Chapter Sixty: Overhearing Dire News

Chapter Sixty: Overhearing Dire News

The old man and Zhou Ling’er both looked somewhat uneasy when they saw Wu Hong casually select a few books and place them into his spatial ring.

“Hmph—so greedy. Don’t you know that the greatest taboo for martial artists is to be greedy for too much and end up mastering nothing?” Zhou Ling’er said coldly.

Wu Hong felt aggrieved. Though he was attracted by Zhou Ling’er’s beauty, her disregard for him left him uncomfortable. Still, he replied, “I do not intend to practice these manuals myself. I wish to give them as gifts to my friends in the future.”

The old man seemed surprised. “You look down on these manuals, do you? Young man, don’t let your eyes be higher than the top of your head. Sigh—”

He sighed, continuing, “Old sir, I’m not being arrogant. The truth is, I am still working on the technique passed down by my father and have yet to master it. How could I spare the attention to learn more?”

Just moments before, Zhou Ling’er had accused Wu Hong of being greedy, but now he claimed he would not even practice these manuals. Unwittingly, she had contradicted herself and her expression darkened. “So you’re practicing that trash martial art? As if it could compare to even one of these hundred-odd manuals?”

Wu Hong felt despondent. Was this really how little he meant to her? Why did she repeatedly belittle him?

If it had been anyone else, he would have retorted coldly. But every gesture and smile from Zhou Ling’er stirred his heart. Moreover, whenever he saw her, his Great Sun Tathagata Sutra would undergo changes, leaving him restless and hot all over.

Though Zhou Ling’er was as beautiful as a goddess, Wu Hong had his pride. Since she treated him this way, he no longer wished to stay.

“Old sir, Miss Zhou, I must take my leave. I have matters to attend to and can’t keep you company,” he said with a darkened face.

“Hehe, young friend, there’s no need to be angry. My granddaughter has always been like this; she meant no harm,” the old man hastily explained.

Zhou Ling’er realized she had been too harsh and turned away, falling silent.

The old man, who had long noticed the creature Kun Kun by Wu Hong’s side, quickly spoke up as Wu Hong was about to leave. “Young friend, I see your pet is extraordinary. Perhaps it could practice some of these manuals as well. By chance, I have just the thing!” With that, he drew a manual from his robe and handed it over. Wu Hong took it and at once felt a warm current flow through him.

On the cover, it read: The Roc’s Secret.

Both Zhou Ling’er and the old man exchanged strange looks when they saw Wu Hong accept this special manual, and the moment the book glimmered in his hand.

Wu Hong ignored their reactions, simply stored the manual in his spatial ring, and left without a backward glance.

Many martial artists, noticing the odd exchange, approached the old man’s bookstall to browse the books, but no matter how long they looked, they could make nothing of them. Some, baffled, even bought a copy for further study.

A few of the crowd did not disperse but instead began to talk loudly among themselves. “This old swindler is selling nothing but ordinary storybooks and putting on a show here. He even has a shill! That Wu Hong may be strong, but why help the old man with such trickery?”

People soon decided that the old man, Wu Hong, and Zhou Ling’er were all in cahoots. Many in the crowd even pitied Zhou Ling’er, wondering how such a lovely girl could be so willingly duped into acting as a shill for an old fraud.

Yet neither the old man nor Zhou Ling’er paid any heed to the gossip. To them, it was as if a swarm of ants debated the height of an elephant. No matter what the ants said, the elephant would not care. Their worlds were utterly different, their levels incommensurate, and never would the elephant be angered by the ant’s chatter.

Wu Hong, who hadn’t gone far, overheard all this and could only shake his head in resignation. Such ignorance! Those manuals were all innate techniques, not mere storybooks.

Would a gray-haired veteran of the martial world, renowned for years, waste his time deceiving common martial artists? Of course not. This old man was not some “Judge’s Scholar,” and Zhou Ling’er was surely his granddaughter.

Wu Hong returned to the inn where he had stayed two years earlier and booked a room. Excitement still surged within him.

