Fang Yichen gave a cold smile. He originally intended to stay low-key and not respond, but Wan Yankang was one of the important figures in the world of the Legend of the Condor Heroes. He would inevitably have dealings with him in the future, so he spoke up:

　　“What an arrogant young prince, capable of such despicable behavior of bullying the men and women! I have witnessed it today. Enough talk, let‘s fight!”

　　Upon hearing this, Wan Yankang’s eyes flashed with killing intent, and he sneered inwardly:

　　“Hmph! Such arrogance! How dare he lecture me? Today, I’ll publicly put an end to you!”

　　He shrugged off his long coat, tossing it to his subordinate, and strode swiftly towards Fang Yichen. With a vigorous step forward, he flicked his right hand in a feigned motion, swiftly pivoting to the right, while his left hand darted from behind to grab at Fang Yichen’s shoulder pressure point.

　　If Fang Yichen was deceived by his right-hand feint and allowed his left hand to grab him, he would be immobilized. At this moment, if you’re not at the table you’ll probably be on the menu and waiting to be slaughtered.

　　Wan Yankang had committed many murders, but he had never killed someone in broad daylight. However, what difference would it make if he did it today?

　　Fang Yichen felt angry when seeing Wan Yankang’s malicious intentions.

　　He took a step back, dodging Wan Yankang’s grabbing hand. With a swift turn, he positioned himself to Wan Yankang’s side, exposing Wan Yankang’s chest to him.

　　Before Wan Yankang could change his move, Fang Yichen swiftly rushed forward, aiming his right shoulder at Wan Yankang’s body for a powerful collision.

　　This is the renowned “Close-Body Lean” of the Eight Extremities Fist, known as one of its ultimate techniques.

　　Feeling the tremendous force from Fang Yichen’s collision, Wan Yankang felt as if a carriage had hit him. His body flew into the air and landed about three meters away as if riding on clouds and mist.

　　Fortunately, this is a square. Otherwise, Wan Yankang would have been slammed against the wall, likely remaining suspended for at least a second or two before falling.

　　It’s also fortunate that Fang Yichen didn’t want to escalate the situation, so he lessened the force by two points. Despite Wan Yankang being thrown more than thirty feet away, he wasn’t seriously injured.

　　Seeing the young prince being thrown away, his attendants panicked and rushed over.

　　One attendant, the fastest among them, reached Wan Yankang’s side, crouched down, and helped him up, anxiously asking:

　　“Young Prince! Are you alright?”

　　The other attendants quickly followed, seeing Wan Yankang being supported, lying half-reclined with his hand covering his chest, blood oozing from the corner of his mouth.

　　It was evident that he had suffered internal injuries. They hurriedly checked his injuries in a flurry.

　　At this moment, there was a commotion in the crowd, and cheers and shouts arose. A group of people pushed through the crowd, among them three peculiar martial artists particularly caught everyone’s attention.

　　The first person was draped in a crimson monk’s robe, wearing a shining golden monk’s hat. He was a burly Tibetan monk, towering over everyone else.

　　The second person, of medium height, had silver-white hair but a rosy complexion, without a single wrinkle, resembling a child.

　　Although there were legends of “youthful white hair,” no one had ever seen it before.

　　However, this person’s face was as tender as a baby’s, radiant with vigor, making it impossible to guess his age.

　　The third person was short and sturdy, with bloodshot eyes that flashed like lightning when he scanned the surroundings.

　　These three people forcibly separated the attendants and approached Wan Yankang, bowing respectfully.

　　The Tibetan monk clasped his hands together and said, “We arrived late, please forgive us, young prince! Is your injury serious?”

　　The white-haired man took out a jade bottle from his sleeve, poured out a dark brown pill, and handed it to Wan Yankang and said:

　　“Young Prince, this is a pill I refined myself. It’s incredibly effective for treating internal injuries. Please take it immediately to prevent your condition from worsening.”

　　With that, he looked at Wan Yankang earnestly. Wan Yankang covering his chest, felt his breath calming slightly at the words. He thought to himself:

　　“Liangzi usually treasures his own refined medicine and seldom shows it to others easily. Now, he’s giving it to me to take. It’s probably because of my father’s face.”

　　Thinking of this, Wan Yankang accepted the pill without suspicion and swallowed it. He also took the silk handkerchief handed to him by the attendant and wiped the blood from his mouth.

　　Seeing Wan Yankang take the pill, Liangzi smiled, put away the medicine bottle, and stepped aside without saying another word.

　　Others seeing him take the initiative to offer healing medicine to the young prince, knew that the prince would remember this favor. They couldn’t help but envy it. They all spoke up:

　　“Young Prince, let me, Lao Hou, handle the one who injured you!”

　　“Young Prince, I, the old monk, will go seek revenge for you and bring that kid here for you to deal with!”

　　“Young Prince, I, Peng Lianhu, can break that boy’s legs and hand him over to you to vent your anger!”

　　......

　　Fang Yichen watched from a few meters away, knowing that these people were the lackeys of Prince Zhao.

　　The Tibetan monk Spiritual Master was a master of Tibetan Buddhism, practicing the Great Seal Technique.

　　The white-haired man, named Liang Ziwong, was a martial arts master from the Changbai Mountains, known as the Eccentric Immortal for his exceptional skills.

　　The short, sturdy man, with his eyes gleaming like electricity, was famous in the Central Plains, known as the Thousand-handed Butcher, Peng Lianhu.

　　Beside him was a thin-faced man, the uncle of the infamous Four Ghosts of the Yellow River, Three-Horned Dragon Hou Tonghai.

　　Hearing them discuss who would deal with him, Fang Yichen couldn’t help but sneer inwardly:

　　“Hehe! Looks like it’s going to be an exciting day. It’s a good opportunity to stretch my muscles. I’ll beat you all until your faces bloom with peach blossoms!”

　　Just then, shouts came from the west. Everyone turned to see a group of guards wielding clubs, driving away bystanders from both sides of the street.

　　The onlookers hurriedly retreated to the sides of the road. Soon, six strong men appeared at the corner, carrying a finely embroidered red sedan chair.

　　The attendants of the young prince immediately noticed and whispered to Wan Yankang:

　　“Young Prince, the princess consort has arrived!”

　　Wan Yankang frowned at the news and scolded: “Meddlesome! Who informed the prince consort?”

　　The attendants, seeing the young prince’s anger, dared not reply. As the embroidered sedan reached the edge of the martial arts arena, the members of the royal household present all stepped forward to pay their respects.

　　A voice from inside the sedan chair sounded tenderly:

　　“Kang’er, why are you fighting with others? You’re not wearing your coat. You’ll catch a cold later!”

　　Wan Yankang had already stood up at this point, dusting off his clothes and adjusting them before quickly approaching the sedan chair, bowing respectfully:

　　“Mother, I’m just having fun, nothing serious at all!”

　　The princess consort added: “Quickly get dressed, let’s go back together!”

　　Upon hearing the voice of the princess consort, Muyi was startled, thinking to himself:

　　“How could there be someone whose voice sounds so alike in this world?”

　　At that moment, an attendant approached the prince consort’s sedan chair and quietly reported the young prince consort’s injury. A gasp emanated from within the sedan, followed by a swift raising of the curtain, revealing a beautiful and delicate face.

　　Upon hearing the gasp, Wan Yankang thought something had happened to the prince consort. He hurriedly stepped forward to the side of the sedan, intending to inquire about the situation.