God of Plague

A long cordon had been drawn up.

This time, it was truly long, sealing off the entire area. All residents and shops had been cleared out, and the city government had arranged temporary accommodations.

Snap!

Liu Zhengbang lit two cigarettes. This rough man felt that one was never satisfying enough, so he usually smoked two at once.

His superior had said that once age weakened him and his qi and blood dried up, lung cancer would be inevitable.

"Boss." A team member said, "Surveillance and tracking of Target No. 1 are still ongoing. So far, everything remains normal."

"Mm. It's not important anymore."

Liu Zhengbang exhaled thick, choking smoke, crouched down, and grabbed a handful of half-melted snow, his expression deep and unfathomable.

"Are the statements ready?"

"They are. The accounts of all 174 hotel guests are completely identical. In an instant, they felt as though they had fallen into a dream, appearing along with the entire hotel amid dozens of boundless snowy mountains. Above them, the sun burned with violent ferocity."

As he spoke, the team member raised his head and glanced at the hotel roof.

It was charred black, as though it had been scorched by flames.

"But it lasted only a very short time. No one perceived it as lasting more than a single breath before everything returned to normal."

"One breath?"

Liu Zhengbang took another deep drag.

"A Great Grandmaster... What virtue or ability does a shithole like Jiangzhou possess to have a Great Grandmaster personally arrive?"

The hand holding his cigarette trembled unconsciously. Ash fell and scattered across the half-melted snow.

As the Investigation Bureau's advance team, they naturally could not alert the enemy. With the help of Jiangzhou City's governor, they had put on the skin of a Public Security Bureau special task force.

Only then had they been able to openly mobilize the Public Security Bureau and seal off the area.

"Could it be Daoism?" the team member asked.

"No. Cultists aren't this flamboyant. To me, this looks more like... a declaration."

Liu Zhengbang crouched down again and pressed the cigarette butt into the snow.

"A Great Grandmaster has come, declaring to all the demons and monsters of Jiangzhou that he has arrived. The snow, the roof beams charred beneath the blazing sun—his intentions are unknown, and his stance is unclear."

As he spoke, another team member hurried over, his expression grave.

"We've found out. One hotel guest is missing."

"Who is missing?"

"We don't know. He didn't register any identification. He also gave the front desk ten thousand yuan in exchange for the hotel's guest information."

"What about the surveillance footage?"

"...What surveillance could a shabby little hotel in the Lower-Level District possibly have?" the team member said helplessly. "As for the street cameras, they're either just for show or have been broken for ages. The ones that used to work were smashed long ago."

After a pause, he shrugged.

"It's an old custom in the Lower-Level District."

Liu Zhengbang's face twitched.

"It needs to be cleaned up. Never mind. Send the news back to the Bureau and see what the higher-ups say. A Great Grandmaster has appeared. This is already beyond what we can handle."

"Yes, Boss."

Before the words had even finished, a team member staggered out of the hotel, gasping in huge breaths.

"Captain, inside the hotel, you... you need to come look..."

Before he could finish, he went limp and collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

Liu Zhengbang's expression tightened.

"Get the medical experts here immediately. I'll go see what's going on."

He strode into the hotel and arrived at the room where the incident had occurred. The moment he entered, his gaze was drawn to a line of writing on the wall.

Kill kill kill kill kill kill kill!!!

Boom!!

Liu Zhengbang's mind exploded. He staggered back several steps, slamming into the wall hard enough to crack and shatter it.

It was as though he had seen a madman, demonized for a hundred years, gritting his teeth and roaring, "Kill, kill, kill!"

"Not good!"

Liu Zhengbang's mind had been seized, but his training ran deep. He immediately turned, smashed through wall after wall, and charged out of the hotel.

"Restraint straps! He—hold him down!"

The team member who had just passed out had somehow sat up from the stretcher. His eyes were blood-red as he roared and charged at the nearest doctor, his force whipping up a gale.

In that instant between life and death, Liu Zhengbang struck after yet arrived first, chopping the team member unconscious with a vicious palm.

"Restraint straps! And special alloy shackles for him! I..."

Panting heavily, with the word kill echoing endlessly through his mind, he dropped to the ground on his ass.

"Demonized... A demonized Great Grandmaster!"

"Seal off the hotel immediately! No one is allowed inside! Report this at once!"

Having said that, he finally could not hold on any longer. His eyes rolled back, and he too passed out.

