Chapter 961

What? The Earl of Baron Xingyi thrust a spear and wounded the Dragon-Elephant Martial Saint? The Prince of the Northwest?

Did you hear? The Earl of Baron Xingyi wounded the Dragon-Elephant Martial Saint before countless eyes—there was a lot of blood!

The Earl of Baron Xingyi defeated the Dragon-Elephant Martial Saint!

Nonsense! The Earl of Baron Xingyi has merely reached Zhen Xiang—how could he make the Dragon-Elephant Martial Saint bleed, let alone defeat him? Besides, the two have no grudge against each other; why would they fight? What? You say you saw it with your own eyes? Then I must believe you—do you know why it happened?

Love turned to hatred?

My second uncle's neighbor's uncle has a friend who delivers charcoal to the Hanging Temple—he told me himself, it's true! That woman is incredibly alluring!

The Sha River churns murky and fierce, roaring wildly—nothing compared to the clear, nourishing waters of the Huai River.

The Dragon King patrols.

Liang Qu descended on the wind, swung the Dragon Fubo Spear to carve a deep canyon, then hurled boulders into the crowd, stirring up waves—entire Datong Prefecture erupted in chaos!

It had been years since such intense gossip arose.

Setting aside the gossips who spread rumors, more eyewitnesses pieced together a fragment of the truth from that evening.

A clash between masters!

Given the thousands of eyes watching, Zhang Zhang Longxiang made no move to evade—this exchange resembled him receiving a strike more than delivering one.

Siguan, Benma, Langyan, Shouhu, Zhen Xiang, Tianlong—these are the proper names of realms, not personal names.

People observe propriety: face to face, one never calls another by name directly, nor even behind their back—thus honorifics are used, such as Liang Qu being called the Earl of Baron Xingyi or Lord Liang.

A martial cultivator who enters Siguan may be respectfully called a minor martial master in the countryside.

Martial master, martial master—one who has mastered martial arts may serve as a teacher.

Upon ascending to Shouhu, the honorific adds the character "Da" before "martial master"—"Great One, meaning a great family or powerful clan," one who enjoys privileges—this conveys three parts respect, three parts status.

When reaching Zhen Xiang, the honorific no longer adds characters—it transforms outright: "martial master" becomes "Grand Master." A Grand Master is one who founds a sect. Merely the change in title reveals the vast gap between these two realms.

Then comes Tianlong—

Sheng means penetration, the Dao, the voice.

The Dao penetrates all, illumination illuminates all, hearing a sound reveals its meaning.

A first-rank Grand Master slashed with a spear and wounded a Saint—regardless of the Saint's state, the Grand Master's prowess, the divine weapon used, or how well-rested he was—only one word can encapsulate it: inconceivable!

Realm cultivation is unparalleled in the world; combat power surpasses realm even further!

Inside the Hanging Temple.

Tree shadows swayed, the Miao Chi birds darted along eaves, monkeys rode small elephants, waving branches like spears in charge.

Disciples of the Five True Lineages had broader horizons; at the evening gathering, they whispered among themselves.

"To wound a Martial Saint, that spear must have been extraordinary—Dragon-Elephant Martial Saint would never strike without cause; he must have come prepared."

"Could it be learning? Rumor says Dragon-Elephant Martial Saint is obsessed with extraordinary techniques—did he see something new and become eager?"

"It can't be just that—perhaps he sought a breakthrough opportunity. But why can the Earl of Baron Xingyi wield such an extraordinary technique? Who taught him? How did he learn and master it?"

"I've observed the Earl of Baron Xingyi—his strength is formidable; that spear's grace easily rivals a second-rank Grand Master. After obtaining his True Buddha, his combat power reached its peak—he can even stand against some third-rank Celestials who don't specialize in combat techniques. He's a living reincarnation of the old Dragon-Elephant!"

"After the Prince of the Northwest, will a Prince of the Southeast emerge?"

"Why do those who specialize in combat techniques stand out more?"

"Clearly, the world is not unified—only one's own fists can be relied upon!"

Practitioners from the Cave Heaven Court and the Heavenly Knife Clan sat face to face, backs straight, analyzing with precision, voicing their views—more incisive and truth-seeking than the wild rumors outside.

What space, what cause and effect.

