Volume Two: Emerging Talent Chapter 43: Western Mountain

In the past few days, he had already finished moving. In truth, he owned very little—just a few simple pieces of clothing. He had arranged formations throughout the courtyard, which were now subtly altering the environment, though such change would not happen overnight. On the last day of 2020, he received a call from Wang Hao, who told him that an ancient site had been discovered at West Mountain and asked if he was interested.

This news sent shockwaves through the martial arts world; many practitioners were flocking there, including some formidable masters. Driven by curiosity and the desire to broaden his horizons, he boarded a train and headed for West Mountain.

Since he began practicing martial arts, apart from his enemies, he’d rarely encountered fellow martial artists. This occasion was a rare opportunity, and he had no intention of letting it slip by.

West Mountain was both a place name and a reference to a range of mountains. The town of West Mountain County had become extraordinarily lively, with crowds pouring in. Every hotel and restaurant was doing booming business.

The town lay in close embrace with nature, bordered to the west by endless mountain ranges thick with marshes and wild beasts. In earlier years, hunters would ascend these mountains, but lately, few dared venture there. Rumor had it that a giant python, nearly a hundred meters long and as thick as a barrel, with a body black as ink, lurked in the mountains. All who had laid eyes on the serpent were said to have been devoured—a tale that spread far and wide, though no one could confirm its truth.

As he stepped into the town, he took a deep breath. Indeed, places close to nature brimmed with pure spiritual energy, far surpassing the murky air of the cities. Moreover, the people moving about here were all seasoned practitioners, their bodies exuding the distinct vigor of martial artists, a presence impossible for ordinary people to match.

He was about to step forward when he paused, frowning—he hadn’t expected to run into Ye Meier here.

At that moment, Ye Meier also spotted Qin Yang. Her face flushed with a touch of shyness, but she quickly concealed it, resuming her usual strong-willed demeanor. "Qin Yang, what brings you here?"

"Sister Ye, I was invited by President Wang. How about you?"

She smiled lightly, "I heard recently that West Mountain County has a great environment. I came to look around and consider starting some business here." She sounded casual, but Qin Yang knew Ye Meier always made bold moves. Still, the town was in chaos now, and this hardly seemed the right time to invest.

"Qin Yang, there’s a hotel just ahead that belongs to me. You must not have found a place to stay since you just arrived. How about I make arrangements for you?" Ye Meier offered with a smile.

The man beside Ye Meier's face changed abruptly upon witnessing this. He was a long-time confidant of Ye Meier, and had never seen her show such enthusiasm for anyone before. Pushing up his glasses to mask his displeasure, he wondered who exactly Qin Yang was. He had known Ye Meier for years and had met most of her acquaintances, but this young man left no impression at all.

Could he be some rich heir? But then, he shook his head. The city of Bincheng wasn't that big, and there was no prominent Qin family he knew of.

Qin Yang waved it away. "No need, Sister Ye. President Wang has already made arrangements for me. I wouldn’t want to trouble you."

Ye Meier paused, then nodded. "Of course, if Wang Hao invited you, he must have taken care of everything. In that case, we’ll leave you to it."

The man beside Ye Meier narrowed his eyes. He hadn’t expected Qin Yang to be acquainted with Wang Hao, and seemingly quite well. Otherwise, why would Wang Hao personally handle all his arrangements?

The National Guest Hotel.

This was a large hotel that Wang Hao had quietly acquired and refurbished. Since its reopening, business had tripled compared to before.

Seeing Qin Yang arrive, Wang Hao’s face lit up with a broad smile. He strode forward and grasped Qin Yang’s hand warmly. "Brother Qin, you finally made it! Come, let me introduce you to a few senior martial artists."

Qin Yang glanced at three figures standing in the distance and felt a slight jolt. All three were masters who had entered the Dao—a fact that took him by surprise.

He had met powerful figures before—Zhan Long was a master of the Profound Realm, and Master Yideng was also a cultivator who had entered the Dao. But aside from them, this was the first time he’d encountered three Dao-level experts at once.

The first who caught his eye was a bald elder, dressed in a traditional Tang suit adorned with countless cloud patterns. He wore a kindly expression, like the grandfather next door. His hands were especially notable—covered in thick calluses, clearly the mark of an extraordinary practitioner of palm techniques.

This was Wang Kun, the King of Eight Trigram Palms.

Qin Yang nodded in greeting, but before Wang Hao could introduce the other two, a cold, disdainful voice sounded.

"Wang Hao, is this the expert you wanted us to meet? He doesn’t look like much to me." The speaker cast a contemptuous glance at Qin Yang, snorted, and looked away.

Qin Yang narrowed his eyes. The man before him stood about 1.73 meters tall, dressed in a business suit, looking every bit the seasoned businessman. Yet he exuded a subtle, oppressive aura. His hands were spotlessly clean, and his legs were rooted to the ground like ancient tree roots—unyielding and resolute. A menacing scar ran down his right cheek, making his face even more fearsome. When he grew angry, the scar twitched like a centipede crawling across his skin.

"And you are, sir?" Qin Yang asked with a faint, mocking smile.

"Whirlwind Leg Yang Cong." The man stroked his beard, chin held high, radiating arrogance.

"Oh, so that’s who you are..." Qin Yang's face flashed with feigned realization, then darkened abruptly. "Never heard of you. Brother Wang, is he supposed to be famous?"

The abrupt shift in attitude was stark. Yang Cong, expecting praise, felt his fury surge to the brink of eruption.

"A martial artist must guard against arrogance and impatience. You've lived so many years, yet can’t control your temper—have you wasted your life on nothing?" Qin Yang retorted coldly.

If others show me respect, I shall return it tenfold. But if you look down on me, don’t expect me to hold back.

"And besides, the two seniors here are both more powerful than you. As a mere novice in the Dao, what gives you the right to put on airs?"

"Look at Master Wang Kun—what composure, what bearing! And you? You’re like a clown."

"I’d hoped to see some real skill and broaden my horizons, but it turns out you’re not worth meeting at all."

Wang Hao’s face changed dramatically at Qin Yang’s words. Whirlwind Leg Yang Cong was truly formidable, and even Wang Kun and Shao Bing had never gained an advantage over him. Qin Yang was fearless, speaking his mind without restraint. Wang Hao began to regret inviting him.

Yet now there was no turning back. Though Qin Yang had dueled Master Yideng before, Yang Cong was another matter entirely—he’d been at the Dao level for over a decade, his martial prowess deeply rooted, far beyond Master Yideng’s reach.

"Master Yang, forgive my young friend’s temper..."

"Enough!" Yang Cong roared. A terrifying power burst forth, forcing Wang Hao several steps back.

Qin Yang had not intended to escalate things, but seeing Wang Hao berated on his behalf, his anger surged.

"Old man, you really don’t know what’s good for you. Since you insist, I’ll tear off your mask and show everyone your true colors."