My Ares Son-in-Law

On the martial arts stage, two figures faced each other from a distance.

Yang Nantian stood with his hands behind his back, his blue robe fluttering slightly in the morning breeze, exuding the air of a grandmaster. He gazed at the young man ten paces away, his eyes scrutinizing him, his tone softening slightly: "Young man, reaching this point is truly remarkable. Admit defeat now, and I might spare your life."

Xiao Chen didn't speak, but slowly raised his right hand. The morning sunlight fell on his slender fingers, and a faint golden light could be seen flowing around his fingertips, like tiny stars twinkling.

“Stubborn to the end.” Yang Nantian shook his head and sighed softly, his tone tinged with regret. But the next second, his figure suddenly swayed!
Where he had been standing, a clear afterimage remained, and he himself appeared like a ghost to Xiao Chen's left, his palm carrying a sharp gust of wind as he struck Xiao Chen's back! This movement was faster than anything else, exceeding everyone's expectations, and a gasp of surprise immediately rose from the audience.

Xiao Chen remained calm and composed, slightly shifting his feet and floating backward like a willow catkin, his movements so light they seemed weightless. Yang Nantian's sharp palm strike grazed his clothes, then slammed heavily onto the bluestone platform, leaving a three-inch-deep palm print, sending shards of stone flying!

"What exquisite footwork!" A hint of surprise flashed in Yang Nantian's eyes, but his attack did not slow down at all. His palms flew, and the palm wind was like waves, one after another, surging towards Xiao Chen. Each palm was accompanied by a sharp whistling sound that tore through the air, forcing Xiao Chen to retreat continuously, seemingly falling into a disadvantageous position.

The audience below was mesmerized, and murmurs arose again:

"Master Yang's Flowing Cloud Palm has indeed reached a state of perfection. With such power, it could pierce even a steel plate in one strike, right?"

"That kid only knows how to dodge; he doesn't dare to confront us head-on. His defeat is only a matter of time!"

Xiao Chen was indeed retreating, but his steps were unhurried, each step landing precisely on the most crucial spot, narrowly avoiding fatal attacks each time. His eyes remained calm, as if he were not fighting a life-or-death battle, but rather observing something, searching for his opponent's weakness.

After ten moves, just as Yang Nantian's palm strike came again, Xiao Chen suddenly stopped and stopped retreating.

"I've seen enough." He spoke calmly, his right hand forming a sword shape, and gently tapped Yang Nantian's palm.

This seemingly slow movement carried a strange rhythm, striking Yang Nantian's palm with unparalleled precision.

"boom!"

A muffled sound of energy clashing rang out. Yang Nantian felt a scorching force surge up his arm, causing his blood to churn and his chest to feel tight. He staggered back three steps before barely managing to steady himself, his face turning pale instantly.

He stared in disbelief at his palm, where a clear red dot had appeared, exactly where Xiao Chen had pointed. A burning pain continued to spread.

"What kind of martial art is this?" Yang Nantian's voice was hoarse and trembling slightly—he had never seen such a bizarre finger technique before. It seemed powerless, yet contained such terrifying power. Xiao Chen stood with his hands behind his back, his robes fluttering gently in the wind, his tone still calm: "A mere trick, not worth mentioning."

Yang Nantian's expression shifted repeatedly, from shock to anger, then to helplessness, before finally letting out a long sigh: "Fine, it seems that if I don't use that move today, I really can't defeat you."

He suddenly reached out and ripped open his shirt, revealing his muscular chest. Surprisingly, a strange, blood-red rune was tattooed on his chest. The rune's lines were twisted and looked like a coiled venomous snake, exuding an eerie aura.

"With my lifeblood, I beseech the Ancestral Master!" A resolute glint flashed in Yang Nantian's eyes. He suddenly bit his tongue, spitting a mouthful of bright red blood mist onto the runes on his chest.

The crimson runes seemed to come alive, instantly beginning to writhe and emitting an eerie red light that illuminated Yang Nantian's chest.
The sky suddenly darkened, the once clear expanse appearing as if splashed with thick ink. Dark clouds gathered wildly from nowhere, forming a massive vortex above the martial arts stage, with faint purple lightning flashing at its center, exuding a chilling sense of oppression. A sudden gust of wind swept across the entire arena, sending sand and gravel flying everywhere, blinding everyone, causing their robes to flutter wildly, and even nearly tearing the flags on the referee's platform apart!
"This is... a forbidden blood curse!" On the platform, an elderly man with white hair and beard slammed his fist on the table and stood up abruptly. His cloudy eyes were filled with horror, and his voice trembled. "Has he gone mad? This spell is a forbidden technique that uses blood essence as a catalyst and sacrifices one's lifespan. He's courting death!"

At this moment, Yang Nantian's eyes had turned completely blood red, the whites of his eyes had disappeared, and only surging killing intent remained.

His aura surged like a volcanic eruption, the pale blue internal energy had long been replaced by a strange blood-red energy, and his robes fluttered without wind.

With each step, the hard bluestone slab beneath his feet shattered with a "crack," the cracks spreading like a spider web, and pebbles tumbling down.

"You managed to force me to use a bleeding curse, kid, you have every reason to be proud." Yang Nantian's voice became hoarse and unpleasant, as if countless evil spirits were howling in his throat, every word exuding an eerie chill, "Today, I will annihilate your soul and spirit!"

Xiao Chen's expression remained calm and composed, but a chilling killing intent quietly surfaced in his tranquil eyes.

He could clearly sense a familiar, nauseating odor emanating from Yang Nantian—the filthy aura of the Prison Clan!

His hands moved swiftly, forming hand seals, his fingertips leaving faint golden trails as they traced the air. In an instant, a soft yet resolute golden light emanated from his body, like an inextinguishable lamp in the dim world, forcing back the surrounding crimson energy.

"Go!" Yang Nantian thrust out with both palms, his crimson energy condensing wildly in his palms, transforming into a massive palm print over ten feet wide, hurtling towards Xiao Chen with a whistling sound. Wherever the palm print passed, even the air was corroded, emitting a sizzling sound, leaving a black trail that exuded a deadly poison!
Xiao Chen neither dodged nor evaded, his gaze remaining completely unwavering. He lightly pointed out with his right index finger, and golden light suddenly condensed at the tip, transforming into a thin, yet blindingly bright beam of light, like a divine weapon unsheathed, directly meeting the blood-red palm print.

Contrary to expectations, there was no earth-shattering collision. The golden light sliced ​​through the bloody palm print as easily as a hot knife through butter. The seemingly powerful palm print crumbled instantly before the golden light, turning into a cloud of foul-smelling blood mist. When it landed on the ground, it even corroded small pits into the bluestone.

The golden light, undiminished in its momentum, shot straight towards the blood-red rune on Yang Nantian's chest like a meteor! (End of Chapter)