Old Chen was glowing, sword in hand, surveying his opponents. No one dared to step forward; at the sight of him, they involuntarily retreated. Many realized that Old Chen was on the brink of death! Regardless of their allegiance, everyone could see something was wrong—lightning flickered from his chest, accompanied by ominous, dull thuds.

Old Chen's body trembled; he seemed ready to collapse, yet he stood firm, sword raised, gazing at the horizon. His once sharp eyes gradually dimmed. The four elders of the Old Technique had once remarked that if Old Chen had lived in ancient times, he could have founded a sect or even reached a Bodhisattva level in the Old Technique domain.

Wang Xuan felt a sharp sting in his nose. He sensed that Old Chen's vitality was fading—it was evident he couldn't hold on much longer. He kicked one master away and, with red eyes, charged toward Old Chen, unable to believe that his old colleague was truly going to die.

"Master!" Qingmu cried out, filled with despair. In his eyes, the powerful and astute Old Chen couldn't possibly be dying.

"Old Chen!" Many shouted, struggling to accept this reality. Just moments ago, Old Chen had dominated the battlefield, single-handedly taking down three Grandmasters, radiating invincibility; now, he was losing his light and nearing death.

Numerous practitioners from the Old Technique rushed towards him, filled with anguish. Old Chen was too formidable, breaking through the New Technique faction on his own while they lagged behind.

"How dare you!" Wang Xuan fumed, noticing someone from the New Technique brandishing a metal longsword, aiming to decapitate Old Chen.

In this tense situation, even many from the New Technique hesitated to act. Although they despised Old Chen, they couldn't help but admire his courage. With him on the verge of death, they felt there was no need to desecrate his body. However, a few thought otherwise; even with his dimming eyes, they wanted to claim his head, wishing for a dishonorable death for him.

Wang Xuan's strength was unquestionable. When Old Chen had breached the New Technique ranks, he had been close behind, more so than others in the Old Technique. Enraged, he seized a corpse and hurled it with a mighty crash, striking the young man rushing toward Old Chen.

With a loud thud, the young man was sent sprawling, blood spewing from his mouth and nose as his metal sword clattered to the ground.

He rose, clutching his nose, casting a hateful glare at Wang Xuan, disregarding everything as he picked up the sword again, determined to take Old Chen's head today, regardless of curses or judgments.

Several others, equally impassioned and reckless, approached, their minds clouded with thoughts of glory, oblivious to the storm their actions would incite.

Wang Xuan moved in closer, his eyes terrifying. He knew if anyone were to take Old Chen's head in front of him, he would never forgive himself.

With no time to throw another body, he kicked up a large stone from the frostbitten ground, striking the young man in the chest. The sound of cracking bones echoed as Wang Xuan's kick, powered by the early stages of his fifth level of body technique, delivered devastating force.

The young man crumpled to the ground, coughing blood, his chest collapsed in agony, rage boiling within him.

The other young attackers hesitated, but still sought to claim Old Chen's head, only to realize it was too late—Wang Xuan was upon them.

He leaped into the air, crushing the chest of one young man beneath him, a testament to his terrifying strength as he landed on the ground.

"Ah…" The young man screamed in unbearable pain, a sight too gruesome to witness, yet cheers erupted from the Old Technique faction, filled with exhilaration.

Just moments ago, many were frantic. If Old Chen were to die and then be desecrated, they would suffer alongside him, unable to bear such an outcome.

Meanwhile, onlookers from various factions witnessed this scene, eyes fixed on Wang Xuan, who struck like a steel blade, capable of delivering a lethal blow.

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Wang Xuan exerted a bit of force, shaking off the young man beneath him, then stepped forward to the one he had previously struck down with a stone, delivering a ruthless kick to his head, swiftly eliminating two adversaries.

Three others involuntarily retreated, feeling the murderous aura emanating from Wang Xuan. It was as if cold water had been thrown on them; they dared not press forward.

Despite Old Chen's eyes dimming completely and his breathing ceased, he still clutched his sword, refusing to fall.

Wang Xuan checked Old Chen's pulse, then supported him.

"Master!" Qingmu rushed forward, tears streaming down his face as he sought to protect his mentor.

"Don't apply too much pressure. Although your master seems lifeless, there's still lightning swirling within him—it could explode at any moment!" Wang Xuan whispered.

