The next day, the front page of Jiangdong Daily blared out a headline: Harbor City's number-one clan "shaken to its core," wiped out overnight.
The wording in the article was vicious: led by Stanley Hong, all seventy-two members of the Hong family were found hanging upside down from the main beam of the main hall, their faces twisted in horror, as if they'd glimpsed something unspeakably terrifying before death. Even more bizarre, the Hong Family Ancestral Hall—touted as a bronze architectural masterpiece—had collapsed overnight, and every ancestral tablet inside was shattered. Rumor on the street claimed the Hong clan's evil had reached its limit, that Lord Yama himself came by night and dragged all their wicked souls down to the Eighteenth Level of Hell.
Meanwhile, in Wuzhou, at the Dai Clan residence.
"Bullshit! That reporter is just making stuff up—Lord Yama taking all the Hong family's souls, what a load of crap! And this garbage article actually made it into the provincial paper? I'm tempted to burn that whole damn newspaper down!" The speaker was none other than Walter Dai, patriarch of the Dai Clan, father of the late Dylan Dai, an innate-peak martial artist just one step short of grandmaster.
"You're totally right, big brother. What kind of crap article gets printed these days? That editor must've been kicked in the head by a donkey. But based on the latest intel, the Hong clan really was wiped out last night—and odds are it was that little bastard who did it. We planned and schemed, but never expected the kid to be this strong. He fell right into our trap, then slaughtered every last one of them single-handedly. Word is he's reached grandmaster level. Harbor City hasn't seen a grandmaster in thirty years, and now out of nowhere there's this teenage monster. Avenging Dylan is going to be a real headache!" This was Harvey Dai, Walter's younger brother, also an innate-peak fighter. The two Dai brothers once joined forces to defeat a grandmaster, which let the Dai Clan squeeze into the Ten Great Wuzhou Clans.
"I don't care if that little bastard's a grandmaster or some freak from the Netherworld—I'm going to skin him alive and tear out his tendons myself, for my son's sake!" Walter Dai slammed his hand down on the table, shattering the marble into pieces.
"Don't get worked up, bro. Dylan's death will be avenged, no question. But we can't just rush in. If it takes the two of us to personally kill a high-schooler, the Dai Clan's reputation in Wuzhou is toast. Plus, the Seven-City Martial Arts Tournament is coming up next month—Harbor City will definitely send that kid. As soon as he shows up at our doorstep, we'll crush him for good!" Harvey Dai gritted his teeth as he spoke.
"Damn it, the tournament's still weeks away. I can't wait another minute!" Walter Dai glared at his son's memorial photo, eyes burning with rage.
"Easy, bro. We've got to take this step by step. That Ling kid is no ordinary punk—even if we act now, there's no guarantee we'll win, and we'd just be handing people an excuse to gossip. If we lose more men, it's not worth it. But I've already checked: Wuzhou's top expert Nate Ye will be back from North America soon to join the tournament. He hit grandmaster ten years ago and then apprenticed under Tiger Hua, North America's number-one Chinese fighter. His current strength is unfathomable. The Qiu Clan is planning to recruit him, and we should too. With him on our side, we can kill that brat in the tournament, fair and square!" Harvey Dai grinned slyly.
"Nate Ye? He's coming too? I heard his lightness skill is so good he can literally walk on water." Walter Dai paused, amazed, then muttered, "Looks like this year's tournament's mysterious prize is drawing all the big guns. It's gonna be the biggest fight we've ever seen... Too bad Dylan will never get his shot."
Walter Dai clenched his fists and growled, "Fine, let that little bastard live another half a month. But this time, we're not just betting on Nate Ye—we're paying a visit to Logan Long, Mystery Hall boss of the Azure Dragon Society. If we can pull in Mason Ma from Divine Martial Hall and Vincent Wang from Pill Hall, that's game over. With all these top-tier experts working together, even if that punk's got god-tier skills, he's getting stomped in Wuzhou!"
"Exactly! That's what I was thinking too. Dylan's technically Logan Long's disciple, so he's definitely on our side. The Hong clan's Pill Hall agent is based in Harbor City, so Vincent Wang's got every reason to help us. As for Mason Ma, that guy's a total womanizer—send him a couple of hotties and he'll do whatever we want!" Harvey Dai sneered, looking like he'd already mapped out the whole scheme.
