Chapter 404: Spiritual Image Chan Staff

"Want to give it a try?"

A cold breeze blew, stirring unease in Long Xinglie; he simply could not fathom how Li Yuan had defeated Yan Chunyang.

"Huh?"

He hesitated whether to try, when suddenly he caught sight of the tower gate wide open; he stared intently and saw Yan Jiugong stagger out, pale-faced and disheveled.

This is…

Long Xinglie's heart stirred, and he stepped forward to meet him:

"Brother Jiugong."

"Hm?"

Yan Jiugong trembled, his expression shifting several times before finally calming: "Long Xinglie, you've hidden your true strength well!"

"What do you mean by that, Brother Jiugong?"

Long Xinglie froze slightly.

"Heh."

Yan Jiugong glanced at the stone tablet nearby—outside the few Grand Masters of Longhu Temple, Long Xinglie ranked first!

And that monster ranked second!

In an instant, Yan Jiugong seemed to hear the ferocious dragon's roar and the hammer like a falling star!

"Brother Jiugong?"

Long Xinglie frowned slightly.

"I cannot accept such praise!"

Yan Jiugong's face twitched; recalling his duel with Long Xinglie two years ago, he was certain this old devil had deliberately held back. Seeing he still wanted to speak, Yan Jiugong simply turned away, sweeping his sleeve in dismissal!

"What's his problem?"

Long Xinglie was puzzled—he and Yan Jiugong had decent private relations; their usual conversations were never like this!

He looked at the stone tablet before the tower: on the seventh level, he ranked first, Li Yuan second, Leokong third, Yan Jiugong fourth!

"Did he run into me?"

Long Xinglie felt something was off; he frowned, pondering, then fixed his gaze on Li Yuan's name:

"Could it be…!"

His eyelid twitched; he hesitated, about to enter the tower, when suddenly he heard his master's voice in his mind:

"Xinglie, come to the sixteenth floor and see me."

"Yes!"

Long Xinglie set aside his doubts, took another path, and ascended straight to the sixteenth floor.

Long Chan pointed a finger, and the light screen before him instantly dissolved; Long Xinglie's sharp eyes caught Yan Jiugong's face—pale as if he'd seen a ghost—within the shattering light.

This is!!

"The Longhu Nourishing Elixir has been completed!"

Long Chan coughed lightly and pulled out a porcelain bottle.

Long Xinglie accepted it with both hands, yet still felt uneasy.

"When Yan Jiugong entered the tower just now, who defeated him?"

"This…"

Long Chan frowned slightly: "Your younger brother Li Yuan."

"I knew it!!!"

With the answer, Long Xinglie's doubts only multiplied:

"Master, is Li Yuan the one who summoned the Dragon and Tiger?"

"Correct!"

Long Chan sighed inwardly but did not conceal it: "He has become my disciple—younger brother to you."

"Unprecedented in a thousand generations!"

Confirmed in his suspicions, Long Xinglie felt dazed.

"For us martial cultivators, talent is only one aspect…"

Long Chan felt the same; in his youth, he had long been overshadowed by Long Xi and Nie Xianshan.

This familiar phrase left Long Xinglie with mixed emotions—wasn't this exactly what he'd used to comfort his own junior brothers?

"Younger brother Li Yuan trains diligently too!"

"This…"

Even Long Daozhu was momentarily speechless!

Back then, Long Xi and the other had one obsessed with combat, the other drowned in wine and women—but Li Yuan, since joining, had done nothing but forge iron and train, far more diligent than I was in my youth!

"This is the sect's fortune!"

Long Xinglie knew his master meant to comfort him, but for him, being crushed by talent was nothing compared to this—it was too

Underestimating him!

"The Daozi position belongs to the strongest; I have no greed for it!"

Long Xinglie sat cross-legged, facing his master directly: "The sect comes first. You fear I harbor resentment, but the Daozi title was never mine by birthright!"

"It is I who has been petty."

Long Chan felt moved; sibling rivalry was all too common in the martial world: "I still have decades to live—no need to rush to conclusions. Your younger brother Li Yuan may have no interest in such affairs."

"I have no interest either—you forced it on me!"

Long Xinglie corrected him; after a brief shock, his mindset had already steadied, even bringing a strange sense of relief—who wants to waste time on trivial matters when he can focus on training?

Long Chan's smile vanished; for decades, those two—one roaming the world, the other holed up in a small temple nursing wounds—had left all the burdens on him.

"What else do you want to say?"

Long Xinglie toyed with the porcelain bottle in his hand; with this one Longhu Nourishing Elixir, once the Dao Trials ended, he could knock on the door of Grand Masterhood—with an 80% chance of success!

Long Chan saw through his thoughts; inwardly exasperated, he could only let him be: "Keep your mindset calm. Temporary setbacks aren't worth dwelling on."

"So I'm bound to lose?"

Long Xinglie felt no comfort at all; instead, battle-lust surged within him. In fifty years, he'd fought countless battles—never lost. Even Yan Chunyang, seven matches ended in a draw!

Not to mention after this retreat, his cultivation had further advanced—he was certain he could now defeat Yan Chunyang.

He thought this, but said nothing; only rose and bowed: "I'm off."

