Night fell, and lanterns and colored banners were hung all throughout Four Seas Hall, sweeping away the tragedy and devastation of the past few days.
Though many buildings within the hall remained ruins scorched by thunder-fire, and the veranda pillars and railings still bore the scars of yesterday's blades and swords, while darkened bloodstains remained concealed in shadowed corners beneath the steps, the heroic sorrow and solemn mourning of the previous day had gradually dissipated, replaced by the jubilation of victory.
Reinforcements arriving from the major sects bustled with cheerful energy. In contrast, the heroes who had lived through yesterday's battle were somewhat subdued. Among the banquet tables, Bai Yuanliang, the Iron Fist of Guanxi, raised his cup and boasted loudly, "Those Twelve Yuan Chen are nothing more than petty scoundrels, hardly worth mentioning! Earlier, when that Tiger-Devouring Lord led the ghouls of Netherworld Palace in an assault, I charged alongside the great hero Hong Sihai to intercept and slaughter them.
"In that battle, I slew several corpse ghouls with my own hands, locked in a fight against the Hanged Ghost of the Netherworld Pit until the sun and moon lost their light...
"...Earlier, a petty fellow named Qian Chen took the opportunity to launch a sneak attack and kill the Ghost-Devouring Lord, stealing Old Hero Hong's thunder. I could tell with a single glance that this Qian was up to no good! Sure enough, not long after, Senior Laughing Maitreya—who had been undercover among the Twelve Yuan Chen—was ambushed. At that time, only Qian was absent, so I stepped forward to interrogate him.
"Unable to explain himself, he fled in panic, not even daring to attend tonight's victory banquet. That man is deeply scheming, seizing credit and grabbing power. Who would believe he isn't Dragon Head?
"If Divine Monk Kongming hadn't insisted that there was no concrete proof, I, Old Bai, would have been the first to step forward and detain him!
"How could we have let him slip away so easily..."
"Well said, brother!" someone chimed in loudly. "Hall Master Hong led the heroes to wipe out most of the invading Twelve Yuan Chen, and Brother Bai also performed great meritorious service! In my view, Brother Bai shouldn't just be called the Iron Fist of Guanxi; your renown shakes Shandong and Linhai, and Guanxi and Shandong together make up the Central Plains! Having soundly thrashed Netherworld Palace, what is wrong with calling you the Iron Fist of the Central Plains?"
"Iron Fist of the Central Plains!" several voices cheered.
Bai Yuanliang wore a smug look, though on the surface he waved his hands modestly. "In the end, it was all due to Old Hero Hong's leadership. Still, if I hadn't spoken up out of righteousness, wouldn't that credit have been stolen by petty scoundrels? It might even have let Dragon Head whitewash his identity to inflict even greater harm on the martial world in the future!"
Sitting at an adjacent table, Kang Qiandeng found the food increasingly tasteless as he listened, and he slapped his chopsticks down in anger.
He started to rise to argue, but Li Qianqiu caught his arm, gave a slight shake of his head, and pressed him back down into his seat, advising in a low voice, "Young Master Kang, if you go over to argue, you will never get through to such petty men. When the time comes to clear Master Qian's name, it will require Hall Master Hong and Divine Monk Kongming to speak up."
"Yet such slanderous words... Even if the two seniors explain..."
"Alas! Who told Master Qian to have no deep sect background? Gaining sudden fame inevitably invites slander from petty men. Once Master Qian accomplishes a few more great deeds and befriends renowned heroes, the rumors will collapse on their own."
***
Qian Chen's footsteps brought him leisurely beneath the towering archway of Four Seas Hall. By now, the sky was completely dark, and few people remained on the streets.
A victory banquet was underway inside Four Seas Hall, the atmosphere brimming with noise and excitement. Even the disciples guarding the gates were distracted and careless. Since Huang Yuhan's death, Four Seas Hall seemed to have lost its vital spirit.
It was no longer the tightly guarded, strictly disciplined stronghold Qian Chen had seen before.
If villains like the Twelve Yuan Chen were to attack this place again in the future, they would no longer need to go to such great lengths.
Wearing the bronze snake mask, Qian Chen strolled through the front gates of Four Seas Hall. The disciples on guard duty were already slumping limply to the ground, unconscious.
