Chapter 116: Lin Da Pao

“Oh!? You dare hit me!! Try hitting me back and see what happens!”

The old man smiled faintly, not even glancing at the burly man. He reached into a nylon bag and pulled out a human skull, inside of which was a substance resembling soft tofu. He tilted his head back and swallowed it down. Witnessing this, Song Nianqiang’s heart pounded wildly. “Who on earth is this old fellow!?”

Noticing the old man’s movement, the burly man slowed his steps, hesitating briefly before continuing forward. “I don’t care who you are. Anyone who dares disturb us brothers while we’re eating today, I’ll beat them until they can’t take care of themselves!” The burly man charged ahead with reckless abandon. Song Nianqiang tensed behind him, ready to act immediately should anything happen.

The burly man’s fist shot toward the old man, but suddenly there was nothing in front of him— the old man had slid backward a meter in place. At that moment, the old man’s pale finger suddenly shot toward the burly man. A flash of white light struck him, and the burly man was violently thrown backward.

The sudden turn caught Song Nianqiang off guard. When he finally saw clearly, the burly man was already sprawled on the ground. Given the man’s corpulent frame, the blow seemed to have little effect. As Song Nianqiang bent down to check on him, the old man suddenly leapt up, now wielding a radiant crimson skull, and forcefully hurled it toward Song Nianqiang.

“Cough! Cough!”

Just as the crimson skull was about to strike, two rapid coughs echoed sharply. The old man shuddered violently and quickly retreated, his eyes wide with terror as they fixed on the doorway. After a few minutes, an elderly figure finally arrived, unhurried yet purposeful.

Song Nianqiang recognized him immediately— the very man who had sold him the Ghost King talisman and had saved his life from the Skinning Ghost’s clutches. This time, however, the elder was not alone. Behind him followed a young man around twenty-six or twenty-seven, whose face wore a mischievous grin. Scanning the room upon entry, that impish smile deepened noticeably.

“You old ghost! You’re still alive!!” The old man clutching the crimson skull was visibly stunned, his expression even more intense than a devout Christian beholding Jesus. Gripping the skull tightly, he swallowed hard, his voice trembling as he said this.

“Heh heh, what a beautiful world this is. How could I bear to leave it?” The elderly man who had sold Song Nianqiang the talisman replied with a warm smile. Yet to the old man holding the crimson skull, that smile was like the devil’s grin. To encounter this bane here was undoubtedly a death sentence.

“Fine then, since I’m so unlucky, kill me if you will. Do as you please!” The old man with the crimson skull suddenly abandoned all resistance, his expression one of having accepted life and death alike, indifferent to fate.

Seeing this, Song Nianqiang couldn’t help but laugh. “What a piece of work—giving up without a fight. How pathetic!” The burly man rubbed his chest, nodding vigorously in agreement with Song Nianqiang’s assessment.

Neither of them knew the full history of the generations before them. Three generations ago, there was a ruthless murder demon king who acted solely on whim, indifferent to good or evil. The world’s greatest warriors lived in fear under his shadow for thirty years—a nightmare from which they could not escape, as their lives were never truly their own. At any moment, the demon king could claim them.

Those thirty years were turbulent times, with endless conflicts and wars raging across countries. War brought death, and death bred ghosts. The demon king, invincible among humans, soon turned his sights on the ghostly entities.

But he soon realized that ghosts were weaker than humans, save for the most powerful ruler of hell—the Ghost King. The Ghost King was the supreme ruler of the underworld. Despite frequent battles and ghosts appearing among mortals, those who came were swiftly dealt with by the demon king. Thus, the strongest of the twelve Ghost Kings descended to the mortal realm.

In the Hengduan Mountains, the Ghost King and the demon king clashed fiercely. In the end, the Ghost King was slain and transformed into a Ghost King talisman. From that day, ghosts vanished, and human wars gradually drew to a close.

After that battle, the demon king perhaps grew weary of worldly strife or felt no one remained a worthy adversary. He gradually withdrew from the world, supposedly taking on a disciple to whom he imparted his most profound soul arts—thus beginning the disciple’s legendary path.

Now the demon king had reappeared. Coincidentally, the old man with the crimson skull lived in the same era. Upon seeing him, he immediately gave up resistance, fully aware that no matter what he did, the outcome would be the same.

“Heh heh, don’t rush. I haven’t moved in a long time, and today is no different,” the reawakened demon king smiled, then pointed to the young man beside him. “Your opponent today is him. Win, and you leave. Lose, and you die.” Though the demon king’s fierce edge had been dulled by time, the words inadvertently radiated an undeniable authority.

The old man with the crimson skull’s eyes, once dull, suddenly brightened as though a dying man had glimpsed the dawn of hope. “Good! I trust the elder’s word!” It was only now that Song Nianqiang learned the name of the man who sold him the talisman: the Elder, perhaps a title of respect.

“Heh heh, old man, come on and let me warm up. Don’t just stand there!” The young man named Lin Dapao lived up to his name—fond of boasting and chasing women. Yet his strength was undeniable, as the Elder’s newly accepted disciple. To be weak would shame the Elder’s reputation.

“Kid, don’t think you’re fearless just because the Elder is on your side. Remember, the Elder said he won’t intervene!” The old man with the crimson skull said this to remind the Elder that, as a man of principle, he would not go back on his word.

“Damn it! Old man, are you going to fight or not? If not, go home and drink your milk! Don’t waste my time chasing girls!” Lin Dapao snapped, grabbing two straws from the self-service counter, placing one in his mouth while casually flicking the other toward the old man.

Though just a straw, in Lin Dapao’s hands it transformed—speeding forward like an arrow loosed from a bow, aimed straight at the old man.

With no worries now, the old man lifted the crimson skull to meet the attack. The straw struck the skull, which was no ordinary artifact; the impact caused the straw to begin melting.

Only now did Song Nianqiang feel grateful for the Elder’s timely arrival and that well-timed cough. Had it been a second later, he could only imagine the consequences.

“Eh!?” Lin Dapao’s curiosity piqued as he saw the straw melting. A fierce gleam ignited in his eyes. “Hand over that skull, and I’ll let you leave!”

“Hmph! Youngster! Dream on!” The old man shot up and launched himself at Lin Dapao.