[Kill him, you’ll gain 20,000 years of Ordinary Power, 90 years of Golden Body Power]

[Meng Guangfeng: Golden Body Fourth Forging, Prisoner Dragon Stronghold Dragon Head, murderer and thief, does all manner of evil]

[Kill him, you’ll gain 20,000 years of Ordinary Power, 40 years of Golden Body Power]

...

Wei Fan swept his gaze over them and found he could harvest power from every single one—no exceptions.

He turned to Wu Qiulong after hearing that: "Any request, right? Kill yourself right in front of me, and I’ll let your son go. I keep my word!"

The moment he said this, Wu Qiulong’s expression, usually calm as a still pond, turned icy: "Seems you two aren’t here for money. Yet my Prisoner Dragon Stronghold doesn’t seem to know you two."

He was a bandit, always dealing in this kind of kidnapping and extortion, so he thought these two had snatched his son for ransom.

But the moment Wei Fan spoke, he knew it wasn’t about money—it was a vendetta.

Still, he was curious. The Martial Venerable standing before him, along with the Dragon Heads—he didn’t know any of them.

"I don’t care who you are. Release Zhao Yan immediately, or the Prisoner Dragon Stronghold will wipe out your entire clan, hunt you to death across heaven and earth!"

Meng Guangfeng, the Dragon Head, roared. If Wu Zhaoyan weren’t in their hands, they would’ve already attacked.

"If I don’t let him go, you’ll wipe out my clan and hunt me to death across heaven and earth?"

Wei Fan shot Meng Guangfeng a look and slowly hoisted Wu Zhaoyan up.

The gesture made Meng Guangfeng’s face twist in panic: "What do you think you’re doing?"

Everyone sensed something bad, but with Wu Zhaoyan in Wei Fan’s grip, they didn’t dare move.

Wei Fan’s face stayed cold as ice. "I’m going to kill him. I’d love to see you chase me to hell and back. If I don’t kill him, wouldn’t I be letting your threats go to waste?"

Meng Guangfeng felt his scalp go numb—he’d just blurted out something stupid.

If this guy killed Wu Zhaoyan, it’d be Meng Guangfeng himself who got him killed.

"You dare!"

Wu Qiulong roared, unleashing a mountain-crushing tsunami of power. His figure shot across the sky like lightning, aiming to stop Wei Fan and rescue Wu Zhaoyan.

"Attack together!"

The other Dragon Heads shouted, charging in alongside him.

Wei Fan raised an eyebrow: "You think I don’t dare?"

His powerful palm came up, ready to smash Wu Zhaoyan’s skull like a watermelon.

Wu Zhaoyan, terror-stricken, screamed, "Don’t kill me..."

But Wei Fan’s massive hand was already slamming down, the weight behind it shattering Wu Zhaoyan’s head in an instant. Blood and brain matter splattered everywhere, even his Primordial Spirit exploded together.

"You’re dead!"

Wu Qiulong’s eyes went bloodshot, nearly bursting. No matter his speed, the gap between him and Wei Fan was too big.

The rescue had been pointless from the start—if he could’ve really saved Wu Zhaoyan, he wouldn’t have wasted all that time talking.

BOOM BOOM BOOM...

His aura went completely berserk, golden light blazing over him like a great sun in the sky, a four-colored halo swirling behind his back.

Golden Body Ninth Forging!

He was a powerhouse of Four-Colored Golden Body Ninth Forging—the reason he’d dominated neighboring countries for years.

"Kill them all! I want to know who’s behind them, and wipe out everyone tied to their faction!"

Wu Qiulong roared, charging at Wei Fan in rage.

The son he cherished most had died right before his eyes; the killing intent in his heart had boiled over. His brow flashed; a massive golden cudgel appeared in his hand, releasing a terrifying High-Level Divine Soldier aura that made the surrounding mountains tremble.

[Slain Wu Zhaoyan: gained 20,000 years of Ordinary Power, 40 years of Golden Body Power]

[Ordinary Power: 31,000 years]

[Golden Body Power: 130 years]

"You, stand back!"

Wei Fan flung Wu Zhaoyan’s headless corpse down from the sky—not planning to let Ji Qingyue get involved.

Though Ji Qingyue had reached Five-Colored Golden Body and was strong enough to join the fight, Wei Fan didn’t want her killing any member of Prisoner Dragon Stronghold.

"Alright!"

Ji Qingyue stepped back quickly at his words. Wei Fan wasn’t arrogant; if he told her to step away, he must be confident.

BOOM BOOM BOOM...

The massive shadow of the cudgel, a yard thick, smashed straight through the clouds overhead, punching a hole in the sky. The terrifying fluctuations of the High-Level Martial Venerate Divine Soldier rippled outward, shaking countless birds from the forests below.

