Book 2 : The Masked Strength of the Sect's Trash Chapter 115

After leaving, Lu Shaoqing’s mischief had begun to unfold as the Guiyuan Sect disciples continued to eat and boast in the Gathering Immortals Hall. Fueled by spirit wine, their voices grew louder and their words increasingly disrespectful. However, they still exercised some restraint, avoiding openly mentioning Ji Yan’s name, knowing that openly insulting him on Lingxiao Sect territory would not go unchallenged.

Wang Yao, frustrated by their noise and arrogance, finally approached them, handing over the note Lu Shaoqing had left for them. He could only hope that whatever Lu planned would get these boisterous disciples out of his establishment.

The Guiyuan Sect disciples opened the note and read it. Immediately, their faces turned red with anger.

“What?! Is this some sort of insult?”

“Where is this bastard? I want him to come out and face us!” they shouted, drawing even more attention in the hall.

Curious, Wang Yao peeked over to see what was written on the note:

> “Guiyuan Sect idiots, the lot of you are brainless. The only thing hard about you is your attitude, because everything else is weak. You think you’re something? Any disciple from Lingxiao Sect could easily thrash you. Are you brave enough to come to the city outskirts and prove it?”

Wang Yao was speechless. He understood now why the Guiyuan Sect disciples were so enraged; the note was nothing short of a blatant provocation.

“Where is he?” one of them demanded of Wang Yao, his expression menacing.

“He’s just a guest who left this message for you,” Wang Yao replied quickly, trying to avoid their wrath. “I don’t know him.”

The disciples glanced at one another, and soon, their leader made the decision. “Are we going to let this insult slide? We’re going!”

With this, they marched out of the hall, intent on finding the person who’d dared to mock them so publicly.

As they exited, they encountered more of their fellow sect members, including Cang Ling, Zhang Zheng, and Wu Tianzong, all notable disciples with solid cultivation foundations, especially Cang Ling, who was the grandson of Elder Cang Zhengchu. As they explained the situation, Cang Ling, still simmering with anger over his grandfather’s earlier humiliation, saw an opportunity for some vengeance.

“Lead the way,” he commanded, his eyes cold with determination. “Whoever did this won’t escape unscathed.”

The group, now over a dozen strong, stormed toward the outskirts of the city, where they believed the culprit was waiting.

Meanwhile, Lu Shaoqing was busy setting up an elaborate trap in the secluded area he’d chosen. Muttering to himself, he double-checked his formations.

“A fog concealment array, a spirit-suppressing maze… maybe add a couple of extra traps for fun?” he smirked. “Oh, looks like they’re here already—and with even more people. Perfect.”

Cang Ling and his followers arrived at the site but found only an empty clearing. As they scanned the area, one of the disciples spotted a wooden sign nearby.

“Look, there’s something written here!” he called out, and the group approached it cautiously.

The sign read in large, taunting letters:

> “Guiyuan Sect, Bunch of Idiots!”

Outraged, one of the disciples slashed the sign in half with his sword. The moment his blade struck, a dense fog enveloped the area.

“Damn it! It’s a trap!”

The fog grew thicker, disorienting them as they stumbled around, and soon they found themselves separated, each hearing eerie echoes and disembodied laughter.

Meanwhile, hidden in the shadows, Lu Shaoqing watched with satisfaction. The array formations he’d set up began to take effect, and the disciples of Guiyuan Sect found themselves caught in a series of illusions and traps, their strength suppressed, their senses muddled.

Chuckling to himself, Lu Shaoqing muttered, “A little payback for the trouble you caused my sect. Enjoy the show, Guiyuan fools.”