Along the way, Yang Kai finally got to witness a side of Wen Zishan that few people ever saw.
A chatterbox!
He just wouldn't shut up, yammering on endlessly. Yang Kai had always suspected the man was a bit unreliable, but they'd never spent a long stretch of time together before, so he didn't know what he was really like. This trip had been an eye-opener.
First, he'd pestered Gao Xueting relentlessly, which naturally earned him nothing but a cold shoulder. In the entire Qingyang Divine Temple, only Gao Xueting dared treat him with such disregard.
After getting rebuffed by her, Wen Zishan slowed down to ride alongside Yang Kai and the others, chattering animatedly about history and legends. Luo Chen and Xiao Baiyi were both rather cold people who seldom spoke much. They offered a few polite responses out of respect for their Palace Master's dignity, then closed their eyes to rest. That left Yang Kai and Murong Xiaoxiao to bear the brunt.
Fortunately, Wen Zishan didn't pester them for too long. After half a day, he fell back to join a group of Dao Source Realm, Void King Realm, and Return Void Realm cultivators, which let Murong Xiaoxiao breathe a sigh of relief.
The disciples behind them were quite enthusiastic about it, though. The key was that since even the Palace Master himself was so approachable and unpretentious, how could they not play along? Especially the few disciples whom Wen Zishan had clapped on the shoulder and praised as "the future pillars of the Divine Temple" and "the ones the Divine Temple will depend on" — they practically glowed with pride, so excited they could barely contain themselves, practically ready to rip out their hearts and show them to Wen Zishan just to prove their unwavering loyalty to the Divine Temple.
Yang Kai glanced back every now and then, his expression shifting through a dazzling array of emotions.
He'd always thought himself a somewhat unreliable Master of Lingxiao Pavilion, but compared to Wen Zishan, that was like comparing a flickering candle to the blazing sun.
They flew onward, passing through several cities and using teleportation arrays to transfer between them.
By evening, they had arrived at the territory of Wuhua Hall.
Majestic mountain ranges stretched across the landscape, undulating like a colossal dragon crouching upon the earth. The scenery was breathtaking, filled with grandeur and wonder. Wuhua Hall was, after all, one of the top sects in the Northern Region, and naturally occupied a blessed grotto-heaven. The environment here was in no way inferior to the Qingyang Divine Temple, and it boasted an even more magnificent vista. From a distance, mist and clouds surged between the peaks, and the lingering glow of the sunset painted heaven and earth in shades of gold.
At the gate of Wuhua Hall, crowds jostled and bustled in lively fashion. Clearly, with the Martial Arts Tournament approaching, many people had already arrived. The tournament was a grand event for the entire Southern Region — not only were the rewards staggeringly generous, but even a decent showing would surely earn one the attention and patronage of senior figures. Many martial artists of humble origins also hoped to make their mark at the tournament.
This was not without precedent. Those from modest backgrounds couldn't participate in the group competitions, but in the individual bouts, anyone who performed well could usually secure a place in one of the major sects.
For the great sects, what mattered were rankings and face — the lavish prizes were secondary. But for the smaller sects and families, those rewards were positively enviable, to say nothing of the chance to leap over the dragon gate. Who would pass that up?
So every iteration of the Southern Region Martial Arts Tournament drew massive crowds, with participants too numerous to count.
Tomorrow was the day the tournament would begin. The Qingyang Divine Temple had timed their arrival precisely — as one of the top sects, they naturally had to maintain a certain air of dignity. Whatever Wen Zishan's personal shortcomings, he understood the gravity of such matters.
Today, Wuhua Hall had not activated its sect-protecting grand array, but many people were stationed outside to welcome guests.
The moment the Qingyang Divine Temple contingent landed, an elderly man dressed in black — not quite old, but well past middle age — strode forward to greet them, accompanied by a refined, scholarly-looking young man. Both possessed Emperor Realm cultivation: the elder was at the second level of the Emperor Realm, while the young man was at the first.
"Hall Master Wen graces our humble sect with his presence. Wuhua Hall is honored beyond measure. Forgive us for not coming out to meet you sooner." The half-aged elder approached with a warm smile, cupping his hands in greeting.
Wen Zishan assumed the dignified bearing of a Palace Master, as if the loquacious man on the road had been someone else entirely. He replied with a mild smile, "Elder Feng, you're too kind. So you're the one greeting guests this time?"
The half-aged elder was none other than Feng Ming, an elder of Wuhua Hall. Yang Kai had seen him more than once and was not unfamiliar with him. Feng Ming had also collaborated with Gao Xueting on multiple occasions — back during the Four Seasons Land incident, when demonic energy invaded outside Maple Leaf City and the demonic consciousness in the Southern Marsh awakened, he had been present.
However, they were of different generations and hadn't interacted much. The young man behind him, on the other hand, Yang Kai had crossed paths with.
The young man clearly spotted Yang Kai as well, and his eyes lit up. He cupped his hands and said, "Brother Yang, you're here too."
Yang Kai returned the salute. "Brother Zhuang."
The young man was none other than Zhuang Bufan, a rising star of Wuhua Hall. He had been present in the Four Seasons Land and the Shattered Star Sea, and was of the same generation as Yang Kai, Xiao Baiyi, and Murong Xiaoxiao. Naturally, they were no strangers to each other, and meeting like this meant conversation was in order.
With that, Luo Chen was left with no one to talk to. But he was cold by nature and didn't feel particularly awkward about it, standing there in silence.
While they were chatting, a sharp hissing sound suddenly came whistling toward them from the distance. Everyone turned to look, and saw a massive sword streaking rapidly across the sky from the horizon. Its terrifying sword intent seemed capable of wounding people from afar, and no one dared take it lightly.
Feng Ming smiled faintly. "Saint Master Ma has arrived."
Wen Zishan curled his lips in distaste. "He certainly knows how to pick his timing." He seemed to feel they'd arrived too early and gotten the short end of the stick.
The Southern Region Martial Arts Tournament would attract observers from the Star God Palace, and since Wen Zishan had personally led his delegation as a gesture of respect, the Heavenly Martial Sacred Land — another top power of the Southern Region — naturally wouldn't be so tactless as to send a mere proxy. Sacred Master Ma Qing had come in person.
They were all old acquaintances, so the moment Wen Zishan saw that sword light, he knew it was Ma Qing.