Thunder Net

The Pill Pavilion was actually not large at all, having only three floors.

However, its interior was a whole different world. A hollow design in the center led straight to the top floor, and looking up, one could see the carved railings of the third floor.

The first floor was spacious and empty. Aside from a ring of praying mats meant for meditation, there was nothing else, giving it a solemn and dignified atmosphere.

The second floor served as the pill refinement room. The fragrance of pills accumulated over the years had almost condensed into a physical substance; a deep breath would make one feel relaxed, joyful, and clear of mind.

The group from the Mask Society clearly had no mood to appreciate the scenery. With agile movements, they completely ignored the stairs, leaping straight up from the atrium on the first floor. In just a few bounds, they landed silently on the third floor.

On the third floor, a solitary figure sat cross-legged, his back facing the crowd.

That simple Daoist robe caused the breathing of several masked men to suddenly hitch.

They were no ordinary people. Shock would not make them retreat; it would only trigger their most primal killing instincts.

Amidst the dead silence, murderous intent arrived first.

A man wearing a hideous porcupine mask was the first to strike. His arm, covered in thick black hair, jerked violently, muscles bulging.

In the next instant, those black hairs stood on end and transformed into a sky full of needles, emitting a rustling sound as they tore through the air, heading straight for the back of the figure's heart.

Turning hair into needles was a treacherous method that carried an indescribable sense of disgust.

Zhang Gonglian did not even turn his head. His right hand pressed against the floor beneath him in a seemingly casual manner.

Buzz!

With a muffled sound, brilliant golden light erupted from his body, instantly condensing into a translucent golden energy shield that protected him securely.

Countless black needles crashed against the shield, emitting a dense, crisp sound like a torrential downpour striking banana leaves, yet not a single one could advance an inch.

Zhang Gonglian slowly turned around, his movements completely free of mortal urgency.

He raised his hand and, aiming at the hairy-armed man, struck out an empty-handed palm strike across the distance.

Spiritual energy surged, and a giant palm made purely of golden light materialized out of thin air, crashing down with an aura that could suppress all things.

The unnamed hairy-armed man didn't even have time to let out a scream before his entire body was swatted away by the golden palm print, falling directly over the railing of the third floor.

On the first floor, Buddha Face, who was looking up to observe, watched helplessly as a lump of something fell from the sky, crashing heavily onto the praying mat in front of him. The splattered blood stained his pristine white mask.

Buddha Face fell silent for two seconds. He did not wipe away the stain on his mask; instead, he walked toward the stairs without a word.

His steps were steady, but every step made the wooden stairs emit a heavy groan.

It was as if Buddha Face's weight was gradually increasing.

On the third floor, the others got a clear look at that face and invariably gasped.

Zhang Gonglian?! Weren't you at the Heavenly Master Pavilion?!

Zhang Gonglian's gaze swept across the various masks before him. His eyes were as placid as an ancient well, but his tone was freezing cold.

So it is you people from the Mask Society.

The atmosphere was at a breaking point, yet an untimely voice abruptly rang in Zhang Gonglian's ear.

What is the Mask Society? They sound pretty impressive.

It was Lin Mo.

Zhang Gonglian originally thought Lin Mo had dusted off his hands and left, but to his surprise, the guy was still hiding here watching the show.

And he was invisible, no less.

The Mask Society is an organization I encountered in the past when I descended the mountain. It's made up of ability users, and many of them are extremely vicious and evil individuals.

Watching Zhang Gonglian talk to thin air, this bizarre scene sent a chill through their hearts. No one dared to make a rash move.

Just then, shadows flickered at the top of the stairs. The others had rushed up, and Buddha Face was almost the last one to arrive.

A variety of masks completely surrounded Zhang Gonglian, sealing off all avenues of retreat.

The intense murderous aura almost caused the air on the third floor to solidify.

Buddha Face stood outside the encirclement, his voice hoarse.

I presume Your Excellency is the Heavenly Master of this generation. A pleasure to meet you.

Zhang Gonglian's expression remained indifferent, seemingly completely unbothered by this grand display.

Lin Mo's voice rang out again, carrying a bit of the excitement of someone who loved watching a good spectacle.

Damn, surrounded already? Didn't you say you had everything arranged?

Zhang Gonglian ignored Lin Mo and looked at Buddha Face instead.

A Buddha mask. So you're an abandoned disciple of Shaolin.

This old monk is Buddha Face, Buddha Face paid it no mind, instead sizing him up carefully. Observing the Heavenly Master's aura, it seems a bit unstable.

Zhang Gonglian did not answer Buddha Face's question. His gaze swept over the masked men in front of him one by one.

Hmm, is that guy not here? Zhang Gonglian asked casually.

Everyone instantly understood who Zhang Gonglian was asking about.

However, none of them spoke. Only Buddha Face opened his mouth to represent them.

The Heavenly Master must be speaking of Ghost Face. He went to the Heavenly Master Pavilion to kill you, but he never expected you would actually be here.

Hearing this, Zhang Gonglian let out a chuckle. So that's how it is. Then I'll just take care of you all first.

As soon as the words fell, before anyone could react, Zhang Gonglian's hands had already spread wide.

Two bright yellow talismans appeared out of thin air between his fingers. They ignited without a flame, instantly transforming into two streaks of golden light that shot forward at a speed difficult for the naked eye to track.

Not good!

Scatter!

The crowd from the Mask Society cried out in alarm. Their murderous intent instantly turned into horror as they hastily retreated backward.

But the speed of those two golden lights far exceeded their imagination.

The golden lights crossed and coiled in the air, unexpectedly transforming into a massive golden net that descended over their heads!

What is this thing!

My body can't move!

Over a dozen masked men were like flying insects caught in a spider's web. Entangled by the golden light, they were firmly pinned in place, unable to move even a single finger.

The masks on their faces could not conceal the terror in their eyes.

Zhang Gonglian didn't even look at those trapped small fry. His gaze remained locked on Buddha Face outside the encirclement.

Warm-up is over.

He spoke indifferently, then formed a sword gesture with his right hand and gently waved it at the group bound by the golden light.

Come, lightning.

Boom!

A muffled explosion erupted on the third floor!

It was not a deafening thunderclap, but rather a dull thud that seemed to strike directly against everyone's heart.

Countless tiny electrical arcs suddenly emerged out of thin air on top of that golden net, darting around madly, before finally converging into a thick bolt of lightning that smashed down right in the middle of the crowd!

Crackle and pop!

A sound of shattering bones and scorching flesh rang out.

Over a dozen masked men fell like dumplings being dropped into a pot. Spewing black smoke and twitching all over, they were blasted backward, crashing heavily against the walls and pillars before going completely still.

The masks on their faces were either shattered or charred black.

In merely two breaths of time, the previously murderous encirclement had already crumbled and collapsed.

A faint smell of ozone and burnt flesh permeated the air.

On the entire third floor, only Buddha Face was left still standing in his original spot.

As early as when the two golden talismans were shot out, he had taken two steps back.

Just enough to avoid the envelopment of the golden net.

Buddha Face stood in place, a corner of his monk's robe already scorched black by the stray electrical arcs. The look in his eyes hidden behind the mask was dark and unreadable; clearly, he had not expected the battle to end so quickly either.

Amitabha.

The title of Heavenly Master is truly well-deserved. However, this old monk senses that your aura is weaker than before.