The Martial God who started at Mantuo Manor

Page 59

Of course he does.

How could he not recognize him?

Isn't this the "Holy Cult" that sent him—a man who had gone mad while practicing martial arts—to his death as a traitor?

In Wang Meng's mind, the so-called Ming Cult was nothing more than a demonic cult.

The moment Wang Meng's eyes turned icy cold, he immediately felt the soft, voluptuous body behind him tighten suddenly, as if sensing the intense fluctuation of his emotions.

Li Qingluo's voice became serious, and her hands unconsciously wrapped around Wang Meng's neck, her mature breasts pressing tightly against his back without reservation.

"A formidable official!"

Her red lips were almost touching his earlobe, and her breath carried a soothing quality.

“You are different from them.”

Are these people the most troublesome group of sorcerers in the world today?

"Oh?"

Wang Meng raised an eyebrow with interest, his voice devoid of any emotion. He could clearly feel the stiffness and slight trembling of the woman behind him. "A demon?"

"What else could it be but a demon?"

Li Qingluo pursed her lips, her charming voice carrying a hint of fear and disgust that she herself could not control: "Look at the others, they come here either for wealth, fame, or a peerless martial arts manual so that they can dominate the martial arts world."

"They're doing great!"

She seemed to have thought of something extremely unpleasant, and her voice became a few degrees sharper: "All these people think about all day is how to overthrow the Mongol court in the north and then establish their own religious dynasty called 'Ming'."

To this end, they use all sorts of sensational doctrines to brainwash and control believers, turning living people into fearless puppets!

They wished they could devour every believer alive, squeezing out every last drop of profit before discarding them without a second thought!

Tell me, what else could this be but a demonic sorcerer?

In the end, she went limp and, with a relieved tone, nuzzled his neck, saying sweetly, "Thank goodness, sir, you were sent to my home."

Otherwise, I'm afraid I'll spend the rest of my life feeling miserable over this blockhead.

Wang Meng understood.

It turned out that she had sensed his murderous intent just now and thought that he was frightened by his past background. She was using her own way to help him resolve his "fear" of the Ming Cult.

What a lovely woman.

Seeing that Wang Meng didn't speak, Li Qingluo assumed that her reassurance had worked, so she continued to use her fearful tone to reinforce Wang Meng's "correct understanding" of this "demonic sect".

“Meng Guan, you were just an ordinary believer before, so you probably didn’t know that the Ming Cult originated from Persia.”

Moreover, it's even more bizarre over there. They constantly say things like "What joy is there in living, what sorrow in dying?" They face death without fear and regard light and fire as their gods.

But their martial arts skills are actually just so-so. They just use all sorts of secret and forbidden drugs to make their followers stupid and foolish, so that they are fearless of death!

The Ming Cult headquarters in the Central Plains was also modeled after Persia. The organization within the cult was as tight as an army. It even imitated the Persian Ming Cult by establishing the Left and Right Envoys of Light, the Four Great Protectors, the Five Wanderers, and the Five Elements Flags, which were divided according to the five elements of metal, wood, water, fire, and earth.

Besides, I will teach you the Mingzun Sacred Fire Technique, which is not an ordinary technique.

But in reality, they also control their followers through various banned drugs.

Fortunately, you, Meng Guan, went astray relatively early; otherwise, once you took those banned drugs, it would have been difficult to quit!

Meng Guan, you should know that the leader of the Ming Cult headquarters in the Central Plains is called Yang Dingtian.

Although he was a Han Chinese, he grew up in Persia and his martial arts skills had reached a level that was unprecedented in history.

His "Great Shift of the Universe" technique had been mastered to an unprecedented fourth level, capable of reversing yin and yang and shifting all things. Li Qingluo's voice grew softer as she spoke, her arms tightening around Wang Meng, her breathtaking breasts almost deforming and spreading against his back. "However, Meng Guan, you may not know that the Great Shift of the Universe has flaws… My mother also studied it. Practicing this martial art subtly changes a person's character, greatly increasing the probability of going into qi deviation…"

So don't be envious.

After this auction is over, I'll find you an even better martial art..."

Just as Wang Meng was listening with great interest to Li Qingluo's "soft whispers," a slight commotion suddenly came from the entrance of the inner hall.

The previously noisy atmosphere paused briefly and noticeably.

Wang Meng looked up and saw a group of people walking in.

The leader was a Taoist nun.

She was dressed in a plain white Taoist robe, holding a whisk in her hand, and her long hair was tied up with a simple wooden hairpin. Her attire could not be more simple.

However, even in this simplest of outfits, her extraordinary temperament and stunning beauty could not be concealed.

At this moment, however, her face was covered with an unyielding frost, making her look like a stunning statue carved from millennia-old ice, to be admired from afar but not to be touched.

Wang Meng's pupils narrowed slightly.

He naturally recognized the beautiful Taoist nun.

It was Fang Yanqing, the head of the Emei Sect, who gave him a whole bottle of holy medicine for healing after seeing the peculiar "heart-connecting mole" on his chest!

At this moment, she was leading several female disciples, who were also dressed in simple Taoist robes and had remarkable appearances, into the inner hall.

Her gaze was level with the front, carrying an air of authority and indifference befitting the leader of a faction.

However, when her gaze inadvertently swept over the pavilion occupied by the Ming Cult members, she suddenly stopped in her tracks.