"Alright, let's do it. You get in touch with the Qiu Clan, and we'll go see Nate Ye together!" Walter Dai said, springing to his feet.
...
After a few nights of rain, Harbor City's weather was way cooler, and the tens of thousands of mu of herbs on Herb Mountain were thriving. With the Hong clan wiped out, the Su family's new meds took over half the city market in just days.
But for the past few days, Ryan Ling had been holding down the fort at the Martial Arts Association. President Leonard Liu's white beard was practically flying off—dude was that pissed. Last night, Wuzhou sent over a plaque with four big words: 'The Sick Men of Harbor City.'
With the tournament coming up, Wuzhou's move was straight-up public humiliation. For the past ten years, every time the Seven-City Martial Arts Tournament rolled around, Harbor City's association got some kind of 'gift' from Wuzhou. This time, it was in-your-face provocation.
"Those Wuzhou bastards have been dumping on us for ten years. This time, at the tournament, we're taking our pride back!"
"Hell yeah! We used to have no backbone, but now we've got Master Ling, a grandmaster-level boss—why should we be scared?"
"Damn right! Master Ling's not just a martial arts beast, he's got connections to the heavens and the underworld! We already took out two of Wuzhou's so-called prodigies—killing a few more wouldn't hurt!"
The reps from the Martial Arts Association were hyped out of their minds—half the tables were getting slapped so hard, people's palms were turning red.
But Ryan Ling just sat there, not saying a word. Yeah, he'd scored a crazy win at the Hong Manor, totally uprooting the Hong clan, but deep down he knew: his Purgatory Soul-Suppressing Art was only at the first layer, nowhere near invincible. That fight with the Hong Family Grandmaster Ancestor was rough, and Wuzhou's crawling with experts. Plus, the Azure Dragon Society's base is there—a total den of monsters. Even if he could solo the whole tourney, the Seven-City Martial Arts Tournament is all about team battles. Even with Warren Yuan and zombie king Frank Qin on his side, team victory wasn't guaranteed.
"Enough, cut the hype! Let's get the roster sorted—everyone pick your strongest fighters and report back tomorrow!" President Leonard Liu jumped in, shutting everyone up.
Everyone else was focused on the team list, but Ryan's top priority was figuring out how to power up even more.
If he was gonna roll into Wuzhou for the tournament, he needed total confidence. Sure, wiping out the Hong clan made Harbor City the center of attention, but if they bombed the Martial Arts Tournament, all that hype would go right down the drain.
"Ding-dong! Reward for annihilating the Hong clan is here—30,000 Merit Points, please check your account!"
Ryan sniffed. Last time he iced those two Wuzhou punks, he bagged 20,000 Merit Points. Now with another 30,000, he was sitting on a fat 50,000—finally, his anxiety eased up a bit.
Man, it felt like forever since he'd gone on a shopping spree. Ryan planned to blow all 50,000 Merit Points at the Special Item Store—top-tier talismans, rare artifacts, whatever it took to guarantee a win at the tournament.
But just as he was about to hit the Special Item Store, the System flashed a message that made him want to scream.
"Sorry, shopping is temporarily unavailable. Your 50,000 Merit Points have been withdrawn. Please earn more Merit Points and try again. Thank you!"
"Damn it, who—who stole my Merit Points? Get your ass out here and die!" Ryan exploded.
Nobody answered. Only an old man and an old lady stood off to the side, grinning wickedly.
"You two bastards, cough up my Merit Points!" Ryan snapped, instantly realizing it was Ghost Elder and Granny Soul—the system's resident thieves.
"Chill, kid. Last time at Hong Manor, we held down the stage for you. By the rules, you gotta pay us an appearance fee!"
"Yeah, our usual rate is 50,000 Merit Points each. Charging you just 25,000 is already a half-off deal!"
...
Looking at their ugly mugs, Ryan seriously wanted to chop them to pieces!
"Relax, bro, don't blow a gasket—it's bad for your health. Besides, you're a Spirit Officer now, gotta protect your official body!" the System said, and Ryan's ears were practically steaming like a locomotive.
"Alright, alright, I give in. Here's a mission everyone else would kill for—if you pull this off, every single headache you've got will disappear!" the System said, shoving a photo at Ryan.
Ryan blinked. The photo showed a straight-up terrifying graveyard...