"Go. Remember: we cultivate not for momentary victory, but for a lifetime!"

Long Xinglie no longer wished to reply; he turned and was already before the tower gate.

"By the way, split half the monks' bets and send them to your younger brother…"

Long Daozhu's voice followed him like a shadow—that was why he hadn't responded to Li Yuan earlier!

"Yes."

Long Xinglie bowed slightly, then drew a deep breath and stepped into the Longhu Tower.

"The Buddha's bets."

In the tavern, watching Long Xinglie's retreating back, Leokong shuddered as if struck in the face by a hammer—this hurt more than being thrashed three times inside the tower!

Even splitting the loss would be fine.

"Brother Leokong!"

"Go after him! Beg him!"

"Tell Long Xinglie—even half the loss is fine, half is fine! …"

Leokong turned around and heard a chorus of wails; the monks all wore mournful faces, as if two catties of flesh had been cut from them, trembling in despair.

"What are you crying for?"

A middle-aged monk glared: "Brother Leokong only entered the tower once! Once he gets used to it, he'll still win the preliminary championship!"

Leokong stared at him, face grim.

His head already throbbed—this wasn't about getting used to it! He'd charged three times, lost all three; the last time he barely held out against thirteen strikes, nearly killed on the spot!

"True, Brother only entered once—Long Xinglie probably lives in there daily…"

Brother, let me rally you—I've got a Qi-igniting Pill, take it?

I've got a Blood-igniting Pill; Brother Luming, where's your Self-Sacrifice Pill?

"Brother Leian, hand over your Soul-Cutting Pill too!"

The monks all rummaged through their pouches, piling up a heap of elixirs and passing them forward!

"…Thank you, brothers!"

Leokong's eyelid twitched; he took the pile of elixirs—enough to kill ten men—and gritted his teeth to thank them.

"Brother, you must win!"

"You must take the championship and uphold our sect's honor!"

"I bet all my gold on you!"

"Enough."

Leokong felt his head swelling; he snapped, then swept his sleeve and walked off. The monks exchanged glances and followed.

The Xin Yi Sect naturally did not stay overnight at Longhu Temple!

Before nightfall, after eating vegetarian fare, Master Dading walked slowly into the guesthouse. The Xin Yi Sect had guesthouses in every Daozhou—all built like temples, though they could not openly accept offerings from believers!

"Stop."

Returning to the back courtyard, Master Da Ding sensed something and snapped sharply; a withered old monk emerged from the corner, bowing deeply and addressing him as "Senior Brother!"

"Brother Da Ming, where did you just go?"

Master Da Ding glared at him. This old monk was his junior brother—the Deputy Abbot of the Heart Doctrine Sect!

"I went to eat a few vegetarian dishes!"

Master Da Ding cut him open without mercy: "You also stopped by the gambling den, didn't you?"

"I didn't gamble, I didn't!"

Sensing his senior brother's anger, the old monk waved his hands frantically.

"I didn't intend to gamble—I just saw a betting table set up by the Dragon Tiger Temple, odds on the preliminary champion. Master Liao Kong's name was on it, with odds of three to one…"

"Three to one?"

Master Da Ding frowned immediately: "Who opened this bet? How dare they look down on us?"

"Exactly. The Dragon Tiger Temple looks down on us too much."

The old monk perked up, righteous indignation blazing: "How can I possibly tolerate this?"

"So, how much did you bet?"

Master Da Ding asked, expressionless.

For this monk, addicted to gambling beyond redemption, he felt deeply exasperated—why couldn't he just quit, like himself?

"I bet everything!"

"Everything?"

Master Da Ding froze, then turned pale: "You didn't bet the gold meant for the Elixir Assembly—your funds to buy spiritual elixirs, did you?"

"Three to one!"

Master Da Ming spread his hands: "Master Liao Kong has achieved the Golden Body Indestructible. He may not win the Grand Martial Contest, but inside the Dragon Tiger Tower, he has no equal!"

Master Da Ding squeezed the Buddhist prayer beads in his palm—the odds stirred even him: "How much did you bet?"

"Three hundred pure gold ingots—and my Chan staff!"

Master Da Ding's temper flared: "You bet your Sacred Elephant Chan Staff too?"

"Three to one!"

"If you lose, I'll split you open with my axe."

Master Da Ding still held back his rage—he still had confidence in Liao Kong. The fully developed hardened body gave him a massive advantage in the Tower challenge!

Ten years ago, Liao Kong had already begun preparing.

"He's withstood nearly two hundred of Wan Zhu Liu's blades. Unless Long Ying has no shame at all and brings Master Long Yin to the sixth level…"

Master Da Ming himself suddenly felt uneasy.

"Would Long Ying really be that shameless?"

"Hard to say."

Master Da Ding's face darkened slightly. Just as he was about to speak, a clamor of footsteps approached. He turned—and saw a group of monks with grim expressions.

"Master Liao Kong, we heard you climbed the Dragon Tiger Tower?"

Master Da Ming stepped forward, smiling as he inquired.

"Master, Senior Brother…"

Master Liao Kong bowed with deep shame; behind him, the other monks bowed with sorrowful faces, recounting today's Tower challenge.