Old Chen's condition had deteriorated to its worst. His breathing had stopped, yet the lightning within his organs flickered ominously, threatening to tear him apart—this was not the way a Grandmaster of the Old Technique should die.

Wang Xuan glared coldly at the three young men across from him, choosing not to attack. He carefully supported Old Chen and began to retreat, wary of making too much noise that might trigger an explosion within him.

"This area is too chaotic. We need to protect Old Wu as well," Wang Xuan murmured.

Qingmu nodded. Old Chen was astute, and as his disciple, he was no simple figure either. From the moment he had discreetly arranged Wang Xuan's position beside Old Chen before Wang had even graduated, it was clear Qingmu was far from ordinary.

"Protect Mr. Wu too!" Qingmu shouted, leading a large group toward Wu Chenglin to secure him alongside Old Chen. Both he and Wang Xuan were worried; if someone suddenly unleashed an energy blast, it would be too late to blame anyone afterwards.

Wu Chenglin felt speechless, knowing the situation well. Coming from a powerful family in the New Star, he doubted anyone would dare let harm befall him.

Wang Xuan escorted Old Chen back before turning around again, as more masters from the New Technique faction slowly approached. Fueled by rage, he was determined to retaliate against those who had pushed Old Chen to this brink. There was no hesitation; he wanted to fight back, hoping to ignite his super-sense in the heat of battle!

His fists and feet struck with tremendous force, his organs resonating, a faint glow almost breaking through his skin—this was the martial technique left by Zhang Daoling.

He clashed with a middle-aged man several times, overwhelming the green-glowing, incredibly resilient foe until the light shattered, and he punched right through the man's body!

This scene drew gasps of shock from many onlookers. While Old Chen had been a killing god, slaughtering top masters, this young man was equally formidable, single-handedly dispatching a powerful opponent from the New Technique.

Some narrowed their eyes, activating their bloodlines as red light flared around them, attempting to siphon Wang Xuan's blood essence.

But Wang Xuan's organs resonated in defiance. He leapt into the air, colliding with the attacker, and after a flurry of punches, he exploded the man into a spray of blood!

Those from the New Technique were stunned; their real top masters had already fallen to Old Chen's blade, yet now two of their strong had been killed by this young man.

Another New Technique practitioner charged in, towering at four meters, surrounded by a faint blue light—a new breed of humanity, a genetic superbody. He stepped forward, delivering a thunderous punch.

Wang Xuan sidestepped the blow, then unleashed a powerful kick, a faint white glow emanating from his organs, striking the superbody's knee with a crack that sent him howling to the ground.

Wang Xuan leapt, kicking the man in the head without a glance, rushing toward another opponent.

By the time Wang Xuan had sent a fifth man flying, his chest caved in, he retreated swiftly. The techniques recorded in the five-page golden book were taxing him too much; he was reaching his limit.

With a sigh, he realized that the more he tried to trigger his super-sense, the more elusive it became.

Calming down, he understood that the day was nearing its end; regardless of both sides' desires, it was nearly time to wrap things up.

Someone pointed at Wang Xuan with palpable hatred, evidently shocked that the Old Technique had produced such a powerful young fighter who had taken down several of their masters.

Wang Xuan paid no mind, retreating rapidly.

Wu Chenglin's eyes flickered as he scrutinized Wang Xuan, then turned to Qingmu. "Could the 'Old Wang' Old Chen mentioned be this young man?"

Wu Chenglin's keen perception allowed him to connect the dots quickly.

"No!" Qingmu denied it firmly.

Wang Xuan thought to himself, this old Wu was rather sly, trying to dig up his background—not very decent at all.

Wu Chenglin sighed, "Young man, you've truly surprised me with your strength; truly, heroes are born among the youth."

Wang Xuan knew that the Wu family was looking for collaboration with an Old Technique expert, and this was their way of buttering him up, likely hoping to recruit him.

"All the real experts were slain by Old Chen; those I killed were considerably weakened," Wang Xuan replied, shaking his head.

Suddenly, he paused, asking, "What about Old Chen?"

"He was taken aboard a spaceship by relevant authorities for urgent treatment," Qingmu said heavily.

...

The impending death of Old Chen drew attention from various factions, each reacting differently. Most felt a sense of loss, recognizing that the Old Technique had finally birthed such a figure, only for fate to intervene, preventing a glorious legacy from continuing.

Many were closely watching, waiting to see when Old Chen's life would finally flicker out.