A Dish Best Served Cold (The Man In Rage)
Chapter 1889

Just as those three black shadowy figures prepared to head into battle together, one of them, the slightly portlier one, suddenly held his two companions back.

Though he professed that he alone would be up to the task, the leading one amongst them clearly had his reservations.

"Knowing so little about this person and the unorthodoxy of his training, we are yet able to ascertain the extent of his abilities at this time. Perhaps then, Tres, it might be advisable for us to proceed with greater caution. As the adage goes, a lion would use its full strength even when hunting a rabbit. Hence it might be best for the three of us to strike together, so that we may finish him off in the most decisive manner," the leading one amongst the black-clad men said dourly.

However, the most junior one amongst them shook his head and responded with a chuckle. "You're too reserved, Unus, just like when we dealt with those two runts from the Zhang family. In the end, they weren't able to counter even a single one of our moves, in spite of me only expending thirty percent of my potential. As you can see, there's absolutely nothing for us to worry about."

He then continued, "Think about this. Not just in Jiangbei, apart from those few from Mount Van's War God Castle, who was there now in all of China that could rival me? Besides, it's obvious that this chap is more show than substance. What can he do besides walk on water? Mere trickery to impress these fools below, that's all. This, I'm equally capable of as well!"

The eyes of the sneering Tres brimmed with confidence, but he, of course, could not be faulted for his haughtiness either.

That was chiefly because the martial arts world in China was in regress. It had suffered from such a dearth of talent in contemporary times that only those three from Mount Van could boast of possessing incomparable might.

With Sword Saint and the others kept preoccupied with concerns about the military deployment by the Chu Sect for some time now, their focus would naturally not be on what was happening here.

In any case, apart from the few Hall Masters from War God Castle, there was probably only one other who they feared in China back in the day.

Regrettably, that individual had already perished in Eastsea at the hands of the fighters from War God

Castle three years ago.

Hence, it was in their esteem that there was really no one else in the entirety of China who could so much as cause them to bat an eyelid.

"Ires has a point, Onus. I suppose we could leave such a trivial matter to him, for should word go around at the sect that the three of us had to all dip our hands into such a petty fight, it'll make a laughing stock

of us all. Besides, with both of us keeping watching at the side, it wouldn't be too late to intervene even if Ires were to run into trouble," the other black-clad man, too, helped to persuade at the side.

Eventually, their leader relented with a nod.

"Hahaha... Finally, I get to have some fun."

Receiving the green light from their leader instantly delighted Ires, who went on to stretch his limbs and send his joints crackling all over.

At this moment, his eyes burned with an insatiable lust for battle.

"Wherefore is the head of the Meng family?" this stout and portly man in black abruptly hollered while he kept his hands behind him, sending his prideful inflection echoing all around.

Meng Wanjun hurried over in deference. "How may I serve, Master Tres?"

"Heed this well and have the wine warmed up. I want it ready for my enjoyment for whence I return with that man's head!"

Amidst his boisterous voice, the black-clad figure strode forth with his saber, and in a single step, he charged all the way up to Westlake's peak.

"T-This..."

Recovering from his brief moment of shock, Meng Wanjun exclaimed aloud, "My word, such awe! In antiquity, Guan Yunchang traversed five passes and slew six generals along the way. This day, there's Master Tres bringing his wine glass to the slaughter! Marvelous. This is just marvelous. Men, bring me the hundred-year-old brew. Heat up the wine and watch alongside me while Master Tres claims his victory!"

The fear and trembling that gripped Meng Wanjun before had doubtlessly been dispersed leading up to his utterances of these auspicious words, with the certitude of the fighter from the Chu Sect a major

boost to his own assuredness.

With all eyes on him, that black-clad figure forged ahead and took himself straight to the top of Westlake.

"Treading upon water and turning it into ice? Such petty trickery! Now, observe as I crush your thousand miles of frost into smithereens underfoot!"

Without foreshadowing or preparation, this man went on to channel all the strength in his body onto his legs.

First, this black-clad man leaped high into the air.

Then amidst his ebullient howl, he spread his arms wide in the sky like the wings of an eagle before the masses and stomped down ferociously upon the surface of Ye Fan's frozen Westlake. "Magnificent!" Meng Chuan slapped his thighs and lauded in jubilation.

Just as everyone awaited for this boundless stretch of ice to crumble beneath this man's feet, what was to transpire confounded all of their expectations.

Nevermind shattering, that expansive lake of frost merely quivered slightly under that man's feet, with nary a scratch appearing on it.

The entire icy mass remained as cold and resilient as steel perse.

"T-This..."

"How is this possible? At his explosive best, Tres was comparable to an elite Grandmaster, capable of smashing a fifty-meter mountain range with one kick. So how could such stupendous power be unable to break that down?"

By the shore, the masses all reacted in astonishment.

In particular, the other two black-clad men's eyes had narrowed close to a slit as they were totally shocked to their core.

All they felt then, was pure incredulity.

"Could it be that Tres had yet to unleash his full potency? Let's wait and see."

The leader of the black-clad trio did not respond hastily but stood his ground and continued to wait from afar for the man in the dragon mask to strike so that he may assess his opponent's true strength. They might be able to keep their wits about them but immersed in battle, the nerves of the portly Tres had already started to fray.

He knew well how much power he had put behind that kick just now, and how he was how, in spite of it, unable to penetrate the ice formed by his counterpart's aura.

"Who are you, really? What manner of sorcery is this? How am I unable to break through this layer of ice even after throwing everything at it?"

The black-clad man had his counterpart firmly locked within his hostile death stare, for the inscrutability of the man in the dragon mask really had him stumped.

"Enough talk, Tres. Just get it over with, and quickly. Employ your most favored saber technique to wipe him out!"

The urgings that sounded out from behind himself ultimately banished Tres' apprehensiveness.

"Not going to talk, huh? Then you shall bring your secret to the nether realms and forever hold your silence."

In the next second, Tres' expression grew frigid as he ventured forth with his saber in hand.

The wintry glow from the keenness of the blade cast chilling rays upon the surface of Westlake as scintillating as the sun itself.

Twisting and weaving, the haphazard and violent whirling of the saber conjured up waves upon waves of a terrifying tempest. "Apocalyptic Saber Dance!"

Once the man's energy had converged to a point, a near thousand meter-long sword beam was abruptly unleashed, cleaving down upon the body of the man in the dragon mask with devastating force.

Whoosh!

In that instant, the man in the dragon mask was devoured by that beam that shorn out a vast valley of a rupture into the icy river beneath his feet.

By that single cleave, the man in the dragon mask was sent hurtling into the depths of the Westlake below.

"Phew. It's over!"

Standing upon the ice, the black-clad man regarded the vacant space before him and let out a long exhale.

A single blow that might have been, it seemed to have taken every ounce of energy out of him.

Ires heaved vigorously where he stood but at the same time, the corner of his lips lifted into a victorious smile upon his grizzled visage.

"Well done, Ires! I'm surprised that you've managed to attain the sixth level of Apocalyptic Saber Dance. Perhaps even I would not have to be able to withstand that last blow from you myself."

To the rear, a chorus of cheers erupted from Meng Wanjun and the rest of the Meng family who was full of adulation for their Master Tres.

"It's time to celebrate. Invite Master Tres over for a drink!" yelled Meng Wanjun in absolute exhilaration.