Ying Wusheng wore a black cloak, his face hidden within its shadows. Wisps of black toxic mist curled around him, obscuring his features save for a pale, jade-white chin. Wherever he passed, the black vapors spread, exuding an aura of extreme toxicity—grasses withered and flowers wilted in his wake.
The Young Shaman God was dressed in a long robe and mandarin jacket, with embroidered silk shoes on his feet. A vintage gold pocket watch hung from his chest, antique gold-rimmed round spectacles perched on his nose, and a yellow bowler hat sat atop his head. He cut a dashing figure, like a nobleman from the Republican era.
Both the Shadow Poison Sect and the Ghost Shaman Sect were mysterious schools that cultivated the most advanced heretical arts. As the brightest young talents of their respective sects, both men were masters of esoteric techniques and had reached the Tongxuan level—a cultivation equivalent to the Transformation Realm in martial arts.
Moreover, the path of sorcery—especially heretical sorcery—was inherently treacherous and unpredictable. These two could easily slay ordinary minor Transformation Realm experts, making them truly formidable opponents.
The Young Shaman God had an insufferably frivolous air about him. Though he circled the Imperial Maiden Flower, inspecting it from all angles, he still found time to wink and leer at the Diancang Sect’s female disciples, fancying himself quite the charmer.
Ying Wusheng, meanwhile, said nothing. He simply waved his hands, forming hand seals as streams of black poison seeped into the ground—some kind of probing technique.
By now, several more experts from the West and Huaxia had arrived in the area. In an instant, the gathering of powerhouses swelled to forty or fifty people.
Eventually, the Young Shaman God reached into his robe and produced a jade talisman, brimming with confidence. “This is a celestial thunder formation—very powerful. But I have a top-grade protective jade talisman that can withstand a strike from a Divine Realm expert. It can hold off lightning. I’ll go pick the flower!”
“Young Shaman God, go ahead! This old man will cover you. Just be sure to share a petal with me afterward!”
Wu Yingxiong swept his gaze across the crowd, his presence awe-inspiring and commanding, a silent warning to all not to make any rash moves.
“Anyone who touches the Imperial Maiden Flower dies!” Ying Wusheng added in a chilling voice, his threat hanging over the assembly.
“Who dares to snatch it away?”
The Young Shaman God let out a contemptuous snort. Clutching his protective talisman tightly, he strode forward and reached out to pluck the flower.
And sure enough, as he approached within three meters of the flower, a thunderous crack split the air—a bolt of lightning came crashing down upon him.
“Hmph!”
The Young Shaman God grunted, his body swaying as he stumbled back a step.
At the same time, a faint golden light barrier emanated from the talisman, completely enveloping him.
“Oh? Is the flower really going to fall into his hands?”
The Green Lotus Master frowned deeply, his face a mask of unwillingness.
“If he gets it, we kill him and take the treasure!”
Singh and the gray-clad man exchanged murderous glances, speaking in low voices.
At that moment, the crowd was a tapestry of emotions—some burned with envy and resentment, others secretly prayed that the Young Shaman God would be struck dead by lightning so that if they couldn’t have the flower, no one else would either. Some sighed in self-defeat, while others schemed on how to curry favor with him for a share of the spoils…
But without exception, every pair of eyes was fixed hungrily on the Imperial Maiden Flower.
The Young Shaman God stepped back, and the purple lightning vanished. He wiped the cold sweat from his brow, still shaken, and forced a smile: “Not so impressive after all. My talisman can hold up. Today, this Imperial Maiden Flower is mine!”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than he lunged forward again—a tiger’s pounce—charging straight into the circle and reaching for the flower.
In that instant, a strange phenomenon erupted.
Golden runes materialized out of thin air, coalescing into a razor-sharp sword over ten meters long. Solid and heavy as if forged from the very stars, it descended like the Milky Way plunging from the heavens, cleaving straight down at the Young Shaman God!
“Young Shaman God, be careful!” Wu Yingxiong’s eyes went sharp, his heart screaming warnings as he cried out.
“Is this a formation?!”
