Chapter 121: A weakling like you dares to call yourself the Great Emperor of Mount Tai?

Yang Meng looked at the young man. "Tell me, friend, what should I call you? Isn't there some misunderstanding here? We don't know the people in this room; in fact, we came here to give them a hard time too."

The young man's background was unknown, but at a glance, it was clear he was no ordinary person. If nothing else, his ability to kill with a flying wire was something Yang Meng himself could not replicate. Moreover, the wire itself clearly wasn't an ordinary object. Whether it was an illusion or not, Yang Meng constantly felt a scent of the underworld clinging to it—was it because he had killed so many?

The young man shook his head at Yang Meng’s words. "You can only blame your bad luck. You appeared where you shouldn't have and saw things you shouldn't have seen."

Yang Meng stated flatly, "We didn't see anything. We’ll say what needs to be said, and we won't mention what shouldn't be mentioned."

The young man continued to shake his head. "No, no. Only the dead keep the tightest lips."

Before he finished speaking, his figure flickered and vanished from where he stood. Before anyone could process what had happened, there was a muffled thud. A massive shockwave followed, sending Long Mingyang and the others flying. When they regained their senses, they saw the mysterious young man’s leg locked against Yang Meng’s. What kind of impact could generate such a powerful shockwave? Was this even something a human could do?

The young man looked at Yang Meng with even greater surprise. "Who on earth are you? To actually be able to take that kick?"

Yang Meng forced a smile. "Forget one kick, I could take a thousand or eight hundred more!"

He said this with great effort; taking that single kick had already exhausted all his strength.

"Is that so?" The young man smiled slightly. His body moved in a blur, and before Yang Meng could react, a foot struck his face, embedding him directly into the wall. "I wasn't even trying!"

Yang Meng couldn't recover for a long time; agony radiated from his very marrow. He didn't know how many bones had broken from that strike. It was fortunate that he had instinctively used his spiritual power to protect his body; otherwise, that kick might have cost him his life.

"Little Yang!" Long Mingyang was shocked. It was the first time he had seen someone kicked straight into a wall! Even more terrifying was that Yang Meng seemed to still be alive, struggling to pull himself out. The building materials of "Handong World" were top-tier—that was why they were so expensive. Even with a heavy sledgehammer, it would take many blows to chip the wall, yet this living person had been kicked right into it? What was up with this young man’s leg? And what was up with Yang Meng’s body?

The mysterious young man took out a lighter and lit the cigarette he had previously left unlit. He took a moment to smooth his hair before taking a deep drag and looking at Yang Meng. "Kid, don't think that just because you have a few tricks, you’re something special. I’ve seen ten thousand people like you, if not eight thousand. Empty vessels make the most noise; people like you are always the first to die!"

Yang Meng took a deep breath, suppressing the pain throughout his body. "That’s a big mouth you’ve got. Ten thousand? Even if you saw one a day, it would take you nearly thirty years! How old are you? You’re bragging to the heavens!"

One mustn't lose face, right? If he couldn't beat him, he could at least talk back. Besides, Yang Meng was stalling for time, his mind racing to find a way to deal with this mysterious youth.

The young man smiled slightly at Yang Meng's retort. "How old am I? My apologies, I’ve lived so long that I’ve forgotten."

Yang Meng curled his lip. "What a show-off!" He gritted his teeth, pushed his right hand out of the wall, and used it to pull his entire body out. Just as he had feared, countless bones were broken. He couldn't even stand and collapsed heavily onto the floor.

The young man looked at Yang Meng with a cold sneer. "If your combat skills were as sharp as your tongue, I really wouldn't be your match. But unfortunately, your life ends here. To be precise, the lives of all of you have reached their end." He finished speaking, and that thin wire appeared in his hand once more. "You’ll be the first!"

Yang Meng watched helplessly as the wire flew toward him. Was it going to sever his head? He couldn't just surrender! He still had one final resort.

Yang Meng suddenly raised his right hand and shouted, "Burn! Black Realm!"

Seeing Yang Meng's action, the mysterious young man grew vigilant, staring at Yang Meng’s right hand, ready to counter whatever move was coming. Then, he watched as a tiny, black flame flickered to life on Yang Meng’s right thumb...

Long Mingyang and the others had been hopeful at first, thinking Yang Meng might have a "trump card" to save them. But seeing that tiny black flame, they nearly fainted from despair.

