Chapter 24: The Backup Plan (With gratitude to Musen i for the generous reward)

The video was nothing short of spectacular. In the final moments, just as the short man seemed about to lose, it was as if some divine force descended upon him, driving his opponent back in a flurry of blows. In the end, he landed several consecutive punches to his adversary’s abdomen, sending him flying and securing an overwhelming victory.

After his win, the short man let out a triumphant laugh, tore off his T-shirt, revealing a body of corded muscle and a tattoo blazing like fire across his chest. Some sharp-eyed viewers immediately identified the design—it matched exactly the one recently shared by the Divine’s Chosen.

The revelation set the entire forum ablaze. People flocked to the video, demanding confirmation. Soon, the man himself commented, confirming that he had indeed purchased the “Blood-Burning Construct” and had relied on its power to achieve victory.

His response ignited another wave of excitement; the forum was awash with debate. Skeptics accused him of putting on a show, calling it all a hoax. Yet even more people seemed half-convinced, flooding his post with requests to release the construct suite and vowing to buy it themselves to test its authenticity.

Within a day, the forum was nearly overwhelmed—almost every thread was consumed with arguments over the construct’s veracity and speculation about the existence of such miraculous items.

Beneath almost every trending post, a user named “The Old Steed Still Gallops” left cryptic messages, acting as if he alone knew the truth but refused to reveal it.

Watching the forum come alive, Lu Ming chuckled. The effect he wanted had been achieved. The value of his constructs and other offerings would only rise from here.

For now, he would let the crowd stew, holding back until anticipation peaked. Once he had more items suitable for sacrifice, he would exchange for another construct and sell it at an astronomical price.

Exiting his post, Lu Ming wore a look of satisfaction. But then he noticed another thread climbing to the top of the forum, its title equally eye-catching:

“A Twenty-Year-Old Innate Martial Master Emerges from Nowhere.”

Innate martial artists ranked just below Grandmasters—already rare and formidable figures in the martial world. But a twenty-year-old at this level was practically unheard of.

Many martial artists spent their entire lives unable to break into the innate realm. For someone to achieve it at twenty was unprecedented—a genius with limitless potential, likely to become a Grandmaster in time.

A Grandmaster was a being apart, revered, showered with status, power, and wealth. More importantly, it was said Grandmasters could live to two hundred—nearly double an ordinary lifespan—leaving ample years to savor all of life’s pleasures.

This was why every martial artist aspired to such heights.

The post explained that this young master, Huang Zhen, had already succeeded his family as head, and was publicly challenging a nemesis to a duel in three nights’ time at midnight, at South Lake.

To be challenged by an innate master meant the target was no ordinary foe. The community buzzed with curiosity: who was this person, worthy of a prodigy’s challenge, and why make it a public spectacle?

Interest in the thread steadily grew, making it a new forum hotspot.

Lu Ming finished reading and logged off.

Huang Zhen’s theatrics left him speechless. If he wanted to fight, why make such a fuss? Clearly, he was planning to use Lu Ming as a stepping stone.

But if that was his plan, he was bound for disappointment. Lu Ming had become king of mercenaries by treading through mountains of corpses and seas of blood. Letting someone else rise at his expense? Huang Zhen was dreaming.

Thinking of the scroll Huang Zhen carried, Lu Ming smiled. If the new head of the Huang family thought he could use this as a stepping stone, he would pay dearly for it.

Lu Ming had scanned the scroll with his mental sense—it contained an immense power, perfect for sacrifice. In his heart, he had already claimed it as his own.

As for Huang Zhen, though he was a rare innate expert, Lu Ming himself had attained the same realm—he was in no way inferior. After consuming a dragon, his physical constitution had changed dramatically. Unless Huang Zhen possessed some secret technique or ultimate weapon, Lu Ming would not fear him in the slightest.

Satisfied with his assessment, Lu Ming settled down for a deep sleep.

...

Meanwhile, in the southern outskirts of Xijing City, a vast natural lake stretched for fifty miles. In its center lay a solitary island, surrounded by water, with an octagonal pavilion glowing with neon lights.