“So powerful!”
The crowd was thrown into disarray by the fierce sword aura, stumbling backward as their blood churned violently within their chests—some barely managing to hold back spurts of blood.
With a thunderous bang, the Young Shaman God was blasted backward over ten meters by the golden giant sword, crashing to the ground like a dead dog.
“Crack—!” The sound of the jade talisman shattering rang out as he coughed up blood, howling in agony.
“Damn it! This talisman was my sect’s most treasured heirloom!”
The Young Shaman God cradled the broken pieces in anguish, so frustrated he could vomit blood—tearless, grief-stricken, and utterly heartbroken.
“Hiss—!”
A collective gasp swept through the crowd. Everyone’s hearts raced with dread as they realized the sheer power of this formation.
Even a top-grade protective talisman could be shattered. The formation’s might was comparable to a strike from a Divine Realm expert.
“It’s hopeless. No one can retrieve it alone!”
Wu Yingxiong’s eyes darted about, his mind racing.
“Let this humble monk try!”
The Green Lotus Master chanted the Buddha’s name and stepped within three meters—but the moment he entered, he instantly retreated.
At that same instant, a massive golden palm descended from above. It was covered in fur, carrying overwhelming power as it slammed toward the Green Lotus Master.
“Break!” The Green Lotus Master unleashed a palm strike of his own, attempting to shatter the golden hand.
Boom!
The two forces collided with a deafening roar. The Green Lotus Master was sent flying like a fallen leaf in the wind, skidding over ten meters back.
He executed a “thousand-pound drop” to steady himself, but his face had turned deathly pale. His blood roiled violently within him, and he barely managed to hold back a mouthful of blood.
“So strong!”
“Terrifying!”
Everyone gasped in awe, their gazes filled with fear and timidity.
The Green Lotus Master—Tianzhu’s foremost expert, whose strength at the peak of the Transformation Realm made him even more formidable than Lin Zhenyu on the international stage—could not even break the seal.
“Are we just going to watch this Imperial Maiden Flower rot before our very eyes?”
The Green Lotus Master’s expression was grim, his heart full of bitterness. He had never expected the protective barrier to become so powerful upon the flower’s ripening. He no longer had any confidence in breaking it.
“What is that?”
“A god? A demon?” Suddenly, cries of alarm erupted as the crowd scrambled backward.
Vaguely, they could see beams of light projecting from jade stones beneath the ice and snow, forming a colossal golden figure over ten meters tall—like a god or Buddha—appearing abruptly behind the Imperial Maiden Flower.
“This is no ghost or god. This is the residual divine soul of the flower’s ancient guardian. Legend has it that it surpassed the Divine Realm and attained Earth Immortal strength!”
The Green Lotus Master’s body trembled. He pressed his palms together and bowed reverently toward the apparition, his face a mixture of piety and fear.
“No wonder the seal is so powerful—so an Earth Immortal’s residual soul is guarding it!”
Wu Yingxiong, too, stared solemnly at the towering golden ape.
Divine Realm experts were already rare in this world, let alone a being who had surpassed that—an Earth Immortal’s split soul. No wonder it was so mighty!
The towering figure was shrouded in golden light, composed of countless luminous specks—hazy, ethereal, and indistinct. One could only vaguely make out its bared fangs, its furious diamond-like eyes, and the overwhelming pressure and terrifying bloodthirst that radiated from its majestic frame, making hearts quake and breath falter.
“Begone! Any who covet this shall be slain without mercy!”
The residual soul let out a roar that shook heaven and earth, cracking the ice and splitting the wind and snow. The crowd was thrown into chaos—many Iron Body and Inner Strength experts coughed up blood, their meridians damaged.
Even the Green Lotus Master and Wu Yingxiong—mighty figures of their generation—stumbled backward, their faces pale, their defensive auras and protective barriers nearly shattering.
Then, with a flicker, the golden light contracted and the figure vanished once more.
Only the wind and falling snow remained, with the Imperial Maiden Flower swaying gently.
“Too terrifying!”
