Chapter 42: One Man Decides the Fate of the World
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Chapter 42: One Man Decides the Fate of the World
The Shangqing Sect, Master Jing Tian.
Decades ago, his name alone would have sent tremors through the world of the extraordinary. But time has veiled his fame, and he is no longer the man he once was.
Standing with hands clasped behind his back, Master Jing Tian surveyed the sprawled and defeated elders, stewards, and shadow guards of the Zeng family.
He dusted off his robe, feeling a surge of heroic pride. It had been so long since he’d fought with his full strength—he was no longer the passionate youth of old.
With a gentle sigh, he reflected on a century’s worth of time and sentiment. Solitude was his companion, and to the Dao he returned.
“Old Taoist Jing Tian, you’ve vented your anger enough, haven’t you?”
“Take your people and get out!”
Suddenly, a short yet muscular old man appeared in the doorway, sneering as he issued a curt eviction.
“Old fool, if I refuse to leave, what can you do about it?” Jing Tian scoffed.
He recognized the man before him—the Zeng family’s Grand Elder, whom he’d beaten soundly sixty years ago. After a few years as elder, the old man seemed to have forgotten his lesson.
“What do you want?” the Grand Elder thundered. “What more do you want?”
Jing Tian was momentarily taken aback, then burst into laughter. “You truly have no shame. You commit vile acts yourselves, yet cast me as the villain and yourself as the righteous!”
“Never in my life have I seen such brazen shamelessness!”
“Then you’re courting death!” The Grand Elder’s eyes flashed coldly.
“No,” Jing Tian replied with a genial smile, his tone shifting. “I have a request. If you agree, I’ll leave at once.”
The Grand Elder was surprised by this turn. “What request?”
“If anyone from your Zeng family can defeat him, I’ll leave immediately!” Jing Tian declared, pointing at Li Xin.
The three elders of the Zeng family huddled in quiet deliberation. Amid the tense atmosphere, the Third Elder fixed Jing Tian with a deep stare and called out, “We accept your terms!”
First round, Li Yan wins!
Second round, Li Yan wins!
...
Thirty-six rounds, Li Yan wins!
A sweeping victory, not a single defeat.
It wasn’t that Li Yan was overwhelmingly powerful; he simply outspent them. Each bout, he didn’t fight with strength or channel energy—he simply hurled talismans by the hundreds.
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From a few hundred to several thousand talismans...
At first, the Zeng family’s extraordinary fighters resisted, but soon they surrendered outright.
This wasn’t a contest of strength, but a contest of wealth—crushing opponents with sheer resources. The same strategy as Bi Qing, if not more extreme.
By the end of thirty-six matches, at least ten thousand talismans had been spent.
...
As the smoke cleared, the Grand Elder’s face was dark as he barked, “Jing Tian, are you satisfied now?”
He looked around at the gathered extraordinary beings—nearly eight hundred in all. The young talents of the Zeng family, alongside their most loyal guards.
Upon the high platform, more than a dozen of the family’s elite, including the three Grand Elders.
“Very satisfied,” Jing Tian replied with a smile. The gathering was complete—just as he wanted. A family, after all, should be together.
“Then please take your leave, Master,” the Grand Elder said grimly.
“No rush, no rush,” Jing Tian replied cheerfully, unfazed by the sarcasm. “The young ones are done, but the elders have yet to finish their bout!”
The Grand Elder roared, “You old reprobate, don’t push your luck! Are you leaving or not?”
“I am not.”
“Then stay as our guest!”
A voice, as chilling as a fiend from the depths, echoed through the air, sending a shudder through Jing Tian.
He had arrived—the one man from the Zeng family Jing Tian truly feared: the family head, Zeng Yunqin!
A fist thundered down!
Even though Jing Tian had layered himself with three sets of talismans and channeled energy to cover his body, before that fist he was utterly powerless.
The attack tore through his defenses like a hurricane, shattering all energy barriers. He was sent flying from the courtyard, unable to regain his footing, stumbling back three or four steps before spitting a mouthful of blood.
