Chapter 105: The Support Squad Arrives, Shaming the Kunlun Holy Land
Chapter 105 – The Support Squad Arrives, Shaming the Kunlun Holy Land
At Chen Changsheng’s sudden outburst, Jiang Ping felt his soul tremble in a sudden, sharp panic.
You shameless bastard! he roared inwardly. Wan Tong was the one who provoked you—why are you pinning this karma on my head?
Watching Chen Changsheng “weep” with such theatrical abandon, the corner of Song Yuanshan’s mouth quirked upward.
This man—nominally his Junior Brother but in truth his Senior Brother Changsheng—retained his insatiable love for playing the fool and teasing the world.
A millennium had ebbed and flowed. Song Yuanshan had changed, yet Chen Changsheng remained an immutable anchor in the shifting tides of time.
At that same moment, Jiang Bufan, the Holy Master of the Kunlun Holy Land, was silently probing Chen Changsheng with a piercing gaze.
Similar!
Far too similar!
Though the youth before him was significantly younger than “that man” and possessed an entirely different aura, his features looked as though they had been cast from the very same mold.
The Undefeated Daoist, Song Yuanshan, finally broke the heavy silence.
“Holy Master Jiang, even if your Kunlun Holy Land sits upon a mountain of gold and rules a vast domain, surely you haven’t grown so arrogant as to look down upon my people?”
Facing Song Yuanshan’s cold interrogation, Jiang Bufan’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“Fellow Daoist, you misunderstand. My Kunlun Holy Land would never dream of neglecting the world’s geniuses. This must be some unfortunate confusion.”
“However, I see you harbor a deep concern for this young friend. Might I ask what bond exists between you?”
The question caught Song Yuanshan off guard.
He could not reveal Chen Changsheng’s true, ancient identity, but he dared not insult his “Elder Brother” by assigning him a lowly disciple-level status.
If he tried to make Chen Changsheng a mere Junior, he knew the old monster would find a creative and painful way to settle the score later.
Before Song Yuanshan could navigate the dilemma, Chen Changsheng spoke up.
“I am his Junior Martial Uncle. Is there a problem?”
The hall fell into a stunned, breathless silence.
His seniority is that high?
Jiang Bufan forced a diplomatic smile. “The Undefeated Daoist and I treat each other as peers.”
“By that logic, does that not make me your Junior as well?”
“Theoretically, yes,” Chen Changsheng replied, his voice still tinged with a lingering “sob.” “I may look young, but my standing in the lineage is quite lofty.”
He then pointed a finger toward Zuo Xinghe.
“As for him, I am of his uncle’s generation. He ought to address me as Second Uncle.”
Left with no choice but to accept this sudden “adoption,” Zuo Xinghe smiled inwardly.
Back when he had begged Chen Changsheng to descend from his seclusion, he had addressed him as “Sir.” Strictly speaking, “Uncle” was almost a promotion in familiarity.
“And as for her… I am her…”
Chen Changsheng’s finger wavered as it pointed toward Wan Yan Yue.
He stopped mid-sentence, catching the dangerous, icy glint in the woman’s eyes.
It was clear: if he tried to push his luck and claim a high seniority over this particular “Old Monster,” she would likely erupt in a ruinous fury right here in the main hall.
“Cousin!”
After a heartbeat of hesitation, Chen Changsheng settled on a safer, horizontal relation.
Only then did Wan Yan Yue’s gaze soften, the murderous intent receding like a low tide.
With their roles established, the three sovereigns of the Eastern Wasteland turned their collective pressure toward the Kunlun Holy Land.
They knew perfectly well that with Chen Changsheng’s terrifying methods, there wasn’t a soul in this world who could truly make him suffer.
Yet, they did not hesitate to demand an accounting.
To them, Chen Changsheng was a friend, a mentor, and a cherished relative.
No one would stand idly by while their kin was insulted—not even in a play.
“Holy Master Jiang, my cousin traveled far to honor your Heavenly Talent Assembly, only to be met with Kunlun’s disdain.”
“I must ask: is it him you despise, or do you harbor a grievance against my Night Moon Country?”
Wan Yan Yue’s voice was like cracking ice. A sovereign pressure faintly pulsed from her form, causing the surrounding air to thicken and groan.
Zuo Xinghe stepped forward as well, a mocking smile playing on his lips.
