Chapter 164: Wen Lang

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"No wonder they're so eager to take my life…"

In a hotel room in Sacred City, Lan An smirked faintly.

Across from him, Xiao Qing Xuan stared with a serious expression. If she'd been trapped in the Arhat Demon-Subduing Formation (La Hán Phục Ma Trận), escaping would've cost her dearly. Yet this man fled effortlessly, even under a Void Refinement cultivator's watch.

"You foresaw the ambush?" Xiao Qing Xuan asked softly.

Before leaving Sacred City's gates, Lan An had instructed her to follow at a safe distance, clearly anticipating trouble.

"Of course. My head's worth a fortune. This was just a probe," Lan An said with a sly smile.

"How do we leave now? They're surely still lurking outside!" Xiao Qing Xuan frowned, her worry not diminishing her stunning beauty.

Lan An tapped the table, a devilish grin spreading, "Wait for me, about seven to ten days."

"No problem," Xiao Qing Xuan nodded.

Lan An nodded approvingly, then vanished abruptly.

"Where'd he go?" Xiao Qing Xuan shot to her feet, stunned by the eerie disappearance. She sensed no trace of his movement.

"It must be a spatial treasure capable of housing the living. He's entered it," a voice within her explained.

"Master's right, but I didn't detect any treasure!" Xiao Qing Xuan said, puzzled.

"There's only one explanation: its grade surpasses our current perception. Its concealment is terrifying," her master said gravely. "Possessing such a rare treasure, Lan An's identity must be extraordinarily noble. Tuyen, you must be cautious."

Xiao Qing Xuan bit her lip, sitting back down, her mind replaying his words: "I'll help you break through to Sixth-Turn Alchemist, and you'll craft the Fire Fusion Pill for me. A fair trade…"

Inside the Spirit Realm Pearl…

Atop the highest floor of the Palace Court Tree…

Lan An sat cross-legged, a bulky storage ring in hand the ring of Tribulation Stage cultivator Trọng Vô Danh.

A massive Heavy Sword thundered to the ground.

He swiftly opened the Lucky Charm Shop, frantically refreshing.

Finally, a human skin mask appeared in his hand.

Holding it, Lan An grinned wickedly, muttering, "You hunt Lan An… but what if I'm no longer Lan An?"

As he spoke, ancient tomes materialized in his hands.

He studied them intensely, his formidable soul force accelerating his comprehension at a terrifying pace. Any genius witnessing this would feel inferior.

Time passed slowly…

Nine days later…

Mi Er Palace trembled, its doors gently opening.

A bewitchingly alluring woman emerged, her every movement and flutter of lashes exuding deadly charm.

Clad in a noble robe hugging her curves, her bare, jade-like feet gleamed exquisitely.

In her hands, a violet, ancient Charming Sound Pipa amplified her enchanting aura.

Su Mei was the first of the women to emerge from seclusion, having refined the High Spirit-Grade Artifact Charming Sound Pipa.

Her divine sense swept the surroundings, and her expression shifted dramatically.

"You… are you Little Nan?" Su Mei stared warily at the figure atop the Palace Court Tree.

A man stood there, clad in white robes with a black cloak and hood, the stark contrast striking the senses.

A grotesque mask, half-crying, half-laughing, revealed only a sliver of his eyes, obscuring his gaze.

A crimson Heavy Sword slung diagonally across his back exuded raw dominance. Massive cyan flame wings, blazing with the Eight Desolations Heaven-Sweeping Flame, fluttered, heating the Spirit Realm Pearl.

At her voice, the mysterious figure glanced over.

In that moment, Su Mei froze, a heavy pressure weighing on her.

SWOOSH!

In a flash, as the flaming wings moved, he stood before her.

Su Mei inhaled sharply. Recognizing the Heavy Sword from Trong Vo Danh's ring, she'd seen it with Lan An. But this demeanor, this aura, these terrifying flame wings could this be her Little Nan?

She hesitated, uncertain.

Under Su Mei's stunned gaze, the figure removed his mask, revealing an entirely unfamiliar male face.

TWANG!

The Charming Sound Pipa let out its first note.

"Hmph…" The man felt ensnared by countless beauties, licking his lips, but his powerful soul quickly regained clarity.

Before Su Mei could act further, he swept her into his arms.

His large hand reached for his face, peeling off a thin layer of skin.

As he did, the familiar, dashing face Su Mei longed for reappeared, his voice dripping with tenderness, melting her heart: "Even my darling Mi Er didn't recognize me. This new identity… it'll do."

Xiao Qing Xuan meditated on the hotel bed.

Suddenly, her eyes snapped open. A massive, razor-sharp saber appeared, pressed against the throat of a mysterious figure who'd just materialized.

"Who are you?" she demanded, glaring.

The figure chuckled softly, setting down the Heavy Sword with a tremor that shook the room.

Inhaling her fragrance, he said lightly, "I am Wen Lang. Tuyen, as a Fifth-Turn Alchemist, you know of disguise techniques, don't you?"

Ten days passed, and the Void Refinement monk from Mortal Hidden Temple waited patiently in hidden space.

The twelve monks' injuries had somewhat healed.

"Is he still hiding in Sacred City?" one asked impatiently.

"Hmph, I don't believe he can hide forever!"

"Exactly. His last behavior suggests urgent business outside the Academy. We'll keep ambushing."

"Careful he might disguise himself to slip past!" one said shrewdly.

"No worries. He wields the Violet-Gold Sacred Flame, excels with bow and spear, and has distinctive techniques. We know his profile. He won't escape!" the Void Refinement monk said confidently.

"True!" the monks agreed.

Techniques and arts were hard to change, often marking a cultivator's or faction's identity.