All nonsense.

Techniques must focus on offense—that's the Earl of Baron Xingyi's answer, copied exactly!

"Is this even human?" a Daoist from Louguan Temple blurted out, downing a pot of incense tea.

"Amitabha, poor flowers, grasses, birds, beasts, and trees in the back mountain," a monk from the Hanging Temple turned his prayer beads.

Chanting sutras to guide the departed souls.

"The Earl of Baron Xingyi can ride a dragon—far more majestic than my Wutong Tower's nine-tailed phoenix! Ugh, boring," sighed a cultivator from Wutong Tower, leaning against a tree, drowning his gloom.

Disciples of the True Lineages each have their own style.

"Hey, young monk!" someone called out, drawing everyone's attention. "They say in the Sutras: 'Lion sinews as strings—strike them, all other strings snap.' Is this true?"

"I've heard of it," the young monk scratched his head. "But I've read few scriptures—I don't recall which Buddhist text it's from."

"So it's false, then?" someone laughed.

"How could it be false? Made from lion sinews, when plucked, the string vibrates and snaps all other strings." The questioner sighed softly. "We are the snapped strings."

Silence fell.

Moonlight shone bright; a cool breeze rustled leaves in the courtyard.

Summoning the new Buddha, calling forth the Tathagata, answering three questions, wounding the Dragon-Elephant Martial Saint—all these major events occurred within a single month.

On one person.

Look up at the sky.

Who is not lonely?

"'Lion sinew strings' is a folk legend, not from our Buddhist scriptures," Huai Kong entered the courtyard, bowing to all under the moonlight. "Dear guests, I once heard another version."

"Oh, please tell us."

"The Tiger Soul Qin: its pillars are made of tiger ribs, its strings of sinew. Strike it, and all tigers come."

Think on that.

Laughter erupted.

The blue-robed Daoist picked up the teapot to pour, found it empty—he stretched his neck: "So, the Hanging Temple's monk says we are the group of tigers?"

Huai Kong smiled: "Whether true or not, what does my word matter?"

The Daoist thought for a moment, then raised his thumb: "Master Huai Kong, you'll become a Great Master, a Great Monk!"

"Amitabha."

A small courtyard not far from the gathering.

Ta Ta Kai held his staff, moving with fierce energy, each step precise, silver rings clinking.

"Brother, you really hit it?" Xiang Xiang Zhangsong turned back in surprise.

"Mm." Lu Gang nodded. "I had nothing better to do, didn't want my hands to grow rusty. A few days ago, I went down the mountain, found a blacksmith's shop, spent little effort learning a few techniques—the master lent me his furnace."

"Master, brother, younger brother, younger sister, sister-in-law, Dragon Brother—come eat!" Xu Xu Yue entered with a food box, placing dish after dish of hot meat dishes. When everyone gathered, he glanced around. "Has Liang Ashui woken up?"

"Sound asleep."

"Forget it, forget him—set aside a portion, let's eat first. Haven't had meat in ages."

Xu Xu Yue sat down with chopsticks; the others had no doubts.

Wherever they went, Liang Ashui always became the center of attention, a figure of storm and cloud.

Only outsiders with no experience chatter.

Them?

Long used to it.

The next day.

Inside the bedroom.

Incense curled gently.

Liang Qu opened his eyes, exhaled two streams of qi—his ultimate spear strike left slight muscle soreness, yet his spirit felt fully replenished. Long Long Eying's long hair had fallen across his chest—he reached out, touched it, then pulled a small booklet from Long Dragon Lingxiao's pouch.

After slaying the River Serpent, Zhang Zhang Longxiang gave him a three-page booklet, claiming it contained insights on Heartfire. Liang Qu hadn't had time to study it carefully—he collapsed into sleep from exhaustion.

He opened it.

The first two pages described a method to seal Heartfire, suppressing daily consumption, reducing sleep needs to two hours—like a "power-saving mode." In emergencies, no need to deliberately unseal—heart moves, fire follows, extremely convenient.

"Huh!"

Tears flowed uncontrollably—the aftereffect of seeing bloodlines.

He closed his eyes for a moment, then turned to the last page.

The third page detailed the construction of a Zhen Xiang dantian.

A crude diagram sat dead center.

"A 3D triangle?"