A Seventeen-Hundred-Year-Old Grandmaster

At the camp.

The argument escalated, turning into a standoff.

The Old Boatman, dressed in tattered clothes and wearing a straw hat, stood there quietly with cloudy eyes.

It gives people an extreme sense of intimidation.

He spoke coldly:

"I probably don't need to explain why I sent you all here, but now that something unexpected has happened, you're all panicking?"

Yu Chengzong and Li Qiuhua exchanged a glance. The former snorted coldly, his attitude very firm:

"The Myriad Gods Cult is sealing off this small world for no reason. Doesn't it intend to offer any explanation?"

The Old Boatman remained indifferent.

"First, I am not a follower of a theistic religion."

"Secondly, the doctrines of the Church are right there; why don't you dare to question them?"

As he spoke, the Old Boatman pointed.

All eyes turned to a middle-aged man in the center of the camp, who was sitting cross-legged with his eyes closed, seemingly oblivious to everything around him.

On his body, with each breath, the tattoos on his skin twisted and contracted strangely.

A leader of the Myriad Gods Cult, above all others and High Envoy authority, is called a [Grandmaster].

Wei Lingzhu spoke softly:

"Neither the Old Boatman nor our Old Fisherman belong to any particular sect, but they are all affiliated with one because Twin Cities are controlled by the Myriad Gods Cult."

"In a sense, we, along with the Old Boatman and his ilk, are all 'representatives' of the Myriad Gods Cult."

Zhang Fusheng nodded thoughtfully, keenly catching the information in the Old Boatman's words.

There is indeed a reason why various religions and sects have gathered here.

Although there were no truly powerful individuals.

But to be honest, when the Divine Descent was about to occur in Jiangzhou, weren't there only four Martial Arts Master masters in charge?

Currently, Zhang Fusheng has seen more than ten cult leaders in the camp alone.

Various religious sects have them.

As my thoughts wandered, I found myself in the arena.

Yu Chengzong glanced at the motionless Divine Cult Grandmaster, remained silent for a moment, and then maintained his firm stance:

"But in any case, the Myriad Gods Cult should give us an explanation, they should tell us what happened, right?"

He pointed to the sky above, where it was pitch black and shrouded in a deep, intense resentment.

A refined and elegant woman approached; she was also Martial Arts Master.

She clearly came from the Ancient Sage Faction or the Tianli Faction of the Confucian Sect, and at this moment she also spoke up to exert pressure:

"People from the Confucian Sect, Daoism, and even the Mandala tradition of the Buddhist Sect are all trapped here. What exactly does the Myriad Gods Cult want to do?"

"What, are you planning to wage war against all religions and factions at the same time?"

"Don't forget, our Ancient Sage Faction also Divine Walker in the Golden Province to oversee things!"

Amidst the clear, resonant voices, Martial Arts Master from other sects approached.

The Old Boatman's expression hardened slightly, and he glanced sideways, saying:

"Old Fisherman, what, are you just going to watch the show? Let's put aside our past grievances, how dare you neglect the affairs of the Divine Cult?"

The middle-aged man wearing a wolf-head cloak raised his head, stared at the Old Boatman for a long time, and finally stepped forward and stood beside him.

Zhang Fusheng asked a timely question:

"The person sitting in the middle of the camp, aren't you going to step forward?"

Wei Qingshan answered for him:

"That's the camp's 'guardian,' and also the cult's ferryman—in short, the one responsible for opening the 'smuggling route.'"

After a moment, he whispered:

"That lord doesn't concern himself with the affairs of the camp, nor does he concern himself with disputes. He is high above, detached from everything—he is a grandmaster!"

"In other words, that sir is the final arbiter in all disputes within the camp."

"Brother Boyang, you should know what a Grandmaster means, right?"

Zhang Fusheng nodded silently and continued to observe from a distance.

The atmosphere on the field was tense.

Even the Old Boatman, a top Martial Arts Master, was finding it difficult to keep up and took a slight step back.

Instead, the fisherman beside him spoke in a deep voice:

"The matter of the cult is for the cult to decide. The boatman is indeed a scoundrel, but he is right about one thing."

After looking around, the fisherman continued:

"He and I are ultimately not members of the cult, so we cannot answer your questions, nor do we know why the sky has turned completely black."

A Martial Arts Master from the Buddhist community sighed with compassion:

When will the restrictions be lifted?

The fisherman shook his head:

"I don't know."

When will the sky clear?

"I don't know."

When will the Land of Exotic Treasures be opened?

"I don't know."