“Second Uncle, the Kunlun Holy Land is a premier power of the Middle Heavens. How exactly did they bully you?”
“Surely, it must be a misunderstanding. A sect of this stature wouldn’t be so petty, would they?”
In response, Chen Changsheng began to “wipe” his dry eyes again, looking utterly pathetic.
“Nephew, it was truly heart-wrenching.”
“I merely ate two of their fruits, and they began whispering and pointing fingers. If that isn’t bullying a guest, I don’t know what is.”
Hahaha!
Zuo Xinghe let out a dry, barking laugh. “Second Uncle, that is your own fault.”
“You are a guest here. How can you simply partake of their treasures for free?”
“One must pay for what they consume!”
“Sovereign Jiang, how many spirit fruits did my Second Uncle consume? My Xuanwu Kingdom shall pay ten times the market price to settle this debt.”
“I trust that will satisfy the Kunlun Holy Land?”
The sarcasm was a physical blow. Every disciple of Kunlun felt as though they had been slapped across the face in front of the entire world.
The Heavenly Talent Assembly was meant to be a display of Kunlun’s benevolence and might.
If word spread that Kunlun demanded payment from their guests for a few plates of fruit, their reputation would become the laughingstock of all five continents.
Jiang Bufan’s face darkened until it resembled the soot on a kitchen pot.
“Saint Son,” he hissed. “Explain this. Now.”
“R-Reporting to the Holy Master… This entire matter was incited by the Mad Dragon Fort…”
Jiang Ping scrambled to explain, his voice trembling as he recounted the scene.
Throughout the explanation, Wan Yan Yue and the others didn’t even bother to look toward the culprit.
To them, a lowly ant like the Mad Dragon Fort was beneath notice. If Chen Changsheng wished it, a single breath would be enough to erase them from existence.
They would let Kunlun clean up their own filth.
“Hahaha!”
Jiang Bufan suddenly laughed, the sound booming through the hall as he attempted to bridge the tension.
“A misunderstanding! A complete and utter misunderstanding!”
“The spirit fruits and refreshments are provided specifically for our young friends. You may consume as much as your heart desires.”
“Really?” Chen Changsheng asked, looking skeptical. “Truly as much as I want?”
“My appetite is quite formidable. You won’t feel a sting in your heart if I overindulge?”
Jiang Bufan smiled broadly, though his eyes remained sharp. “Of course. If you find our Kunlun produce so agreeable, it would be my pleasure for you to take some home.”
“Once the assembly concludes, I shall have my disciples pack a hundred lbs of our finest harvest for you.”
“However… young friend, your countenance is remarkably familiar. You remind me of an old acquaintance I haven’t seen in an age.”
Chen Changsheng touched his cheek and laughed.
“That’s only natural. Many say I have a face commonly seen in a crowd. It isn’t strange that the Holy Master finds me familiar.”
“So that is it. I must simply be dwelling too much on the past.”
“Now that the air is clear, please, let us all take our seats. The assembly must begin.”
The tension broke, and the guests began to filter back to their places.
The tables that Chen Changsheng had picked clean were instantly replenished by a swarm of nervous disciples.
Furthermore, a massive crate of “spoils”—carefully packed and sealed—was delivered directly to Chen Changsheng’s feet.
As for Wan Tong of the Mad Dragon Fort, Jiang Bufan acted as if the man had never existed.
However, Kunlun disciples quietly moved in and physically removed his table and seat.
The message was deafening: There is no place for you here.
By losing the favor of a Holy Land, the Mad Dragon Fort had effectively lost its right to exist in the Middle Heavens.
Gongsun Huaiyu looked down at the pale, trembling Wan Tong with a sneer of pure contempt.
“The Young Master is magnanimous enough to ignore a barking dog, but I, Gongsun Huaiyu, am not so forgiving.”
“Once the Heavenly Talent Assembly concludes, the Seventy-Two Wolf Smoke shall march upon the Mad Dragon Fort!”
Wan Tong’s eyes rolled back into his head, and he collapsed into a dead faint.
Without the protection of the Holy Land, his sect was like a lamb before the slaughter of the Wolf Smoke.
Everyone heard the threat. No one moved to intervene.
The fate of thousands was sealed in a few casual sentences.
Yet, just as the matter seemed concluded, a lone, shaven-headed figure appeared at the palace entrance.
“Amitabha. This monk humbly beseeches the female benefactor to stay her hand of wrath.”