Passing By? Don't Miss the Big Angel Feather Duster Sale!
The gray clouds above the Xizhimen of Heaven Dou City were suddenly burned with a large hole by a blinding yellow light.
In broad daylight, it was as if a golden sun had suddenly appeared in the sky. Three golden beams, like flying stones hitting the ground, with a deadly force capable of crushing city wall bricks into dust, landed with a loud bang in mid-air in the dilapidated alley of the West District.
The level 99 Great Enshrined Qian Daoliu, along with the two Great Douluo Jiang Mo Qian Jun, all had gloomy old faces and were about to open their mouths to utter a few deadly harsh words.
Before Qian Daoliu could even muster the courage to speak, the broken gong and shouts coming from the entrance of the mutton restaurant below reached the ears of the three old immortals first.
Don't miss it!
At the entrance of the Old Huang's Mutton Restaurant, Ning Rongrong stood with one foot on a long bench, one hand on her slender waist, and the other holding a large, golden feather duster high in the air.
The feathers stuck to that duster were all the main feathers of the Six-Winged Angel plucked from the back of Qian Renxue!
The young lady, with her bright, clear voice, shouted enthusiastically at the idle men watching the commotion on the street:
"Take a look! Look! Freshly plucked bird feathers from the Spirit Hall's young master! A divine feather duster crafted by an old master! It sweeps away dust without raising any dirt, and hanging it by the bedside can ward off evil spirits! Not 10,000, just 5,000 gold coins! Buy a big duster today, and you'll get a free Spirit Hall elder's gold medal. Take it home and let the men use it as a washboard—it's pure gold and won't hurt your knees! First come, first served!"
Beside him, Ma Hongjun was using another small "angel duster" to sweep away the lamb bone scraps and garlic peels on the table, laughing as he did so, "I must say, these bird feathers are so smooth, not a single bit of lamb fat sticks to them!"
In mid-air.
When Qian Daoliu's golden eyes caught sight of the feathers of his beloved granddaughter, the Six-Winged Angel who only appeared once every few centuries in the Spirit Hall, being used to sweep up the swill on the table, he coughed up a gurgling sound and passed out on the spot!
Having lived for over 120 years, Qian Daoliu had never felt so frustrated in his life.
The old sage's airs? He's nothing but a fart in front of these peasants!
"You little brats! I'll chop you all to pieces!!"
Qian Daoliu's golden hair stood on end, his eyes bloodshot. He swung his right hand in mid-air, and a massive, dazzlingly golden sword, dozens of feet long, came crashing down on the mutton restaurant below with a sound capable of burning a living person to ashes!
If that sword strike lands, not only will a hole-in-the-wall restaurant be burned to the ground, but half the street will be reduced to ashes.
"Brother Yun! The old man's getting angry!" Ma Hongjun was so startled that he dropped the duster he was holding.
"What's the rush?"
Ling Yun leaned against the door frame, his hands in his shorts pockets, showing no intention of taking them out.
He simply raised his right foot and slowly kicked the Sea God Trident donkey-tethering post, next to him.
Clang!
The black iron fork, weighing 108,000 jin and stuck in the mud, was kicked off half an inch, its tip pointing directly at the large golden sword that was cleaving down from the sky.
Boom--!
A loud, muffled thunderclap exploded from the flat ground.
What made Qian Daoliu and the two old men, Qian Jun Jiang Mo, utterly bewildered was that the Sword Qi capable of splitting mountains and severing rivers didn't even produce a spark when it struck the black iron fork!
What is the Sea God Trident? It's a dead iron lump that's insulated from divine power and has an extremely heavy weight!
Qian Daoliu's desperate strike landed on the target like a thunderbolt striking the thickest iron pillar in the world. With a "whoosh," the golden light traveled along the halberd shaft and directly into the muddy ditch in front of the mutton restaurant, blasting a large mud pit in the sewer. Not a single tile from the restaurant was blown away.
