The next day.
Afternoon.
Yu Tianheng, captain of the Imperial Fighting Team, strolled leisurely along the road to Suotuo City's Great Soul Arena. He seemed to relish the admiring, worshipful looks from the people around him.
Just as he was in high spirits, the corner of his eye caught sight of a figure that filled him with fear.
But when he turned to look, the figure had vanished without a trace.
Meanwhile, Ye Xuan was also enjoying the envious, jealous, and resentful stares of the crowd. They were only envious because of the little furry-eared Holy King riding on his shoulders and Xiao Wu in his arms.
"Tsk, Ye Xuan, you've been gone for so long. The people at Spirit Hall must be terribly worried about you."
Little Holy King sat astride Ye Xuan's neck. She seemed to love the feeling of being "high above it all."
"Probably. With my talent, even if I never become a god, I could at least protect Spirit Hall for five hundred years after Qian Daoliu sacrifices himself for Qian Renxue."
"After all, if Qian Renxue becomes a god, someone will have to shoulder the burden of leading Spirit Hall."
As they chatted, he noticed Yu Tianheng looking smug a short distance away.
"Who would've thought that the loser I beat back then would be so impressive now? Well, he is the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan's greatest genius. Beating up a bunch of rabble must be a piece of cake."
Immediately afterward, he turned into an alley.
Deep in the alley, Bu Le, E Kao, and Tian Ya, three seedy middle-aged men, lay sprawled on the ground, looking utterly exhausted.
It was clear they'd been put through the wringer in Yu Xiaogang's room the night before.
Then he took the Image Recording