Yang Meng was also dazed. This "Black Realm" was too unreliable! When Zhao Yun had attacked him in the elevator, it had enveloped his entire body to protect him, but now? Just a little flame? He looked at the flame on his hand. Well, he was doomed this time.

Just then, Yun He, who had been tossed aside earlier, suddenly roared and threw a punch at the young man’s face from the side. Yang Meng realized then that Yun He was a trained fighter; his punch was swift and powerful, showing the influence of Southern-style martial arts. However, it was a feint. Just as he was about to land the strike, he changed tactics, aiming an elbow strike at the young man’s chest. The move was unexpected, and the young man was struck.

"Baguazhang? A decent change of tactics, but you only know the surface; your power is lacking," the young man commented, standing still. Yun He, meanwhile, clutched his elbow in agony. With a backhand slap, the young man sent Yun He flying, his head slamming into the wall. He hadn't used lethal force, but the impact knocked Yun He unconscious.

Long Mingyang and the others were now in total despair. Neither of their fighters could stand against this youth. Who was he? Not only was he decisive and ruthless, but he was also overwhelmingly strong!

"Hey, friend, just make it quick! My bones are hurting like hell!" Yang Meng said. Despite his words, his survival instinct kept him from giving up. Unfortunately, his spiritual power was too weak—it hadn't fully recovered, and that kick had nearly finished him. He couldn't even perform a Soul-Calling Mantra. He tried to use the "Black Realm" cultivation method to traverse the void, but his current intensity couldn't even light a cigarette, let alone burn through space.

Yang Meng was truly desperate. Seeing this, Lu Liling realized the situation was dire. If Yang Meng fell, who would save her daughter? She said to Yang Meng, "Mr. Yang, I'll try to trap him with an illusion. You run!"

Before she could finish, the young man reached out toward her. "A good idea, but you’ve miscalculated." With a single gesture, Lu Liling was pinned to the spot, unable to move.

"You... you can hear me?" Lu Liling gasped in shock.

Yang Meng was so startled he nearly jumped. "Who exactly are you?" He was terrified because the spell the young man used to pin Lu Liling was an underworld technique—the "Ghost-Locking Curse" used by Underworld Enforcers! Yang Meng knew this spell but had never used it because it was practically useless: it only worked if the caster’s power far exceeded the target’s. If you encountered a powerful evil spirit, it didn't work; if you encountered a weak ghost, you could just destroy it—why bother trapping it?

The young man, still smoking, walked over to Yang Meng and squatted down, looking down at him. After a while, he said, "So, it’s you?"

Yang Meng was stunned. "What do you mean, 'it's me'? Do you know me?"

The young man shook his head. "I don't know you, but I know your other identity." He pointed downward. "That identity!"

Yang Meng was speechless. "Who... who are you?" He was so nervous he started stuttering.

The young man didn't answer. Instead, he shoved his cigarette into Yang Meng's mouth, letting him take a puff. Yang Meng didn't understand, but he inhaled deeply; the smoke helped dull the pain. The young man waved his hand, and Long Mingyang collapsed, unconscious. Yang Meng’s eyes widened—he couldn't even do that!

The young man sighed. "You’ve caused me a headache. You’re the first person I’ve encountered whom I cannot kill."

Seeing Yang Meng’s confusion, the young man gave a mysterious smile. "Kill you? And have you return to the Eastern Mountain Palace to command the underworld? That would only add to our troubles. Better to leave you in the mortal realm. Having a weakling like you in the underworld is actually a good thing for us! My trip here was a waste; I thought there would be powerful sorcerers, but it was just a few petty ghosts. You can keep them to play with—they're perfect for a weakling like you!"

He stood up, looking at Yang Meng with a mocking expression. Yang Meng was so shocked he couldn't speak. After a long while, he muttered, "Who... who are you? How do you know I am the Great Emperor of the Eastern Mountain?"

The young man laughed as if he had heard a joke. "A weakling like you has the nerve to call himself the Great Emperor? If you want to know who I am, come find me in the River of Oblivion!"

Yang Meng wanted to ask more, but he watched as the young man dissolved into a cloud of smoke and vanished before his eyes.

"What the... hell!" Yang Meng finally managed to spit out. Who the hell was that? How was it that he seemed more like a god than he himself did?