Chapter 185: The Ultimate Insult

At that moment, Chenlong was on the verge of a breakdown.

He had just watched his Heavenly Blade Peerless Slash collide with the gleam of sword light at Wang Ping's fingertips—and stall completely. The blade simply could not press down any further.

Just what in the world was that thing!?

The sword light and the blade clashed high in the midday sky.

Their initial impact was completely silent. It was as if all sound in the world had been sucked away in that single instant, drawn tight like a violently stretched drumhead.

At the epicenter of the collision, the two peerless edges condensed into a microscopic black dot. A boiling explosion of color rioted outward from that singularity, and only then did the sound finally catch up—an earth-shattering roar so deafening it felt as though it were splitting the listener's skull apart.

Then came the collapse.

The heaven-spanning snow peak manifested by Chenlong's Divine Intent began to fracture from its summit. The blade that had just torn open the sky shattered inch by inch from the tip downward.

Every fragment plummeted like a blazing meteorite. As they fell from the snow peak, they detonated in midair, erupting into a sky full of swirling ice crystals. These glittering shards reflected the collapse of the peak and burst with prismatic light, rippling outward like water to sweep away the clouds over the Capital.

And just like that, the sky cleared for thousands of miles.

Down below, both inside and outside the Capital, everyone who witnessed the world-shaking clash—Mortal, martial artist, and independent cultivator alike—stood frozen, staring up into the heavens.

Every trace of the anomaly vanished.

The sword qi was gone, and the snow peak was no more.

All that remained in their wake was a patch of sky deeper and bluer than the rest of the firmament—so intensely blue it verged on transparent, so profound that the stars beyond could vaguely be seen.

An absolute draw.

Anyone could understand what had just happened. However, only those who truly comprehended the strength of the two combatants felt a profound, indescribable shock.

"A draw!? Impossible!"

"A Loose Immortal fought a Great Grandmaster Rank to a standstill? Am I dreaming? Or have we gone back a hundred years?"

"You've got to be kidding me!"

In an instant, countless streams of spiritual sense swept out, raging and exchanging frantic messages. The vast majority locked onto the young Daoist standing on Xuanwu Avenue.

On the other end of the clash, Chenlong felt like he was in a dream. How had things ended up like this? He had achieved his breakthrough to the Great Grandmaster Rank. He had unleashed Divine Communion and Manifesting Divinity for the very first time. He had finally found the perfect excuse to thrash that smug little brat. These were two incredibly joyous occasions; he ought to be ecstatic right now.

So why?

'Why... why didn't I beat him!?'

Chenlong had seen it perfectly clearly. Wang Ping hadn't relied on any peerless weapon or martial art. He had weathered the attack head-on using nothing but pure magic power and immortal spells.

That only made him angrier.

Before the breakthrough, this kid could fight him to a standstill and had even one-shot him with a sneak attack. Now that he had broken through, they were somehow still perfectly matched?

Then didn't he break through for nothing?!

What he found most impossible to swallow was that Wang Ping hadn't stopped him with martial arts, but with Immortal Dao magic. It genuinely caused him physical heartache.

Such a spectacular martial arts genius—how had he veered right back onto the orthodox path of the Immortal Dao?!

Just what the hell was the First Seat doing?!

The violent swings in his emotions left Chenlong frozen in midair. Only a moment later, when he caught sight of Wang Ping's pale, weakened face, did he finally snap out of his stupor.

'Oh, I see. He only had the strength for that single strike...'

Chenlong finally breathed a sigh of relief.

He wasn't the only one. The various Loose Immortals who had been closely watching Wang Ping all collectively exhaled. If he could only unleash a single sword strike of that caliber, it was barely within the realm of the acceptable.

Meanwhile, Wang Ping was pushing his Latent Concealment to its absolute limit, tightly locking away every trace of his magic power, his physical condition, his vitality, and his aura. After all, the Taiyi Light-Splitting Parting-Joining Sword Qi was Daoist Nun You's ultimate trump card, fueled entirely by her own magic power. What did it have to do with him?

Of course, doing this much was already enough.

On the surface, Wang Ping maintained a sickly, frail facade, making it look as if surviving Chenlong's blade had drained the very last drop of his strength, leaving his life flickering like a candle in the wind.

'I've made my grand entrance. Time to lay low.'

Wang Ping intimately understood the philosophy of showing off. The highest tier of flexing wasn't just showing off for its own sake—it was using an enormous flex to cover up an even bigger flex.

And one could never forget to constantly improve themselves, phasing out obsolete flexes and swapping them for newer, superior ones. Only then could one achieve the supreme realm of always having a flex ready.

Plus, there was another advantage to doing this.

"Cough, cough..."

Wang Ping coughed, then formed a hand seal. Summoning a streak of escaping light, he swiftly flew toward the Imperial Palace behind him. Seeing this, Chenlong instinctively stepped forward.

Clang!

A second later, the sharp cry of a sword forcibly halted his movements. Down on Xuanwu Avenue, right in the space between Chenlong and Wang Ping, a figure materialized out of thin air.

It was a middle-aged man with white hair at his temples. The scale patterns on his Dipper Bull Robe gleamed in the sunlight, and cradled in his arms was a sword of absolute simplicity. Its scabbard was ebony, though worn pale with age, and its brass handguard was mottled with green verdigris. At a passing glance, it looked like a hunk of scrap iron.

