"Are you the Han Chinese who planted the blood seed in Princess Ailebela?"
Suddenly, a handsome young man in a red suit pushed through the crowd and walked gracefully to Zhang Fan's side. His blood-red eyes fixed on Zhang Fan as he said indifferently.
"Blood seed? Princess Ailebela was planted with a blood seed?"
The handsome youth's words caused a stir among the other younglings, who expressed surprise and disbelief.
After all, the art of the blood seed was a secret technique unique to their Blood Race. As a once-in-a-century genius of the Blood Race, Ailebela had mastered this technique to perfection.
Yet today, someone stepped forward to claim that Ailebela had been planted with a blood seed, and that person was a Han Chinese. How could the younger generation, who adored Ailebela, accept this?
The older generation of the Blood Race was more composed, having heard this news before. Their initial reaction was similar disbelief.
They had then considered dispatching elders to Han China to force the Han youth to remove the blood seed.
However, to their bewilderment, Ailebela herself had intervened.
Only later, as Ailebela's strength rapidly improved, reaching the peak of the Saint realm in less than two years, did they understand why she had stopped them.
Simultaneously, they learned of Zhang Fan's promise to Ailebela: he would grant her freedom after ten years. This was an acceptable outcome for their Blood Race.
Therefore, the higher echelons of the Blood Race had not brought up the matter again.
But today, Zhang Fan dared to appear in their ancestral castle, leaving the Blood Race's high command uncertain of his intentions, naturally approaching him with a degree of wariness and hostility.
"What if I did? What business is it of yours?" Zhang Fan glanced at the handsome youth nonchalantly, with a faint smile.
Ailebela did not intervene in this sudden turn of events, for she knew it was inevitable once she brought Zhang Fan to the ancestral castle.
At the same time, she trusted that her master could handle the situation effectively.
After all, even the five Earth Immortals from the Holy See couldn't do anything to Zhang Fan. How could the younger generation of their Blood Race possibly pose a threat to him?
Zhang Fan's unapologetic admission intensified the coldness in the youth's eyes, and even the eyes of the younger generation of the Blood Race shifted towards Zhang Fan.
The atmosphere in the hall suddenly became tense. More than a dozen Saints stood in the hall, radiating a bloody aura, exuding a heavy oppressive force that made some of the weaker younglings of the Blood Race feel breathless.
At the upper end of the hall, there was a dark throne. Upon it sat a middle-aged man clad in a retro robe.
He possessed an elegant demeanor, like a medieval noble, as he sat on the throne, quietly observing everything unfolding below without intervening.
"Remove the blood seed from the Princess immediately, and this matter will be concluded. Otherwise, I don't care who you are; you will not leave this place today."
The handsome youth's eyes held undisguised killing intent as he spoke with a chilling expression.
"Heh."
Zhang Fan shook his head and flicked his finger at the handsome youth. A sharp burst of finger energy shot from his fingertip.
The young man hadn't expected Zhang Fan to make the first move within their ancestral castle, nor had he anticipated the speed of the attack. Before he could react or defend himself, it struck him.
*Thump!*
The young man was sent flying by Zhang Fan's finger strike, crashing into a massive iron pillar behind him with a deafening roar.
This young man had reached the mid-Saint realm, undoubtedly a prodigy within the Blood Race. However, he was facing Zhang Fan, who had defeated the Pope of the Holy See and possessed combat power comparable to an Earth Immortal.
Even with less than half his strength, this single finger strike left him spitting blood and gravely wounded, rendering him incapable of fighting.
The Blood Race youths who had been itching to challenge Zhang Fan instantly fell silent, looking at him with disbelief and a hint of fear.
A single casual finger strike that could gravely wound and incapacitate a mid-Saint like Oakland required what level of power?
*Clap, clap!*
"Saint Zhang is indeed Saint Zhang. With such strength, it is no exaggeration to call him the Supreme of the Han martial arts world." The middle-aged man on the throne stood up, applauding gently, a knowing smile on his face.
"However, striking my kin so harshly within my ancestral castle, Saint Zhang, is this not going too far?"
"Too far?"
Zhang Fan disdained to explain. Instead, with a playful smile, he looked towards the upper end of the hall and said, "Aren't you just trying to test my strength and my purpose for coming here? Unfortunately, you are all too weak to test me."
"Madman!"
"This Han brat is too arrogant."
Zhang Fan's words utterly enraged the Blood Race members. More than a dozen Saints slowly began to surround Zhang Fan, appearing ready to attack at any moment.
"Saint Zhang, are you not being a bit too presumptuous?"
The middle-aged man standing before the throne frowned. Based on the intelligence he had gathered, he knew Zhang Fan to be extremely arrogant and disdainful of others, but now, facing him directly, he felt that the intelligence had understated the situation.
"I won't beat around the bush. Since you want to witness my strength, then come."
"Let's have the three of you. Your strength is still passable and worth my effort." Zhang Fan pointed at the middle-aged man and the two men beside him.
These three individuals, one at the peak of the Divine realm, and the other two at the late Divine realm, formed an extremely formidable force.
However, in Zhang Fan's eyes, they were merely ordinary, barely able to withstand a few of his moves.
He knew that his arrival in the Blood Race would inevitably lead to conflict due to his relationship with Ailebela. The best way to resolve such conflicts was through martial suppression.
Only by demonstrating overwhelming strength and intimidating the Blood Race could he settle down here for his cultivation.
"Father, you are no match for Master. You should give up."
At this moment, Ailebela could no longer stand idly by.
Although she knew Zhang Fan usually exercised restraint, he was her father, unlike Oakland who had stepped forward earlier.
She could watch Oakland being beaten and injured without protest, but she did not want to see her father get hurt, so she had to step forward.
"Bella, are you doubting my strength?" The middle-aged man seemed incredulous.
His strength had long reached the peak of the Divine realm, only slightly inferior to the Pope of the Holy See. Although Zhang Fan was dominant in Han China, he didn't believe Zhang Fan could defeat him.
"Actually, Master's primary purpose for coming to Europe this time was to go to the Holy See and kill the Pope."
"Although the Pope has entered the Earth Immortal realm, he is still no match for Master. Just as Master was about to kill him, four Arbitrators appeared in the Holy See and rescued the Pope. Facing the combined assault of five Earth Immortals, Master had no choice but to retreat."
"Even so, before retreating, Master shattered the Holy See's protective formation and stole the Heart of Holy Light."
"Father, do you still believe you are Master's match now?"