"You know nothing!" the Buddhist master rebuked, the skull prayer beads around his neck vibrating and clanging.

A rosary consists of eighteen beads, all made from human skulls!

The fisherman did not back down; he cupped his hands in greeting and extended his hand in invitation.

"The Divine Cult Grandmaster is right there."

The leaders of all religions and sects have all fallen silent.

In silence.

The Divine Cult Grandmaster, who had always remained aloof and indifferent to everything, suddenly spoke:

"The sealing of the heavens and the forbidden lands was all because of one person."

The hoarse voice echoed in all directions, and awe-inspiring gazes fell upon the grandmaster.

The grandmaster remained silent, his eyes still closed, and simply said:

"Leaving Twin Cities is simple; all you need to do is find one person—this is what he looks like."

Many people from the fishermen and boatmen stepped forward and handed out photos one by one. Yu Chengzong and Li Qiuhua took the photos like the others, and after just one glance, they were almost shocked to death!

But they remained resolute and unmoved, while other West Cultist might not have been so swayed.

West Cultist had once delivered food to Zhang Fusheng in Jiangzhou exclaimed in surprise:

"Mr. Zhang?"

The master, who had been resting with his eyes closed, opened them and made a fierce move!

A palm Blood Qi Palm Seal appeared out of thin air and captured the West Cultist. With just a slight exertion, the West Cultist, who was at the Seventh or Eighth Refinement, coughed up blood.

"You know him?" the grandmaster asked, his body radiating tangible Qi and Blood, with two furnace flames hovering behind his head.

The radiant Qi and Blood, as bright as a rosy sunset, emitted countless rays of light, illuminating the entire camp!

"The Grandmaster has made a move!" Wei Lingzhu exclaimed in alarm, instinctively taking a step back and pulling the young man beside her back with her.

The young man watched silently, his face expressionless.

In the distance, many believers paled in shock. The grandmaster, who had never interfered or intervened before, had suddenly made a move.

Another leader of the Western Sect, barely suppressing his shock, said:

"Does the Grandmaster intend to make things difficult for my Western Sect?"

The master didn't even glance at him, his mind unmoved, as the captured West Cultist approached:

"You know him?"

The West Cultist struggled, bleeding from all seven orifices under immense pressure, and managed to speak with difficulty:

"Get to know them!"

"A month ago, in Jiangzhou, my family's High Envoy with great courtesy."

As the Blood Qi Palm Seal dissipated, the West Cultist collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath and coughing up blood.

"Jiangzhou."

The grandmaster spoke indifferently:

"What's a high-ranking official like him doing in Jiangzhou?"

A question mark appeared on Yu Chengzong's forehead, and Li Qiuhua was also bewildered.

Double Ninth Festival?

Director-General

Their minds went blank, and along with the followers of the other sects, they thought of that earlier battle in the heavens.

Is that Fu Sheng??

Yu Chengzong and Li Qiuhua looked at each other, their hearts pounding.

"Even our sect is unaware of the changes in the heavens." The grandmaster sat back down and closed his eyes again.

"Stop causing trouble and behave yourselves."

The camp fell silent for a moment, everyone passing around the photos, puzzled. Then the fisherman, wearing a wolf-head cloak, returned.

Zhang Fusheng sat down again with the Wei Siblings.

As Wei Lingzhu cleaned up the food scraps in front of her, she stroked her chin and couldn't help but whisper:

"Chongyang, a superior city. So the important figure on that spaceship today was the director of Chongyang."

Beside him, Wei Qingshan looked somewhat confused:

"But I don't understand, is the head of a higher-level city really that powerful? Never mind, let's not worry about so much. Brother Boyang, let's have a drink!"

He clinked glasses with 'Zhang Boyang'.

The three of them sat in the corner, chatting idly. Zhang Fusheng, looking like a curious child, asked:

"During the argument just now, the Land of Exotic Treasures was mentioned. What is that?"

Wei Lingzhu casually explained:

"The world of Twin Cities is full of holes and flaws. Not long ago, a new flaw appeared, leading to a mysterious area that we call the Land of Exotic Treasures."

After pausing, she explained in detail:

"It was a dark place, and on the scorched earth stood a very tall gate with three characters on it— 'South Heaven Gate'."

Zhang Fusheng's expression remained unchanged, but his heart was in shock.

South Heaven Gate?

Isn't this the place where that dying Celestial Person being hid in Chongshan City?

Inside the bubble of the Shuangcheng City, there's a passageway that leads directly there...?

