Decaying World-Chapter 30

Having spent many years at Clear Wind Temple, Mingde commanded significant prestige in Xinyu Town. Even among the dozens of towns in the Outer City, he was counted among the rare few experts. In terms of status, voice, and influence, even veteran Called Ones who had been inducted for years might not compare to him.
His standing was far beyond what Lin Hui's cousin, Lin Hongzhen, could have matched before her injury, and certainly leagues above the likes of Lin Hongyu, who hadn't even passed the Call.
Theoretically, a successful Call guaranteed that one would eventually reach an Internal Force Realm comparable to Mingde’s. However, actual combat power involved variables such as practical experience, on-the-spot performance, and the martial arts techniques employed.
In reality, after receiving the Call, it typically took several years before one could hope to match the strength of an Internal Force Realm expert.
Thinking of this, the vague sense of crisis that had lingered in Lin Hui’s heart alleviated considerably.
Having confirmed the master-disciple relationship, he returned to his original spot to continue watching the ring battles. It was now time for Third Senior Sister Mu Qiaozhi to take the stage and cross swords with the Second Senior Brother.
The two moved as fast as lightning, their figures blurring into indistinguishability. From the clashing longswords, one could only see exploding sparks and hear the dense, rain-like crack of impacts; nothing else was visible.
Inexplicable sword gouges appeared sporadically on the ring’s floor and the surrounding wooden fences.
Both maintained a speed slightly inferior to Lin Hui’s Lightness special effect, yet they were terrifyingly stable. Over a hundred moves passed in a flash, and neither showed any sign of exhaustion.
Lin Hui watched from below, sighing in admiration as he calculated how long he could last against them.
Relying on the Lightness effect, he might manage a draw—after all, his speed was faster—but his swordsmanship was abysmal.
If he didn't activate the special effect, he wouldn't last ten moves.
Soon, Mu Qiaozhi was defeated. Finally, the First Senior Brother took the stage. In a relaxed exchange of a dozen moves, he knocked Second Senior Brother Zhao Jiang'an off the platform.
Neither changed expression; clearly, this result had been anticipated.
The First Senior Brother’s strength existed in a tier of its own, a complete disconnect from the rest.
Although their speeds were similar, his understanding of the moves operated on an entirely different level.
After the Grand Competition came the announcement of rewards.
First, the top ten received their prizes: a custom-made heart-protecting inner armor for each. The material had been stripped from the carcass of a mist monster hunted personally by Daoist Baohe.
Next was the five-win streak reward. Only Lin Hui had achieved this.
It was an item called Tranquil Incense.
"This item can be ignited after entering the mist to guarantee safety within a ten-meter radius. It disperses the mist's erosion on the human body," Huishen introduced in a low voice as he delivered the prize to Lin Hui.
Clearly, he was attempting to smooth over his previous change in attitude.
He hadn't expected that after the Lin family's fall and the loss of his Called One backer, Lin Hui would rely on himself to charge upward, now even entering Perfected Mingde’s lineage directly. His potential was extraordinary.
This made Huishen feel a pang of regret for his earlier pragmatism.
"Many thanks." Lin Hui accepted the Tranquil Incense and examined it.
It was an amber-colored object the size of a fist, irregular in shape. It felt warm and soft to the touch and carried the scent of pine.
He guessed it might be made from pine resin.
After quickly measuring his size for the custom inner armor, Lin Hui accompanied Chen Zhishen and his nephew around the Daoist temple, chatting for a while before seeing them off.
The sky grew dark. The spectators in the stands departed one by one. Carriages and pedestrians dispersed, and Clear Wind Temple returned to its relative desolation.
After the dispersal, Mingde summoned him to his residence.
Two other disciples had already gathered there—a man and a woman, ranked eighth and ninth in the recent competition.
"Come, come, let me introduce you. This is Wang Yun, ranked one place ahead of you. Her family is in the timber business," Mingde introduced Lin Hui with a chuckle, pointing to the girl.
The girl had short-cropped hair and a robust physique. Her features were masculine; without looking closely, one wouldn't realize she was female.
Hearing the introduction, she nodded amicably at Lin Hui.
