Chapter Eighty-Three: A Dream Worthy of Fantasy Novels! Rejuvenation!

Wait, that’s not right. When I said that, I hadn’t actually hit that Li Chunfeng!

You’re not playing by the rules!

Aren’t you supposed to warn me first, then take action?

How can you hit me first and then issue a warning?

Xuanku wanted to protest loudly.

Still dazed, Xuanku opened his eyes and saw, to his astonishment, that it really was that young man—whom he’d deemed cowardly—who had struck him!

Something’s off! Sure, energy detectors can be unreliable: humans, demons, and ghosts rarely operate at their peak, so their levels can’t always be measured accurately. But that young man had already charged right up to my face... The detector tricked me! This guy is seriously strong!

Xuanku felt a growing bitterness in his heart.

He felt his face swelling.

With a thud, Xuanku, just as he opened his eyes and was mulling over the unreliability of the energy meter, was hit by a powerful force. In a flash, he realized—he was being kicked, and hard, by that very young man!

“Hurry up and talk, or don’t blame me for hitting you!”

The young man repeated himself, but once again, the blows came before the words.

“I—”

Before he could finish, Xuanku realized he needed to defend himself immediately. The young man was young, yes, but could he really be stronger than me?

After all, I’m a prodigy from Little Thunder Temple.

On the threshold of grandmaster!

At the onset of chaos, I was the temple’s champion—I can’t possibly be inferior to this guy. I was just caught off guard!

Yes, that’s it—I was ambushed, or I’d have been fine!

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Faint golden light began to shimmer around Xuanku’s body.

His kasaya fluttered, then suddenly snapped taut!

What had seemed like mere fabric was actually armor—so long as it was infused with energy.

Now it was as rigid as steel.

His defense soared.

“I, Xuanku, am not to be trifled with!”

The golden light around him grew fiercer.

A low, sonorous chanting, like the murmuring of the Buddha, began to resound.

Even a grandmaster would need time to break through my defenses, he thought. I was showing him mercy before; I just hadn’t defended myself, I—I—ahh, the pain—!

With a crash, before Xuanku could finish, Lin Yi’s kick landed squarely.

Xuanku felt the golden aura around him fade in a blink, utterly incapable of stopping Lin Yi’s strike.

A tremendous force crashed into his kasaya, which, in that moment, seemed to shatter like brittle glass—offering no protection at all. The full brunt of the kick landed on his waist.

The pain was excruciating; unable to hold back, Xuanku screamed. The power didn’t stop—it sent him tumbling over and over.

He crashed into a pile of bricks at the construction site, and only then did he come to a stop.

Bricks tumbled down, clattering onto him, each one making him feel as if he’d cough up blood.

“I—I—I—” He spat out mouthfuls of blood, his face streaked with tears as he looked at Lin Yi.

“Brother—no, big brother—no, ancestor—no, grandfather, I was wrong, I admit it, can’t you just ask first and hit later? Look, I didn’t hit your classmate earlier—I just talked, I didn’t hit him...”

Tears streaming down his face, Xuanku begged.

He understood now; ambush or not, he was no match for this man.

This young man, so youthful, yet so powerful—even if not quite a grandmaster, he was barely short of it.

Xuanku himself was an A-grade first-class martial artist, but the gap between them was painfully clear.

And this man was still a university student, likely younger than Xuanku, but so much stronger—who could he complain to?

Afraid more pain awaited if he delayed, Xuanku changed his tone at once, telling himself that a true man knows when to yield.

“Hmm, you have a point.” Lin Yi nodded, admitting he’d been a bit hasty, and offered a sheepish smile before turning back to Li Chunfeng.

The reason the energy meter had shown nothing for Xuanku was, of course, Lin Yi’s own Breath Concealment Art.

With it constantly operating, Lin Yi appeared perfectly ordinary, rendering any detector useless.

“My dear brother, I thank you for saving me—Master Lin Yi, Brother Lin Yi...”

