Chapter Eight: The Palace Facing the Heavens

“A grandmaster? Perhaps, you could say that.” Jiang An surmised that what they called a grandmaster here probably referred to some ranking system among Earth's martial artists. He neither confirmed nor denied it.

The middle-aged man's heart raced. The sight of Jiang An’s youthful face—he couldn’t have been more than twenty-four or twenty-five—was simply astonishing. After all, even the greatest cultivation prodigy in their entire thousand-year history only reached grandmaster at twenty-seven, and most attained that level after thirty-five. The strain of enduring a grandmaster’s presence left him dripping with cold sweat, his demeanor growing increasingly respectful. He understood well the terrifying prowess of a grandmaster—such a person could even withstand bullets with their bare flesh.

Thus, Pei Yongxi could only ingratiate himself, saying, “Please, sir, have a seat. I am Pei Yongxi, a disciple of Grandmaster Choi Shinjang from Hansong Residence in Goryeo. Might you know my master?”

“I do not,” Jiang An replied casually, taking a seat as he followed Pei.

Sensing Jiang An’s contempt for his master, Pei Yongxi felt deeply offended but dared not show it. He continued, “There may be a hundred grandmasters scattered across the world, most living in seclusion. It’s only natural you haven’t met my master. However, two months ago, I had the honor of meeting Qi Tiancong, the newly ascended grandmaster from the first family of Lin City…”

“That’s enough,” Jiang An interrupted, waving aside his attempt to foster a connection. “No need to beat around the bush. I’m not going to do anything to you. I just want to know where you got this pendant. If you keep rambling, I’ll cripple you with a single strike.”

“Yes, yes!” Pei Yongxi exhaled in relief, wiping the sweat from his brow as he forced a smile. “The pendant is made from a rare jade found within stone, which was sold to our dojo at a high price by Old Master Dao, head of the ‘Divine Blade Sect,’ one of Lin City’s three great gangs.”

“Are you telling the truth?”

“I swear every word is true! I wouldn’t dare deceive a grandmaster,” Pei Yongxi pledged earnestly.

“Where can I find this Old Master Dao most quickly?”

“According to the rumors, Old Master Dao normally resides in the underground chamber of the Black Cat Bar in the Xizhao District…”

“Interesting. So the head of a gang lives somewhere so public? Isn’t he afraid of being killed?”

Pei Yongxi became increasingly certain this mysterious grandmaster was not a local—he seemed clueless about even the most basic affairs. Patiently, he explained, “Among the three major gangs, only Old Master Dao is bold enough to not fear assassination. The ‘Black Jiao Society’ leader, Boss Bai, is as cunning as a fox—no one knows where he lives. As for the ‘United Harmony Gang,’ no one even knows what their leader, Lady Feng, looks like; only that she’s a woman.”

Jiang An nodded, then suddenly smiled. “You’re quite familiar with Lin City’s power structure for a Goryeo native.”

At these words, Pei Yongxi’s pupils contracted and his heart, which had just calmed, leapt back to his throat. He forced a laugh, “You’re joking, sir. These are just rumors from the martial world—anyone can learn them with a bit of digging. Ordinary folks don’t know because they’re not part of this circle.”

Jiang An smiled without replying. He considered whether to silence this man to keep his plans from leaking—but dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. Killing was easy, but dealing with the aftermath was troublesome and he couldn’t just slaughter everyone here. This wasn’t the Immortal Realm, and with his current weak cultivation, he’d best avoid causing deaths. After all, China was a great nation with deep foundations; it was unwise to invite unnecessary trouble.

Besides, he hadn’t concealed his face today, and there were other things to consider.

Unaware that he’d narrowly escaped death, Pei Yongxi watched Jiang An, waiting anxiously until Jiang An finally spoke: “I don’t want a second person to know about our conversation today. If word gets out… well, you know the consequences.”

“Understood! I swear to keep silent!” Pei Yongxi hurriedly promised.

“Good.” With that, Jiang An rose and strode toward the door, Pei Yongxi sending him off respectfully before returning to his training room. There, his knees buckled and he collapsed to the floor, both terrified and relieved—then tinged with envy. When would he ever reach grandmaster? Or would he ever reach it in this life? He was still far from the peak of Internal Strength.

For now, the most urgent thing was to inform his master immediately—a mysterious young grandmaster had appeared in China, and the Heaven Ranking would surely change!

…

Prince’s Street in Xizhao District was Lin City’s famous bar street. Every night, it was packed with men and women in search of excitement. The largest—and certainly the most expensive—venue was the “Black Cat Bar.” Only the wealthy or the bold dared to cross its threshold.

At the entrance, members swiped their cards to enter, while first-timers had to pay an entry fee of 666 yuan. The more exclusive it was, the greater the crowds it attracted.

With a calm expression, Jiang An paid the fee and entered. The vast space was decorated in a wild, mysterious style: bar counters, booths, dance floors, private rooms—all filled with a riot of hedonistic young men and women. Uniformed servers flitted back and forth like butterflies, delivering colorful drinks. Everywhere, neon lights flashed and the air was thick with the intoxicating haze of excess.

Jiang An quietly observed as he moved through the bar. He took a seat in a corner by the bar, ordered a random drink, and bided his time, searching for an opportunity. If only his spiritual sense remained—one sweep would have laid everything bare.

