God of Plague

A long cordon was set up.

This time it was truly long, completely isolating the entire area, evacuating all residents and shops, and the city government arranged temporary housing.

"Pop!"

Liu Zhengbang lit two cigarettes. The rugged man felt one wasn't satisfying enough and always smoked two at a time.

His superior said that after he grew old and his Blood Essence dried up, he would definitely get lung cancer.

"Boss." a team member said, "We're still tracking and monitoring Target One. Everything has been normal so far."

"Hmm, it's not important anymore."

Liu Zhengbang exhaled a thick, choking cloud of smoke and squatted down, scooping up some half-melted snow. His expression was deep:

"Did you get the statements?"

"Yes, the accounts from the 174 people in the hotel are all identical. They suddenly felt as if they had fallen into a dream, with the entire hotel appearing among dozens of vast, snowy mountains, the sun burning fiercely overhead."

As he spoke, the team member looked up at the hotel roof.

It was scorched black, as if seared by flames.

"But it was very brief, everyone's subjective experience was no more than a single breath, and then everything returned to normal."

"A single breath?"

Liu Zhengbang took another deep drag of his cigarette:

"A Great Grandmaster. In a dump like Jiangzhou, how could it possibly be graced by the presence of a Great Grandmaster?"

The hand holding the cigarette trembled involuntarily. Ash fell, landing on the half-melted snow.

As the vanguard of the Investigation Bureau, they naturally couldn't alert the enemy. This time, with the help of the Jiangzhou City Governor, they had donned the guise of a special task force from the Public Security Bureau.

This allowed them to openly deploy the Public Security Bureau and seal off the area.

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

"No, cultists aren't this ostentatious. I think this is more like a... proclamation."

Liu Zhengbang squatted down again, extinguishing his cigarette butt in the snow.

"A Great Grandmaster has arrived, announcing his presence to all the Sprites and Netherlings in Jiangzhou. This scorched wood on the roof under the snow and scorching sun... the intention is unknown, the stance is unclear."

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

"We've confirmed it, one of the hotel guests is missing."

"Who is missing?"

"We don't know. He didn't register his identity and gave the front desk ten thousand yuan in exchange for the hotel's registration information."

"What about the surveillance?"

"...This kind of Lower-Level District hotel, where would they get surveillance?" the team member said helplessly. "As for the street surveillance, it's either just for show and has been broken for a long time, or the ones that were working were already smashed long ago."

He paused, shrugging.

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

Liu Zhengbang's face twitched.

"It's time for a cleanup. Forget it, send the news back to the bureau and see what the higher-ups say. The appearance of a Great Grandmaster is beyond our scope of handling."

"Yes, boss."

Before he could finish speaking, a team member stumbled out of the hotel, gasping for breath:

"Captain, inside the hotel, you, you hurry and see..."

Before he could finish, he collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

Liu Zhengbang's expression sharpened.

"Get a medical expert here immediately. I'll go see what's going on."

He strode into the hotel and entered the room in question. As soon as he entered, his gaze was drawn to a line of text on the wall.

Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill!!!

'Boom!!'

Liu Zhengbang's mind exploded. He stumbled back several steps, crashing into the wall, causing it to crack and shatter.

He felt as if he had seen a madman, possessed for a hundred years, gritting his teeth and shouting "Kill, kill, kill!"

"Not good!"

Liu Zhengbang's mind was shaken, but he was well-trained. He immediately turned and smashed through walls, rushing out of the hotel.

"Restraints, he--hold him down!"

The team member who had fainted earlier had somehow sat up on the stretcher, his eyes blood red, roaring as he charged at the nearest doctor, a strong wind erupting.

In a split second, Liu Zhengbang arrived first, delivering a powerful palm strike that knocked the team member unconscious.

"Restraints, he also has special alloy shackles, I!"

He panted, the word "kill" echoing in his mind, and sat down on the ground.

"Possessed. A Great Grandmaster who has been possessed!"

"Seal off the hotel immediately, no one is allowed in or out, report it immediately!"

After speaking, he finally couldn't hold on any longer, his eyes rolled back, and he fainted.

