Chapter Forty-Six: Demons Walk the Earth

“There are plenty of cultivation techniques, but those that surpass the Heaven-grade martial arts are exceedingly rare. This manual of yours—the Eight Major Sects will have it, no matter what.”

“So this manual in my hands even surpasses the Heaven-grade martial arts, does it? In that case, I have all the more reason not to hand it over to you.”

The bald youth folded his arms across his chest, a half-smile playing on his lips, his expression laced with mischief.

“You bastard, are you stalling for time on purpose, trying to make a fool of me?” Qian Lei was stunned for a moment before he finally realized what was going on. He erupted in fury.

“You refuse to drink the wine of courtesy, so you’ll have to choke on the wine of punishment. You’re courting death!”

With a furious shout, Qian Lei strode forward. His already robust frame seemed to swell yet again, growing even more formidable.

He struck without hesitation, his attack fierce and relentless, his entire figure swooping down like an eagle toward the bald youth.

This was one of the Innate Sect’s supreme techniques—Soaring Eagle Arts. Channeling the strength of the entire body into the hands, at its highest mastery, it was said to be able to tear through ordinary city walls.

However—

To everyone’s astonishment, the expected scene of the bald youth being sent flying never occurred.

Instead, the youth seized Qian Lei mid-pounce, his hands clamping down like iron pincers, rendering Qian Lei utterly immobile.

“What?!”

Feeling the overwhelming force gripping him, Qian Lei’s eyes bulged with shock. Before he could even process what was happening, darkness clouded his vision.

In the next instant, his body, suddenly out of his own control, was hurled more than ten feet away, crashing heavily to the ground.

A mouthful of blood spurted from him on impact, his vitality instantly plunging to its lowest ebb.

“This...”

Seeing the strongest among them defeated in a single move, the disciples of the Six Major Sects gasped, drawing in sharp breaths.

They could never have imagined such a scene would unfold.

Even the sinister old crone who had first spoken wore a look of utter disbelief, her body trembling uncontrollably as she stood frozen, unable to regain her composure.

“Old hag, you’re next.”

The bald youth sneered, an evil glint in his eyes.

But just as he was about to strike—

A sudden, boundless pressure swept through the air.

This overwhelming force surged in like a tidal wave from every direction—terrifying and holy, containing a power so immense he could scarcely comprehend it in his lifetime. Even with peerless martial prowess, he could not withstand it for even a moment. His Invulnerable Diamond Body didn’t even have time to activate before he was pinned flat to the ground.

“Rise!” the bald youth roared, his voice thunderous, his fighting spirit blazing at its peak—but it was useless.

The vast, oceanic pressure, though not overtly lethal for now, was as heavy as a mountain, utterly beyond his ability to resist.

The bald youth still fared better than the others. The disciples of the Six Major Sects were all but buried halfway into the soft earth—had the soil been any harder, they might have been shattered on the spot.

This oppressive force seemed to attack indiscriminately, spreading from afar to instantly envelop the entire central capital of Li.

“How... how could anyone possess such vast, terrifying power?”

The bald youth’s face was etched with shock.

Meanwhile—

Within the royal palace, in the great hall, Zhou—the tenth king of the Li Dynasty, a middle-aged man—was in the same state, his regal bearing utterly lost as he lay sprawled beneath the throne, face pressed hard into the dirt.

“Hurry, investigate—find out what is happening!” Zhou’s veins bulged with panic as he shouted toward the palace doors with all his remaining strength.

But it was futile. Under this overwhelming force, no one was spared. Naturally, no one could respond to the monarch who had ruled the Li Dynasty for nine years.

...

In the open-air market.

The source of the upheaval, Fang Zhuowei, dusted himself off and stood up.

His eyes lowered slightly, gazing ahead.

In the distance, the entire populace of the central Li capital was prostrate in terror.

Closer by, Zhao Yang was in even more dire straits, his body nearly pressed flat and embedded into the ground.

Of everyone present, only the young man and the beautiful woman remained untouched by the pressure.

Of course, even without being physically suppressed, the two were trembling in fear—especially the woman, her complexion ashen.

To be able to immobilize an entire capital with a mere gesture—such power was beyond their comprehension, leaving them both breathless with dread.

Power like this was unattainable even for the hidden patriarchs of the great sects—utterly out of reach.

It was impossible for them to imagine that such a terrifying being could exist in this world.

“Will you still try to seize my book?”

Rising to his feet, Fang Zhuowei looked calmly at Zhao Yang.

He had originally wanted to pass on his teachings quietly, but Zhao Yang’s appearance made him change his mind.

If he wished to spread his teachings across the world in the shortest possible time, then he needed to become known to all.

A great philosopher once said: When everyone knows you are invincible, when they are awed by your power, they will worship your greatness, become your most fervent, loyal disciples, and spread your teachings to every corner of the land.

Whether they were destined or not, whether they could understand was of little importance.

After all, as long as the audience was large enough, even the most complex knowledge would find a few quick learners. Once the seeds of extraordinary civilization were sown, the fruit of civilization would not be far behind.

Faced with Fang Zhuowei’s question, Zhao Yang froze, then burst out in wretched sobs.

He swore that if Heaven gave him another chance, he would listen to his junior sister, keep a low profile, and never act rashly again. He was so regretful it was as if his very guts were turning green.

“Don’t worry, I have no interest in harming you. Though you were reckless, you did, in a way, remind me.”

Fang Zhuowei saw through Zhao Yang’s thoughts at a glance. He was not so petty—especially with a being he himself had created.

Whether this life was a villain or not, Fang Zhuowei neither cared nor bothered to find out.

He was the Creator—the Heaven of this world. All things were but the product of his will. Good and evil mattered only to the creatures of this small world. To him, they were merely the building blocks of existence.

“In three days, I will hold a public lecture here, passing on the way to ascend to the heavens. Regardless of age or gender, all are welcome to attend.”

Withdrawing his gaze, Fang Zhuowei’s voice rang out, sonorous as thunder, echoing above the capital of Li for a long time.

As his words faded, the overwhelming pressure receded like the tide.

In an instant, the crushing weight vanished from everyone’s bodies.

Yet, to everyone’s surprise, not a single person left. Regardless of age or gender, they all gazed at Fang Zhuowei with burning eyes, then, as if answering a silent summons, knelt before him as devoted disciples before Christ.

A hundred years ago, a celestial artifact had descended, igniting a martial craze across the continent and granting even commoners and slaves a chance to defy fate. But not everyone could access the mysteries of martial cultivation.

Almost all the world’s martial manuals were monopolized by the Eight Major Sects, and even those with talent required a hefty, exorbitant fee to study them.

Most of those present had long been forsaken by the martial age. But today, Fang Zhuowei’s words had rekindled their hope.