Starting as the heir of a marquis's mansion, I gained access to a summoning system.

Dongfang Shuo remained expressionless, slowly withdrawing his hand. His hoarse voice echoed in the night wind: "Though this old servant is old, my loyalty to my master is no weaker than anyone else's. Anyone who dares to harm my young master will have to step over this old servant's dead body first."

His tone was calm, but anyone could hear the firmness and determination in his voice.

The atmosphere suddenly became tense, like an arrow poised to be released from a bowstring.

Master Liaoyin of Wanfo Temple fixed his gaze on Dongfang Shuo, remaining silent for a moment, seemingly weighing something. He clasped his hands together and softly chanted a Buddhist prayer: "Amitabha, benefactor Dongfang is truly blessed to have such a loyal servant protecting you."

But as he said this, his gaze remained fixed on Dongfang Weiwo, and the scrutiny and greed in his eyes did not diminish in the slightest.

The Blood Shadow Elder sneered, "So what if there's only one at the peak of the ninth level? With me and your Ten Thousand Buddha Temple combined, are we afraid we can't take down this old geezer? Liaoyin, what are you still hesitating about?"

Liao did not respond.

He wasn't hesitating about whether to take action—he was weighing the cost.

Although Dongfang Shuo was at the peak of the ninth level of Grandmaster, he was still outnumbered. With Master Liaoyin of Wanfo Temple, Elder Xueying of Tianmo Sect, and other powerful figures secretly observing from the sidelines, if a real fight broke out, the Weeping Blood Marquis's Mansion would surely be defeated.

But what's the cost?

Master Liaoyin asked himself: If Dongfang Shuo were to fight back with all his might, and with the presence of a Grandmaster of the Seventh Heaven in the Weeping Blood Marquis's mansion in the shadows—although that Seventh Grandmaster has not yet shown himself, his aura faintly shrouds the entire camp, and no one dares to ignore it—it would cost at least two or three Grandmasters to be severely injured or even killed.

Is this price worth it?

Other factions are making the same calculations.

Master Qingyuan of the Zhenwu Daoist sect lightly swept his whisk, sighed, and hesitated, as if he wanted to say something but couldn't. The young Daoist Guiyuan beside him looked up at his master and whispered, "Master, should we...?"

Master Qingyuan shook his head and said in a low voice, "The Zhenwu Dao Sect doesn't engage in such opportunistic acts. But your grand-uncle also doesn't want to see the imperial court grow stronger... Let's remain neutral."

As he spoke, he took a slight half-step back to indicate his neutral stance.

But no one dared to underestimate this small step. At crucial moments, the neutrality of the True Martial Sect itself was a statement—they would not help the Weeping Blood Marquis's Mansion.

The Grand Elder of the Four Extremes Sword Sect, Jian Wuming, stood with his hands behind his back, expressionless. Xie Changkong stood behind him and asked in a low voice, "Grand Elder, what about us...?"

Jian Wuming remained silent for three breaths, then said calmly, "Look."

One word revealed his attitude—no interference, but no withdrawal either. He was waiting for the situation to become clearer.

Xie Changkong nodded and said nothing more.

Ye Guhong's gaze remained fixed on Dongfang Weiwo, his eyes scrutinizing. He said in a low voice, "That Dongfang Weiwo didn't say a word from beginning to end, not even a change in expression. This kind of person... is far more terrifying than those who shout and yell."

Ouyang Xue whispered, "Does he have some trump card? Or is he just scared out of his wits?"

Meng Hanshuang said coldly, "Scared out of his wits? Look at his eyes. Is that the look of someone who's been scared out of his wits?"

Ouyang Xue looked closely—Dongfang Weiwo's gaze was calm as water, but deep within it lay a cold sharpness, like a blade hidden in its sheath.

She couldn't help but shiver.

Chu Tianxing, the head of the Chu family, gently waved his folding fan, his eyes flickering as he clearly weighed the pros and cons. Beside him, Chu Yunyan whispered, "Uncle, should we...?"

Chu Tianxing was silent for a moment, then shook his head: "Let's see. The Marquis of Weeping Blood's mansion is not to be trifled with. Although Dongfang Wudi didn't come, his reputation speaks for itself. Moreover…" He glanced at Dongfang Shuo, "that old servant is not simple."

Chu Yunxiao snorted coldly, his face full of disdain: "A bunch of greedy people." He was referring to everyone present who wanted to seize the inheritance, but the resentment in his tone was directed at Dongfang Weiwo.

Cao Zhengchun, a member of the imperial court, was furious.