Zhang Fusheng asked calmly:

"Are those cultists all here to fight for that so-called South Heaven Gate?"

Why fight over that thing?

Wei Qingshan said with a grin:

"It's just a gateway, nothing more, nothing at all. The main thing is that the scorched, black soil there has all sorts of wonderful uses."

"No matter how severe the injury, applying that scorched earth will heal it instantly. You can even roll it into a ball and swallow it directly; a single ball the size of a soybean is comparable to a Precious Medicine!"

Medicines are classified into four levels: Precious Medicine, great medicines, miraculous medicines, and Heavenly Elixir.

There are naturally higher places, but those are beyond the reach of humankind.

Wei Qingshan clicked his tongue in amazement:

"Those scorched earth pieces are called rare treasures. They're useless to the high and mighty figures, but they're a different story for us."

Zhang Fusheng seemed lost in thought:

"So, they're all here to steal the scorched earth?"

"Yes."

Wei Qingshan nodded:

"The Land of Exotic Treasures has only just been discovered and has not yet been extensively mined. These cultists have all come upon hearing the news, waiting for the next smuggling route to the Land of Exotic Treasures to open."

"I just don't know if the shipping route will reopen after the cult seals off the bubble."

Zhang Fusheng frowned slightly, believing that things were definitely not that simple.

A severely injured Celestial Person, Land of Exotic Treasures, and scorched earth with wondrous uses.

He suspected that the scorched earth had a magical use because it was stained with the blood of Celestial Person.

"I'm going to take a nap," Zhang Fusheng said casually.

"Okay, we'll keep watch for you."

I entered a tent, lay down, and my thoughts and ideas quietly drifted away.

Inside the small building.

The boatman closed the door and then used a special material capable of emitting divine warning signals to seal the gap at the bottom, ensuring that no divine sense could penetrate.

He then turned around and plopped down on the sofa.

"The fisherman is suspicious," a trusted aide whispered. "His expression changed when he heard the name of the Chongyang Headquarters."

"Um."

The boatman nodded slightly and coughed twice.

"If I remember correctly, the fisherman's master was a big shot in Chongyang, right? Do you think they might still be in contact?"

"It's not impossible," the confidant whispered. "Perhaps we can use this opportunity to completely destroy the fisherman."

The Old Boatman pondered quietly for a long time.

He raised his head, a smile spreading across his aged face:

"Good."

"Since he has connections with Chongyang, it's possible he's harboring the Chongyang Director whom the Divine Cult is investigating."

"Sweep away, suppress, kill them all."

"As for the fact that after the cleanup, it was discovered that he was actually innocent?"

After a moment of pause, the Old Boatman muttered to himself:

"Then I can only apologize."

The aged voice echoed in the small house. The confidant nodded, said "yes," and quietly withdrew, leaving the Old Boatman alone, curled up in bed.

Speaking of which, what if the Old Fisherman really did harbor someone?

The thought flashed through my mind.

Impossible.

Chongshan City.

The dungeon.

Du Mingsheng was impaled by a specially made chain, pinned firmly to the spot, unable to move, with half of his body submerged in water.

He was exhausted, his whole body was in excruciating pain, and his eyes were somewhat unfocused.

Suffering, torment.

In a daze.

Before my eyes, there seemed to be a chaotic mist flowing out from nothingness.

Du Mingsheng to lift his head and saw the chaotic mist coalesce into an old figure.

"True Person!!"

He was both surprised and delighted.

The True Person shook his head and spoke slowly:

"A member wants to make a deal with you."

"A hundred years of cultivation in exchange for your freedom from this place, are you willing?"

Du Mingsheng pondered for only a moment before nodding emphatically.

"I do!"

If you lose your cultivation, you can cultivate it again; but if you lose your life, it's truly over.

"Good."

The True Person nodded, outlining light and shadow, and a solemn voice echoed in the dungeon.

"The contract has been established."

The past century of arduous cultivation has slowly erased it.

The four stove fires lit by Du Mingsheng flickered slightly.

Later on...

There were still four lamps left.

The True Person raised his eyelids and stared at the haggard-looking middle-aged man who didn't appear to be very old.

He was a hundred years ago.

It had already become a top-tier sect.

Du Mingsheng his head, avoiding the True Person's gaze, remained silent for a moment, and then spoke softly:

"I am 1,700 years old."

Seventeen hundred years old.

The Innate Great Realm has a lifespan of no more than eight hundred years.

The True Person figure formed from the chaotic mist remained calm, merely nodding slightly.

"Prepare to escape."

The True Person then quietly disappeared.