Your Number One Bootlicker Has Come Online

“The Greatest Under Heaven... is a dead man?”

The moment these words were spoken, the teahouse fell into complete silence. Whether they knew or not, everyone couldn’t help but lean in, as if the words that followed carried a strange magnetic pull.

“A dead man?”

“Why is the Top of the Heavenly Prodigy List a dead man?”

The young man was utterly baffled. “Since he’s dead, that means he’s no longer among the living. What right does he have to hold the top spot?”

“Heh, if it were anyone else, that would be impossible,” the man said with a chuckle. “But this one—he’s the exception that Wordless Hall set as a rule: never to be removed from the list!”

With that, the man stood up, his right hand producing a scroll. He gave it a sharp shake, and a vivid painting unfurled in midair. The scroll depicted a figure—robes as white as snow, a longsword in hand, standing before a radiant gate. Behind him lay a land of rivers of blood and floating corpses, with endless rain of blood cascading down, and countless shadowy figures wielding divine weapons, charging like moths to a flame toward that solitary silhouette.

It was just a painting, a simple back view.

Yet a wave of boundless loneliness and tragic grandeur rushed forth, as if one could witness the blood and fire of that great battle firsthand.

The man held the scroll, his face brimming with pride.

“Listen up, boy!”

“What’s coming your way now is the one who, at Qi Refining, could slay a Spirit Severing pinnacle; at Foundation Establishment, could toy with four Spirit Severing cultivators to seize a strange flame; at Nascent Soul, could single-handedly fight an entire sect, overwhelming countless Nascent Souls, over a dozen Spirit Severing, and one Return to Void, annihilating the East Wilderness’s Cloud Sky Sect; then, under the siege of thousands of Spirit Severing, Tribulation Transcendence grandmasters, and five of the era’s strongest Great Vehicle cultivators, forcefully pried open the immortal gate to reach Half-Immortal status. He holds the titles of the youngest Qi Refining, youngest Nascent Soul, youngest Spirit Severing, youngest Return to Void, youngest Void Refinement, youngest Tribulation Transcendence, youngest Great Vehicle, youngest to step onto the immortal gate and achieve Half-Immortal. He also drained the entire spiritual energy of the East Wilderness, leaving it unrecovered to this day; split the Central Province into six parts with a single sword strike; captivated countless maidens, was the dream lover of innumerable immortal ladies, and the aspiration of countless young prodigies. He is the unparalleled, greatest First Heavenly Prodigy in the history of the Profound Heaven Continent—Ye Shu!”

The man finished reciting this long string of titles, gasping for breath. He grabbed his teacup and downed a gulp before recovering, then asked with a smug grin.

“How’s that?”

The teahouse was silent for a moment before murmurs arose.

If the name Ye Shu were mentioned, few might recognize it, but if you brought up the culprit who split the Central Province into six parts, everyone would know too well.

“So it’s him...”

“The one who supposedly drained the East Wilderness of its spiritual energy?”

“I heard he cleaved the Central Province into six pieces with a single sword, and the sword scar is still there, bottomless, sprouting all kinds of sword-related spiritual herbs—it’s called the Sword Abyss.”

“Really? Can that be true?”

“How could it be false? The most amazing thing is, those five sword scars didn’t harm a single person along their path!”

“What incredible control!”

“They say the sword path holds the power of karma, and many sword cultivation holy lands are planning to relocate to the Sword Abyss, to bask perpetually in Half-Immortal sword intent and break through their bottlenecks.”

“So that sword strike was a blessing instead of a curse, benefiting our Central Province greatly!”

“Who’s to say otherwise?”

The speaker sighed with emotion. “Such is a Half-Immortal—though dead, the faint legacy they leave can still bless future generations.”

“But what a pity that such a prodigy should meet his end.”

He raised his teacup, toasting toward the painting as if saluting an unseen old friend.

“In the cultivation world, mastery comes first. I pay my respects, senior.”

