Chapter 394: The Green-Robed Guest Leaves a Gift, the Number One Pawnshop Returns

Master Siming let out a loud shout, then burst into violent coughing, spewing a cloud of volcanic ash—this Grand Master of Yin-Yang looked even more disheveled than before.

He looked exactly like someone who had crawled out of a burning house.

His robes were riddled with holes, large and small, his white hair stood on end like an explosion, streaked with black dust—Old Black Tortoise was just as ragged.

Master Siming lifted his head, glancing left and right, and saw the silver-haired man seated beside the volcano, clad in a black robe, his silver hair tied with a strand of flowing wind, holding only a fishing rod, dangling it into the volcanic lava, his expression calm and distant, like a celestial immortal.

In stark contrast to Master Siming's disheveled state.

This fire was no ordinary flame—even sharp weapons and treasure-grade blades would melt instantly.

Yet he stood aloof, seemingly unaffected at all.

Anyone who saw him would mistake him for a god descending from heaven.

But the moment he spoke, that ethereal aura shattered completely—the Whale Fisher said: "Old man, you've been searching for over thirty days already—still haven't found it?!"

"It's this hard to find!"

"Did you throw his arm into a cesspool?!"

The divine elegance vanished in an instant.

Master Siming sat atop the Black Tortoise.

The Black Tortoise lifted Master Siming into the air, and Master Siming grumbled:

"You're so aloof, you're so great!"

"For over a month you've just sat there fishing, fishing, fishing—what did you catch? Wasn't it me climbing up and down?!"

The Whale Fisher replied: "This volcano is a convergence point of heaven and earth's fire essence—one from the far north, the other from the Western Regions' Flame Mountain. Such a place brimming with primal energy naturally breeds spiritual resonance, where fire essences take form as fish, swimming ceaselessly."

"They look pretty—I want to bring some back for my daughter."

"Good for play."

Inside the bamboo basket beside the Whale Fisher, golden-red fire flowed like water, with several small and large fish darting within, radiant as golden splendor—these were the Fire Essences, one of heaven's rare marvels.

A Sixth Heaven martial artist, if aided by this, gains a ten percent higher chance of becoming a Master.

It is a celestial treasure.

But these creatures are cunning, and their habitat is extremely harsh—even Sixth Heaven martial artists, not yet Masters, cannot endure long in volcanic lava, having not taken that crucial final step.

For the past month, the Whale Fisher has been catching playthings for his daughter.

Since leaving the Western Regions, he remained cold toward Yao Guang.

Outside, he spoke only of his daughter—open his mouth, close his mouth, always his daughter.

Master Siming's ears were growing calluses.

He muttered a few more words; the Whale Fisher heard and said:

"It wasn't me who threw it in."

"Besides, didn't you descend on the Black Tortoise?"

"If anyone deserves credit for hard work, it's the Black Tortoise."

Master Siming stamped his feet and cursed.

The Black Tortoise nodded in approval, deeply agreeing.

The Whale Fisher flicked his fishing rod, hauling up both Master Siming and the Black Tortoise, then asked: "Well, you said you succeeded—did you find the place?"

Master Siming nodded. "Yes. Back then, we feared he hadn't died completely, so we sealed it tightly—never expected we'd need this now. Sealing it was done with all our might, but unsealing it? That's the hard part."

"Luckily, I'm still capable—I found it. The seals are all broken, your array is already etched onto it—hurry up!"

"Alright, Elder, step aside."

Master Siming rolled his eyes wildly. "You beggar—you're truly mercenary. When you need me, you call me Elder. When you don't, you call me old man."

The Whale Fisher rose with a long laugh, more carefree than ever:

"If I weren't mercenary, how could I still be a beggar?"

"Which beggar is polite?"

"Don't they all say 'thank you' if you give money, curse your whole family if you don't, and fight over a steamed bun?"

"Elder, Black Tortoise—step aside!"

The Whale Fisher's silver hair fluttered slightly.

As he rose, streams of silver light emerged—array talismans, instantly overlapping hundreds of layers. Facing this volcano that had burned for tens of thousands of years, the Whale Fisher had spent over a month preparing this array.

He intended to retrieve the object directly from the depths of the lava.

Master Siming sprinted away.

Suddenly he remembered—he'd left the Black Tortoise behind. Was that moral?

He turned back—didn't see it.

He turned forward again.

Good heavens!

The old Black Tortoise stood upright on its short legs, sprinting faster than Master Siming.

Master Siming: "???"

