Chapter 145: Human Flag, Crossing the River [Begging for Monthly Tickets]

Humiliation. Shame.

They hadn't even exchanged blows before being defeated by a single glance, and a pang of resentment rose in the hearts of those martial artists.

At the same time, a sliver of doubt rose in their hearts.

'This Fang Can—could he really defeat a First-Turn?'

Thinking of that glance from earlier, it was nearly on par with a First-Turn striking a Ninth Layer; a mere look was enough to force them to their knees.

This proved that, at least in Heart Phase, Fang Can was evenly matched with a First-Turn.

Stunned into kneeling on the shore, they were about to rise when they saw martial artists one after another treading the waves in from the far bank.

These martial artists were numerous—at a glance, several thousand at least—and every one of them was lithe and skilled; all several thousand of them were Heart Phase martial artists.

"How is this possible? Several thousand Heart Phase martial artists? Are they all believers of Fang Can?"

A kneeling martial artist cried out in shock, so startled he even forgot to stand.

The several thousand were seen carrying bundles large and small, crossing the river one by one, but what drew their attention most was the thick flagpole borne jointly by three martial artists among them.

The entire flagpole was roughly thirty to forty meters long, and hanging from it were fifty to sixty martial artists with pale faces and not a stitch of clothing on them.

Steel-wire chains were bound directly around those martial artists' necks, just like a hanging; if not for their sturdy bodies, an ordinary person treated this way would be strangled to death in mere seconds.

These fifty to sixty people hung from the flagpole swayed in the howling wind like teru teru bozu as the three flag-bearers advanced.

Suddenly, one martial artist's eyes went wide, as if he'd seen a ghost.

Because among those teru teru bozu, he actually recognized four or five people.

"Hidden Dragon Ranking 352, Single Blade Ye Modao; Hidden Dragon Ranking 451, Ghost's Bane Yang Shen; Hidden Dragon Ranking 985, Heaven-Splitting Palm Wang Kensheng…"

Looking at those familiar faces hanging from the flagpole, a strange, creeping horror rose from the depths of his heart.

Because every one of them had a certain fame within Dayan; any single one of them pulled out would be enough to trade dozens of blows with them without losing ground.

Yet this group of Hidden Dragon Ranking martial artists had been stripped naked like roast ducks, hung here without a shred of dignity like some performance art.

At this moment, every person present hallucinated that it was themselves hanging on that flagpole.

"Could it be… all fifty-plus of them were defeated and humiliated by Fang Can?" a companion beside them voiced their guess.

"Not so. Enemies are the ones you defeat; for ants, you only need to roll over them with a palanquin."

Ye Yonglie stepped onto the far bank, his gaze calm as he looked at the Hidden Dragon Ranking martial artists kneeling before him.

These fellows who'd been forced to their knees by a single glance from Fang Can—how dare they claim to have been defeated rather than utterly crushed?

If they hadn't already reached Jingcheng and the human-flag behind him with its fifty-plus people was nearly full, these ones would be on it too.

With a series of boom-boom-boom-boom splashes on the water's surface, under the eyes of tourists on the bridge, those several thousand Heart Phase martial artists landed in unison.

One of the martial artists watched the tourists' gazes toward the human-flag, looking somewhat anxious.

"Brother Ye, now that we've reached the capital, please set our deities down."

At his words, the several thousand martial artists crossing the river knelt in unison and said: "We beg Brother Ye to show mercy and release our deities."

Only at this moment did the onlookers realize these martial artists were not Fang Can's believers at all, but rather the believers of those hung martial artists.

Watching several thousand people dare only to kneel and not resist, a sliver of contempt rose in the hearts of those martial artists.

You several thousand Heart Phase martial artists attacking together—why don't you dare fight Fang Can?

Kneaded by several thousand martial artists' pleas, Ye Yonglie lifted his chin slightly and felt his body's realm improve faintly once more.

Recalling Fang Can's instructions, Ye Yonglie nodded and said: "Take your heretical gods and go. Pay attention next time—step back three houses on your own accord, and don't make things uncomfortable for my deity."

"Thank you, Brother Ye," the martial artists said gratefully.

"You should thank the deity for his magnanimity. After causing such a huge mess before, not grinding every one of you to death is already my god's mercy," Ye Yonglie said coldly.

Recalling Fang Can's earlier display, the believers' faces stiffened one by one; they truly didn't dare face Fang Can, and simply dismantled the ropes on the flagpole, lowering their own deities.

In only a short while, those martial artists had been rescued; their respective believers draped clothes over them, and the broken-armed, broken-legged ones were carried away by their believers, faces full of shame.

In a brief moment, the entire scene emptied out, leaving only the hundred-plus Heart Phase martial artists of Fang Can's party.

"Let's go, enter the city," Fang Can said once the crowd had mostly dispersed.

Traveling all the way to the city gate, Fang Can saw his own believers had been waiting at the entrance for some time; they smiled and came forward to greet him, saying:

"Deity, we have already purchased a residence for you in advance; please follow us from here."

Fang Can nodded lightly and entered the capital with his believers; no one stopped or questioned them along the way—smooth to the point of being somewhat unexpected.

Touring the bustling capital of Dayan along the way, Fang Can turned his head to look at Ye Yonglie and said: "How has that dragon-veined black-gold broadsword been handled?"

"It was sent ahead to the finest foundry in the capital. Their master is a First-Turn craftsman, and he's already agreed to melt and recast our ritual weapon into a spear at the same proportions."

"As for the payment, it's simply handing over the leftover scraps of the ritual weapon to him."

"That doesn't matter. How long will the forging take?" Fang Can said.

"It can be completed within seven days, and a dedicated person will deliver it to the door," Ye Yonglie said.

"Not bad," Fang Can nodded in satisfaction.

"However, after our people entered the capital, something else happened."

Ye Yonglie said quietly: "Given that land in the capital is worth its weight in gold, we expected purchasing would be somewhat difficult."

"But the moment we expressed the intention to buy property, those real-estate brokers let us pick freely from every vacant plot in the city."

"It's probably because of Rob-Jianshan," Fang Can said slowly, watching the stream of people before him.

Thinking it over, the favors he'd received from Rob-Jianshan were quite numerous; if the chance arose in the future, he really should do his best to repay them.

A drop of water's grace should be repaid with a gushing spring; once the spring is repaid, repay it with a fountain.

And following the high-profile river-crossing earlier, news of Fang Can's entry into the capital had already, through various agents, entered the eyes of the major powers.

Immediately, a flood of invitations flew toward the residence where Fang Can was staying like snowflakes.

In fact, the letters arrived a step ahead of Fang Can himself.

Clearly these powers were fully aware of his believers' property-buying, and those green lights had even been opened by them on their own initiative.

Compared to the great powers of the Capital, those smaller factions were utterly baffled, unable to understand why such big shots placed so much importance on Fang Can.

This journey to the Capital was not the only one where a disciple from a sect guarded by a Fourth-Cycle expert accompanied Fang Can, yet nowhere was there such eagerness; it was almost too filial.

As for Fang Can himself, after settling into the manor, he gazed at the pile of over two hundred invitation letters before him and fell into hesitation.

(End of this chapter)