"What joke? Who's joking with you? Du Kui, have you lost your mind? As Young Sect Master of the Taiqing Upper Sect, shouldn't you know that our Holy Clan and the Eight Great Immortal Sects are bound together, working in unison to bring order to the world? Do you think our dignified Holy Clan has truly gone mad and come here to make trouble for the Taiqing Upper Sect?"
The Ninth Elder rebuked him loudly and righteously, as if this really were all just a joke.
In truth, it was a joke—just one played on Du Kui alone.
The entire operation had been nothing more than political blackmail.
The chances of success had actually been very high. Bringing Du Kui into it had been a stroke of genius; this grand scheme of playing one side against another was bound to be spectacular.
Unexpectedly, Hong Jiantong had no ambition and couldn't make decisions for Donghua. Worse, he was sharp enough to see through Du Kui's bluff.
And so, this carefully prepared show had to close early.
It was a pity the blackmail had failed, but the Holy Clan had suffered no losses.
The only loss was that they might never find another fool as useful as Du Kui to exploit.
The line they'd built through Qi Hong, an inside agent planted in the Taiqing Upper Sect, would also have to be cut.
But no scheme in the world was guaranteed to succeed. It was regrettable, but they could accept it.
"Ah! Kong Jiu! And you, Qi Hong! You—you actually dare! I'll kill you!"
Du Kui went berserk, flinging both hands about. His violent spiritual power was on the verge of gathering into a sphere of light when a shimmering green net suddenly unfurled behind him and caught him squarely.
The one