One person: Senior brother Zhang Zhiwei, the Celestial Master begged me to descend the mountain.

Chapter 112 If you don't want to wake up, then sleep forever.

"Holy crap! Is this some kind of Resident Evil scene?!"

Zhang Chulan felt a chill run down his spine as he watched the massive crowd rushing towards him, and the golden light spell around his body trembled uncontrollably.

He instinctively took a step back, almost stepping on Ma Xianhong, who was lying on the ground pretending to be dead.

"Old Wang! What about Feng Hou Qi Men? Quickly freeze them!"

Zhang Chulan turned his head and shouted at Wang Ye:

"If this really comes to blows, we'll be massacring civilians, and the local police will definitely issue arrest warrants and hang us on the wall!"

Wang Ye was also covered in sweat, his hands forming and releasing hand seals repeatedly, looking like he was constipated.

"What kind of order is this?!"

"With so many people, the causal connections are a complete mess. If I were to forcibly freeze all of them, I'd be bleeding from all seven orifices and die right here!"

"What should we do then? Run?"

"Where do you think you're going? We've been surrounded!"

Just as the two of them were pacing around like ants on a hot pan.

"It's so noisy."

A lazy voice, not loud, but clearly pierced through the waves of shouts of battle and entered everyone's ears.

Zhang Taichu sat on that golden armchair without even moving his buttocks.

He held the chipped teacup in his hand, seemingly oblivious to the thugs in front of him who could tear him to pieces at any moment.

He merely frowned slightly, looking at the villagers rushing to the front with disdain.

There was an older woman waving a kitchen knife, spitting everywhere, her eyes bloodshot, and screaming hysterically:

"My furnace... give me back my destiny as an immortal..."

Zhang Taichu chuckled softly.

That smile carried three parts mockery and seven parts indifference.

"A predestined connection with immortals?"

"They're just a bunch of overgrown babies who don't want to grow up. They threw a tantrum when their ridiculous toys were confiscated."

He gently blew on the steam rising from the teacup, then raised his eyelids and glanced at the two younger relatives beside him who were jumping up and down in a panic.

"Zhang Chulan, the King."

"Ah? What is it, Uncle-Master?"

Zhang Chulan, as if grasping at a lifeline, quickly moved closer.

Zhang Taichu took a sip of tea and said slowly and deliberately:

"Clear the area."

"Throw all these sleepyheads out."

"Remember this one thing."

Zhang Taichu held up one finger and waved it in front of him:

"They may be stupid, but they don't deserve to die."

"If either of you dares to kill one of you when you make your move..."

He pointed to the soil next to him that had just been turned over, the soil that had originally been intended for planting flowers:

"I'll plant both of you inside."

"Perfect timing, Chen Duo's garden is just missing two bags of top-quality fertilizer."

These words were spoken.

Zhang Chulan and Wang Ye's faces instantly turned green.

"No... Uncle-Master, this difficulty level is a bit too high!"

Zhang Chulan screamed in agony:

"These people are like mad dogs now, they're biting like madmen! And we still have to make sure we don't kill them?"

"This is basically just letting us take the beating without fighting back!"

Wang Ye also looked utterly hopeless, pointing at the villager who had already rushed towards his face:

"Primordial Ancestor, are you trying to kill me?!"

"Look at that old man! That shovel was aimed right at my groin! If I don't break his legs, I'll be childless!"

Zhang Taichu completely ignored their wails.

He simply put down his teacup, took out a handful of melon seeds from his sleeve, cracked open one, and spat out the shell:

"Ten meters to go."

Nine meters.

"If you don't act now, that old lady's cleaver is going to chop you in the head."

"Hold!"

Wang also swore, no longer caring about his Taoist image.

He tucked the hem of his Taoist robe into his waist, stepped forward, and finally struck the long-lost Tai Chi starting stance.

"You little bastard! Don't just stand around doing nothing!"

"If we really get stuck here tonight, I'll haunt you even as a ghost!"

"Let's go!"

Zhang Chulan also steeled his heart, and the Golden Light Mantra instantly covered his entire body. However, this time, the golden light did not turn into sharp lightning, but became soft and thick, like a huge golden air cushion.

"Fellow villagers! I apologize for my offense!"

"I won't hit you in the face! I'll try my best not to hit you in the face!"

boom!

The two of them, one on the left and one on the right, gritted their teeth and rushed into the surging crowd.

There was no bloodshed or carnage as I had imagined.

There were only occasional cries of pain, "Ouch!", "Holy crap!", and "Just a little bit more!"

Wang Ye moved with the swiftness of an eel, weaving through the gaps in the crowd.

He didn't confront things head-on; his hands were used with unparalleled skill, employing the finesse to deflect great force with minimal effort.

The middle-aged woman wielding a kitchen knife had just rushed forward when Wang Ye gently pulled her along, causing her to trip and spin around three times before she landed on her bottom, dizzy and disoriented.