"Have a good sleep," he murmured.
"When you wake tomorrow, the world will have changed."
Yesterday, Qian Chen had already surveyed every hidden sentry, informant, and mechanism in Four Seas Hall with complete clarity. Walking into this perilous stronghold felt no different from returning to his own home. He strolled at a leisurely pace, and wherever he passed, not a single person managed to utter a sound. Often, someone would catch a faint whiff of a scent, their head would spin, and they would instantly black out.
Unimpeded, Qian Chen made his way familiar with the path straight to Five Lakes Hall. Inside, raucous celebration carried on, the celebrating martial artists wholly unaware of his presence.
Qian Chen planted the Seven Baleful Banner by the entrance, and with both hands, he unleashed one spirit talisman after another. Some were laid in ambush by the doorway, some tucked beneath the steps, some affixed to pillars, and others flew directly up to the eaves and rooftop, plastering themselves against the roof beams.
Taking out the Spirit Light Mirror, he projected the scene inside the hall from the doorway.
One by one, he confirmed everyone's seating, assessing the cultivation, positions, habits, and current states of the experts who had arrived as reinforcements from the major sects. Then, raising the Flying Cloud Pouch, he first slipped over to the medicine treasury hall Huang Yuhan had previously taken him to. Unfolding the Flying Cloud Pouch into billowing clouds of vapor, he swept up countless medicinal herbs. He flicked out a True Fire Talisman and a Spirit Rain Talisman, joining fire and water. Amid the surging clouds of mist, the medicinal properties of those countless herbs were steamed forth, blending and compounding one after another.
Retracting the Flying Cloud Pouch, he sat in meditation to adjust his breath and restore his internal strength.
Returning outside Five Lakes Hall, Qian Chen transformed the Soul-Binding Rope into a black serpent, which slithered silently onto the hall's crossbeams.
Looking through the Spirit Light Mirror at the lively scene below, where cups were exchanged and Bai Yuanliang spouted preposterous boasts, Qian Chen remained unperturbed. With all preparations complete, gossamer wisps of smoke drifted slowly into Five Lakes Hall through door cracks, roof eaves, and gaps between roof tiles. The mist settled onto the food and wine, brushed the tips of the guests' noses, and seeped into their breaths and across their skin.
Except for the grandmaster-level experts, whose protective gang qi required the medicinal potency to slowly infiltrate, the lesser rabble were swiftly drugged by Qian Chen.
Straightening his green robe and adjusting the bronze snake mask, Qian Chen ascended the white jade steps of Five Lakes Hall step by step. He pushed open the palace doors, and an instant rush of clamor poured out, contrasting sharply with the eerie silence blanketing the rest of Four Seas Hall, where not even the chirp of an insect or the cry of a bird could be heard.
Hearing the doors open, someone glanced back subconsciously, grew so terrified that his chopsticks clattered to the floor, and froze rooted to the spot.
Seeing his soul-shaken expression, those at neighboring tables also turned to look. Those who tried to cry out in alarm found their strength entirely drained, unable to do anything but stare blankly as Qian Chen strode easily into the hall.
Because the grand hall was packed with guests, the doorway was invisible from the head of the hall. Thus, as Qian Chen walked inside, those seated at the dais did not immediately notice him.
Like a street-clearing tiger, wherever he passed, silence fell in his wake.
Seated near the front of the main hall, Kang Qiandeng was eating without appetite when he noticed that the noise in the hall had diminished considerably, the back growing increasingly quiet.
Just then, someone choked out a half-strangled wheeze. That display of losing the ability to speak from sheer terror piqued Kang Qiandeng's curiosity. Turning around, he saw Bai Yuanliang seated at the table behind him, casually looking back, only to freeze rigid in an instant. The terror on his face was so thick it seemed ready to spill over.
Kang Qiandeng followed Bai Yuanliang's gaze...
A figure in green robes wearing a bronze snake mask was floating slowly forward from the rear. Wherever he passed, the clamor died away.
Moonlight poured through the open doors, remarkably bright. Its luminous glow seemed reflected by a glass mirror, bathing the figure as he walked in, his emerald-green robes looking exceptionally vivid.
"M-M... Mist-Riding Lord!" someone shrieked shrilly.
