Chapter 97: Mei Yongsi Sows Discord, The World’s Number One Fool Sect
Chapter 97 – Mei Yongsi Sows Discord, The World’s Number One Fool Sect
“The profound mysteries of the Heavenly Gang Body Forging Art far exceed your meager imagination.”
“If it were merely a crude body-refining manual, the Xuanwu Kingdom would not have enshrined it for countless generations.”
Watching Chen Changsheng berate the others, Gongsun Huaiyu observed with the relaxed amusement of a spectator, utterly unconcerned that his wrath might turn upon her.
After all, he felt rather satisfied with his own recent display of martial prowess.
True, he had fallen to Batulu, but only due to his shameless ambush; in a head-on clash, the victor would not have been so easily decided.
Yet, just as Gongsun Huaiyu was nursing her pride, Chen Changsheng’s smoldering glare locked onto her.
“You smile? You actually have the sheer audacity to smile!”
“Among these three pieces of trash, you are undeniably the most pathetic.”
“Your cultivation realm eclipses Su Tian’s, and the wealth of resources you consume dwarfs his.”
“If I were in your shoes and failed to beat him half to death within thirty exchanges, I would simply find a block of soft tofu and bash my own brains out on it.”
“Do you know why I specify tofu?”
“Because if the impact doesn’t kill you, the absolute humiliation will!”
“Who etched the delusion into your mind that a tyrannical physique demands close-quarters brawling? Do not dare tell me you genuinely believe you excel at fist and foot techniques.”
“Any half-wit knows to mask their flaws and wield their strengths. You, however, do the exact opposite: parading your lethal weaknesses while sealing your own advantages.”
“Perhaps you should establish your own sect. After all, your towering stupidity makes you a remarkably rare specimen in the cultivation world.”
“I have even gifted you a title: ‘The World’s Number One Fool Sect’!”
Chen Changsheng’s venomous reprimand painted Gongsun Huaiyu’s face a furious crimson.
He had endured scoldings from his master during his secluded cultivation, but he had never been subjected to such a humiliating, soul-crushing verbal assault!
Not only did every syllable dissect his critical flaws with surgical precision, but Chen Changsheng’s torrent of insults flowed flawlessly without a single repeated phrasing.
In that agonizing moment, he would have vastly preferred having a few bones shattered than enduring another breath of his blistering critique.
“Haa…”
Having successfully browbeaten Gongsun Huaiyu until she could no longer lift her head, Chen Changsheng exhaled a long breath and slowly turned his gaze toward his third victim.
Swept by Chen Changsheng’s abyssal stare, panic instantly seized Ye Hensheng’s heart.
His mind raced, frantically searching his recent actions for flaws so he might confess preemptively and spare himself the brunt of the old monster’s fury.
“Your blunders are significant, though marginally more tolerable than theirs.”
“Furthermore, the root of your deficiency lies outside your control, so we shall set this matter aside for the time being.”
“Come to my quarters tonight. I have words for you.”
This abrupt shift to leniency left Ye Hensheng shifting uncomfortably and plunged the spectating prodigies into total bewilderment.
Ignoring their baffled expressions, Chen Changsheng casually tossed out a wooden puppet.
Gilded, silken spiritual threads erupted from his fingertips, anchoring themselves seamlessly into the cold physicality of the wood.
With a mere twitch of his soul-tethered manipulation, the puppet moved with an uncanny, lethal grace—a ghost dance of hinged limbs. Once satisfied, Chen Changsheng crooked a finger at Mei Yongsi across the courtyard.
“My apologies for failing to let you fight to your heart’s content earlier; it seems my hospitality was somewhat lacking.”
“To compensate for your disappointment, how about I entertain you personally?”
In response to the provocation, Mei Yongsi’s eyes narrowed into dark slits as he forced a polite smile.
“Brother Ye and I enjoyed a rather fulfilling spar. I believe we can leave it at that.”
“Must I be the one to force your hand?”
Chen Changsheng delivered the singular, icy sentence without a shred of hesitation.
Hearing the chilling undertone, the superficial smile vanished entirely from Mei Yongsi’s face.
“Since Brother Chen is so eager, I shall risk my life to accompany a gentleman. It is the perfect opportunity to witness your Dao firsthand.”
Having spoken, Mei Yongsi stepped forward with calculated slowness.
“I wasn’t quite satisfied earlier either. Care to count me in?”
Sensing blood in the water, Batulu immediately chimed in from the sidelines, practically vibrating with battle lust.
“I possess only one puppet. Care to wait your turn?”