The old man wielding the shovel fared even worse. Before the shovel could even fall, Wang Ye pushed him, and the shovel handle struck a young man behind him directly on the forehead. The two of them tumbled out of the room in a tangled mess.

"Cloud Hands!"

"Block and strike!"

"Wild Horse Parts Its Mane!"

While fighting, Wang Ye had to be careful not to use too much force, lest he break someone's bones, or he wouldn't be able to push these crazed bulls away.

This isn't a fight.

This is clearly an attempt to lull a group of kindergarten children experiencing manic episodes to sleep.

And there were hundreds of them!

On the other hand, Zhang Chulan was not so elegant.

Relying on the protection of the Golden Light Mantra, he directly used himself as a human shield.

"Big sister! Let go! Let go!"

"That's meat! Not steamed buns!"

Zhang Chulan frantically shook his arm, with a little girl clinging to it and biting his forearm tightly.

"Big brother! Stop pulling my hair! I don't have much left!"

"Ouch! Who the hell pinched my thigh?!"

While screaming in pain, Zhang Chulan used an extremely clumsy method to grab each of the people rushing towards him and then throw them out of the crowd like sandbags.

"Get out of here!"

"You go too!"

"Screw you!"

Although the posture was a bit awkward, the efficiency was quite high.

Before long, the square was filled with mountains of people.

Some of the villagers who were thrown out were dizzy, while others were still flailing their arms and legs trying to rush back, but they were all numb from the static electricity that occasionally emanated from Zhang Chulan and couldn't get up.

Zhang Taichu sat in the back, eating sunflower seeds while watching the farce unfold.

There was not a trace of emotion in his eyes.

It's like watching a boring circus.

"It's better that this cultivation furnace is destroyed."

He muttered to himself in a very soft voice, so soft that only Ma Xianhong, who was lying at his feet, could hear him.

Although Ma Xianhong's body was unable to move at this moment, his consciousness had not completely dissipated.

He struggled to open one eye, looking at the villagers behaving so disgracefully, and at the followers who had once been so respectful to him and kept shouting "for the greater good."

At this moment, for that lost power, for that elusive chance at immortality, they have become this inhuman, ghostly figure.

This scene was even more ironic to him than when he had just stomped on and shattered the cultivation furnace.

"Did you see that?"

Zhang Taichu scattered the sunflower seed shells on the ground, his tone indifferent:

"Is this the god you wanted to create?"

"Is this the perfect human being you're talking about?"

"Without that external force, they're not even as good as a dog."

"A true strong person has a heart as firm as a rock, unyielding through countless trials."

"And they..."

Zhang Taichu shook his head, a mocking smile playing on his lips:

"You're just a piece of rotten mud raised in a greenhouse."

"Can't be helped."

Ma Xianhong's body convulsed suddenly, and two streams of turbid tears slid down his cheeks, mixing with the blood on his face and dripping into the soil.

Just then.

The clearing operation on Zhang Chulan and Wang Ye's side is nearing completion.

The hundreds of villagers, though none died, were mostly incapacitated, lying on the ground groaning and sprawling like dried fish, covering the entire edge of the square.

"Huff... huff..."

Wang Ye braced himself on his knees, panting heavily, sweat dripping down his chin.

"I'm so tired... I'm exhausted..."

"This is even more tiring than fighting the Ten Elders..."

"Old Zhang... I guess you could say he... accomplished his mission successfully?"

Zhang Chulan also plopped down on the ground, sticking out his tongue without any regard for his image:

"Master Uncle... I feel like they're going to eat the skin off my Golden Light Mantra..."

Zhang Taichu did not answer them.

They didn't even glance at them.

He patted the sunflower seed crumbs off his hands and slowly stood up.

My gaze passed through the crowds scattered on the ground, and through the devastated ruins.

At last.

It landed on a relatively intact rooftop not far away.

There was a shadow there.

The night was so dark that you wouldn't notice a person standing there unless you looked closely.

A man wearing a blue suit, with his hair neatly combed, and holding a folding fan in his hand.

He had been standing there for a long time.

So long that it seemed to have melted into the night.

He just watched quietly as the cultivation furnace turned into scrap metal, watched the villagers go mad, and watched Zhang Taichu scold Ma Xianhong like he was training a dog.

Not a word.

Until Zhang Taichu's gaze fell upon them.

The two gazes collided in mid-air, as if sparking a string of invisible fire.

Zhang Taichu smiled.

He took a step forward, put his hands behind his back, raised his chin slightly, and called out to the figure on the rooftop:

"Feed".

"That squinty-eyed guy over there."

"Have you had enough of the show?"

The person on the roof did not move, but the folding fan that was gently swaying in their hand suddenly stopped.

"What's wrong?"

Zhang Taichu's smile deepened, carrying a knowing, playful air.

"Have you been keeping quiet all this time, waiting to be scavenged?"