"Ben Coates tried to have his great shaman kill me last night, and today he still dares invite me to a banquet?"
Quinn Shepherd paused slightly. "Does he think that, just because they're both holy lands, Loulan Golden Palace can suppress the Cult of the Heavenly Saint? Or does he have something else planned?"
Libationer Barrett walked over and said, "Want me to go with you?"
Quinn shook his head. "No need. If Ben Coates dared to kill me openly, he wouldn't have tried witchcraft on me last night. I'll meet him alone."
Jade Perfume Pavilion was the largest and grandest banquet house in the capital, built in a garden-compound style: each courtyard was separate, with rockeries, flowing water, and fountains, while maidens played music and danced. Most guests came not for the food or tea, but for a private place to talk.
Before the disaster year, business here was booming—nobles and high officials had to book tables in advance. But after the emperor personally led famine relief and forced the elite to donate, business at Jade Perfume Pavilion quieted down.
Once the disaster's effects pass, business at this banquet house will surely pick up again.
In Green Bamboo Garden at Jade Perfume Pavilion, Ben Coates greeted him. "Cult Master Quinn, my attendants offended you, but now they're dead. Let all grudges end with them. I ask for your magnanimity."
Quinn entered Green Bamboo Garden, glancing around. "You're too polite, Prince."
Ben Coates gave Quinn a long, searching look. "If I wanted to kill someone, I wouldn’t need a proxy. Last night, my attendant was simply furious that you’d killed so many Loulan Golden Palace disciples, so he cast a spell to kill you in your dreams."
Quinn was a bit surprised to hear him bring this up. He’d assumed Ben would avoid the topic, but instead, it was the first thing Ben addressed after sitting down.
"I see."
Quinn smiled. "Well, I’m unharmed, and your attendant is dead. I believe the young prince had nothing to do with it."
Ben Coates shook his head. "You’re still missing something. I knew he’d try to kill you, but I didn’t stop him. Would you like to know why, Cult Master Quinn?"
Quinn was surprised again, but replied politely, "The prairie prince is truly extraordinary. I’d be glad to hear the details."
Ben Coates poured Quinn a cup of wine. "The reason I didn’t stop him is simple. I knew you’d have Libationer Barrett stay in your room to guard against my witchcraft. He couldn’t kill you, but he could waste your time."
Quinn raised his eyebrows, lifted his cup, and the two toasted, draining their wine in one go.
Ben Coates continued, "You and I broke through to the Six Directions realm at the same time. I didn’t accept your challenge then because I could see your combat strength was extraordinary—I wasn’t fully confident I’d win. But after a single day, everything changed. One day is all it takes."
He smiled faintly. "For top experts, a single day is enough to decide victory or defeat. You spent the afternoon meeting the Crown Prince, leaving no time to explore the subtleties of the Six Directions realm. At night, you had to guard against my attendant’s witchcraft, again with no time to study your new breakthrough. Meanwhile, I had a whole day to consolidate my Six Directions foundation and improve my cultivation. Just one day, and your chances of winning have vanished."
Quinn was once again surprised. He studied Ben’s face—still somewhat boyish, but with eyes deep and ancient, the kind of gravity no teenager should possess. Quinn couldn’t help but praise him: "The prairie prince is truly remarkable. No wonder even Heavenblade fears you. You’re fourteen now, aren’t you?"
Ben Coates poured him more wine. "Thirteen. Prairie folk grow up tough under wind and sun, so I look older than I am. Thirteen is my age this life. If you’re asking about my soul’s lifespan, it’s now over eleven thousand years."
Quinn laughed aloud. "You keep surprising me, prince. I didn’t expect you to reveal that so easily."
"No need to hide it from you."
Ben Coates said, "Cult Master Quinn, you’re truly impressive. You’re a disciple of Heavenblade, aren’t you? So young, yet your cultivation is astonishing—even I have to admire it. If I’d faced you the day we broke through, I’d only have had an eighty percent chance of winning."
"Oh?" Quinn smiled silently, swirling his wine cup.
Ben Coates grew solemn. "Counting this life, I’ve lived nineteen lifetimes. In my long years, I’ve seen countless geniuses and heroes, and witnessed all manner of triumph and tragedy. Sometimes I feel like a reef standing in the tide of time, with countless brilliant figures flashing past like images in a painting—even peerless emperors are just passing scenes, and even Heavenblade, who raised his saber against heaven, was just another fleeting traveler. In my sixth life, I felt my dao and divine arts had stagnated, so I went to the Central Plains and joined Dao Gate, learning the Innate Arcane Canon and Dao Sword. The Dao Lord of that era had high hopes for me, named me Dao Heir, and even wished for me to become Dao Lord and lead Dao Gate one day."
