Return of the Immortal Emperor Daddy

"Martial Emperor, what in the world are you looking at?" the Sword Saint of Fusang bellowed angrily. "Your only opponent is me."

Upon hearing this, Wu Tian smiled.

"Put down the child in your arms," the Sword Saint of Fusang said coldly. "I disdain taking advantage of you."

"No need," Wu Tian replied, still holding the little one.

The Sword Saint of Fusang was stunned for a moment, then scoffed. "You think you can fight me while holding a child? Are you courting death? If you put the child down, our chances are fifty-fifty. But with a child in your arms, I can defeat you in a single move."

One move? Wu Tian couldn't help but laugh at the claim. Too lazy to waste words, he simply walked forward, holding the little one, his steps light and without a trace of hesitation.

"Against-the-Wind Slash!" the Sword Saint of Fusang sneered, lifting the Third-generation Ghost Cleaver.

This scene was being watched by the Martial Arts World of Dragon Country, the Chief Minister of Fusang, and even the Emperor of Fusang himself.

"To think Wu Tian is actually fighting our Sword Saint while holding a child. He's courting his own doom," the Emperor of Fusang said mockingly.

"The outcome will only be known once we see it through," the Chief Minister replied gravely.

"Hm?" The Emperor of Fusang was momentarily stunned before reacting. "Don't tell me you still think Wu Tian can turn this around while holding a child? The Against-the-Wind Slash is the most powerful technique in our Sword Dao."

The Chief Minister remained silent.

The Sword Saint of Fusang executed the Against-the-Wind Slash. His movements were as swift and formless as the wind itself. The blade, already incredibly sharp, was now augmented by a cutting gale, making its edge indescribably keen as it chopped down toward Wu Tian. The Third-generation Ghost Cleaver seemed to thrum, hungry and impatient for blood. To the cursed blade, Wu Tian was the most delicious of meals, and the attack was imbued with an endless, horrifying power that washed over even the distant bystanders.

To everyone's surprise, Wu Tian still didn't put the little one down. Instead, he simply kicked out.

He's using a kick to block Fusang's famous "Against-the-Wind Slash"?

In an instant, the crowd erupted. They all thought that if it were them, the leg they'd just kicked out would undoubtedly be lost. Many cried out urgently, "Martial Emperor, don't do it!"

But Wu Tian turned a deaf ear. The next moment, his kick collided with the Third-generation Ghost Cleaver.

I'll take your foot, the Sword Saint of Fusang thought with certainty. The blade of the Ghost Cleaver neatly sliced open Wu Tian's shoe. With the unparalleled sharpness of the Ghost Cleaver, he was sure this single strike would sever Wu Tian's foot completely.

But then—CLANG!

The resounding clash of steel on steel made the Sword Saint's face stiffen. He found he couldn't cut any deeper. The Sword Saint couldn't believe it. The Ghost Cleaver? Surely everyone in the world knew of its power. How could such a famously sharp blade fail to sever Wu Tian's foot?

The host, Hai Zhong, hadn't yet realized the situation and laughed scornfully. "The people of Dragon Country just can't compare to the people of Fusang! Challenging the Sword Saint... what an ignorant fool. Now he's lost his foot."

The Sword Saint of Fusang still refused to believe it and exerted more strength.

CLANG!

This time, a crack actually appeared on the Ghost Cleaver's blade.

"Impossible," the Sword Saint of Fusang exclaimed in shock.

However, Wu Tian's kick didn't stop. It continued its upward trajectory.

BOOM!

The kick landed squarely on the Sword Saint of Fusang's chest. His ribs shattered instantly.

"No!" The Sword Saint of Fusang felt his life force completely drain away. He couldn't believe it. He was the Sword Saint of Fusang. Wu Tian was the Martial Emperor of Dragon Country. Their meeting should have been a great battle, like the clashes between the fabled masters in Mr. Gu Long's novels! It should have been a clash of titans—a dragon against a tiger, a battle between storm clouds—full of thrilling, bloody action, a tale that would become famous throughout the world and sung by generations to come. However, the reality was completely different from what he had imagined. He never expected to be… instantly killed!

