Chapter Twenty: Are You Even Worthy of Wearing the Scarlet Robe?

Chen Hongxu’s expression revealed neither joy nor sorrow; his mood was impossible to discern. Standing on a golden lotus, he faced the man in the crimson robe mid-air, unflinching and without fear.

The crimson-robed man still couldn’t understand why, despite his opponent clearly being a mere seventh-tier ant in cultivation, he was able to disregard the laws of spiritual practice and summon the energies of heaven and earth at will. The surge of power was overwhelming, even surpassing his own eighth-grade strength.

Those watching nearby might not yet grasp the domineering force with which this young man commanded spiritual energy, but after losing an arm, the crimson-robed man dared not underestimate him further.

Before Chen Hongxu could fully gather his strength, the crimson-robed man, impatient, stepped into the void. Like an eagle swooping down upon a rabbit, he plunged from above, his robes trailing a scarlet shadow across the sky, moving so swiftly it induced dizziness.

Chen Hongxu narrowed his eyes, inwardly noting that he could no longer afford to slowly draw upon the spiritual energies as before. His opponent would not simply wait for the attack this time.

Should he really follow the soldier spirit’s advice?

He hesitated, remembering the tactics suggested by the soldier spirit. Chen Hongxu was reluctant, for ever since entering the temporary camp and listening to the exchanges of others, he had begun to form his own opinions.

The crimson-robed man clearly wasn’t going to allow Chen Hongxu much time for contemplation. In an instant, he was upon him, his remaining arm darting out like lightning—no finesse, only brute force, intending to overwhelm Chen Hongxu before he could complete his preparations.

He was genuinely afraid. Not only of Chen Hongxu’s bizarre spiritual energy, but also of the surrounding powerful cultivators, whose hostility forced him to display his strength. Even if his bravado was hollow, he needed everyone to know he would not be a lamb led to slaughter. He had to show he could fight to the death and give others pause before making a move against him.

Chen Hongxu could not have guessed the complex thoughts swirling in his opponent’s mind. He only felt that this was not the moment to meet force with force.

Staring at the hand, so unlike the withered claw from earlier, Chen Hongxu dared not let it touch him. With a heavy drop and a backward roll, he narrowly avoided the attack, landing in disarray—a far cry from his earlier, heroic stance.

The onlookers, seeing him so battered, concluded that Chen Hongxu must have triggered some latent potential earlier to fight so fiercely. Finding nothing more to watch, they shifted their attention back to their former opponents, who had taken advantage of the chaos to flee. With sneers, they turned to pursue them.

The lotus beneath Chen Hongxu’s feet dispersed, leaving him with no barrier to remain airborne. He crashed to the ground like a meteor.

With a thunderous boom, he left two deep footprints in the earth, and without pausing, he darted aside.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

No sooner had he leapt away than the spot where his footprints marked the ground was immediately flattened by a palm strike, the pit deepening.

Seeing Chen Hongxu fleeing so desperately, the crimson-robed man felt slightly reassured, though he couldn’t help but lament: A seventh-tier ought to act like a seventh-tier. Flying, resisting—how were rank experts expected to survive?

“Sister Su, I fear Brother Chen can’t hold out much longer. Let’s move.” Fan Caobao paced anxiously.

“Wait a little longer.” Su Xiaoxiao’s fist remained clenched, her gaze icy as she watched the crimson-robed man, as if determined to tear him apart piece by piece.

Gritting his teeth, Chen Hongxu dashed about, not daring to stop. Behind him, a massive palm would appear out of nowhere, threatening him.

The immense expenditure of energy wore at him, even though his body had been reformed by the soldier embryo. The physical toll was secondary; the mental strain of calculating the intervals between the palm strikes made his head ache. His face resolved, as if he had made up his mind. While fleeing, he stretched his hand behind him. A visible red glow erupted from his shoulder, coursing down his arm to his palm.

His hand closed on nothing, but an ancient, yet dazzlingly radiant red sword began to take shape.

The crimson-robed man narrowed his eyes, sensing the murderous intent emanating from the sword—a peerless weapon, buried for a thousand years amid the carnage of millions, whose mere presence struck terror and nearly paralyzed him.

“I can’t drag this out any longer. This kid isn’t just odd. If I can seize his weapon, even with one arm lost, no one here would dare provoke me.” The crimson-robed man’s aura surged, so much so that even he struggled to contain it. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, likely the result of spiritual backlash.

His body swelled, ballooning as if inflated.

“Ah!”

With a cry of agony, the crimson-robed man unleashed hundreds of palm strikes in rapid succession, one after another without pause. Even Bear, whose strength was comparatively low, could see the line of palm imprints formed by spiritual energy, rushing straight toward Chen Hongxu.

By now, the red sword in Chen Hongxu’s hand had fully formed. Sensing the tangible murderous intent behind him, he suppressed his instinctive shudder at the threat to his life, turned, and hurled the sword with all his might.

Red sword, red line—these were all the crimson-robed man could see. That commanding sword pierced through a hundred palm strikes aimed at Chen Hongxu, as if sworn to slay the crimson-robed man beneath its blade.

After releasing the barrage of palm strikes, the crimson-robed man’s body returned to normal, but each conjured palm was pierced without exception by the red sword. He, too, seemed to suffer irreversible injury—his body shriveled, like a balloon punctured.

He gritted his teeth, dodging at lightning speed to avoid a fatal blow, leaving only a thumb-sized hole in his shoulder. Wild-eyed and deranged, he snarled at Chen Hongxu, “Boy, whatever tricks you have left, use them. I’ll tear you to pieces!”

Chen Hongxu was stunned; so too were the others who could still breathe, all forgetting what they were doing to stare fixedly behind the crimson-robed man. The sudden silence was uncanny.

“You dare wear crimson robes?”

A voice, melodious as a golden oriole yet impossible to discern its gender, exploded in the crimson-robed man’s ear.

His pupils contracted, then dilated in shock as he turned. There, hovering behind him, was a long-haired woman clad in red armor, a golden lotus engraved upon her brow. She held an eight-foot spear, standing like a female war god, her expression cold and aloof, as though she looked down upon the world.

Hidden Saint 20_Complete Free Reading of Hidden Saint_Chapter Twenty: You Dare Wear Crimson Robes?—Update Finished!