I Remembered

“Return to the secret realm first and get that thing settled.”

The Second Patriarch’s voice transmission had not yet finished when—

“Hm?”

Out of habit, the Fourth Patriarch spread out his divine sense to sweep across the sect. His stern brow suddenly furrowed. He abruptly raised a hand to stop the others, his gaze shooting like lightning toward the rear mountain.

At almost the same moment, the Second and Third Patriarchs sensed it as well.

From somewhere within the rear mountain, a dull aftershock leaked out in intermittent bursts—one that had clearly been deliberately sealed and weakened by a powerful force. Mixed within it were exceedingly faint yet chaotic shouts, cheers, and cries of excitement.

“What’s going on in the rear mountain?”

The Third Patriarch’s leopard-like eyes widened, his muscles instinctively tensing. For a moment, he thought some unforeseen development had arisen because the matter of the Imperial Weapon had been exposed.

“Energy collisions... and a whole crowd shouting.”

After listening more closely, the surprise on his face deepened.

“What are those brats up to?”

“Let’s take a look.” The Second Patriarch made the decision at once, his voice cold.

“Proceed carefully. If anything seems wrong, retreat immediately.”

“Understood.” The Third and Fourth Patriarchs nodded in unison.

Without another word, the three figures flickered and silently made their way toward the source of the abnormal disturbance in the rear mountain.

Before long, their forms rippled like water and slipped through the barrier of restrictions.

Yet the moment the three Patriarchs entered, they were greeted by a scene that was both bizarre and boisterous.

Within the vast space, violent energies surged and fierce astral winds howled.

Several dozen peak masters and elders of the Azure Profound Sect stood in two clearly divided circles.

Their faces were flushed, their eyes blazing with excitement. As though watching the most thrilling arena match, they erupted into wave after wave of deafening cheers and encouragement.

“Hit his lower body! Yes, just like that!”

“Beautiful! Senior Sister Li’s ‘Silken Threads Hand’ is brilliant!”

“Our turn! Third group, get ready!”

At the center of this feverish spectacle, two sparring matches of entirely different styles—but equally jaw-dropping intensity—were underway.

In the left arena, ten elders of the sect were besieging a single person.

The man under attack wore tattered gray robes, his hair loose and disheveled. Violent Saint King laws surged around him. He was unmistakably a mid-stage Saint King realm expert.

This mighty Saint King roared again and again. Deathly energy churned around him, while his palm strikes carried terrifying force, each blow making space itself tremble.

Yet the ten elders surrounding him were, at most, late-stage Saints. Despite that, their coordination was flawless. They advanced and retreated in perfect order, firmly entangling him in their formation and fighting him to a standstill.

Though the man was formidable, he was forced to defend on all sides and looked thoroughly discomfited. He even seemed to be gradually falling into a disadvantage.

The sight in the right arena was even more “brutal.”

Several elders were surrounding another man, punching and kicking him. Their moves contained no flashy flourishes, only ruthless, direct attacks aimed at vital points.

The man being beaten had his purple robes torn to shreds, his face swollen and bruised. All he could do was curl up and cover his head, letting out muffled groans of pain.

Just as the three Patriarchs were left reeling by this utterly unbelievable sight, another change occurred in the arena.

“Time’s up! Second group, fall back! Third group, move in!” A clear voice rang out. It belonged to Ji Yanqiu, the Cloudflight Peak Master.

Hearing the command, the ten people besieging Mu Sen withdrew in an orderly fashion, though they were plainly reluctant to stop.

Almost at the same time, Li Muran’s gentle voice rang out. “Fellow Daoist Mu, you’ve worked hard. Quickly, take this pill and recover.”

Another emerald-green pill shot into Mu Sen’s mouth, rapidly replenishing the holy power he had expended.

Yet as Mu Sen felt his strength returning, there was no joy on his face. Instead, an even deeper despair and humiliation surfaced in his expression.

The next moment, the other ten people—who had long been waiting nearby, rubbing their fists in anticipation—immediately howled and pounced on Mu Sen, who had only just recovered a little!

A new round of sparring began!

What was this supposed to be?

“They’re even feeding him pills to restore him?! A gauntlet battle?!” The Third Patriarch’s eyelids twitched violently.

The Second Patriarch and Fourth Patriarch were equally dumbfounded. This bizarre and brutal scene, yet one that seemed to possess a certain fanatical order, was utterly beyond their understanding.