Almost the instant the Black Tortoise and Master Siming retreated.

A fierce, overwhelming heat exploded outward, rumbling like a volcanic eruption. Master Siming was stunned—he and the Black Tortoise rolled forward together, turned back to look: the volcano erupted with grandeur, yet the force could not touch the Whale Fisher.

Amidst the towering flames, the Whale Fisher's silver hair streamed behind him, his bamboo fishing rod flicked once—and beneath the volcano, layer upon layer of arrays unfolded, cycling through transformation. Suddenly, something shot upward from below.

It was an arm.

Zhang Ziyong's arm from the martial legend reappeared into the world.

After breaking free, the arm still retained a trace of divine aura, vibrating the void and speaking: "Hahahaha! I am finally free! Finally, finally!"

"Master Siming!!! Li Guanyi!!!"

"I'll make you die!"

"I'll make you pay!"

"And that silver-haired girl by Li Guanyi—I will kill her, turn her into a puppet, make her beg for death but never find it! Then, using the method I've seen with my own eyes, I'll craft her body three thousand times, fusing head to dog's body, only then will my heart's hatred be eased!"

With surging energy shaking the void, it roared, wild and insane.

The martial legend Zhang Ziyong is dead.

What remained on this arm was nothing but an unyielding obsession, a remnant akin to the spiritual form of a martial legend—during its refining in magma, it grew more fanatical, more deranged.

Master Siming: "…………"

Old Black Tortoise: "…………"

The two old men exchanged a glance and sucked in a sharp breath.

They retreated a hundred paces, step after step.

Silent solitude—only the arm laughed wildly as magma churned.

Suddenly.

The Whale Fisher smirked, tossed aside his fishing rod, stepped forward, and crushed his foot down hard upon the arm—his power, great enough to shatter mountains, smashed a cliff face to rubble, sending the thing plunging back into the molten lava.

The silver-haired man sneered, raised his middle finger:

"I fuck your mother!"

He raised his hand, tore open the peak of a nearby volcano, and lifted it with both arms.

He intended to use the volcanic peak as a lid.

To crush the arm beneath it.

Master Siming and the Black Tortoise grabbed the martial legend's arm from either side, faces pale, pleading: "Fifth Zhai Tian, Fifth Zhai Tian, that's enough."

"It's not worth it."

"Why are you angry at an arm? This is nothing but the leftover residue of Zhang Ziyong's obsession—barely even a spiritual remnant, less sentient than a dog. Are you going to bite back because a dog bit you…?"

The Whale Fisher's rage slowly subsided.

BOOM!!!

Magma exploded into a wave of fire.

The arm shot straight upward, fingers clenching, and slammed with overwhelming force directly into Master Siming's face.

Master Siming's cheek caved inward, rippling like waves.

Then he spun three and a half times in midair and flew outward.

Plop.

He crashed face-first into the ground.

The Whale Fisher's lip twitched: "... Senior?"

Stones rained down with soft pats. The arm trembled left and right, roaring with laughter: "Master Siming? You old bastard—you're still alive? I'll tear off your arm and throw it down too!"

Master Siming knelt, rose, and brushed off the dust.

Suddenly he turned, charged forward, and delivered a powerful roundhouse kick, face twisted in a cruel grin:

"You motherless thing—get down, old man!"

"Today I'll seal you away for another five hundred years!"

………………

After much commotion, they finally dispelled Zhang Ziyong's lingering obsession; as for the method of dissolving it, the Whale Fisher borrowed the technique of the monk Thirteen, master of Ta Xin Tong.

He separated Zhang Ziyong's obsession and cast it onto a stone.

Then he kicked it again—into the magma.

Within this volcanic heat, potent enough to birth Fire Essences, after one year, the arm remained smooth as ever, its interior brimming with immense vitality—not inferior to a Master's realm. The flesh and bones at its stump still pulsed with life, not fully dead.

On the path to immortality, Zhang Ziyong had reached the extreme.

So extreme that even after his death, his body still struggled to pursue that goal.

Pitiful. Regrettable.

Master Siming studied the arm for a long time. The Whale Fisher pondered how to casually gift the Fire Essence he'd caught to Yao Guang—without seeming deliberate, without revealing he cared.

Like: "I didn't fish for this Fire Essence just for you."

"I just happened to come across it. Don't overthink it."

The Whale Fisher nodded in satisfaction.

After a long while, he looked at Master Siming: "How's it going?"

On the ground beside them lay the Mystical Realm's Mystic Stone, activated by the Whale Fisher's methods.

