Chapter 66: Chapter Sixty-Six: The Hundred Schools, Gongshu Zi!

The island in the lake.

The lake water was green as jade, crystal clear.

The oar gently glides through the water, stirring concentric ripples, as if drifting through a painting.

Jin Wuming stood facing the wind, silver-white hair dancing in the breeze; he was utterly motionless, silent as a statue.

Dou Changsheng stared at Jin Wuming, knowing the man had been deceived—the rumors that Leng Wuye had been defeated three times in a row by the Black Talisman, breaking the Mechanical Holy Fist, were entirely false.

The Leng Wuye before him were mass-produced models, naturally lacking refinement, and their strength had inevitably declined.

Hence the Black Talisman had shattered the heart’s resolve and dismantled the Mechanical Holy Fist.

Everything fit together perfectly, logical and plausible.

Not just Jin Wuming—even he himself had been fooled.

Dou Changsheng’s gaze turned again to the several figures standing like door gods at the rear of the light boat, utterly still.

This Gongshu Duwang was indeed formidable.

This Leng Wuye, though far weaker than a Pure Yang Master, even weaker than seasoned Divine Manifestation Masters, had certainly crossed the threshold of Divine Manifestation and was a Master.

Five Leng Wuye represented five Masters.

As long as the numbers were sufficient, even Pure Yang Masters would kneel—this was perfection.

Not only Dou Changsheng kept glancing at the five Leng Wuye; Sun Duxiu’s gaze had never moved from them since the beginning, and only Jin Wuming, his psyche shattered, had ignored them entirely.

These were Masters.

Not some random cats and dogs, or cabbage.

The strength of any faction was measured by the number of its Masters.

The Three Yang Sect, once ranked first on the Earth List, inheritor of the Three Yang Divine Lord’s legacy, had only one Divine Manifestation Master.

Of course, this was partly due to the Three Yang Sect being suppressed and its situation deteriorating, but the power of Masters remained undeniable—the backbone of every major faction.

Given Gongshu Duwang’s status and reputation, five Masters were insufficient—but if the number multiplied several times over, it could only be described as terrifying.

Suddenly, Dou Changsheng’s mind sparked with insight.

He spoke directly: “The legend says, ‘One man against a nation—only Gongshu.’”

“Now that I’ve met you, I see the reputation is well-deserved.”

“But I have one question: Master, what exactly is the Giant God Soldier?”

The five towering, motionless figures, previously like lifeless objects, suddenly stirred slightly; their gazes all locked onto Dou Changsheng in unison, their voices synchronized: “You’ve already seen it!”

Dou Changsheng’s expression confirmed his suspicion—he had already suspected the Giant God Soldier.

One of them spoke: “Giant.”

Another continued: “Means many.”

The third Leng Wuye explained: “These are Holy Fist Mechanical Men, ordinary Divine Manifestation level, weak individually, but superior in sheer numbers.”

The final word—“many”—struck deep chords in Dou Changsheng.

For before him, on the dock of the island in the lake, stood a row.

One by one, towering, muscular monsters with enormous right arms gleaming with metallic luster lined up in formation, delivering a crushing visual impact and overwhelming pressure.

Gongshu Duwang was aiming for the heavens.

No wonder he had developed ambition—within three years, he dared even to build Tiangong.

Dou Changsheng had to admit: Gongshu Duwang had the capital. The ancient blueprints of the Giant God Soldier were gaining ever-greater value.

A light boat approached the dock, and the first man stepped down with long strides.

His sleeve cuffs were embroidered with golden cloud patterns; the jade pendant at his waist resembled flowing clouds, occasionally glowing and shifting like living mist, giving an ethereal impression.

The second man wore a tall crown and wide robes; as he moved, his gait resembled a dance, appearing illusory, unreal.

Two men on one boat—but those awaiting them on the dock were heavyweight figures.

Jin Wuming, whose attire was extremely plain—coarse hemp clothing, perpetually slumped in a broken posture—suddenly grew solemn.

This middle-aged man, short and slender, resembling a peasant, was the master of the island in the lake, and the host of this gathering: Gongshu Duwang!

Gongshu Duwang smiled: “Brother Du and Brother Changsun have come in person to the island—it truly delights me.”

Changsun Taishi adjusted his tall crown, his voice thin and precise: “Liang is beset with hardship; Brother Gongshu speaks for Liang’s people—how could we not come?”

Du Zhangwang’s expression was solemn, his voice booming across the lake: “Are the people of the North not people? Are the people of Liang not people?”

“The North has its Yan King; Zheng has its Zheng King.”

“Why is Liang treated differently?”

“My Liang Du clan supports Master Gongshu as King of Liang!”

Dou Changsheng watched this scene, sighing inwardly: Gongshu Duwang possessed the Giant God Soldier and was already immensely powerful, yet he didn’t waste his strength—he used the resentment of Liang’s people as a lever, forging alliances to speak for Liang.

He immediately gained the support of countless Liang factions; his voice was no longer his own—it was the voice of countless Liang people.

Liang was wealthy, yet martial spirit had faded—but they had money. Now Gongshu Duwang lacked only money; with money, he could turn it into combat power.

The parts on each Leng Wuye were likely funded by various Liang factions.

These few simple words carried immense information—Dou Changsheng knew they were meant for him to hear.

Gongshu Duwang had no ambition to carve out territory, rebel outright, and turn Liang into his personal domain to establish a state within a state—he sought only the title of King of Liang, aiming to enter court and assist in governance.

He wasn’t here to smash the table—he wanted to join the game.

Gongshu Duwang smiled: “The title of King of Liang is not my desire.”

“I only ask that the court pay attention to Liang.”

“That they listen to the voice of Liang.”

“Why must the North send troops to defend against the Hu Ren?”

“With enough money, I alone can guard the North.”

“Mechanical arts are the legacy of the Gongshu clan—traditionally passed only to sons, never daughters, generation after generation.”

“But I long ago realized this was a backward custom; thus I founded the Mechanical Gate, aiming to spread and elevate the mechanical arts—this effort has yielded remarkable results.”

“Liang is wealthy, martial spirit has faded; the younger generations of every family show signs of decay.”

“But this is not our fault—it is because life is too comfortable, and no one wishes to endure hardship. There is no absurd rule in the world that says being rich is a sin.”

“The poor grind their sinews and bones, toil in cultivation, sleep later than dogs, rise earlier than chickens.”

“We, the wealthy, naturally have our own way of cultivation.”

“I intend to promote the mechanical arts, greatly expand education, allowing anyone to come and learn, transforming Daliang City into a Mechanical City.”

“We need no great passes or fortresses—Daliang City will be the strongest city in the world.”

“To this end, I have already invited the Mo Jia Ju Zi.”

“The meaningless feud between our two schools has dragged on for a thousand years—it must end.”

This was bringing in international powers.

Dou Changsheng was stunned—this Gongshu Duwang was ten times more formidable than he had imagined.

If he succeeded, he would become Gongshu Zi, ranked among the Hundred Schools of Thought, a true contemporary sage—even worthy of sainthood.