Chapter 449: The Arrival

The ragged old man took another long swig of wine, his clouded eyes narrowing slightly as he gazed at Li Musheng far off at the end of the street below, and said, "I've heard this young man's reputation throughout the martial world has been growing rather considerably of late, and that he's been responsible for no small number of earth-shaking events."

The several middle-aged men in fine brocade robes standing behind the elder, heads bowed respectfully, exchanged glances with one another, and one of them spoke up in reply, "This young man truly shouldn't be underestimated. There are even those in the martial world who have started calling him the fourth Martial God of the future. For the Hidden Kill Pavilion to have found him as their next Pavilion Master is undoubtedly a tremendous stroke of fortune."

At those words, the remaining several middle-aged men also chimed in one after another, offering their own assessments of Li Musheng, now visible on the street below.

This was, in part, because the Hidden Kill Pavilion's influence over White Emperor City was so significant, and as the future Pavilion Master of the Hidden Kill Pavilion, Li Musheng had naturally already attracted the close attention of every faction throughout White Emperor City. As a result, everyone present was already familiar with him, and could recite his various exploits as readily as well-known facts.

Listening to the steady stream of commentary from the middle-aged men around him, the ragged old man's face showed a clear flicker of displeasure, and he shot them a glance, saying, "A bunch of fawning sycophants, every one of you. Grown men with gray hair already, and yet here you are gushing over some junior not even twenty years old. What was the point of all your years of martial cultivation?"

At those words, the assembled middle-aged men in fine brocade robes all fell silent, not daring to say another word.

They were all fellow disciples of the True Yang Sect, each having established no small business interests within White Emperor City, and each holding a modest reputation throughout the Western Desert's martial world.

But comparing themselves to Li Musheng was simply not feasible. After all, what kind of achievements did Li Musheng have to his name? Single-handedly wiping out Falling God Peak, one of the four great sects of the Great Li martial world, killing a Martial Saint, defeating the Hidden Kill Pavilion's Assassination Saint...

These were things none of them would even dare imagine accomplishing themselves. In fact, the very Assassination Saint who had fallen at Li Musheng's hand could have crushed any one of them with a single hand.

...

"Even so, this young man's reputation has grown so substantial that it's making my own hands itch to test for myself whether he's truly as formidable as the rumors claim."

Just as the middle-aged men had fallen into uneasy silence, the ragged old man suddenly spoke up, seemingly to himself.

At those words, the group was immediately thrown into a panic, all of them rushing to offer urgent objections.

"Granduncle, absolutely not."

"Granduncle, you've spent so long in seclusion at the sect, cultivating in quiet retreat, and haven't kept up with news from the martial world in some time, which might be why you suspect the rumors about that Eighth Prince of Great Li might be exaggerated. But we can tell you with certainty that nearly all of it is true."

"That's right. Just the other day we received confirmed news that when that Eighth Prince of Great Li passed through the Yellow Spring Market, he single-handedly subdued all three Holy Lords of the Yellow Spring Tribe by himself."

...

The middle-aged men were genuinely alarmed. Though their Granduncle's martial cultivation was profound and far surpassed any of theirs, he was still inevitably somewhat inferior to the Hidden Kill Pavilion's own Assassination Saint.

And with even the Assassination Saint having fallen at Li Musheng's hand, their Granduncle was even less of a match for him.

What was more, this was happening on the Hidden Kill Pavilion's own territory. If their Granduncle were to act rashly and genuinely provoke the wrath of this future Pavilion Master of the Hidden Kill Pavilion, they themselves would likely be caught up in the fallout as well.

"Bunch of spineless cowards, no ambition at all."

Faced with his junior disciples' attempts to dissuade him, the ragged old man showed open contempt and grew increasingly irritated.

He hadn't even made a move yet, and already these fellows were undermining his confidence and tarnishing his standing as their Granduncle.

"Granduncle, we know your martial skill is formidable, but you've come to White Emperor City this time carrying a task for the sect, to recruit that young prodigy from the Jiang family as your disciple."

"If you were to cross blades with that Eighth Prince of Great Li and something went wrong, it could prove extremely disadvantageous for us at the upcoming discipleship gathering."

Seeing that their Granduncle seemed to be growing increasingly agitated, one of the disciples tactfully invoked the matter of the discipleship gathering, urging their Granduncle to refrain from acting rashly for the sake of the sect's overall interests.

At those words, the ragged old man's previously simmering urge to act gradually subsided, though his expression clearly remained far from pleased.

Just then, a voice rang out within the restaurant, strikingly out of place given the circumstances.

"Yiyangzi, it's been many years, and you're still as timid and indecisive as ever. Not a shred of progress."

At those words, the ragged old man turned to look, and found two figures had already appeared within the room of the restaurant where they were seated.

One of them wore a snow-white long robe, his silver hair flowing loosely, his complexion fair and unblemished, with no wrinkles or creases marking his face. He appeared relatively young at first glance, yet his entire presence carried an unmistakable air of weary exhaustion.

The other figure was noticeably more ordinary in appearance, dressed in a short gray jacket, wearing a pair of straw sandals, his back slightly stooped, his skin weathered and dark, giving him the appearance of an honest, hardworking farmer.

But upon seeing the two of them, Yiyangzi's eyes narrowed slightly, clearly recognizing both, and it was equally clear that neither of these two figures was anyone ordinary.

"Undying Scholar, Mountain Tiller. You two have spent years living far from the martial world in seclusion. What brings you out of your retreat now?"

Yiyangzi spoke in a heavy voice, simultaneously raising a hand to stop his middle-aged disciples, who had been on the verge of questioning the two sudden arrivals.

The group of middle-aged disciples, having just heard their Granduncle address the two newcomers by name, all changed expression sharply and immediately fell silent.

Though they didn't personally recognize either of the two men before them, they had certainly heard their names mentioned before, both formidable figures who had built their reputations throughout the Western Desert martial world long ago, men whose legends had already been established well before they themselves had even set foot on the martial path.

At this point, in response to Yiyangzi's question, the white-robed Undying Scholar gave a light, easy smile and said, "Brother Yiyang, isn't that a rather disingenuous question?"

"Could it be that you've come here for the discipleship gathering as well, with your eye set on that young prodigy?"

Yiyangzi's brow furrowed, while the dark-skinned Mountain Tiller let out a cold laugh and said, "What else would it be? Did you think I came all this way just to see your decrepit old face?"

At those words, Yiyangzi swept his clouded eyes over the two men, his brow furrowing even deeper, "I never imagined even you two old relics would come to join in the fun. I dread to think how many strange and formidable figures will end up gathering in White Emperor City this time."

The Undying Scholar and the Mountain Tiller exchanged a glance, then both shook their heads, "That's hardly fair to say. The Western Desert has finally produced a genuine martial talent after so long. How could a sprout this promising possibly belong exclusively to the likes of your sect or any other major faction? Naturally, whoever is capable enough gets to claim him."

The straw-sandaled Mountain Tiller gave a nod, then, paying no mind to anyone else in the room, sat himself down at the lavishly set wine table in the center of it, picked up a wine jug, and poured himself a cup, saying, "Besides, this is the very rule the Western Desert's six great powers agreed upon together. Whoever, regardless of their background, manages to earn the recognition of that Jiang family boy through sufficient strength, that person becomes his master."

"My own skills have gone without a successor for far too long, so naturally I've come to try my luck as well. I can't very well let a martial talent like this, the kind that comes along only once in a thousand years, slip through my fingers."