In fact, that was exactly his title.

"Scrap Iron Sword..."

Chenlong stared fixedly at the middle-aged man, his expression complicated. "You haven't stepped out of the palace in years. I didn't expect to see you today."

The man standing before him was the exact reason Chenlong had worried about Wang Ping straying onto the orthodox path of the Immortal Dao.

He was rank one on the Armament Manual, Scrap Iron Sword.

He was the number one Titled Martial Master in the world, yet he had thrown it all away to cultivate immortality. Now he was the strongest Loose Immortal in the world—an absolute waste of martial talent.

"Congratulations on your Divine Communion and Manifesting Divinity, Brother Chen."

The middle-aged man's tone was calm. "This person is someone His Majesty wishes to see. The Tribute Hall oversees the world's evil phantoms and maintains the balance between immortals and Mortals. You should not linger here."

"Hmph..."

Chenlong took a deep look at Wang Ping, then suddenly sneered. "Alchemy? The root of Great Shun's decline in recent years is His Majesty's blind obsession with mystical cultivation, bleeding the national destiny dry. If you ask me, this harmful practice should have been stopped long ago. No matter how much he refines, even if he produces a miracle, he's never going to achieve immortality."

"Haven't the many alchemists over the years proven that point?"

Chenlong's voice boomed like thunder. The middle-aged man furrowed his brow, but assuming he was simply mocking the Old Emperor, he merely gestured once again for Chenlong to leave.

Wang Ping, however, understood.

'Alchemy... a harmful practice... many alchemists over the years... Chenlong is trying to warn me. Refining pills for the Old Emperor is actually incredibly risky?'

Wang Ping immediately etched this matter into his memory.

Seeing Wang Ping offer a nearly imperceptible nod, Chenlong finally relaxed. Feigning a fit of rage, he whipped his sleeve and stormed off.

"Thank you for the assistance, my lord."

Once Chenlong was gone, Wang Ping stepped forward and bowed to the middle-aged man.

"Think nothing of it," the middle-aged man said, waving a hand. "I am merely following orders. Come with me, Fellow Daoist. His Majesty has been waiting for you."

The two men walked one after the other through Xuanwu Gate.

As for the previously planned trials and the various Loose Immortals who were supposed to block his path? Naturally, it was as if they had never existed. After a display like that, no one had the guts to step forward anyway.

...

The Capital, Tribute Hall.

Chenlong stomped back into the courtyard of the Tribute Hall, his face dark with foul humor. He threw himself down onto a stone stool and barked, "First Seat, you lied to me!"

"Didn't you say that brat hadn't made any progress in either his Martial Dao or Immortal Dao?"

"What was that just now?"

A gentle breeze swept through the courtyard, carrying an ethereal voice. "My apologies. I truly did not anticipate that he had grown so formidable. It was quite a surprise."

The tone was stiff and utterly devoid of inflection, as though she were woodenly reading lines from a script:

"I admit fault for this. I will offer you some compensation... Haven't you constantly complained to me that standing guard over the Capital is exhausting and bothersome?"

"I am granting you a vacation."

"From now on, whenever I am absent, Yin Hu will assume responsibility for Tribute Hall affairs. You should take a good rest. The world is vast; you can go travel."

"Find a suitable occasion to pass your cloak down to Yin Hu."

Chenlong: "..."

'Huh? Did I just get fired?'

For a moment, Chenlong's emotions twisted into a complicated knot. Leaving the Capital and shedding the heavy responsibilities of the Tribute Hall was something he had always dreamed of.

Yet, now that the First Seat had actually relieved him of his duties, he didn't feel a single ounce of joy. Instead, a deep, indescribable wave of irritation welled up in his heart.

What did she mean, Yin Hu would assume responsibility?!

He wasn't even old yet!

That brat had only managed to block a single strike. He could still unleash countless more slashes—could Wang Ping block them all? What right did she have to force him to step aside for a younger talent?!

Thinking back to just a few months ago—when he had been fretting over the future of the Martial Dao, hoping the younger generation would mature quickly so he could pass the torch—Chenlong wanted to slap himself. Pass what torch?! He was still in his prime! Seventy or eighty years old was the perfect age to go out and make a mark!

Just then, a figure strolled into the courtyard.

"Congratulations on your Divine Communion and Manifesting Divinity, Big Brother!"

Chenlong glanced over.

Oh, it was Xugou.

The former genius of the Tribute Hall wore a sycophantic smile as he sidled up with sickening intimacy. "Are you exhausted, Big Brother? Why don't you take off that cloak? I'll hold it for you..."

Chenlong: "???"

'Like hell I'll take it off!'

He had held a position of high power within the Tribute Hall for years. That brat hadn't even arrived yet, and this dog was already trying to strip his cloak off to give it to him?!

To Chenlong, this was nothing short of the ultimate insult.

'Mutiny! Pure mutiny!'

Boiling with rage, Chenlong lashed out on the spot. "It's been months! Why haven't you reached the Grandmaster Rank yet?! I think you need training."

"Get over here! Today, I'm going to drill you into the dirt!"

Xugou: "???"