"Master, I heard Second Junior Sister say we're going to make a move against Chaimen?"
The honest-looking youth, who had returned to the Martial Arts Academy at some unknown time, sat steadily across from the old man.
He asked calmly:
"Isn't the risk factor a little too high?"
The old School Master glanced at the honest youth and said lazily:
"Could your master possibly lose to Old Ghost Chai?"
"The problem isn't him."
Niu Dali, both arms wrapped in bandages, spoke softly:
"Old Ghost Chai has recently been suspected of making contact with those people. Daoism."
Hong Tianbao smiled.
"Then what? Report him to the Federation?"
Niu Dali fell silent for a moment.
"In any case, I don't think now is a good time to swallow up Chaimen. If this is because of the resources needed by our new Junior Disciple Brother, I can give half the businesses under my name to him."
The two looked at each other, both silent.
After a long while.
Hong Tianbao rolled his prayer beads between his fingers and spoke in a muffled voice:
"I know about Old Ghost Chai contacting Daoism. If it were the East Cult, I wouldn't make things difficult for Chaimen. But he has thrown in his lot with the Western Sect."
He set down the prayer beads.
"The East and West Cults share the same source, yet their ways of doing things differ as far as heaven and earth. Even the gods they worship are alike only in appearance. You should know what the Western Sect is like too. If we let them run wild in Jiangzhou, how much longer can this city survive?"
Niu Dali spoke with great seriousness:
"I received word that people from the East Cult have also come to Jiangzhou. And that 'old friend' of yours—if I remember correctly, he was once a High Envoy of Eastern Daoism. He should still be in Jiangzhou, shouldn't he?"
"Master, if we truly want to devour Chaimen, we can wait until the East Cult's High Envoy clears out that pack of Western Sect heretics. Entering now carries far too much risk."
The old man lowered his eyelids slightly, followed by another long silence.
In the stillness, he let out a breath.
"Your master does not have much time left."
Niu Dali shuddered and abruptly raised his head.
"Your... injury?"
Hong Tianbao nodded faintly.
"My 'old friend' is covered head to toe in lumps of flesh that cannot be removed, turning uncontrollably into a creature of blood and flesh. How much better off could I possibly be?"
"The last time I saw him, Huang Qiuxian, the renowned Current Generation Martial Ancestor, had already fallen to the level of an ordinary martial artist. Even if he is still alive now, he is probably nothing more than some old cripple at the Second or Third Refinement."
Hearing his master's words, Niu Dali opened his mouth, then remained silent for a long time.
"Do you know where he is?"
"I don't."
Hong Tianbao yawned.
"I never intended to seek him out either. The matter of Chaimen is settled. Your Junior Disciple Brother's talent can be called unprecedented and dazzling through the ages. It is not that your master is playing favorites, but he truly has the greatest chance."
After a pause, Hong Tianbao said heavily:
"What he needs now is not merely resources. He must also learn how to 'do things.' Chaimen is the finest touchstone. If he handles it well, he may even catch the eye of the East Cult."
"The path of cultivation is nothing more than contention. One who only knows cultivation but not the means to contend will not go far. Chaimen is your master's first lesson for him—perhaps also his last."
The old man rose and left. Behind him, Niu Dali called out:
"If you truly get dragged into this, you'll die!"
"Didn't I say so already?" The plump little old man curled his lip. "Your master wasn't going to live long anyway."
"How is it?"
Zhu Xiaoming, his head smooth and bare, patted the red four-seat sports car beside him and said smugly:
"Old Zhang, isn't it handsome?"
Zhang Fusheng laughed.
"Handsome, yes, but your ears...?"
He pointed at the huge earrings on Zhu Xiaoming's ears, as well as the thick gold chain around his neck.
Zhu Xiaoming lifted his chin.
"I specially got my ears pierced the day before yesterday. I picked skull earrings, and with this gold chain and my shaved head, don't I look like some big shot from the streets?"
"Like a thug." Zhang Fusheng mocked. "Are you trying to turn over a new leaf and become a man with lions hidden in his eyes?"
"Old Zhang, you really do understand me!"
Zhu Xiaoming beamed.
"University means a brand-new place and brand-new people. Hardly anyone knows about my past. I've already decided that once school starts, I'll become a cold and aloof man without emotions."
"I shall speak little and walk alone, like a lone wolf crossing a snowy mountain!"
He patted his chest, filled with lofty ambition.
Zhang Fusheng was silent for a moment.
"I don't see a lone wolf. I only see a husky—and a bald one at that."
"Get lost, get lost, get lost!" Zhu Xiaoming jumped in outrage.
The two got into the bright-red sports car.
"Did Uncle Zhu buy this for you?" Zhang Fusheng asked curiously. "This couldn't have been cheap, could it?"
Doubts rose in his heart.
From his Senior Sister, Zhang Fusheng had also received information on "Zhu Dashan." He really was Uncle Zhu, and his debts were even much higher than Chen Nuanyu's—a full forty million.
However, judging from the brief description of the funds' destination in the file, he should be able to repay it. Uncle Zhu had used that money to advance payment for a large batch of materials.
Though the loan interest was exceptionally high, repaying it probably would not be too difficult, though it certainly would not be easy either.
One careless misstep, and there would be a risk of overdue payments.
"It was a little over three million after everything, I think."
Zhu Xiaoming chuckled.
"But my dad didn't buy it for me. I rented it."
He stepped on the accelerator. Amid the sidelong glances of passersby, the sports car shot along the asphalt road like a streak of flowing fire, yet it did not head straight toward Jiang University.
