Chapter Thirty-Eight: An Entire City Cheering for You

"The Jade Bowl Banquet is a gathering for the exchange of ideas and techniques; there is no distinction of high or low, so why speak of victory or defeat?" Chen Yankun said with a smile.

Wu Yue was a little stunned—it seemed this unfamiliar old man kept siding with him. Wu Yue cast a few meaningful glances at the elder, then continued to focus on his Flame Stacking technique: one stack for the first layer, two for the second, three for the third, and so on up to nine. Wu Yue thought this technique was rather brainless; there was no need for any profound comprehension—just stack upon stack. Meanwhile, his spiritual consciousness and soul wounds healed rapidly. He seemed to see Lishan growing even more desolate, and a young girl facing the thunderous sky, silent and stubborn.

A great kindness must be repaid. At that moment, Wu Yue realized he was bound by Lishan’s favor—henceforth, their fates were intertwined.

"Indeed, Fellow Daoist Chen is right. During my recent bout with Fellow Daoist Zhao, I gained some new insights. Now, I feel a surge of emotion. Which Daoist friend will grant me the honor of a match?" Ren Ruyi returned to the center.

Wu Yue glanced at her—she was quite pretty and rather thick-skinned.

"Those people from Dragon Snow Mountain are shameless! Brother Zhao should’ve shown no mercy!"

"But I think this woman is being forced by her sect—look at that old woman, her face as dark as thunderclouds."

"I agree, what a vicious old hag. Just look at her!"

The elders from Dragon Snow Mountain sitting in the audience were innocent but suffered countless barbs.

"Heh. Barbarians from a minor sect truly lack propriety!" An effeminate young man flew into the arena.

He announced coolly, "Zong Shen of the Telesis Sect."

Hearing this, Wu Yue suddenly understood. Telesis and the Zhao family—of course, they were close allies. He’d killed members of the Telesis Sect and humiliated the Zhao family; naturally, Zong Shen would despise him.

"Losers should leave quickly. I have no interest in dealing with you," Zong Shen declared arrogantly.

Wu Yue hesitated before asking, "May I ask your age, sir?"

At first, Zong Shen was disinclined to reply, but then realized it was a good opportunity to promote himself. "I am seventy-six," he declared, his pride evident. To become a Soul Conductor at over seventy was no small feat—even he was moved by his own accomplishment.

All across Luoyang’s viewing halls:

"Seventy-something? Goodness, he’s two years older than my grandpa!"

"An old man still calling himself a young master—how ridiculous."

"Disgusting, but at least he’s well-preserved."

"Picking on a young girl at his age!"

Whether it was sour grapes or something else, ordinary folk were united in their disdain. A few cultivators tried to explain, but their voices were drowned out by the crowd—on matters of debate, even a great cultivator might not out-talk a street-market auntie. Such is the principle of expertise in one’s field.

Ignorance may be wrong, but when the masses are ignorant, right and wrong become irrelevant.

Wu Yue swore to himself—he’d only asked casually, just to buy some time. Now, the Flame Stacking technique was ready: eight layers in total, but the ninth was beyond him—neither his spiritual power nor consciousness could keep up.

"Still not leaving?" Zong Shen sneered, his arrogance unshaken.

"This banquet is for the exchange of techniques and should not be marred by insults to our guests," Chen Yankun said with a smile, casting Wu Yue a look of satisfaction.

Zong Shen, even if slow-witted, could hear the partiality in Chen Yankun’s words. But after years in the imperial court, he knew how to focus on the main issue and add a supplementary point. "I am here to exchange supernatural techniques, but I am not interested in contests involving the spiritual sense," he said provocatively, glancing at Wu Yue. The implication: fight if you dare, but don’t use spiritual sense techniques.

Wu Yue, now recovered to ninety-nine point five percent, agreed—this was a perfect opportunity to test the Flame Stacking technique. Even if he lost, there was no shame; after all, he’d just fought Zhao Er Gongzi.

"Oh? Are you certain? I won’t hold back," Zong Shen warned, a trace of concern in his voice. He feared the young man might resort to spiritual sense techniques at the last moment. After all, Zhao Yuzhou still had the powerful Zhao family as his backing, even wounded; Zong Shen, a solitary figure with only the royal family as a supporter, would be a fallen phoenix if he lost—the royal family certainly wouldn’t exhaust their resources on him.

Wait—something was off. Zong Shen realized that Wu Yue was also backed by the royal family—and had just eliminated a formidable enemy, while he, Zong Shen, was now stepping in. He glanced back, and sure enough, the royal family’s representatives were giving him unfriendly looks.

Which mattered more—connections, or the favor of one’s superiors and powerful patrons? In a moment of clarity, Zong Shen understood. It was all that young man’s fault; if he’d left sooner, none of this would have happened.

Now, Zong Shen resolved to say a few polite words and exit quickly.

To his surprise, Ren Ruyi seemed to read his mind. She smiled and said, "Since both Daoist friends wish to exchange techniques, why wait for another day? Now is as good a time as any. I will withdraw for now." With that, she floated away, leaving Zong Shen on the verge of tears—please, don’t leave me here!

"Um," Zong Shen hesitated, "um…"

"Let’s begin," Wu Yue said, smiling.

Zong Shen’s gaze hardened. We’re all in this world together—don’t push me too far.

"I will use only one move," Wu Yue declared.

Zong Shen took a deep breath. "Just one? Can’t you use a few more?"

"Excuse me, what did you say?"

"Nothing. Wu Yue, please instruct me!" As soon as the words left his mouth, Zong Shen summoned a long spear and thrust it toward Wu Yue.

How shameless—no sense of propriety at all. We’re all adults; show some self-respect. The crowd on the Jade Platform jeered and booed. Zong Shen felt nothing but the urge to cry. He was from the Telesis Sect, and they cared only for results—this was just a habit from years of struggle. Can you blame me?

But the people of Luoyang were incredulous. They valued magnanimity and grace.

"This old man is shameless. Wu Yue just fought Zhao Er Gongzi and is still injured, yet this bastard launches a sneak attack! Brother Wu, we support you—take him down!" Wang De roared, sparking a wave of support.

"Brother Wu, we’re all behind you—take him down!" The cheers of Luoyang’s citizens erupted. Wu Yue’s fan base swelled across the city. Luoyang revered the strong and honored heroes—and Wu Yue’s loyal supporters spread his fame ceaselessly.

The spear was swift.

But Wu Yue was unafraid—he felt confident. He had the "Swift Sword of Afei," the advanced "Seventeen Years Cicada," and his eight-layer Flame Stacking technique. In that moment, he felt as wealthy as a tycoon.

The spear whistled through the air, and Wu Yue, unable to dodge in time, was run through the chest.

Zong Shen froze, staring at his hand, then at the spear, then at Wu Yue, then at his companions, then at the audience.

Wu Yue, too, was stunned, staring at the spear in his chest, then at his hand, then at Zong Shen’s bewildered face.

The audience was dumbfounded—he actually stabbed him?!

The crowd in Luoyang erupted.

Shameless, Zong Shen!

Wu Yue regained his composure, calmly lifted his hand, and struck. The eight-layer Flame Stacking technique landed on Zong Shen.

Boom! Flames exploded, illuminating the arena with a brilliant glow.