For instance, Blazing Flame Palm screamed Yan Clan, just as Falling Moon Ice Palm betrayed Lan Clan.

Lan An, with his ninth-ranked Strange Flame, unique techniques, and eerie white eye, was unmistakable.

"Tuyen, slow down! My movement arts are weaker than yours," a voice interrupted their thoughts.

The monks turned toward it.

A man and woman chatted casually. The woman moved gracefully, her steps like riding clouds, but her face was plain, marred by freckles.

Behind her, an ordinary-looking man with dark eyes, clad in white-and-black robes, carried a lava-red Heavy Sword. His strides covered tens of miles, his legs brimming with strength.

The Void Refinement monk and twelve monks exchanged glances, nodding.

Sacred City's gates saw constant traffic. They scrutinized every unfamiliar male, letting them pass only after confirming they weren't the target.

This time was no different.

One of the twelve, Fan Yi (Phàm Nhất), leaped down, blocking the sword-bearing man.

"Monk, begging for alms? I've no rice, but here's coin for roasted corn!" The man, startled, grinned, tossing ten Low-Grade Spirit Stones at Fan Yi's face.

Fan Yi's face twitched. Begging, your mother! I'm a Spirit Transformation cultivator from an Eighth-Grade faction. I need your corn money?

"Amitabha, you misunderstand. You resemble an old friend. May I have your name?" Fan Yi clasped his hands.

"Old friend? Spare me, monk! That's the oldest trick! Try something new! Beautiful girls use that line to flirt, and I'd buy it. But you, all brawn and muscle, trying to cozy up? I don't swing that way, you creep!" The man pointed, roaring, as if offended.

"Wen Lang Bro, what's wrong?" Fan Yi, flushed with rage, was about to retort when the freckled girl turned back, curious.

"Oh, Tuyen, since I joined the Academy, my fame's soared. Countless beauties try every excuse—distant cousins, old friends, fated encounters. I'm handsome and gallant, so I humor them. But today…" Wen Lang clutched his chest, feigning agony, pointing at Fan Yi. "This monk dares use the same trick, wanting to feed me his banana, to taint my sword with gold… ugh, disgusting!"

Xiao Qing Xuan and her master inwardly scoffed at his shamelessness. Outwardly, she glared at Fan Yi, saying warily, "Monk, my brother's a real man. Leave him be!"

PFFT!

Fan Yi spat blood, fury overwhelming him. Pointing at Wen Lang, he roared, "I mistook you! You're not my friend you're my enemy! Take this!"

"Arhat Fist!"

His Early Spirit Transformation power surged, a fist aimed at Wen Lang's face.

"Crazy monk!" Wen Lang yelped, swinging his Heavy Sword to block.

BOOM!

The domineering fist struck the sword, bloodying Fan Yi's knuckles, but Wen Lang behind it was unharmed.

"Perverted monk! Can't seduce me, so you resort to force?" Wen Lang bellowed, his voice drawing the attention of nearby cultivators.

"Isn't that a guardian from Mortal Hidden Temple?"

"What's he doing here? Heard he's been stopping male disciples…"

"He claimed to be my old friend days ago!"

"Same! He blocked me, trying to seduce me. Blame my parents for making me too handsome even monks lust after me!"

"He only targets men, ignoring women. Clearly a banana-loving creep!"

Gossips buzzed.

Hidden in the void, the Void Refinement monk and eleven others looked as if they'd swallowed flies.

"Fan Yi, full force. If he's not the target, let them go," the Void Refinement monk transmitted.

Fan Yi nodded swiftly.

"Great Vajra Finger!"

Golden spiritual energy condensed at his fingertip, unbreakable, piercing forward, warping space.

"Ugh, playing with fingers now? My rear's burning!" Wen Lang wailed, shamelessly.

Fan Yi spat more blood but pressed on.

"Gentleman's Demon-Slaying Fist!" Wen Lang roared, channeling pure physical strength, no spiritual energy, a righteous fist carrying immense force, meeting Fan Yi's finger.

BOOM!

The collision shook the air. Fan Yi's finger snapped, and he screamed in shock.

Wen Lang, bracing behind his Heavy Sword, was more disheveled but intact.

"Again!" the Void Refinement monk ordered.

"Vajra Palm!"

Fan Yi roared, golden energy forming an indestructible palm, crushing toward Wen Lang like a mountain.

"Hmph, attacking my brother?" Xiao Qing Xuan snapped, her giant saber slashing down, rippling space.

Fan Yi was stunned she was Spirit Transformation too.

"Step back!" the hidden Void Refinement monk sighed, his hand waving, forcing Xiao Qing Xuan to retreat.

"Think I'm an easy target? Raging Flame Palm!" Wen Lang roared, cyan flames erupting, roaring furiously, slamming forward.

"Strange Flame?" The monks were shocked, not expecting this shameless man to wield one.

But their doubts cleared. No one with the Violet-Gold Sacred Flame could possess another Strange Flame like this cyan one.

Mortal Hidden Temple focused on Metal techniques, uninterested in Strange Flames.

The ferocious Raging Flame Palm shattered the Vajra Palm.

As it neared Fan Yi, a mysterious force pushed him away, saving him.

"Hmph," Wen Lang sneered inwardly. The shameless Void Refinement monk had intervened.

"Sorry, brother. I mistook you!" Fan Yi, relieved to escape, clasped his hands.

"Tuyen, you okay?" Wen Lang ignored him, rushing to his "sister."

Seizing the chance, Fan Yi fled.

Seeing her unharmed, Wen Lang sighed, turning to find the monk gone. He shouted, "Perverted monk! Come back for three hundred rounds, or I'll cut off your prized banana! I'm Wen Lang!"