Silence. At that moment, the port of Yang City fell completely still.

They couldn't believe it. The Sword Saint of Fusang, a man they thought invincible, had just been killed by Wu Tian... just like that? This filled them with a swirl of complex emotions.

Wang Congming looked at them and shouted, "Why aren't you speaking? The Martial Emperor defeated the Sword Saint of Fusang! Aren't you happy?"

Only then did the crowd recover from their shock, erupting into cheers.

"Incredible! Fusang's martial arts are nothing compared to ours in Dragon Country!"

"The Martial Emperor is truly formidable, a true role model."

"And to think the Sword Emperor once foolishly dared to oppose Wu Tian. Now it's clear the gap between them is far too great. The Sword Emperor was just courting death."

"The Sword Saint of Fusang was also just courting death."

Voices of astonishment rose one after another. They had all shared the same expectation as the Sword Saint of Fusang himself. The Sword Saint of Fusang versus the Martial Emperor of Dragon Country. It was supposed to be a clash of Heavenly Thunder and earthly fire. Everyone expected a spectacular battle, a true match of titans, like when a great general meets a worthy adversary. It should have been a legendary duel, like the famous battle between Ximen Chuixue and Ye Gucheng, or even Fusang's own clash between Miyamoto Musashi and Sasaki Kojirou at Yanliu Island.

But who could have imagined it would be an instant kill!

「Fusang」

The Emperor of Fusang was dumbstruck, muttering, "We lost... we lost... Fusang has lost."

"No!" The Chief Minister interrupted him again. "Didn't I tell you? The result isn't known until the very end."

"Longma is already dead. The result is decided," the Emperor of Fusang said, his spirits low. The greatest expert of his royal family was gone, just like that. He no longer had any hope of reclaiming power from the Chief Minister.

"You underestimate the demon blade of Fusang far too much," the Chief Minister suddenly spoke, his voice deep.

The Emperor of Fusang was puzzled.

「Yang City Port」

Everyone turned to look at Hai Zhong, eager to teach the scoundrel a lesson.

"I... I was wrong! Please, just let me go! Pretend I'm not even here!" Without the Sword Saint of Fusang's protection, Hai Zhong groveled, snot and tears streaming down his face. "Actually... I was just trying to deceive the Sword Saint of Fusang! Otherwise... do you really think I, a proud citizen of Dragon Country, would bow down to the people of Fusang?"

He was still reeling with fear. Cold sweat dripped from his forehead, and his back was soaked through with the sweat of pure terror.

Wang Congming and the others were not about to let Hai Zhong off so easily, but just as they started to move toward him…

Suddenly, the supposedly dead Sword Saint of Fusang opened his eyes and stood up straight.

"What? The Sword Saint of Fusang isn't dead?"

"That's impossible! How could he still be alive?"

Seeing this, the eyes of Wang Congming and the others widened in utter horror.

"Hehehe... so, my Sword Slave has been killed. Interesting. Very interesting."

While Wang Congming and the others were still reeling in shock, the Sword Saint of Fusang spoke. His tone had changed completely, and his voice was chilling. His demeanor was starkly different from just moments ago. Though it was the same body, the man now radiated a murderous aura that seemed to pierce the heavens. He held the Third-generation Ghost Cleaver in his left hand and drew the Second-generation Ghost Cleaver with his right. His very presence was chilling to the bone.

"What on earth is going on? Was the Sword Saint this powerful before?" Wang Renjie and the others were completely overwhelmed by the man's aura, their hearts filling with terror.

Only Wu Tian spoke, a slight smile on his face. "How should I address you? The Sword Saint of Fusang? Or... should I say, Ghost Cleaver?"