Lin Yi couldn’t help thinking Li Chunfeng had the makings of a cultivator—look how he clung to his leg, faster than a dog. He tried to shake him off, but was worried about hurting him.

Exasperated, Lin Yi looked back at Xuanku.

Xuanku, though coughing up blood, had not lost consciousness—a testament to the tenacity of true cultivators. Lin Yi had checked his energy with the meter: it was impressively high, almost 9,700.

With his kasaya, Xuanku could truly claim near-invincibility beneath the grandmaster level—a worthy product of Little Thunder Temple.

But to rely on such tools was to admit one’s own deficiency.

If he went up against Zhang Ruofeng, Xuanku would undoubtedly suffer.

Even without a meter, Lin Yi could tell that Zhang Ruofeng was invincible among those below grandmaster, which is why he was called Daozi.

Lin Yi rubbed his nose, glanced again at Li Chunfeng, and, hearing more effusive thanks, quickly waved his hand to silence him.

Then he turned to Xuanku.

“I think you were right about one thing: maybe I shouldn’t keep beating you up. Even though you embarrassed me at school, humiliated me in front of everyone, and dragged my classmate away, I’ve decided to hold back for now.”

“No, no—grandfather, I was wrong, I even called you grandfather, isn’t that enough? I didn’t mean to, if I’d known how strong you were, would I have dared? How could I have dared touch your classmate? I wouldn’t have dreamed of it...”

Xuanku was on the verge of tears—was this even human speech? Such pettiness!

Noticing that Lin Yi’s expression hadn’t changed a bit, he shut his mouth, trembling.

Lin Yi frowned, then said, “Let’s put aside the matter of my classmate’s lost dignity for now. Tell me: this supposed treasure—what does it have to do with the corpse in the deserted village? What in my classmate’s story tipped you off? What made you think there was a treasure? Speak up and tell me.”

Lin Yi finished his questions, waiting for Xuanku’s response.

“I...” Xuanku’s eyes darted as he considered lying, but as Lin Yi’s brow creased, terror nearly made him lose control. He hurriedly spoke.

“Yes... yes, it was the ghost story he told, about the female corpse in the deserted village with white thread wrapped around her—that detail caught my attention. And—and—the corpse was naked, which is very unusual... Previously, in the outskirts of Tianhe City, there was a strange incident: at a funeral, a female corpse from a deserted village appeared in place of the family’s own deceased woman. That corpse... was naked, and many people got an eyeful, and she bore a striking resemblance to the deceased woman...”

“Did I ask about the ‘eyeful’ part? And you call yourself a monk, thinking about things like that?”

Lin Yi’s face darkened.

“No, no, big brother... grandfather, it’s not what you think. I wouldn’t dare! What I meant was, after people got an eyeful, someone even did something utterly outrageous—he touched the corpse, and that same night... that same night... it’s embarrassing to say, but rumor has it he used that hand to, well, indulge himself... Afterwards, he began to have dreams. In these salacious dreams, he actually entered a secret realm!”

“He—he—he wasn’t a cultivator, but he dreamed of a secret realm! They say that dream was quite fantastical—he saw a new continent, just like in fantasy novels, a strange world filled with flying beasts, powerful demons and monsters, and many great sects and clans.”

“In that world, masters could cleave mountains with a single sword, or boil lakes with their flames... Burning mountains and boiling seas were commonplace. He had this dream, and then he became stronger!”

“If he hadn’t, no one would have believed it. But he did—overnight, he became a C-rank martial artist, a third-rate fighter! When he awoke, he was stronger!”

“Just one night, and his whole body changed! And that man was a real lecher—over seventy, his blood and vigor long since dried up, and by all rights, he should have been frail. But he actually appeared rejuvenated!”

“He looked younger! His strength soared—becoming a C-rank third-rate martial artist after just one dream. When he woke, his transformation astonished his family. And in his hand, he held a treasure!”

“That treasure, they say, was called a Stone Pill. It looked like a stone, but when magma hardens, it’s infused with powerful herbs and minerals—it’s incredibly valuable, able to warm and temper the body until all its energy is spent!”