“Do you have a name?” Jiang Tian asked.
The little monkey gestured and chattered away animatedly.
From what Jiang Tian could gather, the little one claimed to be the fourth-generation descendant of the Battle-Saint War Ape. With only a hundred years of lifespan, he had never seen a living Battle-Saint War Ape. Shortly after he was born, his parents had fallen in battle and perished, leaving him without a name.
His ancestor, the Battle-Saint War Ape, was named Qi Aosheng. His grandfather was called Qi Luozi, and so on.
“You poor little thing, losing your mother so young. How about I call you… the Great Sage Equal to Heaven?”
Jiang Tian beckoned the ape to jump onto his shoulder, then asked with a cheerful smile.
“Awesome!” The little monkey bobbed his head repeatedly, bowing with clasped hands, clearly delighted with the name.
“No, you’re not the Great Sage yet—you’re just a little demon for now. Let’s call you Qitian instead!” Jiang Tian rubbed the little one’s tuft of hair and said seriously.
“Good, good, good! This name is mighty and imposing!”
Little Qitian crouched on Jiang Tian’s shoulder, rubbing his head against Jiang Tian’s ear, absolutely thrilled.
Having successfully won over the descendant of the battle-ape, Jiang Tian was in high spirits. He asked, “How’s things on Wei’s end?”
“Mm, I’ve already relayed our GPS coordinates via satellite phone. He’ll be here shortly!” Huo Qingtian replied.
Sure enough, before long—
Wei Feilong came flying over, carrying a pair of bronze cymbals, and asked, “Master Jiang, will these do?”
“Perfect!”
Jiang Tian took the cymbals, then picked up the steaming bowl of meat broth and said, “I’ll go over alone. You two either stay out of sight, or if you do show yourselves, act like you don’t know me!”
“Why?” they asked in unison.
“Treasure stirs the heart, my friends!”
Jiang Tian sighed. “This Imperial Maiden Flower is a celestial treasure, a divine herb of the highest order. In whosever hands it falls, countless calamities will follow. Why invite unnecessary trouble? You two are far too famous—if anyone follows your trail, they’ll inevitably find me!”
“That makes sense. We’ll stay in the shadows and watch your back!” they agreed immediately.
“I suspect those at the summit of Everest are already locked in a fierce struggle over the flower!”
Jiang Tian stepped out of the cave, gazed up at the peak of Everest, and let out a long, thoughtful sigh before shooting straight toward the summit.
——-
At the summit of Everest, the terrain stretched vast and boundless, with jagged, perilous peaks rising one after another under a ceaseless downpour of feathery snow.
Nestled in a hollow lay a crude little temple—stone walls, a thatched roof, just three small rooms and a tiny courtyard.
But this place was unlike anywhere else. The temperature was mild, like a bright spring day. Babbling streams wound through the land, fragrant grasses swayed in the breeze, and even wild hares and deer roamed about. The area spanned four or five li in radius—like some immortal’s paradise on earth.
At the temple’s entrance stood three men: an old monk in a yellow robe, a middle-aged man in white, and a barefoot figure with unbound hair.
“Hmph, this humble monk has guarded this Imperial Maiden Flower for over ten years, and now it’s about to ripen. Let me see who dares to snatch it away.”
The yellow-robed monk was none other than the Green Lotus Master, the foremost monk of Tianzhu (India). Draped in his cassock, right hand gripping a purple-golden Zen staff, he stood like an angry Vajra—his aura surging like an abyssal sea, his face fierce and menacing. Clearly, he was not one to be trifled with.
“Master Green Lotus, the flower will ripen tonight, but if you can’t break the seal, you won’t be able to claim it either.”
The man in white had dark, sinewy skin that gave an impression of both solidity and supple flexibility. He chuckled lightly:
“I’ve heard that many powerful figures are coming to snatch it. How about the three of us join forces to break the seal and share the spoils?”
“Singh, you’re already the foremost master of ancient yoga in Tianzhu, equivalent to a half-step Divine Realm in Huaxia. I hadn’t expected you to covet this flower as well!” The Green Lotus Master’s eyes flashed with a cold gleam as he spoke with a hint of mockery.
“Nowhere near enough!”
Singh—whose name meant “lion” in the Tianzhu language—had piercing eyes and curly hair like a lion’s mane, giving him a majestic and imposing presence.
The top ancient yoga master smiled and said, “I hear that Huaxia’s Diancang Sect, the Singapore Chinese Association, and many other strong figures are all coming to fight over it. If you work with us, you still stand a chance to share in the prize. But if you refuse to ally with us, you might not even get a single hair!”
“That’s sound logic! Master Green Lotus, you’ve guarded it for ten years—how bitter would it be to let outsiders reap the rewards?”
The man in gray spoke up.
He carried a shield on his back and a long blade in hand.
His clothing was odd, too—both his top and bottom were made of triangular pieces of cloth stitched together, like loincloths, leaving large swaths of oiled, gleaming skin exposed to the cold. He seemed utterly unfazed by the freezing temperature.
He was a master of the ancient Tianzhu martial art Kalaripayattu. Practitioners of this art are called Gurukkal, and he was the foremost master in Tianzhu, on par with a martial grandmaster of Huaxia.
As they spoke, a thunderous boom rolled across the sky. The earlier celestial anomalies faded away, and the colorful aurora-like lights contracted. The Imperial Maiden Flower in the spring trembled and began to emit a crimson glow, as if a Buddha were descending upon the world.
The three men’s eyes went wide, their bodies trembling with excitement. Finally—the Imperial Maiden Flower was about to ripen!
Whoever obtained it could step into the Divine Realm, mastering all laws and forging their own divine consciousness. They would become the strongest being of the age—eternal and undying—with all the myriad schools and sects of the world bowing at their feet.
