The towering stone gate of the fortress stood five meters high. Though it couldn't compare to the grandiose Cathedral of the Pope, this all-stone structure was impressively solid. Above the entrance, three bold characters were carved into the granite—Haotian Sect—radiating a sense of power that could stand shoulder to shoulder with the surrounding mountains.
Qian Renfeng strode forward along the stone path. Already, four or five disciples of the Haotian Sect had noticed his presence and furrowed their brows.
"Who are you?!" they demanded, wearing grey uniforms with a hint of worry—today they hadn't expected any visitors. Normally, only two guards stood at the gate, and shift-change time should not feature surprise guests.
But here he was.
Without introducing himself, Qian Renfeng unleashed his Angel Martial Spirit and punched forward. These Soul Emperor-level disciples didn't even have time to summon their spirits before they were defeated. With crushing power, Qian Renfeng had already splintered not just their pride, but their bodies.
He held a silver long sword—nearly identical to the one his angelic projection once wielded. Granite doors are meant to stand forever shattered with a single kick, cracking and crumbling.
Once inside, the front courtyard revealed itself—a bright, open space used for major gatherings. Qian Renfeng stepped across the threshold, his expression calm and smiling.
Soon, the unmistakable sound of panic behind the scenes—the deep rumble of clattering footsteps—announced the call for all disciples to assemble.
"Someone's intruded!"
"Who the hell is it?!"
A cold, furious voice echoed from the rear courtyard, and dozens of disciples poured into the front courtyard in a wave.
Qian Renfeng was ready and confident.
"Hello," he greeted lightly. "I'm Qian Renfeng. Today, I want one of two things—you beat me to death… or I beat you to death."
His audacity rippled across the courtyard. Out of the incoming throng, one figure stood out: a lean, black-clad elder whose age-worn features swore of formidable vitality. He was well beyond eighty, but still gleamed with the drive of a battle-hardened warrior—Elder Liyang Douluo, the fiery-tempered martial spirit master who once lost to Tang San. His fiery reputation was intact.
Liyang placed his hands behind his back, observing the intruder.
"Who are you?!"
"How dare you boast, how dare you insult the Haotian Sect!"
Qian Renfeng nodded slowly.
"Yes. I said it. I want to kill you and everyone here. Just one more introduction: I am Qian Renfeng!"
At that, Elder Liyang's expression darkened, flashes of rage sharpening his gaze.
"So—you're that trash from the Spirit Hall? You found our sect… and came in here?!"
"As for how many of you there are—well, here I stand, alone."
Haotian Sect was well fortified, with five Titled Douluos boasting the pinnacle of Haotian Hammer martial spirit. They guarded this place fiercely. But their defenses never once expected a single youth like Qian Renfeng to slip through.
He hovered in the front courtyard, smiling as he addressed Elder Liyang.
"Seems your Haotian trash don't have much backbone."
"Killing any of you would be doing the world a favor."
"To break the rule of force in martial arts—such a disgrace."
With mere words, Qian Renfeng insulted every elder present. They were accustomed to obedience, but this young intruder was direct, fearless.
It felt as though he had shoved a handful of dirt into their mouths—then spat it back in defiance.
Elder Liyang slammed a crimson Haotian Hammer into the ground, unleashing a wave of Authority power that made everyone retreat. The front courtyard was fairly wide—but deliberately opened to prevent a choke hold.
To them, Qian Renfeng looked barely seventeen. How far could his spirit power even possibly reach?
Elder Liyang glared at him, knuckles white upon his hammer.
"Boy!"
"Don't just gloat—release your damn martial spirit!"
"Today, I'll wreck those six wings of yours. Strip them bare!"
"If only one day I could pluck that old bird's feathers!"
Qian Renfeng snorted, sending twelve wings shooting out behind him, and roared:
"You old bastard—who you calling bird-man?"
"Today I'll crush your weak hammer to pieces!"
He leaped into the air, and with a graceful motion unleashed his Angel Realm. Against a Titled Douluo, he dared not take even a single risk. His contempt erupted, and with it came swirling pressure—every stone of Haotian Fortress itself trembled.
Not far off, Tang Xiao and other elders watched in awe as two figures ascended into the sky.
"He's… a Titled Douluo?!"
"A young Titled Douluo, no less?"
"And he… has a ten‑million-year spirit ring?!"
As the two combatants climbed higher together, Elder Liyang's fury cooled, replaced by heedful analysis.
Qian Renfeng's spirit ring count matched his own—and his aura suggested the same origin.
No wonder others couldn't see where he came from.
Qian Renfeng glared.
"Go on—fight me, you Haotian trash!"
He tapped his silver sword, its sharpened edge gleaming in a mocking arc.
The emotion rushing through Elder Liyang was undeniable. He ground out a single word:
"Bird‑man!"