Chapter 175: Like Seeing a Ghost

“Waiter, let me ask you—where are the Twelve Heavenly Kings now? We admire them greatly and wish to meet them.” Jiang Li asked the waiter directly.

The waiter was stunned—who even are you, trying to meet the Twelve Heavenly Kings? You think I don’t want to meet them too?

“Sir, you must be drunk. The Heavenly Kings reside in the Upper Realm. How could common folk like us ever meet them? Even the Heavenly Kings’ representative in the mortal world—His Majesty the Emperor—can only see them through dreams.”

“Where is the Upper Realm located?”

“No idea.”

After letting the waiter leave, Jiang Li explained his theory about the Twelve Heavenly Kings possibly planning to destroy the world to Bai Hongtu and Yu Yin, finishing with, “Within the range of my divine sense, I couldn’t find any trace of the Upper Realm. It should be a place similar to a Mystic Realm—not easy to locate.”

In the Nine Provinces, the Immortal Realm was also called the Upper Realm, but Jiang Li didn’t believe the concept here matched the Nine Provinces’ Upper Realm.

Bai Hongtu and Yu Yin nodded, agreeing with Jiang Li’s view—that this so-called Upper Realm was a Mystic Realm and definitely not the Immortal Realm.

After eating and drinking their fill, Bai Hongtu suggested strolling around a bit more.

Several shady-looking men watched the four leave and followed behind them.

A white-robed young swordsman noticed and quietly followed as well.

The four walked into a small alley. The shady men split up and surrounded them from both ends.

One of them jumped out, licking the tip of his blade with a sinister smile, “Heh heh, what a bunch of clueless outsiders. Flaunting your wealth in public, and even bringing along a pretty little thing like her. Today, we’re gonna teach you a lesson—when walking the world, don’t show off your money or your beauty!”

Bai Hongtu was instantly on alert. These guys actually dared to block someone like him—a Tribulation Stage cultivator. They must’ve been prepared. Maybe they were all Tribulation Stage too.

Don’t be fooled by their apparent level as postnatal martial artists—it had to be a disguise. Where else would they get this kind of nerve?

What a mistake—this world actually had so many Tribulation Stage cultivators. This was going to be one tough battle!

“These candied hawthorn skewers taste about the same as the ones in the Nine Provinces,” Jiang Li commented on the skewers he’d just bought, completely ignoring the group of robbers.

“Hey, should we consider meeting the emperor? He might have a way to contact the Heavenly Kings,” Yu Yin suggested.

“Sounds reasonable.”

“Hey, can you guys read the room? Don’t you see these guys are trying so hard to rob us? Can’t you at least act a little scared?” Bai Hongtu was annoyed—he was the only one playing along. Even Abu looked totally unbothered.

Jiang Li and Yu Yin ignored Bai Hongtu.

“In broad daylight, you dare act so brazenly? Don’t be afraid, everyone—with me here, these villains won’t harm you!”

The white-robed young swordsman appeared, heroically “rescuing” the four innocent victims.

He moved like a rabbit, with power drilled into his bones—clearly an innate martial artist.

His swordplay was especially sharp—balanced in offense and defense, water couldn’t even get through. Clearly the result of over ten years of hard training.

“He’s got about the same level I did on my first day of sword practice,” Bai Hongtu praised.

Those thugs really were just postnatal martial artists. Unable to beat the white-robed youth, they scattered and fled in panic.

The white-robed youth sheathed his sword and cupped his fists, “Please, do not ask for my name. I only acted out of chivalry. I seek no reward.”

But he noticed the four didn’t show any signs of relief or gratitude. Their expressions were strange.

He paused and said, “But if you truly wish to repay me—please, believe this: our history was forged by the Twelve Heavenly Kings. They are invaders!”

Having said that, the white-robed youth didn’t wait for a response. He turned and made a cool exit.

Jiang Li suddenly asked, “How much did you pay those guys?”

The white-robed youth reflexively answered, “Two taels of silver.”

“D*mn, that’s generous.” Jiang Li clicked his tongue. Two taels of silver could buy so many candied skewers.

Jiang Li had seen through the act at a glance—the movements were too fake. The kid in white didn’t use any real strength, yet those “thugs” went flying and fled in panic.

The white-robed youth looked mortified. Getting caught mid-act—could there be anything more embarrassing?

He didn’t leave this time. Instead, he sincerely told the three, “Rescuing you was fake, but every word I said is true. The Twelve Heavenly Kings really are invaders. Our history is fake.”

“I believe you.”

“Maybe you don’t beli—wait, you do?”

The white-robed youth was shocked. He’d been trying to expose the truth for years, but nobody ever believed him. Speaking openly got you arrested by the court, so he chose to hire actors, present himself as a wandering hero, and then share the truth after a “rescue.”

But the results had been disappointing. No one believed him.

“Not only do we know your history is fake, we even know that original martial artists could live to eighty,” Jiang Li said with a smile.

“How do you know that?” The white-robed youth knew because of his family’s secret. Could these people also come from an ancient clan that had survived in secret for centuries?

The Heavenly Kings had erased such families long ago. The old noble clans were wiped out over three hundred years ago. Now, no noble clan had a history beyond three centuries.

His clan had barely survived that bloody purge.

To think other families besides the Bu Clan had also made it through—that was a pleasant surprise.

“We heard it from him,” Jiang Li pointed at Abu.

“You?” The white-robed youth finally noticed Abu.

“My surname’s Bu—like cloth. My name is Bu Dong.”

Funny enough, though Zhu Zhu gave him the name, Abu’s surname really was Bu.

“Why does that name sound familiar?” The youth blinked, slowly recalling a memorial plaque in his clan’s secret chamber, “Isn’t that the same name as our ancestor’s younger brother?”

His clan originally had the surname Bu. To escape persecution, they changed it from Bu (布) to Bu (步).

“This kid’s clearly the rich fool type,” Bai Hongtu sent a sound transmission. “Using this kind of method to tell people history is fake—who the h*ll would believe it?”

Abu’s expression turned odd. He was his father’s second son, with an older brother above him. “Don’t tell me your ancestor’s name was Bu Jing?”

His father was Bu Wu, and the name of Wubu City came from him. Bu Wu believed martial arts was a balance of movement and stillness, of yin and yang—so he named his two sons Bu Jing (Still) and Bu Dong (Move).

Abu’s mother once told him, their father originally wanted to name them Bu Yin and Bu Yang. It was only thanks to her insistence that they got their current names.

The white-robed youth staggered backward like he’d seen a ghost.

Bai Hongtu kindly offered comfort, “Don’t be afraid—we are ghosts. I’m White Wuchang.”

He pointed to Jiang Li, “He’s Black Wuchang.”

Then to Yu Yin, “She’s Ox-Head… person, she’s human.”

Seeing Yu Yin nearly summon the Ruyi Gourd for a deathmatch, Bai Hongtu quickly shut his mouth.

To prove he was a ghost, Bai Hongtu made his body semi-transparent, floated off the ground, and casually passed through a wall.

The white-robed youth was so frightened he nearly fainted.

Jiang Li regretted bringing Bai Hongtu along in the first place.