Above the flower, rosy clouds swirled, a thousand strands of radiant light converged, and bursts of primeval spiritual energy spread outward like the very dawn of creation. The three men felt their spirits soar, as if receiving an enlightening blessing from above.
The spiritual energy and rays of light coalesced into the shape of a crimson phoenix, spreading its wings as if about to take flight—so lifelike it was almost breathing.
“Buddha above, heaven has eyes! The Imperial Maiden Flower—finally, it has ripened!”
The Green Lotus Master pressed his palms together devoutly, chanting the Buddha’s name, tears streaming down his face.
“This is the most precious treasure in all the world! It’s all mine! All mine!”
Singh’s eyes blazed with greed, his whole body quivering. He was nearly overcome with the urge to charge forward and pluck it for himself.
“What are we waiting for? Let’s join forces, break the seal, and claim it together!” The gray-clad man was raring to go, rubbing his hands in anticipation.
Just then, a series of figures in Daoist robes came leaping over, blocking the three men.
At their head, Wang Haitao sneered, “Heh, Master Green Lotus, this divine herb sits on the northern slope of Everest—it belongs to Huaxia. There’s no way it’s falling into your hands. Best be on your way, lest our Diancang Sect be forced to shed blood!”
“And who might you be?” the Green Lotus Master demanded coldly, his Chinese awkward but sharp.
“I am Wang Haitao, senior disciple of the Diancang Sect on Wuliang Mountain!” Wang Haitao smiled faintly, his expression far from friendly.
By then, a dozen or so of Diancang’s top experts had also arrived, hands on their sword hilts, eyeing the three Tianzhu masters warily.
“Oh? This flower is a heavenly treasure—if you want it, take it, by all means!” The Green Lotus Master pressed his palms together, his brows kind and his smile benevolent.
“Really?”
Wang Haitao frowned, sensing something amiss. But the flower was too tempting to resist. He pointed at the young, handsome junior disciple and said, “Peng Zhipei, go pick the flower!”
“Yes, Senior Brother!” Peng Zhipei’s face flushed red with excitement, his heart pounding wildly.
To personally pick the Imperial Maiden Flower and present it to their master—that would surely be the greatest merit. And now it was falling into his hands!
With a flicker of movement, he employed the Diancang Sect’s “Wandering Dragon” footwork, leaping into the air and darting toward the flower.
He was wary of traps or hidden weapons from the Tianzhu group, so he kept his feet off the ground.
His leap was like a swallow skimming the water—fast, graceful, and nimble. In an instant, he covered over ten meters, closing in to within three meters of the flower.
“Excellent!” The Diancang crowd burst into applause, and even Wang Haitao nodded in approval.
Peng Zhipei was only in his twenties, but he was highly regarded by the sect, an elite disciple with a cultivation at the peak of inner strength.
But in that very instant—
A bolt of purple lightning materialized out of thin air, like a massive purple serpent, and with a sharp crack, struck Peng Zhipei.
Before he could even let out a scream, he was reduced to a pile of ashes, scattered across the grass and into the spring water.
“Hiss—!”
The Diancang group collectively sucked in a breath of cold air. Their faces turned pale, hearts racing with sheer terror.
To witness a fellow disciple—a living, breathing person—vanish into a handful of ash in an instant was a shock beyond bearing.
“Senior, don’t you think that was far too ruthless and underhanded?”
Wang Haitao glared at the Green Lotus Master, his voice sharp with reproach: “If you were willing to yield the flower, why bother setting up traps and formations? Is killing with trickery the way of a monk?”
“No, no, no—this is not this humble monk’s formation!”
The Green Lotus Master pressed his palms together, chanted the Buddha’s name, and said with a faint smile: “Did your master never tell you? The Imperial Maiden Flower is a celestial treasure, born with its own natural barriers. Though I must admit—I never expected its power to be this formidable!”
“Brother Wang, you were far too rash…”
At that moment, another figure came bounding over.
This was an old man in a green robe, his hair and beard white as snow. He was well into his eighties, yet radiated an unyielding dominance and pride, his gaze sweeping over all as though the world itself were beneath him.
His eyes blazed with divine light, and his tall frame was as imposing as a lion or tiger.
“Senior Wu! You’ve come!”
Wang Haitao was momentarily taken aback, then adopted a respectful demeanor, clasping his fists in salute.
This old man was none other than Wu Yingxiong, the overlord of the southwest.
A veteran grandmaster of the Transformation Realm, he stood shoulder to shoulder with Huo Qingtian and Ye Wudao. Decades of painstaking work had cemented his authority over the entire Yunnan-Guizhou Plateau.
Moreover, he maintained close ties with many shamanic and poison-art sects in the southwest, giving him a formidable web of influence that made him exceedingly difficult to handle.
The Diancang Sect was a semi-secluded sect—its sect leader, of course, could afford to disregard worldly martial titans like Wu Yingxiong—but Wang Haitao, having only achieved a minor Transformation Realm cultivation, dared not show any disrespect.
“Mm. Haitao, don’t be so hasty to snatch the flower. There’s the barrier to consider, and there are enemies about. Let’s pool our efforts and figure this out together!”
Wu Yingxiong strode forward with the majesty of a dragon or tiger, completely ignoring Wang Haitao and barely even glancing at the Green Lotus Master.
Then, gesturing with a courteous hand toward the two young men behind him, he said: “Young Master Ying, Young Shaman God, please take a look!”
“Shadow Poison Sect’s Young Master, Ying Wusheng!”
“The Ghost Shaman Sect’s Young Sect Master, the Young Shaman God!”
The Diancang crowd exchanged uneasy glances, their hearts growing wary.