"Die for me!"

Killing intent blazing in Wu Qiulong’s eyes, he brought the cudgel down at full force, aiming to crush Wei Fan on the spot.

Wei Fan’s body shuddered, golden light shooting out across the sky. A holy seven-colored halo wove itself behind his back.

In a flash, a sacred, supreme aura filled the air. All the Essence Qi in the sky rushed to his body, condensing into his fist.

Great Sun Shattering Fist!

He threw the punch—instantly, the massive cudgel’s shadow shattered and dispersed into scattered energy.

Wu Qiulong felt his arms shake, his Martial Venerate Divine Soldier rebounded instantly, blood and Qi roiling inside him.

"Seven-Colored Golden Body!"

He stared wide-eyed, sucking in a sharp breath. The youth who killed his son Wu Zhaoyan was actually a terrifying prodigy with a Seven-Colored Golden Body.

Seven-Colored Golden Body—he’d lived almost a thousand years and never seen one before.

A talent like that would definitely become a Martial King one day, no question. What mattered most was that such a prodigy had to come from an unimaginable lineage.

Prisoner Dragon Stronghold might rule a few countries, but out in the vast Wilderness it was nothing. The force backing a Seven-Colored Golden Body genius was not one they could ever afford to piss off.

The Seven-Colored Golden Body needed not just monstrous talent, but also peerless Cultivation Techniques to create.

"Who are you? Prisoner Dragon Stronghold seriously doesn’t want to mess with someone of your level. Isn’t this some kind of misunderstanding?"

Wu Qiulong, enraged now but cautious, paused his attack; a son could be replaced, but making an enemy out of someone untouchable meant total destruction for the Stronghold.

And in their brief clash, this kid had blocked his Martial Venerate Divine Soldier bare-handed—their strength was evenly matched. He had no confidence he could kill him.

"A Seven-Colored Golden Body prodigy!"

Even Meng Guangfeng and the other Dragon Heads—all hovering mid-air—stopped in shock, faces full of terror. No wonder the killer of Wu Zhaoyan was so fearless; they should be the ones afraid.

Wei Fan shook out his slightly numb, aching fist. A blow from a Four-Colored Golden Body Ninth Forging combined with a High-Level Martial Venerate Divine Soldier was no joke—even he felt the pain, his skin on the verge of splitting.

He chuckled, "No misunderstanding. You guys at the Stronghold tried to have me killed several times—and you claim not to know me!"

Tried to have him killed several times?

Wu Qiulong and the others started calculating furiously.

Seconds later, someone blurted out: "He’s Wei Fan!"

But wasn’t Wei Fan supposed to be Six-Colored Golden Body?

They hadn’t recognized him immediately—all because of the Seven-Colored Golden Body transformation.

Wu Qiulong’s eyes flashed coldly: "So you achieved Seven-Colored Golden Body thanks to the Celestial Roc Body Cleansing Skill?"

The killing intent he’d held in check spiked again, and now greed flickered just beneath the surface.

Within Prisoner Dragon Stronghold and the Wu Family bloodline, the people Wei Fan had killed could be counted on a full hand—Wu Ying Gao, Wu Yinglong, Wu Shiping, Martial Dao Hong.

Add a few others, and one hand wasn’t enough.

If he were a stranger with Seven-Colored Golden Body Martial Veneration, the Stronghold would have been scared. But if it was Wei Fan—nothing to be afraid of.

They’d colluded with Zhang Juzheng and knew a bit of Wei Fan’s background: a shocking genius, but with no powerful backing—he’d climbed up step by step from the bottom.

Originally, they’d wanted revenge against Wei Fan, but after the Capital City battle he vanished—now, back again, he’d turned into a Seven-Colored Golden Body Martial Venerable, overturning everything they thought about the Celestial Roc Body Cleansing Skill.

"Chief, quit wasting words with him. Kill him for Zhao Yan and take the Celestial Roc Body Cleansing Skill. Don’t let him escape!"

One Dragon Head shouted, eyes blazing with greed.

The Stronghold’s rule: if the Celestial Roc Body Cleansing Skill was seized, it wasn’t just for Wu Qiulong—every Martial Venerable Dragon Head here could cultivate it.

You could tell by the fact that all their weapons were gigantic cudgels; every Stronghold Martial Venerable trained in the same Cultivation Technique.

In a blink, their hearts turned not just to hatred of Wei Fan, but to greed.

Wei Fan snorted, "Still drooling over the Celestial Roc Body Cleansing Skill? You think I’m dumb enough to stroll into the Stronghold just to hand it over?"

Wu Qiulong’s cudgel shuddered: "Doesn’t matter anymore. Between the Stronghold and you, only one survives. Let’s settle this today—form the Jieqiu Dragon Array!"