Was this... was this a troop of Martial Guards? And by the most conservative estimate, there were nearly five thousand of them. This…!

In an instant, everyone on the vast field froze in place like a series of statues, their eyes swirling with nothing but absolute terror and shock. As common folk, when had they ever witnessed such a scene with their own eyes, outside of movies and television?

The uniform footsteps, the iron-blooded, murderous aura, the steely, resolute gazes, and the visually striking assortment of weapons—it all invoked a respectful solemnity, but also a spine-chilling, bone-numbing fear.

As for Fan Changtian, not a trace of his earlier defiance and arrogance remained. His incredulous eyes were filled with panic, and his entire body quaked as if struck by lightning. A troop of Martial Guards was just steamrolling over them?

It wasn't just him. Yuan Tianlong, Sun Chen, and all the top Fist Masters felt their scalps tingle as if they might burst. Their lips quivered, and their bodies shook like chaff in the wind. The sheer scale and visual impact were enough to make their eyeballs burst, to tear their very souls apart.

This was especially true for the Fist Masters. They were here on a paid job, believing that with their numbers, they could bulldoze any formidable figure as easily as snapping dry twigs. But now, even if they wracked their brains, they could never have imagined being surrounded by a unit of several thousand Grand Martial Guards.

In terms of hand-to-hand combat, they were indeed extraordinary. But one look at the enemy's grand display, at all those firearms… Forget fighting back—even if they sprouted wings, they would be riddled with holes the moment they tried to fly. Cold sweat streamed down their ashen faces, their fingers trembling. Where was their earlier arrogance and disdain? It had been utterly replaced by the deepest terror and boundless dread.

BOOM!

With a sudden, thunderous crash, the roaring footsteps ceased. The Grand Martial Guards had stopped at the edge of the field. The wind howled like a drum, whipping up clouds of yellow sand, while a chilling, murderous aura billowed into the sky.

Then, a small squad marched out in formation. Led by a tall young man, they strode onto the field with purpose. The people from the Qin Corporation and the onlookers at the entrance unconsciously retreated, clearing a wide path. Under the scorching gazes of the crowd, they came to a neat stop before Chen Yang.

The leader was, of course, Yang Hu. Already tall and robust, his military uniform made him appear even more imposing. His mere presence generated an invisible pressure that made it hard for others to breathe.

"Boss, this is Yan Yong, the chief officer of the Martial Department's Lingjin City division," Yang Hu said, gesturing to a middle-aged man beside him.

The middle-aged man, Yan Yong, took a sharp step forward and declared formally, "Yan Yong of the Lingjin City division, at your service, Gover— Lord Chen!"

The mid-sentence correction made Yan Yong's heart clench. Yang Hu had instructed him not to reveal the Governor's identity for now; addressing him as Lord Chen would suffice. After all, until it was clear whether Chen Yang intended to come clean to Qin Qiu, he had to be cautious to avoid causing trouble.

Chen Yang said, "General Yan, I've caused you trouble."

"Lord Chen, you overstate things. Your victories are legendary, making you one of the most distinguished figures in the Martial Department. It is my honor, Yan Yong's honor, to serve you," Yan Yong replied politely, not daring to show the slightest neglect.

This was no joke. Who was this man? A living legend! To serve him was the highest glory. As for the fallout, Yang Hu had already cleared it with the higher-ups; he had nothing to worry about.

"You seemed quite lively just now, didn't you? Said you wanted to 'try' something?" Yang Hu turned to Fan Changtian, getting straight to the point with a smirk. "So tell me, what did you want to try, and how exactly were you planning to try it?"

"I… I…" Fan Changtian was already scared out of his wits and at a complete loss. Facing Yang Hu's interrogation, he simply couldn't hold it together.

Yang Hu's tiger-like eyes swept past him to the Fist Masters. "So, with these guys backing you, you thought you could disrespect my boss? Prancing around like you're the Heavenly King himself?"

"No, it's not like that!" Fan Changtian waved his hands frantically, his clothes soaked through with cold sweat. "A misunderstanding! This has to be a misunderstanding."

BANG!

With that, Fan Changtian's knees buckled, and he slammed to the ground.

"I'm sorry! We were the scum! We were blind to your greatness! We're so sorry!" Tears welled in Fan Changtian's eyes as a trail of snot and tears ran from the corners of his mouth to his chin, dripping onto the ground. As he spoke, he began slapping himself across the face, one resounding smack after another. After just a few hits, blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

"Please, be magnanimous! Just treat us like a fart in the wind and let us go! We'll never dare to do this again!"

Yang Hu glanced at him. "Get up!"

Fan Changtian didn't dare hesitate and scrambled to his feet.

Yang Hu raised his rifle and smashed the butt of it directly into his forehead.

BANG!

Fan Changtian's vision went black. The world spun around him, and he pitched forward, collapsing to the ground.

Seeing Fan Changtian's miserable state, the already trembling Yuan Tianlong and Sun Chen could no longer stand. Their legs gave out, and they crumpled to the ground in a heap.

Sun Chen slowly lifted his head and stared at Chen Yang, his teeth chattering. "Lord Chen, I'm willing to give you everything I own! Just please, spare my life!"

He just wanted to live. That was all.

"Now you're treating me like a robber," Chen Yang said without a single glance, waving a hand at Yang Hu. "Take them all away!"

"Yes, sir!"

Just as Yang Hu was about to move, a twelfth-grade Fist Master cried out, "This has nothing to do with us! We're innocent!"

Chen Yang flicked his right hand.

BOOM!!

The Fist Master looked as if he'd been struck by a massive hammer. His chest caved in deeply as his back bulged outward, and he was sent flying seven or eight meters before crashing hard onto the ground.

The other Fist Masters, who had been about to voice their agreement, slapped their hands over their mouths, their faces contorted in a terror so profound it was as if they had seen a ghost.

That was a twelfth-grade Fist Master, yet he had been utterly powerless against him! And the casual, almost effortless way he had waved his hand… it was enough to shatter their Divine Spirits. Who in the world was this man?

In that instant, any thought of resistance in their hearts shattered into a million pieces.

Nearby, Qin Qiu's eyes were fixed on Yang Hu, looking him over again and again.

That was him! It was definitely him! When Jin Zongquan had come to treat her, Yang Hu had been with him, and even Jin Zongquan had treated him with immense respect. Yet Yang Hu was Chen Yang's subordinate. Wasn't that obvious enough? Then, Qin Qiu looked at Chen Yang. This man not only shielded her from storms behind the scenes but had also arranged for Qin Mo to be healed. Everything that had happened recently… it was all him!…

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