Chapter 63: Dou Changsheng, Why Are You Running?

A conflict ended without resolution.

A tall, rugged middle-aged man appeared.

His skin was coarse and black, his eyes narrow and often tinged with a sickly yellow, making one reluctant to look long—but most striking was his right arm, a metal limb radiating a metallic sheen, exuding a cold, metallic texture.

Especially the metal arm was extremely thick, even thicker than an ordinary man’s thigh.

It made his slender body appear grotesquely disproportionate, utterly unnatural.

Jin Wuming stared coldly at the newcomer and spoke dryly: “It’s the Deputy Head of the Mechanism Sect—the Sacred Fist, Leng Wuye!”

“What merit do we have to warrant an invitation from a Pure Yang Master?”

Leng Wuye smiled and said: “You, Jin Wuming, are the direct heir of the Divine Blood Sect and ranked nineteenth on the Human List.”

“You’ve already mastered divine intent and are certain to break through to the Divine Anomaly realm.”

“And this Dou Changsheng—on his first appearance on the list, he placed seventy-ninth. Most remarkable is that he is only eighteen this year.”

“He was praised by Fire Cloud True Person as ‘a single sword suppressing the martial world’—the next decade belongs to Dou Changsheng.”

“Sun Duxiu has greater fame—he’s seventh on the Beauty List, a master of both qin and sword.”

“The rest of you are either among the Ten Outstanding or the Seven Heroes—all young elites destined to shape the fate of Great Jin.”

“My potential is exhausted, my progress hopeless. I’m merely a few years older than you. By the time you reach my age, your achievements will surpass mine. I came personally to cultivate goodwill—it’s only natural.”

Jin Wuming’s gaze deepened, like stars, as he stepped forward and said: “The Mechanism Sect’s world within the lake—you spent years building that mechanical island.”

“Since you’ve invited us today, let us see what you’ve made.”

Leng Wuye smiled: “You won’t be disappointed.”

He waved his hand and added: “After you!”

As the word fell, a massive shadow suddenly emerged in the sky, blotting out the sun, enveloping them all. Dou Changsheng instinctively looked upward.

Clearly visible was a giant divine bird, spreading its wings as it slowly descended.

As it drew nearer, the divine bird was no living creature—it was a wooden bird.

Entirely crafted from wood, yet it flew—truly a miracle.

Leng Wuye did not wait for the wooden bird to land; he stepped forward, walking through air as if treading invisible steps, ascending one by one onto the bird.

Jin Wuming snorted, crossed his arms, and threads of primordial true qi surged forth like a gale, swirling around him before lifting him into the sky.

“All of you, come together!”

After Dou Changsheng spoke, threads of primordial true qi spread outward, extending from the ground, intertwining horizontally and vertically, overlapping rapidly until they formed a sword one zhang long and two chi wide.

Purely composed of primordial true qi, crystal-clear and transparent, Dou Changsheng stood upon it. Sun Duxiu’s beautiful eyes filled with astonishment—how immense was this primordial true qi?

Even a hundred years’ worth of primordial true qi couldn’t achieve this, could it?

Condensing a one-zhang sword qi isn’t hard—the difficulty lies in sustaining it without dissipating.

Isn’t the Three Yuan Returning Qi Scripture not known for its abundance?

How is Dou Changsheng cultivating?

Sun Duxiu stepped her embroidered shoe onto the pure sword, bracing for intrusion from stray qi—but no such thing occurred. The fact that not a single drop leaked out revealed Dou Changsheng’s control over primordial true qi had reached an almost monstrous level.

Seeing Chen Weiquan and the others already aboard, he leapt upward instantly, soaring into the sky.

Dou Changsheng did not board the wooden bird; he calmly said: “Lead the way, elder.”

Leng Wuye glanced deeply at Dou Changsheng—truly, the waves of the Yangtze push forward the preceding ones. Jin Wuming’s strength had already exceeded expectations, and this Dou Changsheng was no less formidable.

He was far stronger than their records indicated.

The sword qi that blanketed Qingyang Peak, compared to this, was child’s play.

To fly by qi control while carrying multiple people—Divine Anomaly Masters can manage it, but he’s only a Primordial Qi cultivator. How brazen!

Jin Wuming chuckled, slumping lazily as if reclining on a vast armchair that held him effortlessly.

The gales surged, forming a throne of wind. Jin Wuming gazed at the wooden bird, his expression turning mocking.

The Mechanism Sect had underestimated him—and underestimated Dou Changsheng.

Leng Wuye’s lips twitched, then he acted as if nothing had happened. The wooden bird spread its wings and shot forward.

The pure, transparent sword tore through the air like a streak of light, following closely behind. Jin Wuming’s smile faded; his expression turned icy, his eyes glinting with cold light.

A thread of killing intent began to brew.

One hand reached into his robe, drawing out a pair of gloves woven from golden threads, slowly slipping them on. Unknown techniques had rendered the gold threads supple as silk, yet impervious to fire, water, blades, and spears.

Once Jin Wuming had donned them, he turned his gaze toward Leng Wuye.

His eyes narrowed—suddenly, killing intent erupted, his entire body boiling with lethal energy.

But the next instant, all killing intent vanished.

Jin Wuming’s golden palm, clad in the golden-thread gloves, began to fade, becoming transparent, then disappearing entirely. Jin Wuming smiled, then turned and walked away—not toward the wooden bird, but in the exact opposite direction.

Jin Wuming’s movement immediately drew Leng Wuye’s attention.

Leng Wuye’s brow lifted; he leapt like a cannonball, tearing through the air, stirring boundless airwaves that rolled outward, the sonic boom exploding like thunder.

He reached Jin Wuming’s side and boomed: “Jin Wuming, what are you doing?”

Jin Wuming halted instantly and smiled: “My apologies.”

“I took the wrong direction.”

“It should be this way.”

A gale surged beside Jin Wuming, spinning him around toward the wooden bird. Watching Leng Wuye’s furious charge, he came to a sudden, complete stop—his robes fluttered, his body unmoved. He praised: “Truly worthy of being Deputy Head of the Mechanism Sect.”

“Your skills are genuine—no pretense.”

“But not long ago, you competed against the Mo Family’s Black Talisman.”

“He defeated you three times in a row, shattering your famed Mechanism Sacred Fist.”

“Your strength has been greatly diminished—on what grounds do you think you can overpower me?”

“All top ten on the Human List have records of killing across realms.”

“Today, you shall be the one to elevate me!”

Jin Wuming’s words cut off abruptly as he shouted toward the distance:

“Dou Changsheng, why are you running? Come help me!”

“Do you really think I can beat a Pure Yang Master?”