Why are you setting off such a big firecracker?
Ling Yun leisurely pulled out the five-clawed golden dragon plaque that Xue Ye had just given him from his pocket, slammed it on the table with a "bang," and tilted his chin up, sneering at Qian Daoliu in the sky:
"Old man, open your eyes wider. I'm now the city management captain specially approved by the Heaven Dou Empire. You were just flying around on the rooftops of ordinary people's houses, disturbing the peace, and you were also randomly throwing golden sparks to light fires. These crimes are enough to skin you alive."
Qian Daoliu hung suspended in mid-air, trembling with rage, gritting their teeth as they prepared to descend and fight back.
"What? Want to practice?"
Ling Yun put his hands back in his pockets, a roguish grin spreading across his face, and shouted at the top of his lungs:
"If you want to fight, I'm ready. But first thing tomorrow morning, I'll find the biggest printing house in Heaven Dou City and print 100,000 copies of 'The True Story of the Bald Chicken Young Master of the Spirit Hall,' complete with a portrait of the Thousand-Man Leader shedding his feathers. Distribute them all over the teahouses across the continent, so your shameful secrets can be hung under the overpasses every day for everyone to enjoy!"
Ling Yun tapped the gold plaque on the ground with his toe. "Whether you value your reputation or your life, you can decide for yourself in the sky!"
In mid-air, Qian Daoliu's old face instantly turned purple.
Fight? This kid has a sinister background, and he has some kind of black fork of unknown material underneath him to shield him from harm; don't fight? Are we just going to swallow this humiliating insult of having our feathers plucked?!
The two old men, Qian Jun Jiang Mo, looked at each other, neither daring to descend even an inch. The highest-ranking leader of the Martial Spirit Hall was left speechless and unable to get down from his seat by a few vulgar words from a local ruffian.
At the same time.
On the dark, murky surface of the Ten Thousand Demons Trench, outside Sea God Island.
"Puha--"
A figure was tightly wrapped in a tattered seaweed net woven from coarse hemp rope and pulled up from the bottom of the trench like a dead dog, landing heavily on the deck of a wrecked pearl-diving ship with a "thud".
Tang San's skin was white from being soaked in water, and he was vomiting salty and bitter muddy water and bile. His eyes rolled back.
He had just nearly choked to death by the toxic seawater down below, and thought he was finally about to break free from his past and rise to prominence, or that he had moved the Sea God to appear in his presence.
Result.
A large foot wearing tattered straw sandals stomped hard on his belly, which was gushing water.
"Stop pretending to be dead! Who gave you permission to Slack Off underwater?"
The steward in the yellow robe, holding a small ledger, launched into a tirade of spittle and curses at Tang San's face.
"That reed pipe used for ventilation is public property; if you break it, you'll be fined ten bucks! The time for going into the water today is way past its prime, and the 'big black Pearls' you brought up don't even weigh two pounds! Tonight, you won't even get to sleep in that shabby thatched hut!"
The foreman turned his head and waved to the old sailors beside him. "Hang him upside down on the mast! Let him stand in the cold sea wind all night, so he can wake up and figure out how to be a slave to Sea God Island!"
"No... I... I'm here to Divine Examination..." Tang San gasped for breath, his ten fingers digging into the deck, his face full of incomprehensible frustration.
"You son of a bitch! You think you're some kind of VIP if you have 'Pearl Slave' tattooed all over your forehead?"
The steward kicked Tang San's hand away and walked away cursing.
The sea breeze was biting, carrying with it icy salty foam.
Tang San, like a dried-out salted fish, was hung upside down from the creaking, rotten mast by a thick hemp rope. Head down, he looked at the dark sea below, the gleaming white mark on his forehead illuminating his pale face.
What about Twin Martial Souls, what about Tang Sect Hidden Weapons, what about the great mission bestowed by God?
At that very moment, all of this turned into a severe scolding from the heartless manager and a measly ten-copper-coin fine.