Qian Chen had already reached the front of the main hall, entering everyone's view. As he walked past Bai Yuanliang—perhaps intentionally—he paused for half a beat. A trickling sound came from Bai Yuanliang's trousers, and a murky yellow fluid ran down his shins to the floor.
He had literally wet himself in terror.
"Fiend, how dare you!" someone roared, slamming the table to stand—
Only to collapse face-first onto the table with a loud thud. Another instinctively reached for the saber at his waist, but the moment his fingers touched the hilt, he discovered he could not move so much as a finger.
A grandmaster of the South Sea Sword Sect suddenly unsheathed his sword. The blade-light was blindingly fast and ferocious, yet before he could come within a few paces of Qian Chen, he pitched forward onto the ground.
Kunlun Sect's Dual Principles Sword Formation suddenly transformed into a wooden rooster formation, capable only of striking Qian Chen with their glares.
Old Master Tang was the first to sense something amiss, having shielded the grandmasters at his table from inhaling the poison. Instantly, five grandmasters struck together! The Tang Sect's divine weapon, Flying Swallow, unleashed a streak of silver light that fractured into countless silver beams, shooting toward Qian Chen from unimaginable angles. Those innumerable flying swallows descended like a silver rain.
A glint of crystal flashed in Qian Chen's hand.
Old Master Tang felt a bone-chilling frost engulf him. The swarm of flying swallows froze solid in midair, suspended in empty space...
Even the streaking trails of light remained locked in place.
Old Master Tang's body had stiffened entirely; only his rolling eyes betrayed the immense shock in his heart.
Master Kongbei, First Seat of Shaolin's Bodhidharma Hall, who had cultivated the Indestructible Vajra Body, leaped into the air. He drove a Great Brightness Fist toward Qian Chen's chest. The Wang family's Heavenly Secrets Sword Art, flawless in calculation, deduced all of Qian Chen's metrics in an instant, thrusting forward to target thirty-six flaws across his entire body. The Lei family's Thunderbolt Divine Fire burst forth, each grain of gunpowder rivaling the thunder-fire unleashed by Dawn-Crowing Lord with his divine weapon. And Saber Lord Ying Qing's scimitar struck like a blade concealed beneath the nine underworlds, emerging as if descending from the highest heavens!
At that moment, a billowing gale of dark baleful energy swept in from the doorway, instantly obscuring the sight of Hong Sihai, Daoist Wanshi, and the two other newly arrived great grandmasters.
Qian Chen's body shone with golden light. With three layers of Vajra Talismans layered over one hand, he caught Master Kongbei's fist with his claw. His other hand twisted several times, shifting his thirty-six flaws through seven rapid variations, leaving the Wang family patriarch standing dumbfounded, frantically pinching his fingers to recalculate. The surging black baleful wind caught a talisman concealed on a pillar by the entrance, sweeping it right before the Lei family grandmaster.
With a pop, the thin Yin Thunder Talisman detonated, knocking the Lei family grandmaster unconscious.
The gunpowder was swallowed and eroded by the baleful energy, dissolving into nothingness.
Qian Chen slammed his forehead directly into Master Kongbei's brow. The Indestructible Vajra Body rang out with a loud clang! Releasing Kongbei's fist, Qian Chen watched as the monk staggered seven crooked steps across the open floor before toppling face-down.
The Saber Lord had already seized upon a fatal opening. A blade-flash flickered impossibly across Qian Chen's throat.
Ying Qing smiled faintly. Just as he moved to sheathe his blade, he realized the divine scimitar in his grasp had vanished without a trace.
The Wang family patriarch stood sweating profusely as he tried to calculate. Old Master Tang was frozen in place. The Lei family grandmaster and Master Kongbei lay on the floor, one resting his head on the other's leg, the other pillowed against a rear end.
Comparatively speaking, the Lei family grandmaster had the worse deal, as the backside of an Indestructible Vajra Body was rock hard, bruising his head painfully.
Ying Qing stood frozen, his mind seemingly stalled on a single thought: *Where is my saber?*
Meanwhile, the Dragon Sparrow Ring remained nestled securely on Qian Chen's wrist...
