Chapter 1795 - 902: Challenge at the Capital’s Outskirts

Another day on the journey.

The cold wind pierced like knives, and the withered yellow reeds swayed on both sides of the official road.

After days of exhausting travel, everyone carried a bit of the dust-covered look, until the blurry outline of the Capital’s city wall appeared under the lead-gray sky, whispers of relief arose within the group.

Beside the official road was a simple tea stall, the wind rattling the reed shelter.

The old man selling tea huddled over, adding charcoal to the mud stove, as billowing steam spewed from the copper pot’s spout.

"Rest for a while." Li Yan reined in his horse.

Sha Lifei rubbed his hands and squeezed into the shelter first, plopping down on a bench:

"Shopkeeper, more ginger in the hot tea!"

The tea was scalding, and the rim of the coarse pottery bowl was too hot to touch.

Wang Daoxuan slowly sipped from his bowl, his gaze traveled over the sparse passersby on the official road.

Mostly porters with grain carts, small vendors with loads, and occasionally a fast horse dashed by, hooves clattering and kicking up dust. The sky toward the Capital held dense layers of clouds, brewing something.

Li Yan sat at the edge of the shelter, the Duan Chen Blade laid across his knees.

He lowered his eyes to gaze at the floating ginger shreds in his bowl, still pondering intelligence gathered along the way.

Logically speaking, at this point, especially with the major revenge achieved, there was no need to step into this realm of strife; finding a place to seclude oneself for cultivation wouldn’t be a bad choice.

However, Zhao Changsheng’s dying image kept flashing across his mind.

He had a premonition that matters wouldn’t end so simply.

Suddenly, footsteps sounded outside the tea shelter.

Not hurried nor slow, each step on the dirt road was exceptionally steady, with precise spacing between steps.

Li Yan lifted his eyes.

The newcomer was a middle-aged man, around forty, not particularly tall, but solid like a stone pillar.

He wore a washed-out indigo short coat, waist cinched with a black fabric belt, muddy cloth shoes with layered soles on his feet.

Most striking were his hands—big knuckles, with a layer of yellowish calluses on the edges of his palms, as if polished by long-term holding of something hard.

The man stopped in front of the tea shelter.

He nodded slightly to the old tea seller before turning to those inside the shelter.

His gaze swept over Sha Lifei and Wang Daoxuan, finally lingering on Li Yan, then he cupped his hands in salute.

His movements were slow, both hands raised to chest level, with the left palm covering the right fist, his elbows heavy as if pressing down a thousand pounds.

The gesture wasn’t like the casual formalities of the pugilistic world, rather it seemed like practicing a stance, his entire body from shoulders to waist to legs stretched into a bow ready to release.

"Gentlemen, sorry to disturb you."

The accent was distinctly from Shu, though the articulation was clear.

Li Yan put down the tea bowl, stood, and returned the salute: "Who might you be?"

"Ba Donghai."

The man announced his name, his hands still raised, "A native of Ba Shu Yu Zhou, the seventy-third generation heir of the Primordial Emperor’s Law Lineage."

The shelter fell into a brief silence.

The old man selling tea paused while adding charcoal, quietly moved half a step back.

Several porters resting their feet in the shelter buried themselves in drinking tea, but their eyes squinted towards this side.

Sha Lifei raised an eyebrow: "Primordial Emperor Sect?"

They certainly knew of the Primordial Emperor Sect, a prominent name in the law lineage.

It was primarily passed down in Ba Yu, extending for millennia, encompassing minor techniques for evil suppression and life protection, to major skills like Heavenly Master Thunder Technique and Flying and Concealing Nine Heavens.

Many secret transformative forbidden spells were truly extraordinary.

His face revealed no expression, neither boasting nor self-admiration, akin to a blacksmith introducing his forge, or a farmer discussing crops in the field.

Li Yan studied him intently: "Mr. Ba, what do you seek of me?"

Ba Donghai cupped his hands again, this time faster but still steady: "I heard that Daoist Li’s Blade Technique is profound and cultivates both Taoist and Martial paths. I’m merely adept at the Baji Fist Stance, and also practice the Primordial Emperor’s Spell, modestly achieving Martial Arts and Magic Integration. I’ve come today to seek your guidance."

"Challenge, Grandmaster Battle!"

As the last three words fell, the tea shelter became utterly silent.

The water in the copper kettle on the stove bubbled fiercely, steam pushed open the lid.

The old man selling tea scrambled to lift it, a pottery bowl clattered and rolled on the floor, no one bothered to pick it up.

Li Yan was momentarily stunned.

Grandmaster Battle.

Indeed, before he left the Capital last year, the pugilistic world was abuzz with this.

Previously, he had defeated several challengers.

But later, Japan mutated, the Dharma Realm ripped apart, strange phenomena frequently occurred... For the past six months, they were tossing on the sea or clearing evil spirits in desolate mountains, almost losing contact with the Divine Land Martial World.

Unexpectedly, he had completely forgotten about it.

Suddenly, a sharp intake of breath was heard nearby.

It was two disciples from the Cao Gang who followed the group.

The younger one turned pale, his eyes widened round, staring intently at Ba Donghai, his lips quivered twice before lowering his voice to Li Yan: "Li, Mr. Li... this person, this person is Ba Donghai!"

Sha Lifei glanced sideways: "Is he very famous?"

"More than famous!"

The Cao Gang disciple’s throat was dry, "For three months, the Grandmaster Battle was on, fought dozens of times, this Mr. Ba... came all the way from Yuzhou, winning seventeen consecutive matches!"

"Yuzhou’s ’Iron Arm’ Zhou Chong, had his elbow joint shattered in three moves; Han Zhong’s ’One-Word Sword’ Liu Bai, was pinned to the ground with his sword still sheathed; seven days ago in Baoding Prefecture, Hebei’s ’Vajra Pestle’ Meng Guangtong—an acclaimed Astral Force expert, met his fist head-on, Elder Meng vomited blood instantly and is still bedridden!"

His voice trembled increasingly: "It’s rumored that this Mr. Ba is the biggest dark horse in this year’s Grandmaster Battle, terrifyingly powerful... Many veteran masters say he, he is already a ’Grandmaster Seed’!"

The words "Grandmaster Seed" filled everyone with a solemn look.

Sha Lifei said no more, narrowing his eyes to scrutinize Ba Donghai up and down.

Wang Daoxuan placed the tea bowl down, fingers gently twisting within his sleeve—a habit he practiced when calculating.

Ba Donghai stood in place, letting those gazes scrape across him like knives.