Quinn’s eyelid twitched. This old monster had once entered Dao Gate—and was even named Dao Heir?
Dao Gate’s supreme arts—the Innate Arcane Canon and the fourteen Dao Sword chapters—he’d mastered them too?
"Dao Sword is incredibly difficult to comprehend. That life, I mastered up to the Thirteenth Sword, but the Fourteenth always eluded me."
Ben Coates sighed. "Dao Sword is truly hard. Even with the power of the Innate Arcane Canon, it’s nearly impossible to grasp fully—it takes terrifying insight into numerology. I never learned the Fourteenth Sword before I died. In my seventh life, I joined Dao Gate again, but still couldn’t master it, only half a move. Then, in my eighth life, I entered Great Thunderclap Temple as a Buddhist novice."
Quinn was deeply shaken. He looked at Ben and asked quietly, "So you thought Dao Sword couldn’t help you break through, and went to Great Thunderclap Temple to study the Grand Buddha Mahayana Scripture?"
"No."
Ben Coates grew solemn. "I went to contemplate Buddhist dharma. Great Thunderclap Temple’s teachings reach profound heights in understanding the mind. The Grand Buddha Mahayana Scripture is for those who master the cultivation of heart and mind, so of course I had to study it. But I started as a novice, read every sutra in the temple, contemplated them all, and only then studied the Grand Buddha Mahayana Scripture."
Quinn asked, "The World-Honored One of that generation must have had high hopes for you?"
"He said my talent and understanding were unmatched in the era, that my Buddhist attainments even surpassed his, and my eloquence was flawless."
Ben Coates said, "I cultivated the Grand Buddha Mahayana Scripture to manifest all Twenty Mahayana Heavens, but still left Great Thunderclap Temple. Its dharma couldn’t help me break through my final bottleneck. In my next life, I reincarnated as a woman and joined Leaving-Love Palace. Another life, I went to Little Jade Capital. I stayed there for several lifetimes, finally mastering all their secret arts—it truly is a holy land above the other three sacred grounds."
He grew wistful, as if recalling his days in Little Jade Capital, then paused and said, "After that, I joined the Cult of the Heavenly Saint."
Quinn’s eyes flashed. "The Cult of the Heavenly Saint? Did you learn the Grand Fostering Heavenly Demon Sutra? What did you comprehend?"
Ben Coates smiled. "The Grand Fostering Heavenly Demon Sutra is powerful, but compared to the Grand Buddha Mahayana Scripture and Dao Sword, it’s a little lacking. I was planning to leave, until I heard rumors that the Sutra contained a Grand Unification Art—an ultimate method passed only from Cult Master to Cult Master. I was greedy for it, so I stayed. Unfortunately, that generation’s Cult Master was extremely strong, and his disciple—hailed as a saint born once every five hundred years—defeated me, so I couldn’t claim the mantle."
Quinn quietly let out a breath. Ben Coates continued, "So I betrayed the Cult, gathered Dao Gate’s experts and all the so-called righteous powers, and attacked the Holy Cult. We killed that saintly Cult Master."
The wine in Quinn’s cup trembled, a single drop spilling onto the table.
"That saint was truly formidable. He dragged the Dao Lord down with him, and even after my ambush wounded him, he still managed to injure me heavily. But in the end, he was exhausted to death under the siege of countless so-called righteous heroes."
Ben Coates said softly, "Before dying, he passed the Cult Master’s mantle and the Grand Unification Art to the Blue Heaven King. I was badly wounded, but couldn’t give up with victory so close—so I pressed the attack. But the new Blue Cult Master had already transmitted the Grand Unification Art to the contemporary Saintess. Leading the Holy Cult in a desperate final battle, Blue Heaven King forced me to retreat to the grasslands with severe injuries."
He sighed. "Later, I heard that Blue Cult Master died at Bibo Pond. The Saintess succeeded him as Cult Master, slaughtered Dao Gate and the righteous powers so ruthlessly they were chilled to the core, then herself died of exhaustion after passing on the mantle. These three Cult Masters—what does the Holy Cult call them now?"
Quinn’s face was expressionless. "The Three Kings."
"The Three Kings?"
Ben Coates nodded approvingly. "They truly deserve that title. Now you should understand my deep entanglement with the Cult of the Heavenly Saint—and where my eighty percent confidence came from. That was yesterday. Today, after consolidating my realm, my chance of victory is ten out of ten. You have none."
Quinn stood up, stretched his body, and said evenly, "Let’s go. Right now, I feel a bit like killing someone."
Ben Coates rose, and the two walked out side by side.
Ben glanced back and instructed the two yellow-robed great shamans, "Keep the food warm—I’ll be back soon."