In that instant, the temperature in the entire inner room seemed to drop several degrees.

It was as if a layer of bone-chilling frost instantly enveloped her beautiful face.

Those phoenix eyes, which should have been filled with affection, instantly ignited with piercing hatred and murderous intent. Their gazes were like two unsheathed swords, piercing straight at the middle-aged man in the pavilion.

Her lips, which were already tightly pursed, were now stretched into a cold, straight line.

"Tsk tsk, the main character has arrived!"

Li Qingluo's gloating voice rang in Wang Meng's ears once again. Instead of being afraid, she excitedly twisted her waist, pressing her body even closer to Wang Meng. "Yanqing has encountered a demon from the Ming Cult. This is going to be a good show."

She extended her warm, moist tongue and gently licked Wang Meng's earlobe, her breath sweet as orchids: "Meng Guan, don't be fooled by Yan Qing's seemingly detached and indifferent appearance."

Her hatred for the Ming Cult was etched into her very bones.

It is said that her senior brother and sweetheart from her youth was literally driven to his death by Yang Xiao, the Left Guardian of the Ming Cult, and the Emei Sect's prized treasure, the Heaven-Reliant Sword, also disappeared. This deep-seated hatred has lasted for over a decade!

Li Qingluo chuckled, as if recounting an amusing anecdote completely unrelated to herself: "Look at the look in her eyes, she can't wait to rush up there and skin those Ming Cult bastards alive..."

"Over ten years?"

Suddenly, a thought flashed through Wang Meng's mind, and he recalled the questions that the beautiful Taoist nun had asked him that day.

An idea popped into Wang Meng's mind.

"About eighteen years ago... This matter was quite famous back then..."

Upon hearing this number, Wang Meng became even more certain that his guess was correct.

Looking back, the beautiful Taoist nun looked completely lost and distraught at that time.

She... wouldn't think she's his senior brother reincarnated, would she?

If that's the case... then that would be interesting.

The Ming Cult members in the pavilion naturally sensed this chilling killing intent, which felt almost tangible.

The middle-aged man at the head of the group slowly raised his head, meeting Fang Yanqing's murderous gaze. Instead of showing any fear, a faint, mocking smile appeared on his face.

"Who do you think it is? It turns out to be Abbess Miejue of the Emei Sect."

The middle-aged man's voice wasn't loud, but it clearly reached the ears of everyone present, carrying a condescending composure: "Master, instead of cultivating in seclusion on the Golden Summit of Emei, you've come to this mortal world. Could it be... that you've lost another senior brother to comfort you, and are trying your luck here?"

These words were like adding fuel to the fire.

"You freak, you're asking for death!"

Fang Yanqing's beautiful face instantly flushed red, a flame ignited by extreme anger and humiliation.

She tightened her grip on the whisk, and with a clang, a gleaming longsword was drawn half an inch from its sheath behind her, its chilling aura causing the strands of hair at her temples to flutter slightly.

The female disciples behind her drew their longswords in unison, pointing the tips at the pavilion, and assumed the starting stance of the Emei Sword Formation.

The atmosphere in the courtyard instantly tensed. The dozen or so white-robed followers behind the middle-aged man stepped forward in unison, their scimitars drawn, their eyes flashing with a mixture of fanaticism and killing intent as they confronted the Emei disciples without flinching.

An invisible pressure emanated from the two groups of people, spreading throughout the inner hall. The surrounding guests all changed their expressions and subconsciously retreated, fearing that they would be drawn into this imminent bloody battle.

"how?

"Does the nun intend to test her skills against my Ming Cult here?"

The middle-aged man sneered, his disdain growing stronger, "I'm afraid your numbers aren't even enough to fill the teeth of my Holy Church brothers."

The beautiful Taoist nun sneered, "Is that so?"

Before the words were even finished, everyone at Huang Rong's table stood up. Then, not far away, at the table of the noble young master disguised as Princess Taiping, the gray-robed nun also stood up, leading a dozen or so pretty women.

In addition, some people who were clearly lone travelers also stood up to support the beautiful Taoist nun.

The middle-aged man witnessed this scene.

Especially when he saw Huang Rong and that gray-robed nun.

His expression changed drastically, and he opened his mouth as if to say something.

But there was no sound for a long time.

"Distinguished guests, please calm down."

Just as tensions were rising and blood was about to spill, a deep, slightly languid voice, carrying a hint of smirk, resounded throughout the arena.

Wang Meng had emerged from behind the beaded curtain at some point and stood leisurely between the two groups of people.

He wore an almost professional smile, as if the deadly standoff before him was nothing more than children playing house.

"Within the villa, we savor tea and appreciate treasures, valuing harmony above all else!"

He glanced around, his gaze lingering for a moment on Fang Yanqing's pretty face, flushed with anger, and on the Ming Cult leader's handsome face, which wore a cold smile. "If you have any grudges, please settle them outside the manor."

I organized today's appraisal; please grant me your kind consideration.

These words were spoken politely, yet they conveyed an undeniable air of ownership. "Who do you think you are..."

The middle-aged man from the Ming Cult instinctively wanted to start cursing. In his eyes, this young man who had appeared out of nowhere was simply courting death.

However, his words were stuck in his throat.

Because he witnessed an incredible scene.