This Is Mount Hua

On the south side, amidst a pile of rubble, a dozen or so people were gathered together, summarizing the results of their search that day.

The man in the lead had fine, soft black hair and a slender build. He was chewing a chocolate croissant in his left hand and wearing a brass knuckle on his right.

When the loudspeaker blared, the man, with a piece of bread still in his mouth, stared blankly up at it.

They've been staying up late a lot these past few days, and even when they're taking turns sleeping at night, they have to be on high alert. Their tempers have all become quite irritable.

A short-haired man in a black vest next to him said angrily, "Shouting like a broken record in the middle of the night, talking nonsense about Mount Hua Sword Tournament, anyone with a brain wouldn't fall for that, right?"

The leading man said thoughtfully, "Zhu Heng seems to really think he's the Western Poison. Does he even have a brain?"

The person who left the deepest impression on Western Poison throughout his life, besides his son, was the Northern Beggar, who was ranked among the Five Greats.

That was his true nemesis, someone he could still vividly remember even after going mad, and someone with whom he ultimately died from exhaustion.

Zhu Heng certainly shouldn't care about the Northern Beggar.

But a crazy old man who's already incoherent, grabbing people everywhere and breaking their legs to make them his sons, is a different story.

The man with the buzz cut choked, his face then filled with shock.

"Manager Wang, you don't mean to say that this method actually works, do you?"

"If this kind of garbage tactic really worked, then we... we've been doing so much these past few days..."

The man with the crew cut was furious, and suddenly felt a burning pain in his tooth, so he rubbed his cheek.

Manager Wang sighed, "Everyone's still stuck to their old ways of thinking; they didn't expect to consider it from the perspective of mental illness this time."

"However, his method might not be effective; it's probably just a trial. Let's wait and see."

The loudspeaker's sound continued to broadcast, echoing in all directions.

"Old Poisoner, didn't you say you wanted to compete with me, this old beggar, for the title of number one in the world?"

"I'm here, but where are you? You're not here at all."

"Hahaha, that old toad was just bragging, turns out he's afraid of me!!"

In the afternoon, Chu Tianshu went to find a set of beggar's clothes.

But he didn't look like a real beggar in real life; instead, he looked just like the leader of the Beggars' Sect' Sect on TV, with very thick clothes.

The blue cloth clothes had dozens of patches of varying sizes, some dark blue and some brownish-red.

He practiced for a while, controlling his vocal cords and trying to sound rough, aged, and deep, so that Fang Jun could listen and comment.

Although he wasn't entirely confident about the plan, once he started dressing up and actually shouted a couple of times, inspiration suddenly flowed like a spring.

His tone is increasingly resembling that of the martial arts characters he's currently playing.

At this very moment, in another unfinished building.

At the base of the load-bearing wall, Kong Wenju sat slumped on the ground, looking haggard and dazed, his legs bent unnaturally, while he held a large backpack in his arms.

He felt like he was being tortured to death. After his leg was broken, they didn't take him to get medical treatment; they just left him there.

Ever since he was captured by this old madman, he tried every means to make the old madman pass out, but to little avail. He had no choice but to resort to hallucinogenic and misleading poison, pretending to be the old madman's son by following the words the old madman unconsciously muttered.

But a madman is a madman; is this how he treats his son?

Whoever became your son is truly cursed for eight lifetimes!

Kong Wenju was already thin, but now he was even thinner, with his cheeks sunken. Only the things in his bag could make him feel comfortable and fulfilled.

Suddenly, the old madman's figure emerged from behind the supporting pillar beside him.

He was still wearing that blue and white striped hospital gown, sloppy and stained everywhere.

His eyebrows and beard were very stiff. More than half a month after being discharged from the hospital, his hair had grown long enough to cover his shoulders, and it was mottled with gray.

"Who... who is calling me?"

The madman looked out of the building.

The unfinished building still has no exterior walls, so wind, rain, and cold nights can all seep in. Yet, when people look out from the inside, the view is still quite expansive.

"That tone... yes, it's that old beggar's!"

Kong Wenju, who was in a daze, was startled awake by his shout and realized that in addition to the sound of the wind, there was also a loud shout outside the building.

"The Mount Hua Sword Tournament, the Mount Hua Sword Tournament..."

The old madman frowned, muttered to himself, and looked around.

"When did I arrive at Mount Hua? Is this what Mount Hua looks like?"

He looked at the wall beside him, then suddenly slapped it, exhaling loudly, his brows furrowed in anger, and exerted a sudden burst of force.

Thump!!!

A muffled thud came from the reinforced concrete, and the cement block shattered and caved in, forming a spiderweb-like network of cracks the size of a washbasin.