The cries of kill still echoed in his ears.

Hong Ji Martial Arts Hall.

Silence.

The trainees and odd-job workers had all been ordered by Senior Brother Zhang to stay in their rooms, and every surveillance camera had been shut down.

Huang Qiuxian yawned. Why had that little bastard not come back yet?

He had the distinct feeling that he had been played.

Stroking his chin, he pondered just who was bold enough to act under the name of the East Cult.

"Even after retiring to wait for death, I still can't get a moment's peace."

Huang Qiuxian muttered, rubbing his chest as he let out a soft sigh.

He suddenly sat upright, staring at a decrepit old man who had appeared at the doorway—in his perception, no one had been there.

"Another Newly Dead Form from White Bone Meditation."

Huang Qiuxian spoke calmly.

"Mm, are you Old Ghost Hong's senior brother or junior brother? You came from Chongyang City to wipe us out root and branch?"

He remained as steady as an old dog.

"A Martial Arts Master? Or a Grandmaster?"

"Huang Qiuxian."

The old man leaning on a cheap wooden cane spoke peacefully.

"A young friend recommended you to me."

"Oh?" Only then did Huang Qiuxian understand. The man before him was not from Old Ghost Hong's sect, but the "expert" that little bastard had mentioned.

He did not look all that impressive.

The thought had only just arisen.

The training room suddenly transformed into a vast and desolate land.

Huang Qiuxian abruptly rose.

"A Great Grandmaster?"

He could clearly sense that this was not an illusory spiritual realm created through a Minor Perfection Visualization Method, but a True Spiritual Realm that could genuinely descend upon reality!

Though it was crude, without the slightest polish, seemingly not even fully formed.

Yet...

Huang Qiuxian bent down, grabbed a handful of dirt, and kneaded it between his fingers.

He sensed the breath of time.

This spiritual realm had existed for over two hundred years.

This was an old monster more than two hundred years old.

The Twelve Refinements of Martial Artists not only did not extend one's lifespan, they actually shortened it. Someone who could have lived to a hundred might, after refining skin, flesh, tendons, and bones, perhaps live only to eighty.

And even a Martial Arts Master—no matter how exceptional—could only gain ninety additional years of life.

To live beyond two hundred, one had to be at least a Grandmaster. With visualization at Perfection, one could form a True Spiritual Realm, and that meant becoming a Great Grandmaster.

But...

Even a Great Grandmaster over two hundred years old should have been nearing the end of his lifespan.

This unknown Great Grandmaster before him appeared old and frail, yet Huang Qiuxian could vaguely sense that this fellow was in the very prime of life!

Was he above the Great Grandmaster realm, or had he consumed an exceedingly precious Longevity Great Medicine?

He did not know.

He merely silently unfolded his own True Spiritual Realm. The cracked, barren earth was forced apart, replaced by a heaven above the clouds.

The rolling Sea of Clouds stood alongside the cracked, barren land, but the former was visibly half the size of the latter.

This was the gap in Mental Accumulation—one was nearly a hundred and fifty years, while the other was three hundred.

"Zhang Fusheng said that Your Excellency can remove the grave affliction from my body?"

Huang Qiuxian asked in a deep voice.

"This is the flesh-and-blood plague of the Western Sect, originating from the God of Plague of the Thirty-Six Heavens Dimension. Though it is an Outer Dao False God, it can still bear the two words 'divine being.'"

Zhang Fusheng's expression did not change. He listened quietly.

What the hell was this old fellow babbling about?

But the Thirty-Six Heavens Dimension, the God of Plague?

Plague...

Thinking of the Twelve Refinements cultist chanting "Heaven Above," Zhang Fusheng recalled the story of Investiture of the Gods from his previous life, of the immortal beneath Tongtian's sect who had been bestowed the title of Great Emperor Wenguang.

After thinking back for a long while, he finally remembered the name of that half-forgotten bit player.

He let out a faint sigh and tentatively muttered to himself.

"Lü Yue..."

Huang Qiuxian showed no reaction.

No—there was one.

He suddenly hunched over. Beads of sweat the size of soybeans emerged on his forehead, while beneath his wrinkled skin, lumps of flesh churned and convulsed violently!

It was as though that utterly ordinary name had "activated" them—or rather...

They were answering that honored name, reveling, screaming my lord, thrilled to burst from Huang Qiuxian's body and tear through his flesh!