After a long pause, the old man suddenly raised his hand and pointed at Fang Zhiyi, his mouth opening to reveal a pitch-black cavity, yet no sound emerged.
The eerie scene reminded Fang Zhiyi of his time as a ghost.
But now was not the moment for nostalgia.
Just as he was about to speak, the old man uttered his first syllable: "Retu—"
Suddenly, Little Hei began trembling violently. Its originally round body shot forward at an astonishing speed.
Little Hei moved like lightning, closing the distance to the old man in an instant. Then, something jaw-dropping happened—Little Hei, like a mass of black sludge, lunged at the old man and smeared itself tightly over his body.
The sight was utterly bizarre, but what followed was even more shocking. As Little Hei clung to him, the old man's body also started convulsing violently, as if unable to withstand the sudden assault. Gradually, he lost control of his limbs.
Yet, this was not the end. Over time, the old man's body began to melt, much like Little Hei. His skin, muscles, and bones slowly dissolved, merging with Little Hei into a grotesque black mass.
Fang Zhiyi froze, countless speculations flashing through his mind. Finally, he pieced it together—this must be the "world's will" Little Hei had mentioned, devoid of thought, driven only by obsession.
He watched as the black mass gradually vanished, seeping into the ground.
Fang Zhiyi remained calm. He knew Little Hei wouldn’t act without certainty. After a long while, the sky dimmed slightly, the once-bright sunlight softening.
He sensed something shifting in the world, yet everything seemed unchanged.
Students returning from their break greeted him warmly, and Fang Zhiyi nodded in response. He just wondered how long Little Hei would take to digest this time.
The upheaval came seven days later.
The relay stations in Jizhou, Maizhou, and Piaozhou lost contact.
Three waves of scouts were dispatched before the situation was clarified.
The Five Mountains Sword Sect, Lingshan Sect, Kunlun Sect, and others, convinced that Fang Zhiyi’s recent actions signaled ambitions to dominate the martial world, formed the "Demon-Slaying Alliance." The three neighboring provinces became their first targets.
No one knew what demands they made, but the martial factions in those regions joined the alliance. Tensions escalated, and they even mimicked Fang Zhiyi by launching their own "Martial World Gazette," listing his alleged crimes—most of which were outright slander.
Soon after, the master of the Thousand Mechanisms Pavilion was assassinated, with evidence pointing to the Hidden Sword Manor. The two factions now stood on the brink of war, preoccupied with their own conflicts.
Even Fang Zhiyi, as the school’s headmaster, faced two assassination attempts. But the assassins’ skills were laughably poor—he swatted them dead with ease.
Frustrated, Fang Zhiyi considered consulting Little Hei for intel, but he had no idea where it was. He dismissed the thought—this useless system had never been of much help anyway.
He decided to handle things personally. But the moment he left Youzhou, Old Lan sent word: the young mistress had been attacked!
Fang Zhiyi rushed back. Mei Ruoxue was barely breathing, her condition critical. Old Lan identified the poison as a rare and potent toxin, one even the Ghost Doctor found difficult to treat—though he could stabilize her for now.
Seeing Mei Ruoxue’s pale, unconscious form, Fang Zhiyi’s fury ignited. It had been years since he’d felt such rage. Deep down, he sensed the situation was spiraling into something stranger.
In Jizhou, the leaders of the Whale Gate gathered in their former relay station, now under their control, discussing how to maximize their gains. Suddenly, one of their subordinates was hurled into the hall.
As the bloodied man collapsed, the elders rose in alarm. When they saw the intruder, fear flashed in their eyes.
"Fang Zhiyi!"
Fang Zhiyi glanced around. "Last time I was here, this place was a dump. Seems you’ve prospered."
The Whale Gate’s leader growled, "Don’t think you’re invincible! We’re no pushovers! Attack!"
Fang Zhiyi blinked, then laughed and clapped. "I’ve seen many who don’t give others a chance to explain. But refusing to explain yourself? That’s a first."
That night, the Whale Gate was annihilated—down to the last man. Rumor had it even the eggs in the kitchen were smashed.
The news spread like wildfire across the martial world, bypassing the Martial World Gazette entirely.
Fang Zhiyi made no effort to hide his actions. His name resurfaced in whispers, and people began recalling his past.
Maizhou, Piaozhou… Wherever Fang Zhiyi went, death followed. He cared little about the assassination attempts or his lost business, but he was determined to find who poisoned Mei Ruoxue—and the antidote.
Yet, every captive swore ignorance.
As he left Piaozhou, a coalition of hundreds blocked his path.
Fang Zhiyi wasn’t surprised. They’d finally reacted.
The crowd parted, and an elderly man with youthful features stepped forward.
"Young friend, isn’t this excessive?"
Fang Zhiyi shook his head. "Not at all. The martial world runs on vengeance."
The old man nodded. "Well said. As the Lingshan Ancestor, I, too, have a right to vengeance."
Fang Zhiyi didn’t reply, his gaze icy.
The battle lasted half an hour. Fang Zhiyi looked down at the hole in his abdomen, then retracted his right hand. The Lingshan Ancestor collapsed, his throat crushed.
"Fair," Fang Zhiyi sneered at the encircling disciples. "Care to join him?"
"Charge!" someone shouted. The mob surged forward, knowing even Fang Zhiyi could be worn down.
Then, chaos erupted at their rear. Fang Zhiyi squinted—familiar faces emerged.
The martial school’s teachers had arrived. He Wugui, Lu Zhaoran, Old Lan, and others poured in, turning Fang Zhiyi’s personal vendetta into a full-scale brawl. Though they stabilized the situation, the odds were still grim.
The stalemate broke when reinforcements tipped the scales—the Demon Sect had joined, fighting for Fang Zhiyi.
After a day and night, Fang Zhiyi’s side prevailed, but at a cost. Nearly all were wounded, several critically—including Fang Zhiyi, who’d nearly met his end against three top-tier masters.
Late that night, a shadow slipped into Fang Zhiyi’s room.
Gazing at the unconscious figure on the bed, the intruder rubbed his hands and sighed. A poisoned dagger gleamed in his grip.
As the blade neared Fang Zhiyi’s throat, a hand seized his wrist. Startled, he turned—Lu Zhaoran’s face loomed close.
"Fang Zhiyi was right. Someone really does want him dead."
Lu Zhaoran’s injuries were minor. Before passing out, Fang Zhiyi had whispered a warning, prompting him to lie in wait.
The intruder, startled and panicked, tried to flee but was seized at the entrance. The current Left and Right Envoys of the Demon Sect were stationed there, and the Left Envoy flashed a chilling grin.
Two days later, a carriage was intercepted at a mountain pass.
Fang Zhiyi emerged from the crowd, coughing. "Laughing Maitreya, show yourself."
The Demon Sect’s interrogation methods were ruthless, and the assassin eventually broke, revealing the mastermind. No one could have guessed that all clues pointed to Laughing Maitreya!
The obese figure slowly descended from the carriage, forcing a strained smile.
"Heh, outplayed this time."