"Junior Brother Lin, just call me by my name. If you need to borrow money, find me anytime." She was clearly a wealthy sort, her tone impressively grand.
"Wang Yun's family is a massive timber merchant spanning three towns. Her clan has branches in the Inner City too, with wide connections. I'm different—a loner," the other man introduced himself with a smile. "I am Deng Mingchao, ranked second under Master Mingde."
"Greetings, Senior Sister Wang, Senior Brother Deng." Lin Hui bowed earnestly to the pair.
"Father, what about me?" At that moment, a curvaceous, fiery woman walked out from the inner room. She was no more than twenty, yet her appearance was seductive. Her legs were long, her waist-to-hip ratio astoundingly perfect. A tight black-purple leather outfit accentuated her figure flawlessly.
"This is my daughter, Weiwei. She follows me in martial arts practice but isn't listed in the temple registry. You can just call her Third Senior Sister," Mingde said helplessly.
"Greetings, Third Senior Sister." Lin Hui bowed again.
"Mn, not bad." Weiwei smiled with satisfaction. "I admit I misjudged you before. Your potential and aptitude are decent, and your luck isn't bad either. Studying under my father, you'll definitely patch up your swordsmanship quickly!"
"Many thanks, Senior Sister." Lin Hui nodded.
Weiwei had harbored some resistance toward Lin Hui previously, but seeing his polite demeanor and knowledge of etiquette, her rejection faded.
Though she still held a slight grudge over the gifted sword.
After the introductions, Mingde took a sheet of yellow paper from a drawer and handed it to the three disciples.
"I called you here today because there's a good opportunity. You can choose for yourselves." He paused, then continued, "The town Security Station wants to expand the Emergency Suppression Squad. They’ve already taken six people, and now they need three more. Who among you is willing to go?"
"I won't go. Let them have it," Senior Sister Wang Yun said casually. Her family didn't lack those benefits, and she didn't care for the executive authority. She practiced martial arts mostly as a hobby.
"Alright. And you two?" Mingde looked at Deng Mingchao and Lin Hui.
"I'm willing!" Deng Mingchao accepted decisively. "A single mission pays at least ten thousand, up to thirty thousand. Not going would be a loss. Not to mention the provisional execution authority."
Lin Hui quickly inquired about the nature of this execution authority, then accepted decisively as well.
Never mind the generous pay—even without it, the execution authority alone made joining worthwhile.
"Good. Assuming the role of Master, I will submit the list to the Security Station for selection." Mingde smiled, picking up a brush to record their names.
Just as he dipped the brush in ink and wrote halfway—
Bang!
A muffled sound exploded abruptly from the direction of the Daoist temple outside.
It was immediately followed by a loud shout.
"Song Zhanlong of Xingdao invites Daoist Baohe to a battle!"
The voice was loud and resonant, echoing in layers as it penetrated the temple continuously.
Mingde’s expression changed. He put down the brush, his figure flashing to the door. He pushed it open and looked toward the temple.
The others followed suit.
Inside the Daoist temple, a buzzing commotion erupted. The disciples who had just dispersed walked out one after another, looking toward a figure standing at the main gate.
Daoist Baohe was already standing in the front courtyard drill grounds, his gaze heavy as he stared fixedly at the intruder.
Behind him stood Mingchen and Mingxiu, along with a crowd of Front Courtyard disciples.
Everyone looked toward the man at the gate.
He had a head full of red hair and a cold face. His frame was lean and long. He appeared to be a man in black, around forty or fifty years old.
His right hand was encased in a massive black metal claw. The fingertips of the claw were sharp and gleaming with cold light. Inverted spines grew at the joints, and the finger pads and palm were engraved with exquisite patterns. It looked more like an ancient artifact than a weapon.
"Fellow Daoist Baohe, do you dare to accept the challenge?" the newcomer called out loudly.
"Why would I not dare? Does my friend have a title?"
Baohe took a deep breath. In front of so many disciples, if he dared not accept, the reputation of Clear Wind Temple would be ruined.
So he had to accept, whether he wanted to or not. This was an inescapable path. The opponent had clearly counted on this, choosing to challenge during the festival when the temple was most lively, and attendance was fullest.