Lost in thought, he was suddenly enveloped by a wave of perfume mixed with alcohol. A voluptuous figure clung to him. He looked up to see a pretty young woman, her hair disheveled, flushed with drink. She slurred, “Hey handsome, won’t you have a drink with me…”

Jiang An was at a loss for words and was about to refuse when he gently pushed her face aside. The next second, she vomited copiously, drawing curses from those nearby.

“Damn, my designer shoes!”

“Watch it!”

“Dude, if she’s your girlfriend, keep her in check. If not, get a room already, will you?”

Jiang An could only sigh. He helped the woman to a seat by the bar and let her rest. She continued to mutter, “You bastard, breaking up with me… I’m not afraid, I’ve got plenty of suitors…” Her voice faded as she slumped, overcome by dizziness.

Nearby, a group of well-dressed young men and women laughed raucously. At their center, a drunken young man in a shirt—cigarette in one hand, a bottle of Rémy Martin in the other—shouted, “Damn, this is the life! My old man grounded me for a month—I was about to go crazy!”

“You said it, Young Master Liu! We missed you so much.”

“Yeah, without you, the fun’s just not the same.”

“Your dad’s harsh. All that just for messing around with a girl?”

“Heh, let him punish me—my mom always gets me out of trouble anyway.” He took a long swig, his eyes gleaming with pride. “You guys don’t know what happened. It was supposed to be some campus couple—so I slapped a wad of cash in the guy’s face and said, ‘Here’s ten or twenty grand. Take it and leave if you know what’s good for you. Let me have your girlfriend. If not, I’ll have people break your legs and then take her anyway!’ The guy grabbed the money and ran—what a pathetic sight! God, I laughed so hard!”

“Hahaha!”

“Too bad we missed it! Would’ve loved to see you in action.”

“Yeah, next time call us!”

“No need to wait! Let’s pick someone from this bar right now, and I’ll show you how it’s done. Hmm… That one! Damn, out here acting all aloof and scholarly—I hate those types most! Watch me.”

Everyone followed Liu’s gaze to the bar’s corner, where a handsome young man sat expressionless, his posture elegant despite his plain clothes. Clearly not a big spender—a perfect target for Liu’s antics. The group settled in to watch the show.

Meanwhile, Jiang An had already pinpointed the hidden passage to the basement. Before he could act, the drunken young man staggered over. Without a word, he spat a mouthful of phlegm into Jiang An’s glass, flashed a wicked smile, and said, “Drink this and I’ll give you ten thousand. If you don’t, I’ll have my guys rough you up and then force it down your throat.”

The commotion drew attention. The surrounding crowd fell silent, eyes fixed on Liu and Jiang An. Only the distant music and revelry continued unabated.

“What’s the matter, feeling humiliated? Or are you waiting for security? Don’t bother—I know everyone here. No one’s going to interrupt our little game.” Liu reveled in the moment, each word like a knife. “I’ll count to three. If you don’t drink, I’ll have your legs broken. Of course, we can’t get violent in here, but you’ll have to leave eventually. One!”

“Two!”

Jiang An remained utterly calm, not even angry. This was just a spoiled brat who’d picked the wrong target—like an ant crawling onto a man’s shoe. The man wouldn’t be angry, but as for the ant…

“Towering Gates!” Jiang An silently invoked.

Suddenly, Liu, who had been swaggering moments before, collapsed to his knees as though struck by a ghostly force. He bowed his head and slammed his forehead onto the floor with a resounding crack. The sharp-eyed saw blood well up where his brow struck the ground.

What just happened?

The crowd was stunned. One second, Liu was bullying someone; the next, he was kneeling and kowtowing with extraordinary sincerity. Was he drunk? High? Playing some bizarre prank? Either way, he had to be out of his mind.

“Young Master Liu, what’s wrong?” His friends hurried over, equally baffled.

Two of them tried to help Liu up, only to find his legs limp and his pants soaked with blood—his kneecaps had shattered. Terrified, they turned him over, and with a scream, Liu awoke. The pain in his forehead and knees had him howling like a slaughtered pig.

“It hurts! I’m dying! What happened? My legs, my head—call an ambulance, you idiots!”

Blood covered his face, grotesque under the shifting lights. He thrashed wildly, terror and agony in his eyes. At that moment, someone approached—Jiang An.

“Next time, you won’t be so lucky.” Jiang An tipped the phlegm-laced drink over Liu’s face, letting every drop wash over his wounds and soul. Liu’s eyes bulged with rage and fear as he screamed, “Bastard! What did you do to me? You’re dead, you hear me? You and your whole family are dead!”

Liu’s friends, unnerved by Jiang An’s calm, expressionless face, feared he might know some dark art. Not daring to risk provoking him further, they clamped Liu’s mouth shut and hurriedly dragged him away.

Jiang An remained unmoved. But as he glanced around, the crowd instinctively drew back. He strode toward the restrooms, and when his figure disappeared, a wave of excited debate erupted—what had just happened? Why had Liu suddenly knelt and bowed?

The restroom was empty. Jiang An had already put the incident from his mind—there were more important things to do. He had seen someone from the Black Cat Bar slip into a secret passage. He could have forced his way in directly, but there might be traps, or the people inside could escape through some hidden exit. The main entrance was monitored, only admitting those recognized through the security cameras. But this posed no challenge for Jiang An.

He was not a martial artist, but a cultivator. For a cultivator, entering was simple—phase through walls. Even in this city, where spiritual energy was sparse, he had managed to accumulate a trace of mana in the last couple of days.

Jiang An walked to the corner of the restroom, formed a hand seal with his right hand, and his body emitted a faint golden glow. With a step forward, he passed straight through the wall.