“Is this the power beyond the Divine Realm? Just a single roar from a residual soul, and Inner Strength experts nearly perished!” Someone trembled, overcome with terror.
“What do we do? With this residual soul guarding it, none of us can take it! We can only watch it wither!” Another cried out in desperation, pacing like an ant on a hot pan.
“Why not join forces with the Huaxia experts? Let’s all break the formation together!”
Singh’s eyes darted slyly.
The gray-clad man muttered in Tianzhu language, “Then we kill them all and claim the flower for ourselves!”
After the three of them came to an agreement, the Green Lotus Master immediately approached Wu Yingxiong, and an understanding was quickly reached.
They would join forces to break the seal, then distribute the flower according to contributions.
Just then, a figure ambled over lazily, drawling:
“A bunch of useless fools. You see the treasure right before your eyes, yet you can’t even take it—how utterly ridiculous! If I’d known you were all so pathetic, I wouldn’t have rushed over at all!”
“Who’s that?!”
“Such arrogance!”
“Big talk! If you’re so capable, why don’t you take it yourself?”
“What a bluff! Even the Green Lotus Master and the Young Shaman God couldn’t do anything—and you think you can?”
“You’re so good at bragging, why don’t you just fly up to heaven?!”
The crowd turned as one, glaring furiously at the newcomer.
His words had essentially insulted everyone present.
“You all seem to want to break the seal together and share the divine herb, is that right?”
A young man with delicate, handsome features appeared—wearing a white shirt and casual pants, carrying a bronze cymbal in one hand, strolling over lazily.
The only odd thing was that a red-furred monkey was perched on his shoulder, clutching a pressure cooker full of meat broth. The whole scene was utterly comical.
“Did this guy bring his monkey act all the way to Everest?”
“What a leisurely fellow!”
“Planning to have a meal up here? He must be bored out of his mind!”
Many in the crowd looked at Jiang Tian with mockery and ridicule, as if he were some kind of fool.
“I am Wu Yingxiong of Kuncheng. And you are, young friend…?”
Wu Yingxiong gave a slight fist-and-palm salute, a flicker of intrigue passing through his eyes.
This young man, climbing to the summit of Everest in light clothing, was certainly no ordinary person. Yet Wu Yingxiong had never heard of such a figure in Huaxia’s martial arts circles. He maintained a cautious stance.
“So you’re Wu Yingxiong?”
Jiang Tian said flatly, “Who I am doesn’t matter. First, answer my question…”
Wu Yingxiong frowned, suppressing his displeasure, and replied, “Yes, that’s correct.”
Jiang Tian nodded. “So if I can pick the flower myself, it belongs to me?”
“Heh, if you can pluck it without any help from us, then naturally, it’s yours!”
Wu Yingxiong’s eyes flashed with a sharp glint as he spoke in a low, steady voice.
Jiang Tian had repeatedly shown him disrespect, and he was seething inside. You reckless, ignorant fool—if you want to court death, I’ll gladly oblige.
“Yes, yes!”
“That’s right!”
The crowd shared the same sentiment, nodding eagerly. Some even goaded him enthusiastically: “Go on, pick it! If you can take it, it’s yours!”
Jiang Tian sent a telepathic message to Little Qitian. The monkey obeyed, stepping forward with the broth in hand. Jiang Tian clanged the bronze cymbal, dancing and gesticulating wildly, scratching his head and ears like a monkey as he proclaimed:
“Qitian, fourth-generation descendant of the Battle-Saint War Ape, recalls the heroic might of his ancestors and their great deeds! Today, I bring my servant and offerings to pay homage to the Battle-Saint War Ape—namely, Qi Aosheng, founder of the Qi clan of Luozifeng! And to the cave master of Luozifeng, Wu family’s second patriarch, Qi Luozi! We, your descendants, yearn for our forebears. I am but a humble demon of these lands—your descendant come to pay respects. Grant us pardon! All saints, make way…”
“What is he doing?”
“Is he performing some kind of shamanic dance?”
The crowd muttered in bewilderment, staring at Jiang Tian as if he had lost his mind.