"A nameless nobody, not worth mentioning." Song Zhanlong’s expression remained unmoved as he walked step by step into the temple drill grounds.
"Clear the field."
Soon, the crowd cleared a large empty space for the two to fight.
Mingde led Lin Hui and the other three to stand in the distance, watching with worry.
Snowflakes fell more densely, smashing against the ground with tiny sounds in the silence where even the drop of broken snow could be heard.
Song Zhanlong and Baohe approached each other, stood still, and locked eyes.
"I heard long ago that many people from the Xingdao District came to stir up trouble everywhere. This poor Daoist was rejoicing in his good luck that no one had come to find me. Now it seems..." Baohe smiled bitterly.
"Pick off the strong ones first, then the periphery. That is our custom," Song Zhanlong said casually. "Make your move. I can give you a handicap of three moves."
"Your Excellency is arrogant. Are you truly that confident?" Daoist Baohe raised an eyebrow.
"I gave the Flying Cloud Fist three moves too. You and he are evenly matched; if you don't want the handicap, that's fine." Song Zhanlong smiled.
Immediately, he stepped forward, raising his right claw. His robes fluttered without wind, and a faint, thin layer of white light lit up vaguely on his skin and face.
"Don't say I didn't give you a chance!"
Chi!
He charged suddenly, his body like a black python, snapping toward Baohe like lightning.
Clang!
Baohe struck with his sword simultaneously, stabbing precisely at the center of the man's brow, yet it produced only a crisp clang.
Not only that, the sword blade jumped like lightning, stabbing the man five times in an instant, but each strike only emitted the sound of metal clashing against iron.
In a flash, the man closed in. The black claw turned into a blur of shadows, enveloping Baohe.
His speed wasn't fast, but his moves were stable and heavy, carrying immense force. He abandoned all defense, even closing his eyes, relying solely on his ears to strike.
Bang bang bang!!
In an instant, three heavy explosions burst out.
Baohe retreated with a muffled grunt, unfolding his movement technique. Three phantom images materialized around him in an instant, attacking Song Zhanlong from three points simultaneously.
But it was futile. The tips of the three phantom swords stabbed into the defenseless Song Zhanlong, producing only crisp collisions.
Song Zhanlong waved his claw casually, sending a rain of black shadows sweeping across a large area, crushing the sword images directly.
Bang!
His claw shadow grazed the stone wall of the drill grounds, easily smashing out a pit the size of a washbasin and a palm deep.
Wherever the black claw passed, whether it was metal weapons on the rack or hard, heavy decorative rockeries, everything snapped like tofu, unable to withstand a single blow.
Seeing this, a premonition of doom rose in everyone's hearts.
But before the crowd could think further, after a dozen moves, a scream rang out abruptly.
Daoist Baohe flew backward, crashing ruthlessly onto the drill ground floor, vomiting mouthfuls of blood.
The precious sword in his hand still glowed with a shimmering white light, weak yet eye-catching, but at this moment, it was meaningless.
"Conceded!" Song Zhanlong retracted his claw and spoke casually. He turned and walked out of the main gate with a look of boredom. Before long, he boarded a black-purple carriage parked outside and sped away.
Inside the entire Clear Wind Temple, everyone was deathly silent. Only Daoist Baohe's young attendant and the three 'Ming' generation masters reacted quickly, rushing forward to help Baohe up.
But by then, Baohe had already fainted. His figure was tightly blocked by the people crowding around him.
Lin Hui and the others could only see the bright red blood flowing through the gaps in the crowd, quietly staining the pure white snow on the ground.
And at this moment, everyone—all the disciples—finally reacted to what had happened.
Daoist Baohe had lost.
Lost miserably.
And the challenger hadn't even suffered a light injury. This meant the gap in strength between the two sides was glaringly obvious.
As the strongest person in Clear Wind Temple, Daoist Baohe’s sudden fall would undoubtedly bring huge consequences.
Lin Hui watched as the crowd carried Baohe into the wing room to check his injuries, a heavy oppression breeding in his heart.
He had a premonition that Clear Wind Temple might face a massive change next.
No, listening to what Song Zhanlong said just now, perhaps the martial halls of all the surrounding towns would face a similar fate.