The handsome Xue Shen appeared here, curiously studying the arm.

He sensed within it a vitality—vast, terrifying, nearly rivaling that of a divine beast.

He stared, dumbfounded.

Can an arm still live?

How are all these people from later generations monsters?

Zhang Ziyong had delivered a massive shock to the elders of five hundred years ago.

Xue Shen also turned to Master Siming and said: "This old senior… hmm."

"Should be… this young fellow."

Xue Shen's face wore a teasing smile as he looked at the white-haired Master Siming:

"Can it be done?"

Master Siming said: "It can be done. But Zhang Ziyong is dead, and this arm has been refined by the volcano for so long—its vitality has scattered somewhat. Using it as a core, with the techniques of the Mo Juzi and the casting arts of the Elder Murong clan, we can forge a mechanism."

"You may act upon the battlefield, but…"

"With General Xue Shen's strength and methods, this arm can sustain your charge on the battlefield only two or three times. If you expend power too violently, even one use will exhaust all the vital energy left by Zhang Ziyong; even if you conserve it, you cannot exceed three uses."

"After three uses, all life force will scatter, and General Xue Shen will fall into slumber."

General Xue Shen rested his palm beneath his chin and said: "That means the first two uses are safe. If I fully drain Zhang Ziyong's life force, I will suffer soul backlash. This body is but a reflection of the past; under such impact, survival is unlikely."

"Is that so?"

Master Siming looked at him and said: "Yes."

"Theoretically, you cannot continue to charge upon the battlefield. Even if you use arrays, mechanisms, and the legendary life force of Wu Dao's arm to forcibly defy this impossibility, all things come and go."

"Even with this secret stone, you will likely fall into slumber for over a century, and your martial willpower will be affected."

The Whale Fisher fell silent, knowing that at this moment, General Xue Shen must choose.

General Xue Shen smiled: "What excellent fortune."

Master Siming froze.

The greatest general of five hundred years ago said: "After death for five centuries, to still have a chance to ride the battlefield—this is a gift no renowned general could ever refuse."

"And then fall into slumber again after three uses?"

General Xue Shen laughed loudly: "This body is already that of a dead man."

"No need to speak of slumber."

"Even if my soul is utterly destroyed, what is there to regret?"

"To fight alongside the heroes of five hundred years later—whether I win or lose, it will be glorious!"

He smiled again: "Then perhaps you should add a price."

"Otherwise, I can't accept this benefit without unease."

"How about I build you a monument?"

The five-hundred-year-old general was carefree and witty; Master Siming stared, dumbfounded, then chuckled: "You truly are just as the records described…"

"Uh—just as carefree and spontaneous."

General Xue Shen raised an eyebrow and grinned: "It must be Chen Baye's old fool—he definitely left insults about me in the records, right?"

Master Siming looked embarrassed.

The world surged violently; at first, the elders were the highest in rank, but as storms rose and auspicious signs appeared, sometimes even Master Siming became the junior. As for records of General Xue Shen, he learned them from Emperor Chen Wu.

General Xue Shen laughed and cursed: "That old bastard—I'll use this mechanical body to go to his tomb and mock him endlessly."

"Ah, just thinking about doing that—living long really does let you encounter wonderful things."

General Xue Shen smiled lightly and bowed:

"Then, I rely on you all."

"Give me a suit of armor."

"The greatest general of the world? I'm curious."

He lifted his gaze, smiling with supreme disdain:

"How much have the descendants of five hundred years later improved?"

"Compared to this old generation from five hundred years ago."

"Let us compete once more for—"

"The title of Greatest General in the World!"

…………………………

Li Guanyi looked up at the sky; the spring sun was cool. The Anxi city forces were engaged in spring plowing. Xu Tiange had successfully cultivated a new strain of barley, perfectly suited to the western lands' soil and climate, and was now preparing dozens of other variants.

He had also successfully extracted sugar from a special western vegetable.

It had become a western specialty, boosting revenue.

Recently, this fellow seemed to be frantically courting the Nine-Colored Divine Deer.

He hoped the Nine-Colored Divine Deer would use her divine power to assist him in cultivating specific strains.

After all, unlike the monstrous divine beasts such as the Ancient Crimson Dragon, who could only fight, she excelled in many things—water, temperature, climate—all could be adjusted to some degree.

She could guarantee the Academy's Agricultural Line's graduation trials would succeed without fail.

Xu Tiange of the Agricultural Line had evolved into a fervent worshipper of the Nine-Colored Divine Deer.

