The Gates of the Divine Temple.
Yue Yang strolled leisurely up the steps like a traveler out admiring spring blossoms. No one knew that he had only just returned from Needle-Prick Hell.
Chang Wei, the one on duty, was absent. The old bastard Chang Hen, brimming with confidence, had once again spun a cocoon around himself and trapped himself in prison. Beneath Bright Mountain, no one remained who could halt Yue Yang's advance. Some Divine Temple guards and worshippers spotted Yue Yang, yet none dared step forward to stop him. Their former arrogance and haughtiness were long gone. Even seeing him ascend the steps from afar, no one tried to stop a chariot with mantis arms. They merely rushed off like sparks flying from flint to report it.
Before long, Yue Yang arrived at a Guidance Platform.
This had originally been a platform where worshippers paid homage in all directions. The temples of Wind-Fire-Water-Earth and the rest had erected immense statues here, along with teleportation crystal pillars for worshippers to travel through.
The house-demolishing work was about to begin, but which Divine Temple should he flatten first?
Yue Yang propped up his chin and pondered the question.
The Wind Hall?
Or would the Water Hall or Fire Hall be better?
Just as Yue Yang inspected the statues and teleportation crystal pillars one by one, seeking the most suitable target, a short old man came smiling over. He carried a black fish basket on his back and held an emerald-green fishing rod in his hand.
The old man's manner was exceptionally warm, as though he had encountered family or an old friend. He called out to Yue Yang, "Kid, how did you end up here?"
Yue Yang found that strange.
He looked the smiling old man over carefully. "I don't think