"Where are we going?" Zhang Fusheng was somewhat puzzled.
Zhu Xiaoming grinned.
"Today, you're going to be my wingman for once. How could I not repay this favor?"
Zhang Fusheng raised an eyebrow.
"Where exactly are we going?"
He looked at the nearby buildings, which were becoming increasingly familiar.
"You asked me about Zhong Yue yesterday."
With one hand on the steering wheel and the other patting his chest, Zhu Xiaoming said smugly:
"My dad sponsored the Jiang University Banquet. Didn't the school put me in charge of this meal? So I called her using the information on the list."
He winked at Zhang Fusheng.
"Using the event as an excuse, I invited her to visit Jiang University with us today. I'm creating an opportunity for you! Ahem, of course, having a girl around will also make it easier for me to get close to Lu Yao!"
Zhang Fusheng was completely speechless.
The red sports car braked to a stop outside the Snake Fist Gym. The window slid down, and Zhu Xiaoming waved toward the girl who had just taken leave and was standing outside the gym.
Zhong Yue curiously examined the bright-red sports car. She had only taken two steps closer when her feet abruptly halted—she saw the handsome youth seated in the passenger seat.
It was him.
Zhong Yue was not the only one who spotted him. Outside the Martial Arts Academy, the little old man in a traditional jacket, hands clasped behind his back as he ambled about leisurely, also caught sight of Zhang Fusheng.
He narrowed his eyes.
"Old Ghost Hong still isn't done?"
Zhang Fusheng's gaze passed over Zhong Yue and met the Snake Fist Gym's School Master's eyes, making his heart tighten.
As their gazes collided, the little old man seemed deeply displeased. A faint glimmer appeared in his eyes, and in an instant, Zhang Fusheng sensed the world around him abruptly change.
He was no longer seated in a sports car, but upon a bright-yellow meditation cushion. Below him lay a vast sea of clouds. Heaven and earth were silent, leaving only him and the old man.
A mental illusion—or rather, a Spiritual Realm.
"Senior, perhaps you have misunderstood something." Zhang Fusheng's heart tensed. According to his master, a Spiritual Realm was an ability belonging to the level of He Observes as I Should Be.
Aside from when one first entered Great Accomplishment in the Visualization Method, or when one could briefly touch this level through a flash of spiritual inspiration,
At any other time, one needed at least Minor Perfection in the Visualization Method to create a Spiritual Realm.
Most crucially.
Even his master had to rap his finger three times. Yet this Snake Fist Gym School Master, merely at the Second Refinement, had done it with only the lift of an eyelid.
Perfection.
Perfection in the Visualization Method.
He was absolutely someone truly at the level of He Observes as I Should Be!
"A misunderstanding?"
The old man stood atop the clouds of the Spiritual Realm. Every word he uttered was like the vast voice of heaven. From the dense clouds in all directions emerged soldiers clad in golden armor and carrying bows and blades, hundreds upon thousands of them.
He said:
"If Hong Tianbao bears resentment and refuses to let this dying man go, let him come himself."
More than a thousand armored soldiers stepped forward toward Zhang Fusheng in unison. Though they were false beings within an illusion, their majesty and momentum were utterly real!
The soldiers raised their bows.
A thousand bows became full moons.
Locked onto by more than a thousand great bows, the sharp killing intent made breathing difficult for Zhang Fusheng. His chest felt swollen and stifled, while pain stabbed between his brows.
Though the arrows had yet to leave their strings, the sharp intent still pierced Zhang Fusheng's brow, drawing blood!
Zhang Fusheng remained as steady as a mountain, knowing this was only an illusion. Back in the sinking illusion, he had been gnawed on by skeletons for most of a day. He had long since grown accustomed to it, so naturally he did not fear these thousand bows and thousand armored soldiers.
"Senior, this is a misunderstanding." Zhang Fusheng repeated. He shook both fists, and his body abruptly transformed into white bones. A faint gleam shone from them as the wind from his fists swept up the clouds beneath him, gathering them into a tiger's head behind him.
"Roar!" The enormous tiger head rose and fell behind the youth, unleashing a roar.
"False fist intent."
The old man's mouth twitched. The coldness on his face faded, and he suddenly fell somewhat silent.
"What virtue or ability does Old Ghost Hong possess, exactly?"
He muttered to himself, touched his chest, then suddenly pressed down his hand.
The false armored soldiers lowered their longbows.
"Tell Hong Tianbao that I, Huang Qiuxian, was the one in the wrong over what happened back then."
"This old man truly has no face to see him. Doesn't he want to learn Daoism's Five Thunders Art?"
"Pass it on to him. Consider it this old man's apology. Also, Jiang City has not been very peaceful lately. Tell him not to get involved."
Huang Qiuxian—what a familiar name.
And Daoism's Five Thunders Art?
Zhang Fusheng froze. Blood flowed down from his cracked brow as he watched the aged old man extend his hand in a sending gesture. One quarter of this Mental Spiritual Realm collapsed.
The collapsed portion became a streak of light that slammed into his body.
He abruptly awakened, still inside the bright-red sports car. At some unknown point, Zhong Yue had gotten in.
"O-Old Zhang?"
Zhu Xiaoming stared at him in terror.
"What happened to you?"
Zhang Fusheng instinctively looked outside. The Snake Fist Gym's School Master had already vanished, while warmth seeped across his forehead.
He reached up and touched it. It was blood.
The hairs on his body stood on end.
Before you continue