Li Guanyi was plowing in spring. Though there had been no fighting lately, his own qi had grown increasingly long and calm. Last year, at this time, he and Yao Guang had arrived in the western lands. Now a year had passed; storms had risen, and he had secured his footing.

Li Guanyi had informed Qin Yulong and the others of Jiang Gao's decision.

He also stated that the three generals should reside temporarily in Anxi City; when he departed, he would not keep them.

All the officers of Anxi City now treated General Yuwen with the respect due a teacher and elder.

This was a period of remarkable peace and tranquility.

People's lives were improving; no major wars had erupted recently. Many tribes who once wandered now had stable homes, and smiles on people's faces grew more frequent.

Yet only those who saw the grand tide of the world knew this was merely a fleeting calm at the heart of a vortex—the Greatest General of the World would arrive soon, and then would come the final, mortal battle.

Li Guanyi still could not reach Master Siming and the others.

But in this tranquil yet oppressive time, another deeply stirring event occurred—Generals Ling Pingyang and Khan Qibili returned with their six thousand elite troops, who had fought alongside Li Guanyi in the western lands and earned the merit of securing Mount Juxu.

Li Guanyi also assigned the thirty-odd youths from his youth, former Golden Guard soldiers now at least Third Heaven cultivators, into this force of six thousand seven hundred, appointing Ye Buyi and Zhou Liu as deputy commanders.

He further selected brave warriors from the ranks to join them.

They reached seven thousand men.

All seven thousand were fierce warriors capable of fighting alongside Li Guanyi across the land; their captain-level core officers were sons of the Chen state's martial noble families, raised since childhood in the most complete military training system of the three-century chaos.

They had been Li Guanyi's sworn brothers-in-arms and now came to join him under these circumstances.

Once fully organized, this became a brand-new force, capable of clashing with any mighty army in the world—a personal army belonging solely to Li Guanyi, on the same level as He Ruo Qinhu's elite troops.

The soldiers were comrades bound by life and death; the captains and warlords were childhood friends with no pretense.

They were true bodyguards who would fearlessly die to hold the rear for Li Guanyi.

When proposing a name, Li Guanyi suggested alternatives like Tiger-Leopard Cavalry and White Horse Loyalists.

They were rejected.

According to tradition, the name was changed.

It was named Fire Qilin Guard.

Li Guanyi was deeply disappointed.

Pojun often discussed grand strategy with Li Guanyi; though the entire Western Regions were slowly growing stronger, the accumulated strength of the Thirty-Six Western States bolstered Anxi City, resolving its financial and grain supply issues, gradually elevating its foundation.

But the tides of the world would not grant them time to recuperate.

Li Guanyi could not reach the old Master Siming and others; on this day, hearing that Yu Langwang had returned victorious once again, Li Guanyi suddenly called out to Chen Wenmian, and the two rode out of the city together. The springtime Western Regions stretched vast and wide; as they galloped side by side, they felt their hearts swell with joy.

Chen Wenmian always held his horse's reins, keeping his steed half a body's length behind Li Guanyi's.

His expression was gentle, his white battle robe fluttering, a sword slung at his waist, a spear gripped in hand.

Chen Wenmian hung his spear on the hook of his horse's armor, drew his bow, loosed an arrow, and struck a wild wolf. He asked:

"Big brother, why did you call me out today—for hunting?"

Li Guanyi wanted to correct him on the term "big brother."

After all, Chen Wenmian was two years older; Li Guanyi had no interest in being called "big brother" by a twenty-year-old youth, as it made him sound prematurely old, so he said he already had an older brother.

Chen Wenmian thought seriously and said: "Then I'm the third younger brother. Second brother."

Li Guanyi: "………………"

He desperately wanted to let out a long, howling cry.

How could the bloodline of Yu Langwang, under the upbringing of Chen Dingye, have produced such a disposition?

The cunning, magnanimous, cruel, and domineering Yu Langwang; the cold, ruthless, merciless Poisonous Cobra.

And yet they raised a little flower?

Li Guanyi sighed and reluctantly accepted the title.

Chen Wenmian got along well with all the generals of Anxi Army—no one could dislike a noble-born, upright, immensely skilled in Wu Gong, commander of tens of thousands, leader of the elite Fifty-Thousand Wolf Guard, whose deputy general was the young Sword Saint of the Jianghu, Sixth Heaven Xu Huiyang.

Moreover, it was because of him that cities sprouted along the path of Anxi Army.

