Half an hour later.
At the summit of Mount Hua, Shangguan Jinhong stood confidently atop the dueling stage, holding his Twin Dragon and Phoenix Rings, scanning the crowd below with steady eyes as he declared:
"Anyone else?"
At his feet lay three figures — all famed martial experts, masters in their own right. Some still alive, others not so lucky.
Though many in the audience were clearly dissatisfied, only a select few had the strength to challenge him. Yet among those few, most weren't eager to make a move just yet.
After all, the Huashan Sword Conference had only just begun. There was no need to waste energy revealing one's trump cards this early by clashing with such a troublesome opponent.
Thus, the scene froze in awkward silence — those who wanted to fight couldn't win, and those who could win didn't want to fight.
Only one Purgator curled his lips into a cold smile.
"My turn to shine has come!. After this fight, I'll definitely break through to Grandmaster!"
He stood up, ready to let out a heroic laugh, walk to the stage in a show of composure, and begin his mythic rise to martial dominance.
But just as he rose — before he could even laugh —
He suddenly sensed… something strange in the distance.
Reflexively, he turned his head to look.
Peering through the lingering white mist, the Purgator Hua Kong spotted a glowing golden object in the sky and frowned in confusion:
"What the hell… is that?"
Other martial artists also sensed something, though they were a beat slower than him.
And then — before everyone's stunned eyes — a colossal object over forty meters tall came crashing down at hypersonic speed, directly onto the dueling stage.
Shangguan Jinhong, still standing there, felt a surge of shock and fury.
He immediately gathered his full strength, attempting to dodge out of harm's way — but the speed of the descending object was simply too great, too sudden. It was faster than a thunderclap and more violent than a storm. It far surpassed anything within his realm of response.
With no other option, he roared and brandished his divine weapon — the Twin Dragon and Phoenix Rings — aiming to slash open a path through the falling behemoth and escape death.
This strike, driven by sheer survival instinct, carried with it his full might, technique, spirit, and heart — a culmination of a lifetime of martial refinement.
In that fleeting moment of life-or-death crisis, decades of unwavering cultivation surged together.
Three perfected forces — his will to live, his innate martial genius, and his relentless training — triggered a profound reaction in his body. His Ren and Du meridians, already long unsealed, surged with never-before-seen power.
It was a sign.
A breakthrough into the Grandmaster realm was at hand.
A few days of rest and adjustment, and his cultivation would solidify completely.
He burst into wild laughter.
"Even if it's a mountain falling on me—I can still cleave it apart!"
BOOM!
The dueling stage, forged from millennia-old cold iron, shattered beneath the weight.
Blood splattered from beneath Aeon's feet, spraying across the face of Jing Wuming, who stood dumbfounded nearby.
"What the actual f—..."
As for Hua Kong, upon clearly seeing what had landed, he swallowed hard… and sat back down quietly.
Pretending nothing had happened.
"You brought a whole mecha to a martial arts tournament? That's a bit much, isn't it…?"
The rest of the martial artists were no better.
They stared blankly at the golden, radiant form of Aeon, their minds completely unable to process what was happening. It was a complete dimensional suppression.
"This... this... this…"
First came the feeling of power.
Then, the feeling of divinity.
Several people simply collapsed to their knees, trembling.
Then, amid the chaos, they started worshipping.
"Great Immortal! Divine One! This must be a god!!"
The scene turned utterly chaotic.
From inside Aeon, Orsaga's voice rang out, loud and annoyed:
"I'm here for the Huashan Sword Conference!. What the hell are you all kneeling for!?"
The head monk of Shaolin slowly raised his head, staring at Aeon's towering metal foot. He forced a polite, if awkward, smile:
"Ah… you jest, Great One. We humble mortals wouldn't dare share a stage with a deity like yourself. We have already fully… felt your greatness."
After finishing his sentence, the monk couldn't help but swallow nervously.
A wise man knows his limits.
He could tell — this fight simply wasn't necessary.
Everyone seemed to understand the situation clearly.
So, the Shaolin abbot raised his voice to the crowd:
"A divine being has descended today!. To witness this in person is a blessing beyond our lifetimes. Let us not demand more than fate has granted. I propose that we unanimously bestow the sole championship title of this year's Huashan Conference to the Great One! What say you all?"
"Absolutely! Absolutely!"
cried the King of Pleasure, nodding so hard it looked like he was pounding garlic.
"Well said!"
shouted Ren Woxing.
"I agree as well."
muttered Zuo Lengchan, annoyed that the others had spoken faster than he had.
In an instant, the assembled martial leaders began competing shamelessly to out-flatter each other.
Among them, none could rival Ding Chunqiu, whose horde of disciples had long been trained in the fine art of flattery. Thanks to their influence, his vocabulary and technique were unmatched. His solo "bootlicking power level" could easily match ten Pleasure Kings, thirteen Zuo Lengchans, and—
Watching all this, Hua Kong could only grit his teeth.
His main quest was to place in the top five and earn the title of one of the Five Supremes.
He hadn't even had a chance to step onto the stage, and now the whole tournament had been crushed — literally — by a mecha.
And if he failed this mission?
The penalty was double the deduction.
How could he accept this!?
With a furious slap, he spun his seat around and refused to watch anymore.
In his heart, he muttered bitterly:
'Bootlickers don't get the house!'
As for standing up to oppose this absurdity?
Yeah, not gonna happen.
Shangguan Jinhong had been stomped so thoroughly, they could wrap up his remains and use them as dumpling filling.
Hua Kong wasn't going to go up there and get turned into paste.
Especially when he'd vaguely recognized the layer upon layer of geometric golden light surrounding the mecha.
He had a bad feeling…
That if provoked, it would fire off one of those cross-shaped annihilation beams.
He was barely qualified to fight army-level threats, and that thing?
City-level minimum. Possibly higher.
'Damn it. I'll let it slide this time…'
Clenching his fists, his eyes burned with humiliation and frustration.
His plans were ruined. His pride crushed.
Looking around at the bootlickers begging to be taken as lackeys, Orsaga inside Aeon couldn't help but feel a little disappointed.
He had just wanted to show off.
But this crowd wasn't giving him a chance.
'Sigh… the loneliness of a true master…'
With that thought, Aeon casually raised a finger.
A red beam shot out instantly, striking a few of the most shameless sycophants.
Then, with a deafening boom, Aeon launched skyward and vanished into the clouds.
All that remained was a bloody puddle, two giant footprints, and several bootlickers screaming in pain.
Seconds later — under everyone's stunned gaze — those who had been hit by the red beam began shedding their skin like snakes.
They were undergoing rejuvenation — regaining the youth of their twenties.
The crowd looked on, sour to their core.
"Damn those flatterers…"
"Damn it… when you need knowledge, you'll regret not studying. I really should've paid more attention back then…"
---
Not long after, the events at Mount Hua and the massacre at Xiangyang spread throughout the entire world.
The ones who had been rejuvenated — now brainwashed — became the first missionaries for Orsaga, weaving together fables and legends, attributing all sorts of inexplicable events to his name.
In just three to five years, they had already established a massive religion in his name.
_____
T/N:
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