The job change is a bizarre and calamity; the nation begs me to tone it down.

That's too direct.

It was just thrown at us without any warning.

Everyone present could tell that this was no mere politeness.

This is a threat.

The air above the sea seemed frozen.

The three monks from the South India Kingdom had already distanced themselves, intending to pretend they couldn't see it, but Asakura's words were too loud, and they couldn't pretend they hadn't heard them.

Wang Cang was taken aback for a moment.

Then he smiled.

But this time, the laughter was completely different from the joking around when teasing Yamamoto Furukawa earlier.

A slight smirk appeared on his lips, fleetingly.

It was like a glint of light reflecting off the blade.

"Oh?"

Wang Cang took the pipe out of his mouth: "Asakura cherry blossoms, right?"

"Hmm... I've heard of you. A genius from Japan. On par with Miyamoto Kenichi. Reached demigod status in just a few decades. Impressive."

These words sound like a compliment, but coming from Wang Cang, they have a strange, sarcastic tone to them.

"but--"

Wang Cang pointed his pipe towards Asakura Sakura, his tone suddenly becoming lazy: "Were you threatening this old man with what you just said?"

"Let me think about how to survive in this secret realm?"

"Young lady, you're... trying to give this old man a shot?"

When he said this, Wang Cang did not release any aura.

He didn't even change his posture.

He still had that same old rogue look, with a pipe in his mouth and standing crookedly in mid-air.

But I just don't know why—

The waves on the sea level dropped by half a foot after he said those words.

Asahizakura sensed it.

That feeling was very subtle.

It's not that the air pressure changed, it's not that the temperature changed, and it's not that the space was compressed.

Rather, it's something more fundamental—

It's as if the person standing in front of you isn't an old man with a pipe, but a statue of a god or demon that might open its eyes at any moment.

When a statue is still, you think it's just a sculpture, but when its eyelids twitch slightly, you know—something bad is about to happen.

But Asahizakura did not back down.

In fact, she did something that no one present had expected—

She moved.

The red katana was held horizontally in front of him.

With his right hand gripping the hilt and his left hand resting on the scabbard, he lowered his center of gravity slightly.

He assumed a standard Iaido (sword drawing) stance.

"The senior colleague would like to offer some guidance—"

Asahi Sakura's voice came from behind the mask, still in that gentle, polite tone: "Of course, I would like to give it a try."

The moment he finished speaking, his aura began to rise.

At the same time, the patterns on her demon face lit up with a dark red light the moment her aura surged.

It was as if a fire had ignited beneath the mask.

A demigod-level sense of oppression emanated from her.

The waves on the sea surface formed a strange depression in the area between her and Wang Cang, with two demigod-level force fields squeezing each other in the same space.

Suddenly, the situation became extremely tense.

A look of seriousness appeared on Yuta Hima's deathly pale face.

He subconsciously took a half step back—not out of fear, but to give himself room to maneuver.

The three monks from South India further increased the distance between them. The monk Tianxing chanted Amitabha Buddha, but his feet retreated faster than anyone else's.

Judging from the current situation, Wang Cang and Asahi Sakura are about to make their move in about half a second.

But right at this critical point—

A hand landed on Asaba Sakura's shoulder.

Yamamoto Furukawa.

The chief demigod of the Sakura Kingdom made his move at the most crucial moment.

It wasn't about physically assaulting someone.

It means to stop someone.

"cherry."

"Take it back."

Asahazakura paused slightly after saying those two sentences.

The pair of dark eyes behind the demon mask turned to Yamamoto Furukawa, and their gazes clashed silently in the night sky for about a second and a half.

Then, Asakura slowly withdrew her aura.

It wasn't because she was afraid of Wang Cang.

It was because Yamamoto Furukawa conveyed three messages to her in that brief one and a half-second eye contact.

First—you are indeed very strong. But Wang Cang is even stronger.

Secondly, a fight now would be detrimental to the Sakura Kingdom's struggle for the Source of God.

What is their purpose in coming here tonight?

It is the source of God.

It's not about arguing with Sherlock Holmes, the demigod.

Third—and most importantly.

That is—once you enter the secret realm, you'll have plenty of opportunities to deal with the people of Shenxia.

After all, all the major countries in the world know that Sherlock is currently enjoying unparalleled popularity.

Therefore, once they enter the secret realm, needless to say, any country that has new or old grudges against Divine Sherman will unite and attack the three Night Watchers of Divine Sherman.

Therefore, we absolutely cannot fight now.

We must preserve our strength.

Every bit of strength must be reserved for use in the secret realm.

Use it at the most critical moment.

It was used from the most unexpected angles by those Sherlock demigods.

Asaba Sakura is not a stupid person.

On the contrary, she was extremely intelligent.

She understood everything from that brief one-and-a-half-second eye contact with Yamamoto Furukawa.

So she put away her knife.

The red katana was sheathed again, and the aura that had been about to explode returned to a calm state. The whole process was so smooth that it was as if nothing had happened.

"Excuse me."

Asakura gave a slight bow, her tone returning to its previous gentle politeness, as if she were the woman who had almost drawn her sword to kill someone just moments before, and now she was the polite woman she was talking to.

They are not the same person at all.

Wang Cang watched this scene, the cold smile on his lips never fading.

The old man put the pipe back into his mouth and took two puffs.

He could certainly see Yamamoto Furukawa's intention to stop people.

Preserve strength?

Planning to cause trouble after entering the secret realm?

Oh.

Wang Cang sneered inwardly.

I, Wang Cang, know perfectly well what you're up to, Yamamoto.

I'm afraid you don't have that ability.

Thinking of this, Wang Cang shook his head, his voice tinged with regret: "I was hoping to test your skills as a newcomer, but it turns out you're just a coward."

After he finished speaking, he turned around and waved to Elder Chongge and Tang Yi.

"Let's go, let's go."

"Wasting time with these guys wasting my tobacco."

Old Ge chuckled, his bald forehead swaying in the moonlight, and followed Wang Cang's steps.

Tang Yi remained silent.

The old military uniform, buttoned up incorrectly, rustled in the sea breeze, as steady as a walking mountain.

The three figures accelerated again, flying towards the direction of the seven-colored pillar of light.

And behind them—

Standing in the night sky, Yamamoto Furukawa watched the departing figures of the three demigods of Shinsha, his eyes flickering with uncertain light.

He clenched his right hand slightly inside his sleeve.

Then it loosened.

"Walk."

He whispered a single word.

Yuta Hima nodded, his bloodless face revealing no emotion.

Asahi Sakura didn't say much.

But those dark eyes behind the ghost mask glanced one last time in the direction where Wang Cang had disappeared.