Moreover, Chen Wenmian was exceptionally skilled in human relations.

He called himself a defeated general, profoundly humble and gentle.

Nangong Wumeng wandered over, planning to find a place to challenge someone; he didn't know what kind words Chen Wenmian had spoken, but suddenly Nangong Wumeng screamed several times and bolted away. Then he saw Li Guanyi approaching to build rapport, his face flushed red, stammering for a long time:

"W-what noble?!"

"Y-you, you despicable scoundrel!!!"

Nangong Wumeng was utterly defeated and retreated.

Only when Li Guanyi entered did he realize Chen Wenmian had again called someone "big sister-in-law."

Li Guanyi's lip twitched: "Do you really enjoy calling others big sister-in-law?"

Chen Wenmian looked surprised: "Isn't that right?"

"But such an unparalleled beauty—could she not be?"

"I must have spoken wrongly."

Li Guanyi, since that one time, had lost the energy to argue with this man—gentle as jade, sharp as a blade, yet fond of randomly calling people big sister-in-law. He looked out over the horizon and said: "Wenmian, do you understand the current situation?"

Chen Wenmian said: "... Father's military momentum is at its peak; he has abandoned us to campaign against all directions. The Lord of the Ying State is no match for him, but given his nature, he will surely eventually seize Xiyicheng."

"And the Ying State will never surrender Xiyicheng."

"The only one who can stop Father is the Number One Under Heaven."

Li Guanyi asked: "Given Uncle's current state, could he defeat Jiang Su?"

Chen Wenmian fell silent.

Li Guanyi asked: "Could you and I together break Jiang Su?"

Chen Wenmian whispered: "We… are too young."

Li Guanyi looked at him and burst out laughing: "Truly the son of Yu Langwang!"

Beneath this pretense of gentleness lay an inner pride.

"Too young" meant:

One day, we certainly will!

Li Guanyi said: "It's rare to make me happy, but since neither you, I, nor Uncle can defeat Jiang Su—and Jiang Su will surely come—our choice is no longer open, is it?!"

Chen Wenmian stared, dumbfounded.

Then he suddenly realized what Li Guanyi intended to do; the heart beneath his gentle exterior finally rippled.

Li Guanyi grinned.

Unite every force that can be united.

"Come on, Wenmian!"

"Let's go see my aging uncle, your stubborn old man."

Chen Wenmian's heart surged; watching Li Guanyi gallop away, he lowered his head and whispered: "Yes, big brother."

Then he spurred his horse to chase after him. Only these two riders rode straight toward Yu Langwang's main camp. The generals and captains who recognized Li Guanyi and Chen Wenmian exchanged glances, unable to stop them. A scout reported to Yu Langwang, relaying Li Guanyi's words.

"To ally against Jiang Su?"

Yu Langwang Chen Fubi sneered: "Children talking nonsense!"

"Old man has no wish to fight Jiang Su!"

Even if I fight Jiang Su, I won't team up with those two brats. General Xiao Wuliang, drive those two rascals back! Don't worry—Li Guanyi didn't bring troops; he can't beat you!

Xiao General Xiao Wuliang left, and soon returned.

Chen Fubì exclaimed: "Oh? Can Li Guanyi beat you without troops?"

Xiao General Xiao Wuliang said: "No."

"Then what?"

Xiao General Xiao Wuliang hesitated, then took out a letter and offered it with both hands: "Li Guanyi ordered me to deliver this to Lord, saying that after you read it, you might change your mind."

Yu Langwang laughed loudly: "I won't be swayed by a few words from a child!"

"I won't read it! I won't read it!"

Xiao General Xiao Wuliang hesitated. The old Monk walked over, glanced at the old Wolf King, and smiled gently: "Your Majesty refuses to admit defeat. But Buddhist scriptures often speak of mortals clinging to a single obsession, refusing to turn back—only to realize, years later, that their stubbornness cost them much: bonds, grudges, kindness."

The old Wolf King said: "Speak plainly, Monk."

The old Monk said: "Why not take a look? Even if you disagree, you can burn it again afterward—at least you won't regret it."

The old Wolf King fell silent for a long while, then said: "You might as well be a living Buddha."

"Give it here!"

He read the words on the paper, and his expression froze.

His earlier impatience vanished.

Just one sentence had made this hero—whose life had been marked by bold campaigns and ruthless slaughter—stagger in thought.

"Yu Langwang, are you still willing to join Tai Ping Gong in hunting Jiang Su?!"

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