One of the peak masters who was about to enter the fray happened to glance toward the entrance. He froze for a moment upon seeing the three rigid figures standing there, then cried out in surprise:

“Patriarchs, why are you here?!!”

Everyone’s attention shifted from the sparring in the arena to the three travel-worn Patriarchs at the entrance, whose expressions had gone blank with shock.

Only then did the Second Patriarch recover his wits beneath the weight of everyone’s stares. Smiling, he said, “Oh, what a lively gathering. Have we got guests?”

His gaze swept across the scene, first falling upon Mu Sen before moving to Li Mo, who stood nearby looking ashen-faced, bruised, swollen, and battered.

At the sight of him, a trace of confusion flashed through the Second Patriarch’s eyes. The man’s aura seemed familiar somehow, as though he had seen him somewhere before—but he could not recall where.

Beside him, the Third Patriarch followed the Second Patriarch’s gaze.

“What a fine pig head! The way you lot went at him has the flair of my younger days!”

The Third Patriarch burst out laughing after a single glance, grinning broadly as he offered his assessment.

But then his eyes narrowed slightly, as if he had sensed something.

“Wait, that aura? Huh?!”

Frowning, the Third Patriarch gave Li Mo—whose face had swollen into that of a pig’s—a closer look from head to toe. Tilting his head, he seemed to be trying to confirm something.

“I remember now.”

The instant those words left his mouth, the Second Patriarch remembered as well. He suddenly looked up, only to see Shi Wanshan standing nearby with his arms folded, watching the spectacle.

“Third! Shut your mouth!”

Alarm bells blared in the Second Patriarch’s mind. He hurriedly transmitted a stern warning through spiritual sense, while reaching out in an attempt to cover the Third Patriarch’s troublemaking mouth.

He understood in an instant: this absolutely could not be exposed in public!

However, he was one step too late!

The Third Patriarch’s blunt mind did not pause to think. The moment he confirmed it, the excitement of his realization overwhelmed everything else!

He slapped his thigh fiercely, completely ignoring the Second Patriarch’s warning and outstretched hand.

Then his booming voice, like thunder rolling over a broken gong, exploded through the air:

“You brat! Aren’t you that idiot in purple from the Imperial Tomb? The one who was hugging a Saint King battle armor and grinning like a fool inside that rundown cave dwelling—before I knocked you out cold with one swing of my club? What are you doing here?!”

The Fourth Patriarch, standing to one side, had already realized something was wrong the instant the Second Patriarch’s expression changed and he tried to stop him.

Now, upon hearing the Third Patriarch’s earth-shattering shout, his heart sank, leaving him with only one thought:

“We’re finished! This fool blurted everything out!”

Sure enough, the entire space fell silent in an instant!

Dozens of gazes shifted in unison from the Third Patriarch’s face to Li Mo, lying on the ground with his face swollen like a pig’s head.

Then they all turned toward Shi Wanshan on the other side—the man who had just endured a crisis of compromised innocence and now stood there as though struck by lightning from the Ninth Heaven, completely petrified.

Every face lit up with eager anticipation. More juicy gossip had arrived.

The purple-robed Saint, Li Mo, was struck by the Third Patriarch’s thunderous words and pointing finger as if an invisible soul attack—ten million times more terrifying than all the previous assaults combined—had slammed into him.

His entire body convulsed violently and uncontrollably.

His eyes rolled with difficulty as he looked toward the Third Patriarch.

The memories from before he lost consciousness surged back into his mind.

The cave dwelling. The battle armor. The terrifying club descending from behind. His consciousness being snuffed out in an instant. Boundless darkness.

So the true culprit—the one who had stolen his Saint King battle armor, stripped him down to nothing but his underwear, and utterly humiliated him—was this person?!

The Patriarch of the Azure Profound Sect?!

Then what about Shi Wanshan?!

He stiffly turned his neck, inch by inch, to look at Shi Wanshan beside him.

Shi Wanshan was trembling all over with agitation, his eyes bloodshot!

He stared fixedly at the Third Patriarch, his lips quivering, as though countless words were lodged in his throat—yet he could not force out a single sound.

His expression was a chaotic mixture of disbelief, sudden realization, utter absurdity, and a towering grievance and fury—one that had finally been vindicated after being wrongfully accused, and was on the verge of erupting.