Chapter 122: The Consequences of Losing One’s Temper

The two of them strode toward the villa with their long legs.

The courtyard of the villa was bustling with activity. Many cultivators were holding wine glasses, engaged in conversation. It was clearly a small party. People gathered in twos and threes, drinking and chatting. Two long tables were set up in the yard, laden with cakes, desserts, and a buffet-style barbecue.

Zhao Feng’s eyes lit up the moment he saw this. "I drank so much earlier, and after such a long time on the plane, I’m starving!"

Hong Chang rolled her eyes. "Zhao Feng, please, watch your image!"

"Pfft!" Zhao Feng scoffed dismissively and picked up an oyster to eat. Hong Chang slapped her forehead.

Everyone was busy chatting in small groups, and no one paid Zhao Feng any mind. At this moment, none of the people here were bothering with disguises; in other words, no one was wearing masks or the like. Of course, most of these people used transformation techniques—a simple skill that anyone with a bit of practice could master. Because of this, no one truly believed the faces they were seeing. Even Hong Chang had altered her appearance.

The night was quiet. A sea breeze drifted by, carrying a hint of bitterness and salt. A band played soft, mellow music at the party. Zhao Feng sat alone in a corner, happily eating and drinking.

Suddenly, a burly, rugged man walked toward him. Zhao Feng raised an eyebrow and looked up. "Something you need?" he asked indifferently.

The man scratched his head. "Fellow Daoist, don't you recognize me?"

"And you are...?"

"Heh heh!" The man flexed his muscles. "I’m Wang Hu of the Tyrant Blade!"

"Oh! So it’s you." Zhao Feng wasn't surprised; the man was insignificant to him.

"Heh heh!" Wang Hu chuckled. "Fellow Daoist, about that yin-yang imbalance you mentioned last time—could you tell me more about it?"

Zhao Feng raised an eyebrow. "Why should I give you details?"

Wang Hu paused, at a loss for words. He scratched his head again. "Fellow Daoist, I’m willing to offer compensation!"

"Compensation? What kind of compensation?"

Wang Hu looked left and right, then leaned in close to Zhao Feng’s ear. "Fellow Daoist, the truth is, I have another piece of Yin-Nether Stone!"

"What?!"

"I said, I have another piece of Yin-Nether Stone!"

Zhao Feng was slightly surprised. He stared at Wang Hu’s plain face for a moment, trying to determine if he was telling the truth. This was tied to a major issue. Everything in the world followed the laws of mutual generation and restraint; where there is yin, there must be yang, and vice versa. Extremes inevitably reverse. If a place yielded two Yin-Nether Stones, there had to be something of supreme yang essence nearby. In other words, a piece of Yang-Pole Stone was likely to exist. And the Yang-Pole Stone was exactly what was needed to explore the cave.

Zhao Feng scrutinized Wang Hu’s face. Although it was a disguised visage, his eyes seemed capable of piercing through to Wang Hu’s true self. Zhao Feng narrowed his eyes. "Where did you find the Yin-Nether Stone?"

"Heh!" Wang Hu scratched his head. "To tell the truth, I didn't find it myself."

"Oh? Then what happened?" Zhao Feng asked.

Wang Hu gave a sheepish smile. "I picked it up as a bargain while gambling on stones in the Yue Kingdom!"

"The Yue Kingdom?!"

"Yes!"

Zhao Feng frowned and pondered for a moment. "Do you still have that person’s contact information?"

Wang Hu shook his head. "No."

"Do you know where he is?"

Wang Hu shook his head again, looking embarrassed. "He’s just a stone peddler with no fixed location. Even if I went back, I’m not sure I could find him again."

Zhao Feng waved his hand. "Fine, I see. Go back now; I want to eat."

Wang Hu panicked. "Fellow Daoist, wait!"

"What is it?"

Wang Hu gritted his teeth and said, "There’s one thing I didn't mention. The man said he had another top-quality stone and demanded ten million for it. I didn't have that kind of money, so I didn't go to see it."

Zhao Feng was surprised. He calmed himself and said, "After the trip to the Extreme Yang Sea Eye is over, I can treat your body. Provided that..."

"I understand, I understand!" Wang Hu nodded eagerly.

"Hmph!" Zhao Feng waved his hand impatiently.

Suddenly, a voice rang out. "I say, Wang Hu, is this the punk who made you look like a fool?"

Zhao Feng frowned and looked up to see a man with the build of a skinny monkey approaching. Zhao Feng took one look and instantly lost interest. He was only at the third level of Qi Refining—the same level as the now-dead Ming Yi.

The monkey-like man came to Zhao Feng’s side. "I am the Whirlwind Iron Monkey. May I ask what to call you, Fellow Daoist?"

Zhao Feng didn't even look up, let alone speak. The Whirlwind Iron Monkey’s expression stiffened, turning slightly green. "Fellow Daoist..."

*Boom!*

Zhao Feng threw the wine glass in his hand. It spun like a bullet, shooting toward Iron Monkey. The man scrambled in a panic, but the glass reached his head, spilling all the wine over him.

"Is 'Fellow Daoist' something you are worthy of calling me?" Zhao Feng said coldly.

Iron Monkey’s face turned livid. He glared at Zhao Feng, full of rage but afraid to speak. Zhao Feng lowered his head and continued eating.

"I say, kid, aren't you being a bit too arrogant?" A man built like an iron tower walked over.

Zhao Feng raised an eyebrow. "I can't even eat in peace. Who are you?"

"I am Taishan of the Iron Tower. You can call me Taishan!"

Zhao Feng sneered. "So many fancy, showy nicknames!"

Zhao Feng glanced at Taishan and felt a flicker of surprise. This Iron Tower Taishan was a shade stronger than Wang Hu of the Tyrant Blade. Wang Hu was at the fifth level of Qi Refining, while Taishan was on the verge of entering the sixth level.

Zhao Feng stood up with a smile. "After meeting so many people, I’ve finally found someone worth looking at!"

Taishan frowned. "What does that mean?"

Zhao Feng stared at Taishan for a moment, even more surprised. "I didn't expect this—a body cultivator! So you made your name through hard-style martial arts."

Zhao Feng’s meaning was clear: Taishan was both a cultivator and a martial artist. In the mortal world, he would have been a high-level martial arts expert, at least of the fifth rank. Zhao Feng looked at Taishan. "Impressive!" This was a genuine compliment from Zhao Feng, whose standards were incredibly high. To earn his praise meant Taishan was no ordinary man. "However, it’s still not enough."

Taishan’s face darkened instantly. He glowered at Zhao Feng. "If you’ve got the guts, let’s trade a few moves!"

"Heh!" Zhao Feng chuckled. "You don't qualify!"

"You!" Taishan was furious.

Zhao Feng clapped his hands. "Everyone, scatter, before I lose my temper!"

Taishan roared, "And what if you do lose your temper?!"

"Heh! The consequence of me losing my temper is death!!!"