His eyes were unfocused, his face bruised and swollen, all trace of immortal bearing gone.
The Zeng family’s ruthlessness was well-founded—this was the Fist of Mortal Peril. One of you must die.
Standing barely three feet tall, Zeng Yunqin grinned menacingly. “Not bad—you survived a punch.”
“Come on, hit me! If you can’t kill me, I’ll kill you.”
Arrogance and dominance—these words described Zeng Yunqin perfectly. Ever since he became a force in the world of the extraordinary, the family’s very spirit had twisted to match.
As the saying goes, when the beam is crooked, the rafters follow.
“Old bastard Zeng!” Jing Tian’s eyes blazed, fury scorching the sky.
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This was no metaphor—the very air ignited with surging spiritual power.
The world seemed to turn to flame, the air temperature leaping by dozens of degrees in an instant.
From within his Daoist robe, hundreds of talismans soared into the sky, suspended above like a celestial array.
Jing Tian was heir to the line of Guardian Masters—how could one guard the mountain without strength?
“Very well! It’s been decades—let’s see how much you’ve improved,” Zeng Yunqin laughed instead of raging, his fists gathering power like coiling dragons.
He stamped the earth, sending tremors through the ground for hundreds of meters, distant towers collapsing in the quake.
Infernos raged, as if the fire god Zhurong had descended. The Shangqing talismans fluttered, forming a formation; wind fanned the flames, flames rode the wind, surging skyward as if to burn a hole in the heavens.
The Vajra Body—indestructible. One punch to subdue the world, one step to shatter mountains and rivers. He was a living warlord, suppressing all beneath him—yield or be struck down.
Energy surged, Daoist qi twisted into the forms of dragon and tiger: the Azure Dragon, ethereal as an immortal; the Black Tiger, ferocious as a demon.
Even the lingering shockwaves were enough to force ordinary extraordinary beings to flee in terror.
“Kill!”
“Kill!”
Murderous intent boiled, celestial music thundered—a clash on the edge of life and death.
Dragon and tiger contended—the stakes, a matter of life and death.
Thunder rumbled...
Before the energy waves had even settled, Zeng Yunqin revealed a cold smile. From his bosom, he produced a Rainstorm Pear Blossom Needle.
This deadly weapon, famed alongside the Tang Sect’s external arts and poison pills, contained twenty-seven silver needles, swift and fierce as flying swords. They pierced through protective qi, peerless in lethality—each shot drew blood without fail.
Countless exceptional beings had perished to this weapon throughout history.
A great master who once dominated the southern lands, adept in both internal energy and martial arts, had fallen to this very hidden weapon.
The Tang Sect might not produce such a weapon in twenty years. To acquire it, Zeng Yunqin had spent a fortune—almost a third of the Zeng family’s wealth.
Jing Tian’s life hung by a thread. At this critical moment, a distant shout rang out:
“Senior, I beg you to stay your hand!”
The newcomer was a handsome, white-haired Daoist, dressed in a dark robe, crowned with a lotus crest, a sword case on his back, a fly-whisk in one hand, and a golden leaf in the other.
His features were striking, his face jade-like, eyebrows white and swirling, with a cinnabar mark at the brow—a whorl-shaped brow.
He moved with otherworldly grace, lotus crown gleaming, like an immortal strolling through the gentle breeze.
“Half god, half sage, half immortal; wholly Confucian, wholly Daoist, wholly virtuous. A mind that holds ten thousand books; a hand that rules half the martial world!”
“Daoist friend Jing Tian, fear not—I am here.”
The handsome Daoist gently pinched the air, and twenty-seven streams of dragon-shaped energy enveloped the hidden weapon, dissolving its power, which rivaled the flying swords of a sword immortal.
With a flourish of his robe, the dragon-shaped energy and needles returned like swallows to a nest, disappearing into his sleeve.
Sacrifice: In the world of spiritual revival, haunted by ghosts and monsters, inheriting a woodcarving shop and awakening the Priest system!
Offering: [Priest’s Infinite Spiritual Power]
(End of this chapter)