For two years, he had not tasted the cooking of a human chef. Now, hunger and thirst overwhelmed him, and he ordered copious food and wine. Even Kun Kun, who preferred spiritual fruits, could not resist the delicious fare prepared by master chefs.

Kun Kun perched atop Wu Hong’s table, gnawing at chunks of meat and occasionally sipping wine, drawing stares from the other patrons. Some recognized Wu Hong from the famous Monkey Valley battle over the innate manuals and dared not provoke him.

Everyone simply took Wu Hong for “Hong Wu,” while believing the imposter at Monkey Valley was the real Wu Hong. After all, Wu Hong’s infamous misdeeds were more in keeping with his supposed character, while Hong Wu, though he had seized a divine weapon, had not killed wantonly.

In fact, Hong Wu’s reputation was rather good, especially since he had saved many martial heroes at the Heavenly Book Cave. His deeds had spread far and wide, earning him much admiration.

Wu Hong gleaned all this from the whispers of the martial crowds. He could only laugh wryly—now the false Wu Hong was taken for the real one, and the real had become someone else entirely. “Ah, truth and falsehood in this world are so hard to distinguish. Why bother listening to idle talk?”

Whatever that imposter did to ruin Wu Hong’s name, it only tainted himself. It had nothing to do with Wu Hong.

Trying to ignore the hubbub, Wu Hong was about to close off his hearing points when he was struck by dreadful news, so shocking that he nearly lost control and wanted to seize the speaker for answers.

“Have you all heard? That young Dongfang apparently has a deep feud with the demon Wu. He dragged the female leader of Erlang Mountain up to Blackwood Cliff! I think her name was Li Ruolan?”

“You mean the one who took over Blackwood Cliff and led the demon cult for over a year after Dongfang Bubai vanished?”

“Yes, that’s him! No one knows what martial arts he’s practiced, but he’s terrifying—seems to have inherited the real Dongfang Bubai’s power. In just over a year, he’s defeated countless renowned masters and made quite a name for himself!”

“I heard that Erlang Mountain’s bandit chief was a scourge, robbing travelers and killing indiscriminately. She deserved what she got. But what does this have to do with Wu the demon?”

“What else could it be? Some disgraceful affair between men and women, of course!” The group chattered animatedly, sometimes angry, sometimes sighing, sometimes lewdly snickering.

Wu Hong’s face flushed and paled by turns. When he heard them slander Li Ruolan’s innocence, he leapt up in fury and slammed his palm on the table—

With a thunderous crack, the table exploded into countless splinters, scattering like snowflakes in the air, propelled by a burst of true energy.

Chaos erupted in the inn. The splinters, driven by true energy, flew everywhere, riddling tables and chairs with pinhole-sized holes. Nearly ninety percent of the patrons were struck down, their bodies pierced with innumerable tiny wounds—many dying gruesomely, some still writhing in agony.

Only a handful of true masters managed to withstand the force of the splinters.

“My leg! My hand!” Cries of pain echoed through the wreckage. The inn was a scene of carnage, blood everywhere, corpses mangled, each body riddled with hundreds or thousands of tiny holes—a ghastly sight.

Wu Hong looked at his hands, momentarily horrified at his own loss of control and sudden violence. But the pang of guilt quickly faded. Most of these martial men were worse than bandits, notorious for villainy behind their righteous façades. There was not one who hadn’t made their name with blood on their hands.

Only the inn staff seemed truly innocent.

Since leaving the pocket world, Wu Hong’s power had grown so much he struggled to control his strength.

He fished a blue, gem-like treasure from his spatial ring and tossed it onto the counter. “Innkeeper, forgive my outburst. Let this gem serve as compensation.”

He left in haste, not wishing to linger. The fat innkeeper had hidden under a table during the turmoil and survived, his face still ashen, but when he spied the gemstone, his terror was replaced by wild joy as he forgot his fear.

No one dared to block Wu Hong’s path as he departed. All were dumbstruck by his display, for such supernatural martial prowess was beyond anything they had ever seen or even heard of.