Chen Changsheng’s tone remained monotonously flat, but a terrifying shift occurred within his pupils.
If A-Li had been present, he would have instantly recognized that sovereign, ruinous gaze—it was the exact same look Chen Changsheng wore the day he buried the entire Thunder Beast lineage.
Struck by the primordial intent radiating from those eyes, Batulu subconsciously retreated half a step.
Having wrestled with savage beasts since childhood, his feral instincts regarding life-threatening danger were exceptionally honed.
“On second thought, let’s forget it. You look fatigued today; we can always spar another time.”
Seeing Batulu cower, Chen Changsheng withdrew his oppressive aura and dropped the matter.
Back at the Kunlun Stone Workshop, these so-called prodigies had conspicuously stayed their hands, leaving Gongsun Huaiyu alive. Chen Changsheng had meticulously cataloged this anomaly.
His sole purpose in sending Su Tian and the others out to duel was to bait these exact figures from the shadows.
Three individuals had possessed both the power and the opening to execute Gongsun Huaiyu on that day.
Namely, Batulu of the Southern Plains, Mei Yongsi of the Langya Pavilion, and Fu Yao, the Holy Son of Yaoguang.
Through his silent sweeping of their earlier skirmishes, he had grasped the underlying natures of two of them.
Batulu wore the guise of a brutish simpleton, but beneath that savage exterior lay a cunning and cautious mind.
The Seventy-Two Wolf Smoke was an overlord faction of the Middle Heavens. Had Gongsun Huaiyu perished by his club, Batulu would likely never have walked out of the Kunlun Holy Land alive.
Therefore, he invariably pulled his strikes before landing a fatal blow—both at the Kunlun Stone Workshop, and in the courtyard just moments prior.
Mei Yongsi’s situation, however, was fundamentally different.
Batulu feared that even a mighty dragon could not crush a local serpent, hence his reluctance to forge mortal enemies.
Yet as the supreme heir of the Langya Pavilion, Mei Yongsi should harbor no such worldly anxieties.
The Langya Pavilion had a long-standing blood feud with the Seventy-Two Wolf Smoke and feared them not in the slightest.
Given the geopolitical realities, Mei Yongsi should have severed Gongsun Huaiyu’s life thread without a second thought. Yet, he stayed his hand.
Coupling that with the scholar’s continuous, petty manipulations, Chen Changsheng was absolutely certain of one thing.
Mei Yongsi definitely knew a hidden truth, and he was actively weaving a grand scheme of deception.
Following this train of thought, Chen Changsheng shifted his gaze toward the distant pavilion roof, where the Holy Son of Yaoguang stood.
He had roughly gauged the depths of the former two, but this Holy Son remained an ephemeral enigma he could not fully pierce.
As if sensing the probe, Fu Yao’s eyes met his across the void.
Yet, instead of meeting the silent challenge, the Holy Son merely offered a serene, detached smile before dissolving into thin air.
He displayed absolutely zero intent to cross blades with the old monster.
“Brother Chen, please enlighten my Dao.”
Mei Yongsi had smoothly closed the distance, stopping precisely ten paces away.
Standing before this unfathomably mysterious figure, Mei Yongsi circulated his spiritual energy, raising his guard to its absolute peak.
Disregarding the Qilin Talent for a second, Chen Changsheng threw a side glance at Ye Hensheng.
“You possess two masters: the Wolf Emperor of the Night Moon Country, and the Undefeated Daoist of the Shangqing Temple.”
“Open your eyes wide and engrave this in your soul. The Undefeated Daoist’s fist techniques are fundamentally crippled when wielded the way you do.”
As the final syllable hung in the air, Chen Changsheng’s silken threads pulled taut, propelling the eerie wooden puppet straight at Mei Yongsi like a phantom.
“Boom!”
A single strike!
With nothing but a rudimentary punch, the crushing force sent the esteemed Qilin Talent of the Langya Pavilion violently staggering backward.
Witnessing the spiritual resonance erupting from mere lifeless timber, a tsunami of absolute shock threatened to drown Mei Yongsi’s Dao heart.
The martial forms channeled by the puppet were identical to those Ye Hensheng had employed mere minutes ago.
Yet the resulting devastation was as disparate as the heavens and the earth. If Mei Yongsi was eighty percent confident in blocking Ye Hensheng’s fists…
…then against the identical technique birthed by Chen Changsheng’s will, he lacked even a thirty percent certainty of survival.
And this apocalyptic force was being channeled remotely through a block of inanimate wood. If Chen Changsheng were to manifest this fist technique with his own flesh and blood… could anyone under the heavens hope to block it?