Chapter Forty-Five: Kashyapa

However, Qian Lei’s formidable strength was plain for all to see—he had reached the half-step first-class level half a year ago, his power far surpassing that of his peers. Moreover, the innate school he belonged to ranked solidly among the top three of the eight great sects. So although envy simmered among the assembled disciples, none dared voice their discontent; instead, their gazes toward Zhou Yingying grew increasingly heated, as if hoping to mete out immediate punishment for her brazenly licentious behavior.

“There’s no need to wait. To deal with an unknown nobody, the heroes of our seven great sects are more than sufficient.” Qian Lei glanced at Zhou Yingying, swallowed imperceptibly, and waved his hand with finality.

To be honest, he found this mission somewhat beneath him. Having to personally confront someone he’d never even heard of was one thing; needing the combined strength of seven sects was quite another. Just how much were they overestimating this target?

He was not alone in this sentiment—all those present felt the same. They were, after all, paragons of their generation, unmatched in martial skill. Why should they join forces to deal with a single man, especially under another’s command? Were it not for their current lack of strength, they would have split off long ago to act on their own.

…

“Break it down!”

Before the tightly-shut residence, Qian Lei strode forward and struck with his palm. His innate martial power surged like a rushing river, blasting the massive wooden gate—immovable to ordinary men—over a dozen meters away.

“Gentlemen, you’ve traveled so far to visit me—surely not just to demolish my door? As it happens, I was planning to replace it anyway. I must thank this brother for saving me the effort.” As the gate crashed down, and before Qian Lei’s party could enter, a thin young man stepped out calmly from within the courtyard. He looked exceedingly youthful, his features unremarkable—one who would be lost in any crowd—but his bald head gleamed so brightly it was impossible to ignore, like a lantern in the dark.

Had Fang Zhuowei seen this youth, he would have instantly recognized him; this was none other than the golden-clad ancient ape king he’d observed from his omniscient vantage.

“So, you’re called Kasyapa? On our sect leader’s orders, we’ve come to claim a certain item from you,” Qian Lei said coldly, his narrow eyes narrowing further as he folded his hands behind his back, surveying the bald youth.

His gaze was piercing as twin bolts of lightning, his stature imposing, with thick brows, large eyes, a broad nose, and square jaw—his weathered face exuding intimidation. Even his voice rumbled with a penetrating resonance.

“If you know what’s good for you, hand it over at once. Otherwise, don’t blame the eight great sects for being ruthless.”

“Oh? And if I refuse?” the bald youth replied unhurriedly, his tone and posture utterly indifferent.

Such demeanor naturally incensed the assembled representatives of the eight sects.

“Today, the leading disciples of the eight great sects are all gathered here. You have no say in the matter!” From the clamor, an elderly woman with hunched posture and a head of gray hair stepped forward. She was an ancient ape herself from the Dian Cang Sect, Zhou Yingying’s guardian, who had insisted on accompanying her.

Her expression was dark and venomous, her gaze fixed on the bald youth like a serpent’s, as if she wished to tear him limb from limb.

To defy the eight great sects—this was courting death!

“Hahaha, I have no say?” The bald youth swept his gaze around and gave a cold laugh. “You’re nothing but disciples, yet you talk so wildly. Even if your sect leaders were standing before me, I doubt they would dare utter such arrogance. Besides, if I’m not mistaken, the Wuji Sect seems not to have sent anyone, have they?”

He spoke serenely, his face calm as water, his casual bearing unwavering despite being surrounded—he seemed entirely in control.

“Hmph, don’t get cocky. The Wuji Sect’s chief disciple Zhao Yang will be here shortly. But to deal with an ant like you, there’s no need for all eight sects. This old woman alone will suffice,” the elder woman said again, her voice harsh and chilling.

“Alone, you say? Hahaha, old crone, your skills are mediocre but your boasting knows no bounds. Don’t throw out your back in the process.” The bald youth gave as good as he got, retorting instantly.

“Worthless brat! You deserve death!” The old woman shook with rage.

“You—how can someone so unremarkable look so plain, yet have such a sharp tongue? Every word out of your mouth is filth, a disgrace to the martial world’s decorum!” Zhou Yingying cried, brows furrowed.

“This is simply turning your own methods back on you. When speaking to the likes of you, one must be as filthy as possible…”

The bald youth sneered, continuing, “Furthermore, you come here with such aggression, demanding explanations and yet expect civility in return? Truly shameless. Do all your great sects recruit disciples based not on talent but on the thickness of their skin?”

“You—” Zhou Yingying gasped, her face shifting between red and white, speechless for a long moment.

“How dare you insult Miss Zhou! You must be tired of living. If you apologize and kowtow three times to her right now, I swear I’ll grant you a swift and painless death,” declared Wang Ren, chief disciple of the Kongtong Sect, stepping forth with the righteous air of a gallant protector.

At his words, several more stepped forward—each a chief disciple from a sect, all secretly enamored with Zhou Yingying.

“A quick or slow death, in the end it’s death all the same. Why should I obey you? Especially since, for me, none of your deaths would be pleasant,” the bald youth replied with a disdainful laugh.

“This wretch talks too much—no need for more words. Let’s take him down!” Qian Lei’s voice cut through the crowd, and with that, he assumed an attacking stance.

“Wait,” the bald youth suddenly said. “I have one last question.”

“We’re not so unreasonable as to deny you that much. Speak,” Qian Lei replied with a wave of his hand.

“You said you came for an item, but I truly don’t know—what is it you want from me?”

“Hmph, playing dumb, are you? Have you already forgotten the ‘Tathagata Divine Palm’ manual you just won at the auction?” Qian Lei retorted coldly.

“So, it’s that manual… A hundred years ago, the heavens bestowed a miracle—a rain of falling stars transforming into countless martial arts scriptures. The eight great sects seized nearly every one of these treasures for themselves. With so many manuals in your possession, have you not learned enough? Must you still set your sights on the one I hold?” the bald youth replied, scratching his head and speaking with unhurried calm.