# 767
Chapter 768: His Name is Zhou Ping
"Now, is there anything else you'd like to say?" Lin Qiye narrowed his eyes as he looked at the Prison Calamity, slowly speaking.
"What... exactly was that?" The Prison Calamity, whose life force had been imprisoned, couldn't help but ask. "That was by no means the kind of aura a human could emit... was it some kind of divine artifact?"
"It's not a divine artifact. It was just an ordinary wooden chopstick, merely imbued with someone's power."
Lin Qiye walked to where the Prison Calamity sat and placed the half-broken wooden chopstick horizontally before him, saying calmly:
"Who said there was a limit to humanity?
Who said humans were destined to be unable to defeat the gods?
I once witnessed a man break through that ceiling with my own eyes, wielding the laws in hand and slaying deities with his sword, carving out a path of survival for humanity...
This chopstick came from him."
Wielding the laws in hand, slaying deities with his sword...
The Prison Calamity murmured to himself.
A glimmer of light appeared in his eyes.
Could such a person truly exist? Was it really possible for humans to slay gods?
"Who is he? What is his name?" The Prison Calamity raised his head, looking at Lin Qiye with desperate longing in his eyes.
Lin Qiye paused for a moment before slowly saying: "The Red Dust Sword Immortal of Great Xia, Zhou Ping."
"Zhou Ping..."
The Prison Calamity repeated the name over and over again, letting out a long sigh. "If only I could have witnessed that scene with my own eyes..."
He shook his head, then looked up at Lin Qiye. His gaze had already calmed. "Destroy this cage. Though I didn't get to see him slay the deity with his sword, to have witnessed that strike that annihilated the Thunder Beast... I have no regrets.
I never imagined that what I pursued my entire life yet could never attain, I would actually witness with my own eyes before death..."
The Prison Calamity laughed bitterly.
Lin Qiye reached out and gripped one of the black cage bars surrounding the Prison Calamity, saying calmly: "Farewell, Oracle Envoy."
Clang—!
The cage that had been piercing through the Prison Calamity's body was pulled out by Lin Qiye's own hand. The life force that had been forcibly retained within him rapidly dissipated the moment the cage was destroyed.
The light faded from the Prison Calamity's eyes. His head drooped, facing the direction of that sword mark. He knelt half-collapsed in the ruins, completely deprived of life.
He looked like a devout seeker of the Dao, kneeling on the wrong path, head bowed in repentance.
He was dead.
Lin Qiye gazed complexly at the half-kneeling, lifeless form of the Prison Calamity, then turned and walked toward the city.
His figure vanished into the billowing dust.
Tokyo, devastated and in ruins.
...
Half a day later.
Hokkaido.
A leisure club.
Baili Pangpang sat on a leather sofa, a champagne glass gently swaying in his right hand. The spherical ice cubes clinked against the glass walls, producing a tinkling sound.
He took a sip, smacking his lips:
"It's been so long since I've had such good wine... As expected of me, Brother Zhai. Wherever I go, I always know how to get by!"
Baili Pangpang carried his champagne over to where Shen Qingzhu sat and settled down beside him, leaning close to his ear to ask, "Brother Zhai, do you have... flower girls here too? I've never seen one before. Why don't you call a few up so we can have some fun together?"
Shen Qingzhu glanced at him, contemplating seriously for a moment. "No flower girls, but we do have male hosts. Want me to call a few up to keep you company?"
"...On second thought, no thanks. Little Master here isn't interested in men." Baili Pangpang shrugged. "But you could ask Sister Lan if she needs any..."
Baili Pangpang winked at Jialan beside him.
Jialan froze, as if remembering something. She pursed her lips slightly and said with a sour tone:
"Male hosts? Those are even worse than hosts... I heard someone here has already become a rising star in Japan's host industry. The girls he's served could circle Tokyo, and every night there are tons of wealthy women willing to bankrupt themselves for him."
"Rising star in the host industry?" Baili Pangpang looked confused. "Who are we talking about?"
"Definitely not me. I've been locked up in the 'Pure Land' for two years." Cao Yuan was the first to deny it.
"Nor me. I've been with Jiang Er this whole time." An Qingyu followed up.
The air suddenly fell silent.
Everyone's gaze turned to Shen Qingzhu.
Shen Qingzhu was quiet for a long while. "Don't look at me. It's not me either. I'm the big boss of Black Assassination Squad. How could I possibly become a host?"
If it wasn't any of them, then that only left...
"Qiyè? Where's Qiyè?" Baili Pangpang's eyes went wide.
"He said he was going to pay respects to an old friend with some colleagues."
"Colleagues? What colleagues does he have?"
Shen Qingzhu thought for a moment, then rummaged through his clothes and pulled out a crumpled flyer. It must have been from several months ago—the paper was thin and had a cheap feel to it.
Shen Qingzhu laid the flyer on the table and smoothed it out with some force. At the very top of the flyer, written in blue-purple ink, were the words "Black Wutong Club." Below the words stood four men.
The two men in the center occupied nearly half of the flyer's space. The one on the left wore a blue-gray patterned bathrobe. Beneath the loose collar, his well-proportioned collarbone showcased a near-perfect physique—tall and slender yet retaining a sense of strength. His features were handsome, and his dual gaze was as cold and profound as blades in a rain curtain.
The man on the right wore a black-red patterned bathrobe, holding a red umbrella. Beneath his messy, casual black hair, a handsome face gazed indifferently ahead, as regal and arrogant as a monarch gazing down upon all creation.
"Hiss!!!"
At the sight of that face, everyone present except Shen Qingzhu sucked in a sharp breath!
Shen Qingzhu wasn't surprised. After all, he had personally visited Black Wutong many times. He had even had the privilege of receiving "joint service" from these two gentlemen on the flyer in one of Black Assassination Squad's private rooms.
"This is Qiyè!?" Baili Pangpang spoke with disbelief. "He, he... he actually went to become a host?"
Cao Yuan stared intently at Lin Qiye's photo on the flyer, unable to help but swallow hard.
"To be honest... this outfit looks pretty good."
"I want a copy of this later." An Qingyu said seriously. "I'm going to frame it."
Jialan gazed at that devastatingly handsome figure on the flyer. Upon hearing these words, she sprang to her feet, snatched the flyer away, and clutched it to her chest, firmly shaking her head:
"No way! This can only be kept by me!"
"Sister Lan, don't be so stingy!" Baili Pangpang stood up with a smile. "This kind of thing should be shared with everyone."
"Yeah, let us look at it some more. We haven't finished looking yet..."
After much persuasion from everyone, Jialan reluctantly placed the flyer back on the table.
On the flyer, behind those two hosts occupying the center stage, there was also a handsome blond man in a white-yellow patterned bathrobe, standing behind the two of them with a gentle smile.
"He's pretty handsome too, just not quite on the level of Qiyè and the other guy." Baili Pangpang critiqued seriously.
Suddenly, it was as if he noticed something.
He reached out his hand, pointing at the man above the three of them—an中年男人 standing with open arms, embracing all three with a smile—and asked in confusion: "Who is this uncle? Is he a host too?"
"Yes."
This time, it was An Qingyu who spoke.
He was silent for a moment, then added: "This person is Japan's number one host, Kyosuke."