The teahouse fell silent again, then one by one, others raised their teacups. Even those who had been whispering earlier quietly lifted their cups in silence.

The man holding the scroll puffed out his chest, brimming with pride, as if sharing honor and disgrace with the figure in the painting.

“This is the spirit of a cultivator!” he declared, his voice brimming with heartfelt reverence. “Died gloriously, famed for eternity!”

Yet not everyone agreed with him.

The Mo family group sitting by the window had grim expressions. After all, that sword strike had violently split open their small realm and gravely injured their patriarch.

What followed—Xie Gubai’s rampage through the Mo family—was also inexorably tied to that sword. Now, seeing so many raise their cups in tribute was like rubbing salt into their wounds.

Mo Yu’s face was dark as thunder, a phantom of pain flickering below his waist.

He glared at the man holding the scroll, his murderous intent undisguised in his eyes, and his voice was ice-cold.

“Shut up, or... die!”

At that, the entire room fell deathly still.

The temperature in the teahouse dropped a few degrees. Those who had been chattering fell silent, lowering their heads as soon as they saw the Mo family attire.

But the man holding the scroll was unruffled.

Gripping the painting as if it granted him boundless courage, he stared calmly at Mo Yu and said flatly,

“Have I ever met you before, sir?”

“No.”

“Have I ever wronged you, sir?”

“No.”

“Good. Since we’re strangers, I revere my senior. Why should you interfere?”

Mo Yu was momentarily stunned by this barrage of questions. His fists clenched, veins bulging on his forehead—the familiar phrasing reminded him of the scene at the Ye family compound, where a young man named Ye Feng had also stood his ground, rendering him speechless with a series of questions.

Back then, his solution had been—kill.

Now, the same word.

Kill!

He glared coldly at the man, his right hand already slowly rising, ready to obliterate him on the spot.

But just as he was about to strike, someone else moved faster!

A shadow flashed like lightning to the side of the man holding the scroll, then hurled a punch—heavy, ruthless, with no quarter given.

Bang!

Caught off guard, the man was floored by the blow, smashing the stool beneath him to splinters.

“What the...”

Everyone was startled by the sudden turn of events.

The newcomer wore a Mo family disciple’s robe. He stood on the painting, looking down at the man, and spat contemptuously.

“Heh—pfft!”

“Who the hell do you think you are? Our Young Master Mo giving you an order to shut up is already being generous, and you have the gall to ask for reasons?”

“In this Central Province, our Young Master Mo is the law. If you’re a dragon, you coil; if you’re a tiger, you grovel. Telling you to shut up? That’s nothing. If I said strip naked and dance a striptease, you’d only have one answer—‘Yes, sir!’”

“Got it?”

The man stomped on the painting, twisting his foot for emphasis.

“You!!!”

The man with the scroll stared at the trampled painting, his pupils contracting. Overwhelmed with fury, he spat blood from sheer indignation.

The onlookers couldn’t bear to watch.

Even Mo Yu relaxed his grip slightly, turning to the guardian disciple beside him to ask softly, “Who is this guy? A member of our Mo family too? He looks unfamiliar. I don’t recall seeing him before.”

"Oh, Young Master Mo is unaware."

The disciple of the guardian sect quickly replied, "This is a disciple from a collateral branch, so the Young Master wouldn't have met him before. His name is Mo Shisan, and he is the representative of the collateral branch."

"I see."

Mo Yu nodded, a flicker of approval flashing in his eyes. "He knows to read the room—much sharper than those clan members who only bury their heads in cultivation."

With his Villainous Destiny System in hand.

How could he be without a loyal and faithful lackey?

He felt that Mo Shisan was just right—being from the same clan made him reliably trustworthy.

As if hearing their conversation, Mo Shisan turned his head, rubbed his hands together, and flashed an exceedingly fawning grin.

Like a groveling, tail-wagging lapdog!