He abruptly stood up, his brocade robes fluttering in the night wind. His face was sinister, his gaze sharp as a knife, sweeping across the direction of Wanfo Temple and the Heavenly Demon Sect:

"How dare you! The Celestial Inheritance was obtained by the young master of the Blood-Weeping Marquis's mansion through his own strength. How dare you openly steal it? Do you have any respect for the laws of the imperial court?!"

His voice was like thunder, and he unleashed the full power of a Grandmaster at the peak of the ninth level, like an invisible blade pointing straight ahead.

However, no one paid him any attention.

The Blood Shadow Elder scoffed, "Imperial laws? Cao Zhengchun, it's one thing for your Suspended Mirror Platform to be all-powerful in the capital, but this is the East Sea. You have no right to put on airs here. Imperial laws? Ask everyone here, who takes imperial laws seriously?"

Cao Zhengchun's face was ashen, and his fists clenched so tightly they cracked. Although he was at the peak of the ninth level, the imperial court's authority was not effective in this area when faced with the combined pressure from the Wanfo Temple and the Heavenly Demon Sect.

What angered him even more was that these people truly didn't take the imperial court seriously.

Master Liaoyin also said calmly, "Benefactor Cao, this matter involves the fate of martial arts, and is not solely a matter for the imperial court. This old monk believes it would be best to let all the relevant forces discuss it together."

"Discuss together?" Cao Zhengchun sneered. "Discuss how to divide the inheritance of the sons of my dynasty's important officials? You dare to talk about 'discussing'?"

Master Liaoyin remained expressionless, as if he had not heard his question.

The auras of various forces locked onto the direction of the Marquis of Weeping Blood's residence.

Dozens of Grandmaster auras intertwined, forming a massive net that enveloped the entire Bloodthirsty Marquis's camp. The air became thick and heavy, making even breathing difficult.

The guards of the Weeping Blood Marquis's mansion were deathly pale, their hands gripping their swords trembling slightly. But they did not retreat, for they knew—the young man behind them was the Weeping Blood Marquis's son.

Dongfang Mingyue gripped her knife tightly, her teeth grinding together. She glared at those greedy faces, wishing she could chop them all down with a single stroke, but she knew she was merely a peak Grandmaster, utterly insignificant in the face of these powerful figures.

Dongfang Weiwo remained silent.

But his gaze grew cold, like a frozen lake in winter, calm on the surface but containing frost deep within that could freeze everything.

His fingers twitched slightly inside his sleeve.

Within the shadow cloak, a message was sent silently—to the underworld.

Song Que, Jue Wushen, and Tie Zhongtang were currently mingling in the crowd, watching the show, ready to strike at any moment. If those greedy individuals dared to make the first move, the blade of the underworld would immediately fall.

Even if his connection with the underworld is exposed, even if he reveals all his trump cards, he will never hand over the Celestial Inheritance.

Because it belongs to him.

He earned it step by step, from the first level to the third, from the first floor to the thousandth floor, with his blood and sweat.

No one can take it away.

The sea breeze howled, and the waves crashed against the shore.

Dongfang Shuo stood before Dongfang Weiwo, his hunched figure like an impregnable fortress. His gaze swept over everyone present with ill intentions, his parched lips parted slightly, and he uttered a single sentence:

"This old servant's life is worthless. But before I die, at least I can take two people down with me."

His voice wasn't loud, but it was as cold as ice from the deepest hell, sending a chill down the spines of all those with greedy hearts.

Master Liaoyin remained silent.

The old man with the blood shadow narrowed his eyes.

Jian Wuming remained expressionless.

Chu Tianxing gently waved his folding fan, lost in thought.

Master Qingyuan sighed, turned away, and refused to look any longer.

Murong Qiudi stood at a distance, toying with a silver needle in her hand, and whispered, "Dongfang Weiwo... you're in trouble now."

Beside her, Dugu Xin gripped his sword hilt tightly, his eyes gleaming. Long Aotian stood with his arms crossed, his tiger-like eyes gleaming, seemingly watching the spectacle.

Wu Zetian, clutching her long sword, leaned against the tent of the Marquis of Zhenbei's residence, a cold smile playing on her lips: "A bunch of shameless old bastards. If they're so capable, they should climb the Heavenly Ladder themselves. What kind of heroes steal from others?"

Beside her, Ye Xingchen remained silent, but his fingers were pinching a hidden weapon in his sleeve, as if hesitating whether to lend a helping hand.

The young monk, forgetting himself, raised his head, glanced at Master Liaoyin's back, and then at Dongfang Weiwo's calm face. The prayer beads in his hand suddenly started spinning faster.

He whispered something only he could hear: "Uncle-Master... this isn't right."

But in the end, he did nothing; he simply closed his eyes.

The night wind grew stronger, and the sound of the waves grew louder.

A storm is brewing.

Now, all that's missing is a fuse.