Chapter 427: My Temper Is Very Hot Right Now

Sanhua Tower.

Nobles, princes, and great clans all turned their gazes toward the center.

The current Great Gan Dynasty, ruled for thirty years by the Founding Emperor, had just passed the throne; the new emperor’s power was unstable, with old and new factions entangled, the future court’s operations hanging in the balance—countless threads—and before them, Hong Xuanji, whose Great Luo Sect had followed the Founding Emperor to the throne, already wielded influence in court, then gained the Grandson Emperor’s trust, every move watched closely.

Just now, Hong Xuanji suppressing Wang Xuan represented a court stance.

Now Hong Xuanji was rebuking Gu Qing.

“Clatter—”

All heard only the clatter of shattered cups and plates, before they even saw what happened—Gu Qing had seized Hong Xuanji’s hair and slammed his head into the ground, crushing a dent into the floor.

In the Yangshen world, cultivation followed two paths: martial cultivation and soul cultivation.

Martial cultivation includes flesh, tendon, skin, bone, organ, marrow, blood-replacement, and Human Immortal stages; blood-replacement is called Martial Saint, marrow cultivation is called Grand Master, organ cultivation is called Primordial Martial Master. Hong Xuanji, still young, had already reached late-stage Primordial Martial Master—his five viscera fused into one, movement like a galloping horse, leaps like a flying bird, his skin like copper, bones like steel, organs like iron; normally he could fight a hundred at once—but this man, now, had his hair pulled and his head crushed under Gu Qing’s foot.

“To be fearless despite weakness—that is arrogance.”

Gu Qing looked at Hong Xuanji’s ashen face and spoke calmly.

In the Yangshen world, when Hong Yi first faced Empress Yuan, he said, “In all the world, reason is supreme”; later, Hong Yi realized, “The fist is reason.”

In this world, Gu Qing’s fist is reason.

In Sanhua Tower, many experts suddenly appeared, surrounding Gu Qing; in this most crowded place, faint icy chill clung around him.

This was Daoist cultivation.

In Yangshen’s Daoist tradition, the stages are Spirit Stabilization, Soul Outflow, Night Travel, Day Travel, Object Manipulation, Manifestation, Possession, Ghost Immortal, Yangshen; the Daoist’s true mystery lies in Ghost Immortal—after reaching it, one can reincarnate, outliving dynasties, transcending mortal bounds, refining thoughts, braving thunder tribulations, mastering profound arts.

The one swirling around Gu Qing now was a Fangshi of Possession stage—he could roam ten li with his soul, summon cold winds, steal souls; seeing Gu Qing crush Hong Xuanji’s head, he immediately lunged at Gu Qing.

“Boom—”

Even a moth diving into flame couldn’t describe it.

In the Precious Lotus Lamp world, Gu Qing had devoured nine golden crows, then strived for “Gathering Yang into One”; through various scriptures and the Nine Return Sun True Scripture, he used the Immortal Sword world’s “Shennong Nine Springs” to carve channels within his body, linking the Nine Suns, building an internal cycle—thus his radiance was inwardly contained. But when this Possession-stage Daoist lunged at him, nine suns erupted—flames roared, magma churned—blinding white light instantly erased his soul, vaporized his thoughts; through the soul-body link, a manor on the city’s western outskirts burst into flames, burning a thousand zhang in an instant—servants, gold, silver, jewels, weapons, armor, iron ore, steeds—all turned to ash.

The sun over Divine Capital seemed brighter by a fraction.

The loss came too fast, too sudden—Yang Pan hadn’t even prepared to lose them.

“Let go of Hong—”

In Sanhua Tower, the guards shouted, ready to strike.

A guqin melody flowed like clear spring over stone, like a girl whispering her longing; in this melody, the girl matured, the tune rising gradually, peaking in layered crescendos—those listening finally tasted the true path of the guqin, another realm beyond.

Gu Qing listened as the melody rose, then gradually fell, lingering low, finally fading to near silence.

“Huh…” Inside, Meng Bingyun exhaled softly; the atmosphere in Sanhua Tower stirred anew—nobles and princes glanced at each other, each with strange expressions.

“Mr. Gu Qing, I hope this guqin piece soothes your temper.”

Meng Bingyun, veiled, approached Gu Qing, bowed gracefully.

Hong Xuanji, crushed beneath Gu Qing’s foot, saw Meng Bingyun’s aura and his gaze grew dazed.

“Look again—I’ll gouge out your eyes!”

Gu Qing stomped on Hong Xuanji’s face, coldly speaking.

Hong Xuanji appeared a great Confucian scholar, but was full of deceit, easily stirred by lust; in this world where “unity of knowledge and action” cultivates soul and body, he seemed especially hypocritical.

“Mr. Gu…”

Meng Bingyun’s voice carried reproach, chill—like scolding Gu Qing for his rage, beating Hong Xuanji, yet also like coquetry.

But Gu Qing knew Meng Bingyun dwelled in the Supreme Detachment realm—this display of emotion, all these moods, were merely for his sake, not genuine feeling.

“Can’t help it—seeing you, my temper flares.”

Gu Qing said, nonsensically.

Meng Bingyun’s gaze sharpened; she now perceived every detail of Yang Pan’s manor, looked at Gu Qing with newfound awe, and said: “Your temper is indeed fierce.”

A man in Sanhua Tower in eastern Divine Capital, in a single thought, burned down a manor in the western suburbs—Meng Bingyun wondered what treasure could achieve this.

“Get lost.”

Gu Qing pressed his toe, kicking Hong Xuanji flying.

The Yangshen world is a game—ancient sage-kings versus medieval philosophers; the key lies in the character “Yi.”

Meng Bingyun understood this key—when giving birth, she named her child “Yi,” seizing part of this destiny; future Hong Yi’s power soared endlessly, his ears hearing the cries from the Other Shore—but his grand vow was too vast, always preventing further progress.

Meng Bingyun turned, leading Gu Qing into the embroidered pavilion; Hong Xuanji, lying on the ground, could only stare, eyes bulging, at their retreating backs.

“Gold and jade buy laughter and song; drunk for months, I scorn princes.”

After reciting the verse, Meng Bingyun’s gaze held inquiry: “You’re not from here, are you?”

In the Yangshen world, beyond this continent lies Tianwai Tian; the Meng family hails from Tianwai Tian—a world where human civilization far surpasses this one, using technology, with many similar poems passed down.

“Gold and jade buy laughter and song; drunk for months, I scorn princes”—a similar phrase exists in Tianwai Tian.

“I come from Tianwai Tian…”

Gu Qing saw Meng Bingyun’s expression shift, then added two words: “Tianwai Tian outside Tianwai Tian.”

(End of Chapter)