Just two years ago, the area had been wild and desolate, until an entrepreneur saw its potential and began vigorous development. After a year, South Lake had become a popular summer retreat, drawing many locals to cool off and enjoy boating—the closest such escape from the city.

Now, deep into the night, the tourists had long since departed, the pleasure boats locked at the docks.

At this moment, Huang Zhen arrived alone. He stood on the shore, gazing at the Langya Pavilion, then stepped onto the water’s surface and began walking leisurely toward the island as if strolling on solid ground, not stirring even the slightest ripple.

Had anyone witnessed this, they would have cried out in astonishment.

Reaching the island, Huang Zhen wandered to the pavilion and sat on a stone bench, hands tucked into his sleeves, eyes closed.

From beneath his feet, two powerful currents of inner energy flowed into the lake, intertwining and churning in the depths. Quickly, these energies shaped themselves into a water dragon, rampaging across the lakebed, sending fish fleeing in all directions. In moments, the dragon had inspected every corner of the lake before spiraling to its center, whirling clockwise.

Gradually, the entire lake began to rotate. The once-placid water rose more than thirty feet above the banks, spinning into a towering spectacle. Yet when it finally subsided, not a single drop overflowed the shore.

Huang Zhen opened his eyes, a strange smile on his demonic face. He was now one with the lake itself.

A peerless talent, he had known at first glance that Lu Ming was no ordinary master, though he couldn’t quite say why. Yet it hardly mattered—no matter how exceptional, anyone who faced him would die. And the dead were nothing.

Here, he would lay a killing formation for Lu Ming, using his strength to forge the foundation of the Huang family’s rise. He would prove to the world that Grandmasters were not so invincible, and the innate realm could be just as supreme.

Slowly, Huang Zhen closed his eyes again, falling into the deepest meditation, while beneath him his inner energy continued to surge through the lake, weaving ceaselessly in the water.

...

Elsewhere, in the governor’s villa, Mu Weizhen watched Yun Shengguo sleep, lost in thought. After a long silence, she slipped from the bedroom to the living room, took out her phone, and dialed a number.

After a moment, the call connected. “Hello, Aunt Mu.”

“Yang Jun, how have you been? And your grandfather, is he well?” Mu Weizhen asked gently.

“We’re both fine, thank you for asking,” came the deep voice on the other end.

“That’s good. Yang Jun, didn’t you always enjoy watching martial duels? In two days, there’s supposed to be a great battle between innate masters here in Xijing. Are you interested?”

“Aunt Mu, what brings this on? Inviting me to watch a martial duel?”

She hesitated, then confided, “I won’t hide it from you—one of the fighters, Lu Ming, tricked Ke Tian out of something important. I’d like your help to recover it; it’s your Uncle Yun’s lifeblood.”

There was a pause. “Someone dares steal from Uncle Yun? That takes guts. All right, I’ll come tomorrow. It’s been too long since I visited you and Uncle Yun anyway.”

Mu Weizhen smiled. “You’re such a good boy, Jun. I’ll be waiting. And how are things with you and Mu Qian?”

An awkward silence. “Still the same.”

“You know, boys should take the initiative—girls are always shy.”

“I understand, Aunt Mu. I’ll see you and Uncle Yun tomorrow.”

He hung up hurriedly.

Mu Weizhen set the phone down, her smile fading.

Yang Jun, grandson of China’s God of War, Yang Xin—a scholar who, in the early days after the founding of the nation, had led armies with brilliant strategy, never tasting defeat, earning the title Military God.

His son, like him, was a gentle soul, serving in the General Staff. But his grandson’s talent was extraordinary. By three, Yang Jun could lift thirty pounds; by ten, a hundred.

Yang Xin, overjoyed, took special care in training him. As Yang Jun grew, his strength became ever more astonishing. By sixteen, he was undefeated among the troops and sent to the elite Yanlong Special Forces.

On his first day, he bested an innate-level instructor in three blows, earning the nickname “Little Overlord Invincible” in the army.

His father was a close friend of Mu Weizhen’s brother, and she had watched Yang Jun grow up. She knew well his frightening abilities and his passion for martial combat.

Her invitation was more than a precaution—she harbored a deeper purpose for bringing Yang Jun here.