Chapter Seventy-Three: Reunion with the Ghost King of Mang Mountain

At this moment, Leng Bingyan was utterly infuriated. She had thought she could easily defeat King Arthur, never expecting him to possess such a treasure. King Arthur's own strength was not remarkable—at best, he matched an ordinary celestial immortal. What made him formidable was his treasure: the “Scroll,” bestowed by Jehovah himself, crafted with the full might of the deity. For a brief instant, its power was equivalent to a full-force blow from Jehovah.

Ordinarily, with the power of an early-stage Immortal Emperor, Bingyan could have disregarded it entirely. Even without the Linyu body, she could almost fully wield that strength. Compared to Jehovah’s celestial lord level, she was by no means inferior. Yet she had underestimated her foe. She had never anticipated that King Arthur would possess such a secret weapon, and so she had maintained only the strength of a golden immortal, hoping to conserve her immortal energy. When the scroll erupted, she had no choice but to transform into the Linyu form.

As the orb of light exploded, King Arthur realized things had taken an unexpected turn, rapidly spiraling beyond his control. A strange bitterness crept into his heart. How long had it been since he felt so powerless? He searched for Bingyan’s small figure, but she was nowhere to be seen—only a girl clad in resplendent divine robes stood before him.

Now, Bingyan was wrapped in a robe of white gauze, her pale violet hair cascading nearly to her waist, its carefree elegance both ethereal and illusory. So mysterious, so noble—King Arthur, rugged man though he was, could not help but feel his heart quicken at the sight.

“My God, can there truly be such a holy and perfect woman in this world? Oh no, she must be a goddess!” King Arthur exclaimed in heartfelt admiration. Yet in the next moment, he wondered—why did she seem a little angry?

Indeed, Bingyan was truly angry. Her delicate features bore a hint of displeasure. In truth, she was quite furious, but perhaps because of her charming appearance, her anger seemed almost endearing rather than fearsome.

“King Arthur, you have truly incensed me,” Leng Bingyan said, her soft voice carrying a charm impossible to describe—a seductive power that made even a few words potent.

“King Arthur, you have truly incensed me.” King Arthur muttered the phrase to himself, puzzled as to how he had offended this beautiful “goddess.” Suddenly, his pupils contracted. In disbelief, he asked, “You are Wangqing?!”

“Indeed!” Bingyan answered proudly. “So, tell me, how should I settle this score with you? Either way, you’re in for it!”

Heavens, King Arthur nearly fainted. He never imagined that the beautiful girl before him was the very same formidable foe he had tried to destroy earlier. Not long ago, he had attempted to kill someone so lovely—though he had failed, it was hardly becoming of a British gentleman. If he had known that “Wangqing” was such a beautiful girl, he could never have attacked her.

All men cherish beauty; all adore the lovable.

Now Bingyan found herself troubled: how should she punish him? To kill him? No, that would be unreasonable. King Arthur, after all, had not done anything truly evil; he even upheld justice in his realm. Could she simply let him go? She shook her head—she could not bring herself to do so.

As she hesitated, the clouds above began to churn. Bingyan’s attention was instantly drawn skyward, where the clouds gathered, heavy and portentous.

A flash of white light split the air—a grand door, three meters wide and four meters high, appeared among the clouds.

Is this really necessary? Bingyan sighed. The door, suspended in midair, flickered with a few shards of white light before slowly swinging open.

“The Gate of Space!” came Ziling’s voice within Bingyan’s consciousness, her figure, identical to Bingyan’s female form, gradually emerging.

“Yes,” Bingyan nodded. By all indications, the apparition atop the clouds was indeed the Gate of Space. As the door opened, a mysterious and unknown aura enveloped Bingyan and King Arthur below.

Bingyan had seen the Gate of Space before—when she encountered the Ghost King of Mount Mangshan—so her reaction was not so strong. King Arthur, however, was utterly stupefied. He had never witnessed the Gate of Space, but he knew of it from ancient legend: it was the very gateway through which gods descended to the mortal world!

The Gate of Space paid no heed to the emotions of those below. It continued on its course, and before long had opened fully. For a brief moment, the empty doorway stood silent. Then, from the other side, a figure emerged.

“Haha!” The voice preceded the man, a hearty laugh resounding before a figure materialized in front of Bingyan. “Envoy, how about that? Didn’t expect to see this old ghost again so soon, did you?” So bold, so unrestrained—who else could it be in Bingyan’s mind but the inimitable Ghost King of Mount Mangshan?