The sounds of "kill" still echoed in his ears.

Hong Ji Martial Arts Hall.

Quiet.

The students and helpers were all ordered to stay in their rooms by 'Senior Brother Zhang', and all the surveillance cameras were turned off.

Huang Qiuxian yawned. Where was that scoundrel? Why hadn't he returned yet?

He had a feeling he'd been tricked.

He rubbed his chin, pondering who dared to impersonate the East Cult.

"Retire and wait for death, yet I can't even find peace."

Huang Qiuxian muttered, patting his chest, and sighed softly.

He suddenly sat up straight, his gaze fixed on a frail old man who had suddenly appeared at the door. He couldn't sense anyone there.

"It's the Newly Dead Form from the White Bone Meditation again."

Huang Qiuxian said calmly:

"Hmm, are you Old Ghost Hong's senior or junior brother? Coming from Chongyang City, are you here to finish him off?"

He said leisurely:

"A Martial Arts Master? Or a Grandmaster?"

"Huang Qiuxian."

The old man, leaning on a cheap wooden staff, spoke peacefully:

"A young friend recommended you to me."

"Oh?" Huang Qiuxian finally understood. The person before him wasn't from Old Ghost Hong's sect, but the 'expert' the scoundrel had mentioned.

He didn't look that impressive though.

As soon as the thought arose.

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

Huang Qiuxian stood up abruptly:

"Great Grandmaster?"

He could clearly sense that this was not an illusory Spiritual Realm formed by a 'Minor Perfection meditation technique', but a [True Spiritual Realm] that could truly manifest in reality!

Although it was crude, unpolished, and even seemed not yet solidified.

But.

Huang Qiuxian bent down, scooped up a handful of soil, and rubbed it in his hands.

He sensed the aura of time.

This Spiritual Realm had existed for over two hundred years.

This was an old monster over two hundred years old.

The Twelve Refinements of Martial Artists didn't extend life, but shortened it. A person who could live to a hundred might only live to eighty after training their skin, flesh, tendons, and bones.

And even the top Martial Arts Masters could only extend their lifespan by ninety years.

To live over two hundred years, one had to be at least a Grandmaster, with Visualization Perfection, achieving a True Spiritual Realm, which would make them a Great Grandmaster.

But.

A Great Grandmaster over two hundred years old was also nearing the end of their life.

This unknown Great Grandmaster before him, though appearing frail and old, Huang Qiuxian could vaguely feel that this fellow was in his prime!

Was he above Great Grandmaster, or had he consumed an extremely rare longevity medicine?

He didn't know.

He silently unfolded his own True Spiritual Realm, the desolate land being squeezed away, replaced by a sky filled with clouds.

The rolling sea of clouds stood side-by-side with the desolate land, but the former was clearly half the size of the latter.

This was a gap in spiritual accumulation, one of nearly 150 years, the other 300 years.

"Zhang Fusheng said that you can remove the serious illness afflicting my sect?"

Huang Qiuxian asked in a deep voice:

"This is the Flesh and Blood Plague from the West Cult, originating from the God of Plague in the thirty-sixth dimensional heaven. Although he is an external false god, he can still be called a 'deity'."

Zhang Fusheng's expression remained unchanged as he listened quietly.

What is this old fellow rambling about?

However, thirty-six heavens dimension, the God of Plague?

Plague...

Recalling the 'Heavenly Connection Above' chanted by that Twelve Refinements cultist in his past life, Zhang Fusheng thought of the immortal who was enfeoffed as the Great Emperor of Plague under Tongtian Gate in the story of [Investiture of the Gods].

After recalling for a long while, he finally remembered the name of this half-baked 'extra'.

He sighed faintly and tentatively muttered to himself:

"Lü Yue..."

Huang Qiuxian showed no reaction.

No, he did.

He suddenly hunched over, large beads of sweat appearing on his forehead. Beneath his wrinkled skin, fleshy lumps bulged and throbbed!

It was as if that unremarkable name had 'activated' them, or perhaps...

They were responding to that honored title, reveling, shouting 'My Lord,' and desperately wanting to break free from Huang Qiuxian's body!