...
If that really were the case,
then yeah, they definitely needed to keep so distance.
[Huangfu Lingyun: @Lu Ding, want to compete tomorrow?]
[Bai Hen: ?]
As soon as that death-question-mark popped up,
Huangfu Lingyun fell silent and muted himself.
Right now, he didn’t even want to be associated with Bai Hen.
Lu Ding might show him so rcy—blast him away in one hit, let him play dead and trick others, maybe even himself.
But Bai Hen? That guy didn’t give anyone any face!!
He’d just grab you and beat you down!!
Take today, for example—he’d really been knocked out by Bai Hen.
And what happened?
Bai Hen straight up refused to believe he was actually unconscious.
So he beat him awake.
Then even said:
“I knew you weren’t out.”
Huangfu Lingyun had roared, “What the h*ll is wrong with you?!”
And then promptly got another solid round of punches.
Not heavy enough to cause injuries or affect tomorrow’s Monster Room, but still—painful as h*ll!
Thinking about all that, Huangfu Lingyun yelled again, “Seriously, is that guy on sothing?!”
The night dragged on unusually long.
Everyone was too amped to sleep.
The next day.
At the break of dawn, when the sky was just beginning to lighten—
Without needing a call from the instructors, every student was already assembled!
They couldn’t wait. Literally couldn’t wait!!
At the training base, they’d constantly been getting crushed—blatantly and subtly.
They’d been bottling up frustration for way too long.
Up in the skies was Lu Ding, on the mountain top was Bai Hen, and at the base was Huangfu Lingyun guarding the gate.
Then there were folks like Shangguan Qing and Nuomin, acting like guardian deities.
You couldn’t climb up a single step.
The training base hierarchy was basically carved in stone.
But now—finally—a chance to bully others. And the best part?
No holding back. Go for the kill.
Ti to vent!!
They had to unleash all that fury on those prodigies from other countries!!
As the Chief Instructor stepped out and shouted, “Move out!”
All the students boarded the aircraft.
Heading toward the Monster Room.
They flew all the way to a mountain range in Zhenla. There, a massive sinkhole lay in wait.
Fun fact: this was originally created when Great Han’s 749 powerhouses got into a real fight with Zhenla cultivators and went full force.
The destruction left behind was so massive,
it looked like a f***ing teor strike.
They passed through a light mbrane.
Inside stood a colossal standalone skyscraper, glowing under a golden do.
Around the sinkhole’s edge,
sat representatives from various factions.
So dostic, so foreign.
Basically, all the surrounding nations or sect forces.
Among them, Great Han sat at the head.
In Zhenla’s territory, yet holding the host’s authority.
Up in the sky, white vapor trails streaked behind aircraft.
Dots—human silhouettes—rained down.
These were all the prodigies from different nations.
Each showing off their powers, flexing their strength.
Auras from different realms flared, spiritual energy pressure bursting into the sky.
The usual showy routine.
Nothing worth talking about.
Each prodigy from other countries flew in like they were dying to moon the crowd with their red monkey butts.
Great Han’s prodigies used to do the sa.
But this year—
Under everyone’s gaze,
Great Han’s aircraft arrived.
One by one, figures landed quietly, aura suppressed.
Without a word, they walked to their seats and sat down, just silently watching the others show off.
Waiting for the curtain to rise.
Let them act all high and mighty now.
Let’s see how long you can keep it up before you bolt. If we let you off easy, we’re the real idiots.
Seeing row after row of Great Han trainees, all silent, not saying a word—
The trainees from other countries began to feel uneasy.
Wasn’t Great Han always the flashiest group?
What was going on this year?
Had they changed personalities?
No.
Nine tis out of ten—sothing was off.
Among Zhenla’s group of prodigies, so were whispering:
“Sothing feels off. Is Great Han planning sothing?”
At that comnt,
his teammates had no idea how to respond.
Like, aren’t we the ones scheming here?
They looked again.
Every one of the Great Han trainees had a cold expression.
Just looking at them gave people chills down their backs—there was this thick, murderous vibe.
But were those cold faces real?
Not really.
It was mostly people like Huangfu Lingyun who, just thinking about what they were about to do, couldn’t help but want to laugh.
They were holding in their expressions—afraid of cracking up.
Lu Ding could feel the eyes on him.
He traced the most direct, most emotionally charged gaze.
And saw Du Yongchun’s father—General Du of Xingbang.
He also saw the group from Weigao Nation.
All their attention was squarely on him.
Good.
Made it easy to send him off to reunite with his son later.
He looked away.
Du Dong slowly clenched his fists.
“If you weren’t a prodigy of the Great Han 749 Bureau, I’d show you what it ans to wish you were dead.”
The man who killed his son was right in front of him, and yet Du Dong couldn’t do a thing.
He couldn’t even threaten him aloud.
A general of his stature—an Earth Observer Realm powerhouse respected everywhere—
was being flat-out ignored by a Divine Palace cultivator.
If it weren’t for Lu Ding’s identity as a 749 elite of the Great Han—if he were just a regular cultivator—
Du Dong would’ve caught him, skinned him, and torn him apart.
But now, all he could do was swallow the humiliation—furious, but silent.
Behind him, one of the Weigao cultivators disguised as a Zhenla participant leaned forward slightly: “General Du, you seem to hold quite a grudge against Lu Ding.”
Even though the Weigao folks had this inexplicable arrogance,
when it ca to battle, they knew better. Their intel collection and analysis were sharp.
Arrogant or not, they weren’t stupid—they understood their enemy.
They’d studied Lu Ding—his abilities, his techniques, his history.
All the stuff that wasn’t classified by 749.
So Quan Xingle, the one speaking, obviously knew all about the grudge between General Du and Lu Ding.
He was just bringing it up for conversation’s sake.
And sure enough—
Du Dong’s face darkened: “He killed my son.”
Quan Xingle feigned sudden understanding: “Ah, so that’s how it is. General Du, your son’s killer right in front of you, and you can’t do a thing... that must really burn, huh?”
Already furious, Du Dong clenched his hand and—snap—crushed the wooden armrest of his chair.
Quan Xingle kept his voice low: “But don’t be too angry. If you’re willing to pay a small price, I could help you cause him a little... trouble.”
“You an he’s not your primary target?!”
At that, the girl beside Quan Xingle couldn’t help but laugh.
“General Du, let’s be clear—we’re just first-year peak Ninth-Layer Linghai cultivators.
Lu Ding, based on his record, slaughters Divine Palace cultivators like he’s slicing lons.”
“Going after him would be suicide. He’s not our main target. Our real target is all the other Great Han prodigies—everyone except Lu Ding.”
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