Indeed, it was none other than the Ghost King whom Bingyan had met before. He had not changed—a stature even more imposing than King Arthur’s, a hearty voice, impossible for Bingyan to mistake.

“Ghost King…” Bingyan teleported to his side and greeted him softly.

“Just call me Ghost King, Envoy. Calling me ‘senior’ is more than I deserve,” the Ghost King replied, true to his nature, unbound by the formalities of cultivators. He hardly seemed like a practitioner at all—perhaps he had indeed transcended the realm of cultivation and now moved with the times? Bingyan wondered, but in truth, she rather liked the Ghost King’s style.

At that moment, the Ghost King began to scrutinize Bingyan, growing more astonished the longer he looked at this lovely girl. His thoughts spun as he wore a look of surprise.

Bingyan realized what was happening and immediately felt ill at ease, as though her secrets were laid bare before him.

After a moment, the Ghost King burst out laughing. “Envoy, you are truly extraordinary! Before, I thought you were a man, but now, after just a month, I find I’ve been deceived! Remarkable, truly remarkable!” He repeated his praise several times, admiring Bingyan’s disguise. During their first meeting, she had fooled even his experienced eyes. “So, the Envoy is a girl—a female Immortal Emperor at the earliest stage, exceedingly rare indeed!”

Bingyan could guess his thoughts and felt at a loss for words. After a moment’s resolve, she leaned closer and whispered, “Actually, I’m male—I can shift freely between man and woman…”

She spoke the truth, for in her heart she had always regarded the Ghost King as an elder, much as she did the Ancestor of Ten Thousand Demons. When he stood before her, she always felt a sense of nostalgia, as if he were her Grandpa Mo. Perhaps their auras were similar. In his presence, Bingyan felt no need for restraint.

The Ghost King, hearing this secret, stared at her in disbelief, examining her closely, unable to fathom such a thing.

“May I ask who you are?” At this point, King Arthur, who had been forgotten to the side, finally spoke. His interruption broke Bingyan’s embarrassment.

The Ghost King, deep in thought, was abruptly disturbed and was none too pleased. He was straightforward in all things—what was direct was direct. Without another word, he swung his palm. “Wham—” Poor King Arthur was sent flying.

His figure plummeted straight down and crashed into the sea with a thunderous boom, sending up a cascade of waves. The water gradually stilled, leaving behind only a few lingering ripples.

Bingyan was stunned for a moment, then silently prayed for King Arthur. He really was rather pitiful.

The Ghost King gave a few awkward chuckles. “A slip, a slip—my hand slipped…” Why do my hands never slip? Bingyan wondered. If she “slipped” a few times, wouldn’t King Arthur be dead by now?

“Envoy, I won’t waste words. I’ve come to ask you a question.” The Ghost King grew serious, getting straight to the point.

“What is it?” Bingyan, understanding the gravity of his tone, realized it must be no small matter.

“Not long ago, while I was in my own realm, I sensed a sudden surge of powerful energy in the West. I wanted to ask if you were responsible.”

Relieved, Bingyan realized it was nothing dire after all—just this. She had already guessed that the surge he referred to was caused when the Purple Sword lifted a seal. Recalling the tremendous force it unleashed, it was no surprise that a top expert like the Ghost King would sense it.

She nodded. “Yes, that powerful surge was indeed related to me. It was caused when my Purple Sword lifted a seal.”

The Ghost King said nothing, but inwardly heaved a sigh of relief. The aura radiating from the Purple Sword at that time was enough to rival the peak of an Immortal Emperor. For such a power to appear in the West—of course the Ghost King, as one of the East’s great powers, had been alarmed. Now that he knew it was a false alarm, he felt much more at ease.

Seeing the sweat on his brow, Bingyan felt a bit guilty. In a sense, this was her doing.

“By the way, Envoy, there’s another matter,” the Ghost King said suddenly, his expression turning grave once more.

What now? Bingyan tensed again.

Before she could ask, the Ghost King seized her hand. With a flash, the two vanished from where they stood. Blue sky and white clouds returned to tranquility. Before long, the sea stirred, and a middle-aged man emerged from the waves.

It was King Arthur. Thinking of how easily he had been struck into the depths, plunging thousands of meters underwater, he could not help but shudder—those two truly were terrifying.

“Terrifying East, terrifying Eastern powers!” he muttered, then slowly flew toward the British coastline…