direction where Cang Xuanji and Yang Cheng went!" one of them shouted.
Tang Xingyu's expression changed instantly. She turned without hesitation and sprinted toward the corridor.
She trusted Yang Cheng's strength.
But Cang Xuanji wasn't an ordinary opponent—and if she attacked him by surprise, even he might be in danger.
"Now the show begins."
Ouyang Yi smiled faintly, unmoving, as steady as a mountain.
He knew exactly what was happening.
After all, he was the one who had first told Cang Xuanji that Yang Cheng was the true Master Yang. She had only investigated further because of his words.
"Yang Cheng," he murmured, voice dripping with confidence, "no matter how monstrous your talent is, you're still just one man. Can you possibly stand against all of us from the Horn Constellation Realm?"
He smiled, eyes gleaming with arrogance. "You might be the so-called Child of Heaven in the Wasteland Realm, but we… we have the entire Horn Constellation Realm behind us."
And now, the most exciting part—Cang Xuanji and Yang Cheng had clearly failed to come to terms.
That could only mean one thing: negotiations had collapsed.
Today, Yang Cheng was doomed.
Meanwhile, amid the silence of shattered air and blood-scented ruin, Yang Cheng stepped forward, his robes unstained, his steps slow and unhurried, each one echoing like a drumbeat of doom as he approached Cang Xuanji.