Chapter 198: Unimportant People, Willing to Give Up Five Hundred Years
Xiang Qiu did not notice the blind zither player.
More precisely, he did not see the blind zither player.
Because that blind zither player was too inconspicuous.
And also because the High Priest standing before him at that moment was far too dazzling.
The High Priest’s facial lines were as if carved by a knife, his handsome brows and eyes filled with a frost-like chill.
“King of Linghai! What do you think you’re doing?”
Xiang Qiu’s gaze swept over the national religion experts outside the courtyard, his eyes turning extremely sharp, with a faint hint of violent bloodlust visible deep within.
The King of Linghai said expressionlessly, “Sacred decree: no one may enter or leave this courtyard. Violators die.”
Yes, regardless of whether the White Emperor or Lady Mu won, neither would touch that young Demon Lord.
This large courtyard was indeed the safest place in White Emperor City today.
But the Xiang Clan Patriarch and the Demon Lord had both forgotten one thing.
There were still many human experts in White Emperor City today.
Regardless of whether the White Emperor or Lady Mu won, they all very much wanted to kill this young Demon Lord.
Xiang Qiu still didn’t understand this principle and said in a deep voice, “You should be very clear—he is a guest of my Xiang Clan.”
The King of Linghai’s expression was indifferent, showing no sign of stepping aside.
Xiang Qiu roared, “Do you want to die?!”
With those words, he led his subordinates in an attack.
And then, he died.
……
……
Xiang Qiu was indeed the strongest of this generation of the Xiang Clan, with formidable cultivation, strength, and methods.
His subordinates were also elite experts of the Xiang Clan.
But standing outside the courtyard were the King of Linghai, Priest Siyuan, Archbishop Anlin, and Hu Sanshi’er.
In other words, he faced more than half of the Divine Palace—how could he possibly win?
Of course, if his opponents had been these national religion heavyweights, he might not have lost so quickly, and even if he lost, he wouldn’t have died so fast.
The problem was that the King of Linghai and the others didn’t act; their attention was on the courtyard.
Xiang Qiu and the Xiang Clan experts were up against a group of unimportant people.
Those people were seven peddlers, six yamen runners, three fortune-tellers, two old men selling sesame candy, and a young girl buying rouge.
Even knowing these people came from Wenshui City and were likely Tang Clan experts, such a mix could easily be dismissed as unimportant rabble.
Over a dozen violent demonic powers surged skyward!
A crisp sound rang out on the street—not from the iron rings on the door clattering in the wind, but from copper coins falling from the seven peddlers’ hands to the ground.
The copper coins rolled on the ground, subtly aligning with the principles of heaven and earth, naturally forming a formation.
Two fortune-tellers stood at the formation’s eye, rolling their eyes at the demonic experts hurtling through the air.
It wasn’t contempt—they were performing high-speed deductions and calculations.
Six yamen runners stepped forward expressionlessly, their hands flicking as they met the charge.
Six water-fire rods parted life and death, emerging from the clouds as if to smash everything before them into the underworld.
Even more terrifying were the iron chains bound to those water-fire rods, seemingly capable of binding the souls of all living things.
Violent energies clashed, creating countless bizarre images and terrifying spatial turbulence on the street before the courtyard.
At that moment, the two old men selling sesame candy stepped forward, lifting their shirt fronts and tucking them into their belts, then threw a plain, unremarkable punch.
Their fists blazed with infinite light, dispersing the wind blowing from the Red River, burning everything like two blazing suns.
Then, a cloud of rouge—like peach blossoms, like pear blossoms, red and white—enveloped the scene.
Finally, a desolate zither note rang out, like wind and snow weeping, like seeing someone off on a long journey.
……
……
Blood was everywhere in front of the large courtyard.
Over a dozen Xiang Clan experts lay in their own blood.
Xiang Qiu was the most severely injured, his clothes torn, dozens of fine cracks appearing on his demonic body, harder than steel. Blood continuously seeped from those thin but straight cracks, turning into eerily vibrant colors upon contact with the air—clearly poisoned.
Looking at these yamen runners and peddlers, his eyes were filled with pain and shock.
He had never imagined that in such a short time, he would witness so many terrifyingly powerful techniques and methods.
If his blood loss wasn’t making him see things, was that… really the Sun-Scorching Art?!
These Tang Clan experts were too terrifying—he and his subordinates couldn’t even enter their berserk state before being utterly defeated!
Xiang Qiu’s gaze finally fell on the blind zither player outside the crowd and the old zither in his arms.
The zither strings looked incredibly sharp, having cut through countless bodies without a trace of blood.
Looking at that old zither, Xiang Qiu suddenly felt a chill.
That zither note had sounded.
Only then did he realize that even without those peddlers and yamen runners, this blind zither player alone could have killed them all.
Even if he and his subordinates had entered their berserk state early, they still wouldn’t have escaped being slaughtered.
Even if his father were present, he might not be a match for this blind zither player!
Intense regret filled Xiang Qiu’s eyes.
He hadn’t noticed the blind zither player earlier, so he hadn’t seen that the man’s shoulders were slightly drooping.
That posture looked a bit tired, or perhaps it was just convenient for holding the zither.
Humans who liked to droop their shoulders were often truly remarkable figures.
Like Wang Po, like Bie Yanghong, like this blind zither player.
His voice trembling slightly, he asked, “So strong… who are you?”
The blind zither player didn’t answer his question.
Some might be willing to answer a dying man’s question to show their benevolence or grace.
But this blind zither player wouldn’t.
Many years ago, during the internal strife at his sect, the sect master had ambushed and gravely wounded him; he barely escaped with his life.
From then on, he didn’t know what benevolence meant.
Many years ago, he had avoided Su Li by secluding himself to heal his wounds, then lived like an old dog in Wenshui City, barely surviving all these years.
After that, he no longer had the right to speak of grace.
Even this time, when Old Master Tang invited him to White Emperor City to protect Chen Changsheng’s safety, he saw it as nothing more than a job.
He was just doing his work, earning some money and grain to support himself in his old age.
So he wouldn’t answer Xiang Qiu’s question.
He had even thought he had lost interest in everything.
But today seemed different.
He looked at the large courtyard, his gaze passing through the gate, landing on the deepest part under a tree.
Under that tree was a figure.
His sea of consciousness, once calm and nearly frozen, was now slowly thawing.
His awareness, once a dry creek, was now gradually filling with water, lapping against the shore’s rocks.
Because his heart, long like dead wood, had suddenly sprouted a small flame, and the fire was growing.
The moment he saw that figure, he came alive, and his mind began to stir.
Without wind, his clothes started to billow.
His face grew ruddier.
His eyes grew brighter.
He became much younger.
He felt as if he could live another five hundred years.
But he didn’t want those five hundred years.
If today he could kill that opponent…