Chapter 65: The Duan Clan! Bizarre!
Duan Yu, struck by the Yi Yang Zhi force, bleeding profusely, had been jolted awake and screamed in agony.
These last days, he had suffered greatly—beaten by Gong Guangjie at Mount Wuliang, later bound by Sikong Xuan at the Shennong Gang, and finally captured by the Four Evildoers. He had been through endless ordeals!
Now exhausted, battered, and gravely wounded, he was in no state to heed his father’s words, only moaning in pain, his face contorted.
Though Duan Zhengchun had spoken righteously, this was still his own son. How could he not feel heartache?
Seeing it, feeling it, his body almost gave way. He wanted to rush forward to save him.
But as soon as he shifted a step, Duan Yanqing’s iron crutch pressed closer against Duan Yu, force ready to strike.
His heart went cold.
He knew that if he acted rashly, his son would be killed before he could reach him.
So he cried out in anguish: “What do you want!? As for abdication, it is impossible! I have no power to promise that for my elder brother either! Do not indulge in fantasies!”
Duan Yanqing sneered coldly: “Fantasy? Very well! Since you refuse to save your son, I shall destroy your hope! I hear Duan Zhengming intends to make you his heir? Hmph! Then I will kill your only child, so that your line is cut off! Let us see how you pass on the throne then!”
Duan Zhengchun had not expected his thoughts to be so venomous. He opened his mouth to argue, but then seemed to think of something, and held back.
“Even so, you will not succeed!”
Duan Yanqing let out a cold laugh: “We shall see!”
His force surged through the crutch, stabbing toward Duan Yu!
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Not far away, a tall figure had already quietly arrived—Fang Han, who had just entered Ten-Thousand Calamities Valley.
Seeing the confrontation before him, he quickly pieced things together.
So, the trajectory of fate has shattered again.
His expression grew subtly strange.
To others, this might seem perilous to the extreme. But to Fang Han, he saw something bizarre.
Look carefully: this was a father seizing his own son, threatening him with death…
Ah…
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There was something faintly moving about the scene.
If the truth of their relationship were ever revealed, one could hardly imagine how they would look back on this moment.
Seeing Duan Yanqing’s iron staff thrusting down, the intent to kill already revealed itself.
Fang Han’s eyes narrowed slightly. With a surge of inner force, he suddenly flicked a pebble from his hand!
This strike was not meant for subtlety or precision—it carried only the raw weight of force.
In truth, at such a distance, even he was uncertain. He did not know whether he could hit Duan Yanqing’s iron staff, nor whether he could deflect its path. After all, his mastery of hidden weapons was far from refined.
Life and death are left to fate, he thought.
If it struck true, then good; if it missed, then perhaps Duan Yu’s destiny was simply thus.
Over there, Duan Yanqing suddenly felt a fierce gust of wind rushing toward him. His brows knitted, and his thoughts spun quickly—he instantly knew someone had intervened to save.
With a sudden Clang!, Duan Yu’s luck held fast—Fang Han’s strike had landed precisely.
Duan Yanqing’s iron staff was checked by the pebble. He instantly felt the force behind it was shockingly heavy; the palm of his hand could not help but tremble slightly. Inwardly, he was astonished!
It was not that the technique itself was profound.
The thrower’s hidden weapon skill was in truth not refined. It had been flung with sheer brute strength, such that even before it landed, the wind howled around it. Had he retreated just a step earlier, he could have easily avoided this hasty strike.
Yet, confident in his martial skill, he had thought little of it and still thrust his staff toward Duan Yu, certain that no one could possibly hinder him.
Who would have thought that a single pebble would leave his palm faintly numb?
Secretly, he was shaken at the sheer force contained within that blow!
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One must know that he had already infused the power of Yi Yang Zhi into his iron staff. Now that all of his martial arts were concentrated in his hands, his palms should have been as solid as rock—yet they were still shaken in this way…
The newcomer was no ordinary man!
Either he was born with divine strength, or he possessed an extremely profound level of inner force.
Duan Yanqing’s gaze shifted slightly, landing on Fang Han, who had floated in with a graceful lightness. Seeing that he was handsome, carrying an aura of calm majesty like a mountain, Duan’s expression turned solemn. In a cold voice, he asked:
“Who might you be, sir? Why do you block my way!?”
In his heart, however, he secretly assumed this man was another expert invited by the Duan clan. Combined with the superior qinggong he had just displayed, his wariness grew heavier.
The power of Duan Zhengming and Duan Zhengchun’s brothers is becoming more and more astounding…
On the other side, Duan Zhengchun saw that Duan Yu had been saved. He was overjoyed, and although he did not recognize Fang Han, he could not restrain his gratitude. He bowed from afar and said:
“Many thanks to this chivalrous hero for lending a hand! The Palace of the Southern Prince of Dali shall never forget this favor!”
Duan Yanqing was momentarily stunned at hearing this.
He realized that all he had just assumed was wrong.
But he still dared not relax in the slightest.
After all, this man had already come to assist Duan Zhengchun—it was plain to see.
Fang Han’s expression remained calm as he said in a clear voice:
“The Prince of the Southern Palace need not offer excessive thanks. I have merely met your son once before, that is all, hehe…”
Glancing at Duan Yu, who lay on the ground in a disheveled and pitiful state, Fang Han could not help feeling inwardly surprised.
The way the course of events had unfolded was beyond his expectations.
Duan Yu had actually been captured by the Four Evildoers ahead of time. This alone had completely diverged from the trajectory Fang Han had known.
For instance, just now—had he not stepped in, Duan Yu would surely have perished!
This made Fang Han feel a faint sense of contemplation in his heart.
Even protagonists—so long as they made a misstep, even by the slightest margin—might fail to replicate the various feats and opportunities they were supposed to have.
For example, swallowing the manggu zhuhá to gain immunity to a hundred poisons: if the timing or circumstances were slightly off, the result would simply be instant death. How could such immunity possibly be gained so easily?
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