Chapter 657: The Descendants of Saint Yan Besiege, the Abandoned Saint Son, and the Powerful Yan Zheng

The shocking wounds still tell people what happened here before.

Looking at the dozen unconscious literati, Ci Song and the other four people knew that these were all Yan Zheng's masterpieces.

"You finally came out. Now that the auction is over, let's go back."

Yan Zheng also saw Bai Ye and the other four, but he did not move. He still looked at Bai Ye and the other four calmly, and did not take the other literati present into consideration at all.

"Yan Zheng, you want to leave like this after hurting someone. What do you think this place is!"

A roar came from mid-air, and a middle-aged literati in green clothes looked at Yan Zheng below with anger. There was a faint rage in his eyes, and his talent and pressure swept over like an overwhelming force.

"That man looks familiar to me?"

"You don't know him? He is Yan Du, a member of the Yan family."

"Yan Du? Is he the Yan Du whose title of Holy Son was abolished after being defeated by the secular students?"

"..."

At this moment, the scholars watching looked at the angry Yan Du in mid-air and discussed his identity.

After hearing this, Yan Zheng looked up at Yan Du who was exerting pressure on him, and said lightly: "Yan Du, your temper is still the same as in your youth, you haven't improved at all, and you don't have the demeanor of a 'Holy Son' at all."

Yan Zheng's words directly exposed Yan Du's scars in public, especially the word "Holy Son", which has become a taboo word for Yan Du. Yan Zheng's words also completely angered Yan Du and made him lose his mind.

"Hmph! Yan Zheng, stop talking nonsense here. Who are you to judge me? I will kill you today to avenge my past!" Yan Du shouted angrily. As soon as he finished speaking, the pressure of the literary master on his body became stronger and stronger. The blue talent rushed out of Yan Du's body, no longer a trickle, but turned into a rushing river, instantly tearing the surrounding air, and rushed straight into the sky with a whistling sound. This power was so strong that it caused the clouds in the sky to roll endlessly, as if even the sky was shocked by this power and had to retreat. When the blue talent reached its peak, a full moon-like talent phenomenon slowly condensed above Yan Du's head. It was not the real moon in the night sky, but an illusion condensed by pure cultural power. In the brightness, there was an indescribable cold killing intent, pointing directly at Yan Zheng below. "A wise gentleman speaks with his actions, a villain speaks with his tongue. A gentleman attacks his own evil, not others' evil. Ancestors, help me kill the evil villain!"

Then, the green talent surrounding Yan Du began to slowly gather, gradually outlining a clear figure - that was the shadow of Yan Sheng, a teacher in a long robe, with a long beard and holding a green lotus sword. His face was majestic but elegant, and his eyes were deep, as if he could see through the past and the present. The appearance of this shadow made the entire space solidify, and time seemed to stop at this moment.

At this moment, the shadow held a long sword and pointed at Yan Zheng from a distance, and Yan Du also pointed at Yan Zheng, and the two movements were consistent. At this moment, Yan Du seemed to merge with the shadow of Confucius, and a terrifying force suddenly descended.

"Now that nearly forty years have passed, you are still a literary giant. You really haven't made any progress."

Yan Zheng looked up at Yan Du, his face was still calm, but his words revealed disappointment that was difficult to conceal.

"Hmph, you still dare to be stubborn when you are about to die, Yan Zheng, die for me!"

Yan Du shouted angrily, and gently pointed his finger forward. In an instant, the long sword in the hand of the phantom of Confucius suddenly shook, turning into a dazzling sword light, wrapped in a magnificent talent, slashing down from the sky, aiming directly at Yan Zheng.

The air was torn apart wherever the sword light passed, making a sharp whistling sound, as if even the space was split in two.

Feeling the terrifying power contained in the sword light, the onlookers retreated one after another, and then released their talents to condense a barrier, fearing that they would be affected by the sword light.

However, facing the sword light that fell from the sky, Yan Zheng seemed to be fine, still standing there calmly, and even his eyes did not change at all.

Just when everyone thought that Yan Zheng was about to be killed by the sword light, he gently raised his right hand and waved casually at the sword light that was slashing down.

In an instant, an invisible ripple suddenly spread out from Yan Zheng's palm. The sword light that seemed to be able to destroy the world shattered like glass hit by a hammer the moment it touched the invisible ripple, turning into countless tiny blue light spots that floated in the air.

"What?!"

Yan Du saw this and showed an unbelievable look on his face, and the literati who were watching also widened their eyes, looking like they had seen a ghost.

"This is impossible! Yan Zheng, your cultivation... You are a half-saint!"

Yan Du found it difficult to accept this fact. You know, in order to avenge his previous shame today, he has been practicing hard for these years. His cultivation has reached the peak of a literary master and is only one step away from the semi-saint realm. When he and Yan Zheng first met, Yan Zheng's cultivation was not as good as his. Now, after forty years, Yan Zheng's cultivation should be only at the peak of a literary master.

"How can a frog in a well know the vastness of the world?" Yan Zheng raised his hand calmly and said softly: "In my opinion, your so-called hard work is just a view of the world from a well. Your so-called progress is just your own progress."

"You said before that you would cripple my disciple Bai Ye's right arm as a warning to others. Then all the Yan family scholars who came here today must cut off their right arms before leaving. Otherwise, I will do it myself."

After that, a sword light flew out from Yan Zheng's fingertips and rushed straight to Yan Du. Feeling the terrifying sword intent contained in the sword light, Yan Du's face changed drastically. He dodged quickly and gathered his talent at the same time, merging with Yan Sheng's phantom, trying to resist this seemingly random sword.

However, in front of Yan Zheng's sword light, Yan Du's resistance seemed so pale and powerless. The sword light instantly tore through Yan Du's talent barrier, and then pierced his right arm, bringing a touch of blood.

"Ah!"

Accompanied by a scream, Yan Du's right arm was broken, and blood spurted out, staining his luxurious blue shirt red.

"This..."

"That man actually cut off Yan Du's right arm with just one sword energy!"

"Who is he, Yan Zheng? Is he also a descendant of Saint Yan? When did the Yan family produce such a young half-saint?"

The onlookers looked at Yan Du, who was screaming with his arm broken, and were filled with shock and awe. They originally thought that there would be a fierce battle between Yan Du and Yan Zheng, but they didn't expect Yan Zheng to be so strong that he was going to cut off the arm of the descendant of Saint Yan who was present today?

. . . . . .