Chapter Thirty-Three: Who Is Playing Whom?

In the distant wastelands, sword energy rampaged through the sky, each slash severing mountains and rivers, creating a scene of overwhelming magnificence. Ye Qiu stood dumbfounded, stunned by the sheer power before him; it was even more terrifying than the previous battle between the Four Great Beasts.

He drew a sharp breath, panic welling up inside. “This is bad. Something terrible really is happening!”

Ye Qiu’s heart trembled. He grabbed Cao He, who was standing nearby, and hurried back into the tavern without hesitation.

Everyone else was left bewildered.

“Why did the senior retreat so quickly?”

“No idea!”

“Is it really that frightening?”

Faces turned pale as they gazed towards the great mountain in the distance.

“Heavens, is that a clash of immortals?”

Above the Abyss of Heaven, a single sword qi flashed by, splitting the very sky open with terrifying might.

Even Fu Feng, ever composed, now shouted in alarm, “Everyone, back to the tavern—quickly!”

Only then did the crowd snap out of their daze and scramble back inside. The shockwaves of this battle were simply too dreadful; even Fu Feng, the supreme master of Supreme Carefree, dared not claim he could withstand them.

In a moment, everyone had retreated to the safety of the tavern, except for the Sky-Swallowing Sparrow, who was left shivering atop a mulberry tree, ruffled and disoriented by the wind.

“Wait—what about me? You’re all just going to leave me behind?”

The Sky-Swallowing Sparrow was dumbfounded. How could they all abandon him so suddenly? Even if they wanted to run, couldn’t they take him along?

What a bunch of unreliable people—hiding inside, enjoying safety while leaving him out here to face the brunt of the shockwaves alone.

“Damn it, you won’t get me that easily…”

Cursing under his breath, the Sky-Swallowing Sparrow dove through a window and into the tavern, instantly feeling a surge of security. This was a true haven from the storm.

“What on earth is happening over there?” Ye Qiu stared at the distant mountain, his heart pounding with anxiety.

Fu Feng and the others hurried over, speaking urgently, “Senior, your prophecy may have come true! Something from the darkness has broken free…”

“What?” Ye Qiu was taken aback. “What exactly?”

Fu Feng explained, “When we explored the darkness, we discovered countless demon gods hidden deep within. Each of these terrifying beings is unimaginably powerful and revels in slaughter. There was once a forbidden seal that kept them imprisoned, but for some reason, the seal has been undone, and those demon gods have escaped.

“If my guess is right, the phenomenon we just witnessed must be the result of a battle between the peerless Sword Immortal of the Heavenly Domain and the demon gods…”

“Demon gods?” Ye Qiu felt his heart sink in terror.

It was over. Was the calamity of world destruction truly about to begin? If so, with his frail and powerless self, how could he possibly survive?

Ye Qiu was thrown into despair. He truly knew nothing and had no way to resist those demon gods. Would this be the end for him?

No, he would have to continue to lie low. Only by keeping his head down could he hope to survive. The ninth rule, chapter eight, of the Traveler’s Code: when faced with imminent danger, never pretend to show off; keep a low profile or risk catastrophic failure…

Ye Qiu never forgot these survival rules—not for a moment.

“Wait, who is this so-called peerless Sword Immortal? Is he really that powerful? More than you, even?” Ye Qiu asked, genuinely curious. In truth, he knew nothing about the cultivation levels of this world. Fu Feng seemed strong, but not invincible.

He felt conflicted; being addressed as “senior” so often by Fu Feng had boosted his confidence, making him feel almost capable himself…

Fu Feng answered, “That man is the greatest genius of the Wasteland. His strength surpasses mine several times over.”

“Impossible…”

Several times stronger than Fu Feng? Wouldn’t that make him an immortal already?

Ye Qiu was skeptical. He didn’t understand much, but surely a leader of a Holy Land like Fu Feng couldn’t be that weak.

But Fu Feng insisted, “Several times—or even dozens of times more powerful…”

“That’s more like it…”

Ye Qiu nodded with satisfaction, while Fu Feng was left puzzled.

What? In your eyes, am I really so inadequate?

Ye Qiu didn’t care what Fu Feng thought. He finally felt relieved. “Good, good! If he’s that strong, he should be able to handle those demon gods. In that case, we can just cheer from the sidelines.”

Ye Qiu was shameless and would do anything to survive. Sometimes a harsh word was for your own good—otherwise, he might sell you out and make you thank him for it.

He was not to be underestimated.

“Tell me more about this man—his origins and cultivation,” Ye Qiu continued, eager to glean secrets while still saving face and hiding his ignorance.

Fu Feng explained, “His name is Liu Jianchen. Born into poverty, orphaned at a young age, he grew up consumed by hatred. He is a legendary swordsman, still young, and he never followed the ways of the world—he only ever practiced the sword. They say his sword intent has already glimpsed the realm of Heaven, and he has entered the Heavenly Sword Domain.

“Even the masters of Supreme Carefree cannot withstand a single blow from him. Though he possesses no cultivation in the usual sense, he is peerless in this world. There are few rumors about him in the Wasteland; it is as if he sprang from nothing…”

“Wait… Is he the protagonist?” Ye Qiu was shocked. This was the archetypal protagonist’s path—tragic origins, a meteoric rise against all odds, unrivaled in the world. If this wasn’t the protagonist, who was?

Good heavens, had he stumbled upon the protagonist?

No, he needed to latch onto this powerhouse…

Ye Qiu was inwardly thrilled, just about to speak when Fu Feng added, “However, despite Liu Jianchen’s strength, I believe… he’s not even worthy to carry your shoes, Senior.”

“What?” Ye Qiu was stunned. Was he really that formidable?

Impossible. Did they take him for a fool? He knew his own limits; did Fu Feng think he was illiterate?

Was this a ploy to make him a stepping stone for the protagonist, to set him up for a grand humiliation and reveal his identity as a fake master, thereby amplifying the protagonist’s aura and creating a satisfying twist?

Nice try, but he wasn’t falling for it. Having read thousands of novels, he had seen every trick in the book.

Ye Qiu, of course, would not be deceived. He knew exactly what he was capable of.

“Ahem, you give me too much credit. I’m just an ordinary man, without even the slightest cultivation. How could I ever deserve to have him carry my shoes?”

“Still pretending?”

“Again with the act?”

Fu Feng’s face darkened. This man was still pretending?

Anyone could claim to be ordinary—but not Ye Qiu, for he was truly a peerless expert. Fu Feng didn’t know what lay beyond the Supreme Carefree realm, but he could sense that Ye Qiu was far stronger than him; even Liu Jianchen could not compare.

Just the righteous energy coursing through Ye Qiu was proof enough. Liu Jianchen was a sword cultivator, but he could not even produce a single strand of sword qi—how could he be Ye Qiu’s equal?

“Truly, all great masters love to pretend. They’re as strong as gods, yet always act so weak and helpless—as if begging to be bullied, just for the chance to slap someone in the face…”

At this thought, Fu Feng’s expression shifted, shocked by the realization.

Damn it, what a trap! I almost fell for it…