As you can see, the steel bars inside are also slightly deformed.

Kong Wenju's heart pounded wildly, and he couldn't help but shrink back.

That's not just a simple block of cement. With properly distributed steel reinforcement, the overall strength and compressive resistance of the wall will be greatly improved.

This madman seems even stronger than he did a few days ago, while I'm getting weaker and weaker.

No, if this continues, even the hallucinogenic poison I create with all my might will probably be ineffective against this old madman.

"This... this really is Mount Hua."

Kong Wenju mustered his strength and said, "Uncle, among the Five Great Mountains, Mount Hua belongs to the metal element, possessing the energy of metal and iron, and is strangely sharp and precipitous."

The old madman turned to look at him, his face stern, and said, "Don't call me uncle, call me father."

Kong Wenju cursed under his breath.

You'd be a fool to believe you.

He initially impersonated the other party's son and genuinely called him "Dad," but after a few times, the other party's attitude changed, and they began to suspect he was an imposter.

It's safer to call him "uncle."

"Uncle."

Kong Wenju mumbled something, brushing off the form of address, and then said, "Look at the mountains here, aren't they all straight and steep?"

"Look at the rocks here again; iron is hidden inside any one of Shitou."

"That's exactly what makes Mount Hua so special!"

Zhu Heng looked enlightened and looked outside.

Those "mountains" were indeed all steep.

None of them have the slope of Changshan; they just stand straight up on the ground.

On the top of some "mountains", there are also forests of "thin iron rods" standing tall, piercing the sky.

No wonder they say, "You can't see the true face of Mount Hua, because you're standing in the mountain yourself."

The old madman, rewriting the poems haphazardly, muttered, "So this is Mount Hua! So I was already Mount Hua!"

"I never noticed before how stunning the mountain scenery here is."

Kong Wenju was secretly delighted.

Even if we take a step back and assume we won't even encounter a passerby, we'll starve to death here.

That's still better than being around a madman who's moody and can lose control at any moment.

He sometimes even had the feeling that the other party wanted to devour him, but he suppressed that terrible feeling by mistakenly believing that he was the other party's son.

If the hallucinogenic drug wore off, Kong Wenju dared not even imagine what kind of torment he would suffer.

"The Mount Hua Sword Tournament..."

Zhu Heng gazed at the moonlight outside, his expression filled with longing, muttering to himself, his whole being like a quiet yet incomplete beast.

"I'm not going this time."

Upon hearing Kong Wenju's slight joy froze at the corner of his mouth.

Zhu Heng seemed to have made a great decision. He turned around and looked at his child gently.

"Child, I'm not going. You should be happy now, right?"

He sighed deeply, "Back then, the business world and the martial arts world were treacherous. Bulldozers pushed down walls, cement buried people, and at night on the docks, I led my brothers to fight dozens of Southeast Asia assassins and risked our lives against the sorcerers of Nanyang."

"Having finally achieved fame and success, they continue to fight and kill in order to seize the throne of the Five Greats and obtain the treasures of the Nine Yin Treasury."

"Actually, money is a bastard. I was enslaved by money. Looking back, I realized that I already had enough money. But because of greed, I lost so much."

As Zhu Heng spoke, he walked closer, squatted down, and seemed to reach out to touch his son's head.

Kong Wenju didn't want to know what kind of memories this madman had spliced together in his mind to make sense of things, and that's how he came up with the treasure of the Nine Yin Treasury.

He just wanted to keep this madman away from him.

"Uncle!"

Kong Wenju all his strength to exhale an invisible and colorless hallucinogenic poison at the person in front of him.

"My uncle is a world-class hero, and I've always believed you're far superior to that old beggar!"

"I don't need Uncle to compromise himself for me. I just want to hear the news of your victory. I'll be here, waiting for Uncle's triumphant return!"

Zhu Heng breathed in the colorless poison, and all he could see was the face of a young man.

That guy, who still seemed a bit naive, became a general manager because of his family background, and actually thought that doing business was just doing business.

"You want me to go? You support me?"

The old madman was deeply moved and stood up.

"Okay, okay, then I'll show you how I win."

Zhu Heng turned his head and looked again at the rows of unfinished buildings.

The same scene, a dilapidated building.

This time, however, it ignited his burning desire to win. His chest heaved, his lungs expanded and contracted, and it felt as if thick smoke was flowing through his veins.

"My child, wait here, I will surely return victorious!"

The old madman leaped from the third floor, his feet slamming into the ground with a dull thud, and ran off in a cloud of dust.

There has only been one path to Mount Hua since ancient times.

There's no going back on the path you've walked, no chance to start over the karma you've accumulated.

This is Mount Hua!