Chapter Forty-Nine: The Sea God Cult’s Subdivision, the High Priest’s Divine Power

“My name is Yuan Mo,” the old man began, “I was once a monk, but moved by the suffering of the world, I joined the Seven Seas Society, managing homes for the elderly and soup kitchens. Today, I have had the privilege of meeting many brothers…”

His words were simple and sincere, unfolding gently like a true enlightened master, radiating wisdom. Below, the many fishermen and poor folk were all captivated by the old monk’s speech.

“Something’s wrong!” Bai Xuan’s heart tightened. He could smell an eerie fragrance in the air, as if it seeped into his soul, blurring his mind and gradually placing him under someone’s control. Worse yet, the scent seemed addictive, compelling him to inhale.

“If not for my golden viscera, I would have fallen for it.” Murderous intent flickered in Bai Xuan’s eyes. With the breath of gold in his body, he could hold his breath or circulate his energy instantly, neutralizing faint toxins. Clearly, these followers of the Sea God were harming others. Ordinary people could not withstand this sinister smoke; inhaling too much would reduce them to mindless puppets, obeying every command. This, Bai Xuan realized, was the true method behind the rapid spread of the Seven Seas Society.

…

Outside the manor.

“Is this report credible?” A middle-aged man with the bearing of a scholar-general frowned. “This is the residence of a wealthy merchant from the Yang family. If we break in and the report is false, we’ll all bear the consequences.”

Though the authorities held power on Thousand Mountains Island, the four great families wielded tremendous influence and could not be easily opposed. In fact, there had been previous reports about this place, but the officials turned a blind eye—so long as no dead bodies were discovered, they simply ignored it.

“The identity of the informant is extraordinary; it must be true,” Zhao Yuanchen said solemnly. A whale hunter had come to report—how could they take it lightly? This man could slaughter even the warships of Qian Yuan; his words could not be baseless.

“Very well. Search the premises; if anything seems amiss, we’ll act.” The scholar-general shook his head and waved his hand. Several constables gripped their swords and advanced swiftly toward the manor.

“Knife Division patrol! Drop your weapons!” The constables’ voices had barely sounded when the brown-robed servants’ faces changed. In a flash, they drew swords from their waists or produced crossbows from their backs!

A shrill, piercing whistle shot up into the sky!

“Not good! It truly is the Sea God cult’s lair—attack!” The scholar-general’s face changed; he whispered to an aide, “Take my warrant and have the Thousand Mountains Army send more experts.”

They had even brought out crossbows; clearly, these were well-trained. Tonight would not end peacefully.

At his command, a hundred soldiers behind him drew their swords. A dozen soldiers raised shields and charged into the manor!

The shrill whistle echoed. The gathering inside the house was still confused, unaware of what was happening. The old monk at the head, however, paled slightly and stopped speaking.

“Friends, it seems something has happened up front. Please wait here; I will return shortly.” His voice remained calm, but he hurried away.

The brown-robed servants quickly rushed out of the house, their waists bulging with what appeared to be swords!

“They’ve come.” Bai Xuan rose calmly. He himself had submitted the report; he knew exactly what was happening. The government troops were likely already fighting the Sea God cultists, and a battle was imminent.

By rights, this was the moment to let the authorities purge the cultists. These people would find it hard to remain on the island afterward.

But—

“The best choice is to eradicate the threat in one stroke.” Bai Xuan’s eyes narrowed slightly.

He moved through the crowd, silently donning a battered shark mask; his body creaked, the changes of iron bones altering his height.

He walked in the shadows, his aura concealed, unnoticed by all—like a dreadful phantom, bringing death.

Just then—

“Something’s wrong. Herd everyone in this hall to the pond in the rear courtyard. Kill them all. Use their blood to summon the demon shark.” A brown-robed servant hurried over and spoke to another.

“If the battle up front is lost, escape to the sea.”

Even at this critical moment, they intended to act—slaughtering all the ordinary people at the gathering.

“I knew Sea God cultists couldn’t be trusted.” Suddenly, a voice sounded behind them, calm and indifferent.

“What?” The two servants hadn’t even reacted when, with a swish, a flying knife pierced one’s neck, blood gushing forth!

The other’s throat was seized by a giant hand, lifting him like a chicken.

“I ask, you answer!”

…

Out in front of the manor, battle had already begun. Dozens of flaming arrows shot through the night sky and plunged into the haystacks below, igniting a fierce blaze that illuminated the scene.

“Kill!”

Amid the clash of steel, government troops and brown-robed servants fought fiercely. Swords flashed and struck, and in an instant, several corpses fell. The brown-robed servants no longer concealed their identities; some shouted fanatically:

“Sea God protects us! Our souls are immortal!”

Thud, thud, thud!

More than ten Sea God cultists produced repeating crossbows, ambushing from behind the house. In one burst, seven or eight soldiers fell, pierced through, blood spraying everywhere—dead on the spot!

“Bold!” A burly man with a long beard rode a tall horse into the manor. Clad in armor and wielding a great halberd, he struck out, sending a cultist flying, blood spraying, limbs twisted—dead instantly.

“Wang Yue, Captain of the Thousand Mountains Army! Evil cultists, come face death!” He charged onward, blood and energy surging, his strength terrifying. With each swing of his halberd, none could withstand him.

Within moments, five or six cultists were cleaved open, blood pooling on the ground, glowing in the firelight.

“Allow me to meet you.” An aged voice rang out.

Boom!

An old monk in a cassock flashed forward, his speed astonishing. He struck with his palm.

Wang Yue brought his halberd down, clashing with a thunderous sound. His hand went numb, the halberd bounced upward, and he was nearly thrown off his horse!

“Not good! This is a renowned figure from the Black List!” Wang Yue realized the danger, rolling off his horse to avoid the sweeping blow.

Bang!

The monk’s hand struck, shattering the warhorse’s spine. With a terrible scream, the horse collapsed with a tremendous crash.

“It’s the twentieth name on the Black List—the Sea God cult’s Chief Priest, Master Yuan Mo!” someone cried, recognizing the old monk’s true identity.

“Wang Yue, let me aid you!”

Thunderous hoofbeats approached. Another military officer arrived, hair and beard white, wielding a long blade and riding a warhorse—stronger and fiercer, neighing like thunder.

“Just a beast!” The old monk’s face was sinister, shifting in the firelight. With a flash, he dodged the blade, grabbed the charging horse, and held it fast!

The armored warhorse reared, screaming, its charge so powerful it could scatter a dozen soldiers—yet the old monk stopped it with one hand, flinging the rider from its back!