He strolled past them. Fan Huiming, Abbess of Water Moon Nunnery, unleashed her sword. Possessing the might of a great grandmaster, the divine Water Moon Sword in her hand gleamed like the moon above, shedding a silver radiance that instantly pierced through the thick black gale to arrive before Qian Chen. As her sword unfolded, no one could describe the elegance of that strike—it was like flowers in a mirror and the moon in the water, stabbing toward flowers in a mirror and the moon in the water...
Uh?
Fan Huiming watched her Water Moon Sword pierce Mist-Riding Lord's body, only to create faint ripples like water.
Qian Chen had already caught the Water Moon Sword with a long black hook. With a gentle tap and a flick, Fan Huiming obediently released her weapon, allowing a black rope descending from above to bind her tightly. Qian Chen's hook was already pressed against her throat, and she had realized that something was wrong with this Mist-Riding Lord.
Mist-Riding Lord's martial arts could never have been this formidable; otherwise, he would not have been a mere Lesser Dragon, but Dragon Head himself.
Furthermore, this man possessed no killing intent...
Loose Man Ning Buqi, who had rushed down in desperate haste, saw Fan Huiming captured in a single exchange with Qian Chen's hook at her throat. He dared neither advance nor retreat. Just then, the moonlight shining through the entrance shifted, and Qian Chen's silhouette flickered slightly to the left as he dismissed the mirage of the Spirit Light Mirror, revealing his true body.
Qian Chen said calmly, "If you don't want her life to end, take her and step back."
Overjoyed, Ning Buqi reached out to receive the tightly bound Fan Huiming. He retreated quietly to a distance, behaving as meekly as a quail pinned beneath a bright lantern, silently holding the fair maiden in his arms.
*Heh...* Qian Chen sneered inwardly. When Loose Man Ning Buqi had been sitting in his seat, Qian Chen's mirror projections revealed that seven out of ten times, he was stealing glances at Fan Huiming. Who couldn't see what was on his mind?
A man in his fifties or sixties, still playing at courtship... *Hmph!*
Old Daoist Wanshi's hand rested on the Pine Wind Sword, yet he did not dare make a move.
Surrounding him were five golden little creatures—a snake, a scorpion, a spider, a centipede, and a toad—circling him as if begging for food. Divine Monk Kongming also seemed awed, remaining seated where he was. Yet the look he directed toward Qian Chen held a faint glimmer of a smile.
Seated at the head of the hall, Hong Sihai watched the righteous heroes strike one by one, only to be subdued or repelled by Mist-Riding Lord in the blink of an eye.
He said in a low voice, "You are not Mist-Riding Lord at all. If you were Mist-Riding Lord, the Twelve Yuan Chen would not have had Dragon Head, but Snake Head! If Mist-Riding Lord possessed such skill, everyone in my Four Seas Hall would have perished yesterday."
Qian Chen said indifferently, "I am Mist-Riding Lord. The Twelve Yuan Chen destroy the Four Seas. Hong Sihai, you provoked our Twelve Yuan Chen, so I have personally come to see you off!"
Stepping onto a swirl of mist, Qian Chen rose three feet into the air.
It was as if to say: *See how I soar upon clouds and ride the mist? Who still dares claim I am not Mist-Riding Lord?*
"Only a dragon can soar upon clouds and ride the mist, so you are not Mist-Riding Lord—you are Dragon Head!" Hong Sihai declared. "Dragon Head is indeed formidable. Earlier, I killed several of your Twelve Yuan Chen, and today you come for revenge. Yet evil cannot prevail over righteousness. Today, you are bound to lose your own life!"
Qian Chen pointed a finger. Beside Hong Sihai, Tu Beihai suddenly coughed up a mouthful of dark-red clotted blood. The skin of his neck peeled away bit by bit, rapidly rotting into a festering ring. When the last shred of flesh decayed, his head dropped off, rolled across the floor several times, and came to a stop at Qian Chen's feet.
With his right foot, Qian Chen kicked hard, sending the head flying straight out the door.
He shoots! Goal!
"Hong Sihai, if you keep talking nonsense like this, I will get angry..." Qian Chen laughed with a hiss. "I am Mist-Riding Lord. Whoever dares say otherwise, I will send him down to ask the man himself!"
Chapter 32