Martial Ascent to Divinity

A tall middle-aged man was seen pushing a wheelchair onto the stage, with the scaffolding of the wheelchair hanging full of drug bags and IV bottles.

Sitting in the wheelchair was a tall middle-aged man, with both legs and arms all casted and suspended, the entire body wrapped in bandages like a mummy.

He tilted his head, revealing half of his face, where unconcealable joy appeared.

The mouth was crookedly smiling, exposing half-lost teeth.

"Sun Wamin... Sun Wamin..."

Many people here had watched the final showdown, cheering loudly.

Zhou Leng, Zhang Xinglie, and Rao Mingxian were all newcomers, stunned for a moment at this scene, then quickly reacting.

The prior Innate War must have been extremely brutal.

This championship was taken at the cost of life.

The host suddenly squeezed out a radiant smile, loudly saying: "Next, let's welcome our award presenter, the direct grandson of Saint Zhao, Third Young Master Zhao of the Zhao Clan, and director of one of the Top Ten Pioneer Companies, Celestial Gold Exploration Company, Zhao Tong! Everyone, please applaud!"

Many clapped vigorously, the atmosphere intense.

Some martial artists crossed their arms, motionless.

Earlier, they had applauded for Sun Wamin.

Rao Mingxian clapped forcefully, eyes full of anticipation.

Zhou Leng and Zhang Xinglie remained calm, hands in place.

A taxi was stuck in the middle of the road not far away.

Hu Yi leaned against the car door, smoking a cigarette, looking towards the ring.

On the plaza's side, Feng Wenhao, Wei Hong, and other classmates of Zhou Leng gathered excitedly.

At this moment, five people walked onto the stage.

One led, with four others behind, maintaining a distance from the first person.

The host bent over, jogging to Zhao Tong, extending both hands, filled with a smile.

Zhao Tong stood straight, reached out his right hand, lightly touched the host's hand, and discreetly withdrew using Innate True Qi.

The host seemed oblivious, still smiling, slightly bowing, following behind Zhao Tong, while the innate bodyguard behind pushed him away.

The host still smiling, waved to the other side: "Let's welcome our beautiful ceremony ladies to present the champion's prize, Head...less...God!"

Two tall beauties in high split red dresses, catwalked in high heels, carrying something covered in red cloth in four hands, walking gracefully with strong smiles to Zhao Tong.

The two slowly handed over the item to Zhao Tong, eyes burning, smiles even wider.

Zhao Tong didn't glance at them, casually lifted the red satin, picking up the wooden box wrapped in bright yellow silk.

He weighed it, nodding lightly.

The bustling People's Square quieted.

Everyone stared at the dragon-embroidered yellow silk.

Zhao Tong glanced at Sun Wamin, smiling: "You did well. Once you're healed, if interested in joining the Zhao Clan, you can reach out to me directly."

Sun Wamin's eyes lit up, unable to nod due to his severe injury, rapidly blinked.

Zhao Tong smiled, lifted the dragon-embroidered yellow silk, opened the box, showing the contents to everyone.

As a direct grandson of the Zhao Clan, he'd seen many Headless Gods, originally disinterested.

He had one himself.

Since most Headless Gods were incomplete, for the Zhao Clan, only those in perfect condition, preferably corpses of higher realm Martial Saints or more powerful beings, were worth a glance.

He glanced with the corner of his eye, stunned, then turned to carefully look inside the box.

The Headless God inside was an arm, a Beastman's arm.

The skin smooth and delicate, the green skin clear and translucent, almost like top-grade emerald jade at first glance.

This quality surpassed his own Headless God.

The original owner of this arm had a very high realm, possibly reaching the zenith of a Demigod Beastman.

Even a Martial Saint would want this as a collectible upon seeing it.

This Headless God's hand was at least ten percent stronger than his own.

People in the distance gasped or softly exclaimed. Many even took out phones to capture or zoom in for a closer look.

The jade-like arm radiated an indescribable beauty.

"This quality is so high," Zhang Xinglie marveled.

"Yes, comparable to the top-quality ones described in online videos."

"If those treasure-appraisal influencers saw this, they'd scream in shock."

Zhao Tong closed the lid.

The audience's eyes widened.

Zhao Tong glanced at the innate bodyguard, then at the host, holding the box, walking to the back of the curtain at the stage's edge, dialing a number using the advanced demon brain.

The innate bodyguard understood, stepped forward, turning off the microphone in the host's hand.

The host's smile froze, not daring to move.

The crowd was puzzled, waiting quietly, many frowning.

Zhao Tong stood beneath the curtain with his back to the crowd.

"Grandma, I fancy a Headless God. I want this one," Zhao Tong said with a smile.

"Hey, it's just a Headless God. If you like it, just take it; no need to make the call intentionally..."

Sun Wamin, the host, the two ceremonial ladies, and the four bodyguards heard clearly.

The unmoving smile on Sun Wamin's face slowly faded, the previously oil-slicked face dimming.

His eyelids drooped slowly, like a shop's roll-up door slowly descending at night.

Shortly after, Zhao Tong, still smiling, came over, pushing the wheelchair, taking Sun Wamin to the back of the curtain on the stage.

Zhao Tong stood behind the wheelchair, pressing both hands on Sun Wamin's shoulders, bending down, smiling, discussing something with Sun Wamin.

Most of those below the stage were silent, only a few discussing quietly.

Many frowned, having a bad premonition.

Rao Mingxian suddenly sighed deeply.

Zhang Xinglie smirked, "Interesting."

The people below couldn't hear, but the host and others on the stage heard clearly.

"Make a friend, the award ceremony goes on, after the award, this Headless God's hand is mine..."

"I won't shortchange you, one billion, transferred on the day..."

"Of course, you need to sign a confidentiality agreement..."

"I think highly of you..."

"You can choose any power under the Zhao Family..."

The host maintained a smile, but his gaze was dim.

This Headless God's hand, forget one billion, even ten billion couldn't secure it.

Finally, they saw the tilted-head Sun Wamin nod forcefully.

Zhao Tong's right hand gently patted Sun Wamin's shoulder, then pushed Sun Wamin back, smiling especially warmly.

Zhao Tong reopened the box and, in front of everyone, placed the Headless God's hand onto Sun Wamin's lap.

Sun Wamin's limbs were casted and suspended, he could only look at the Headless God in his lap, unable to touch it.

"Let us thank Mr. Zhao Tong... let us congratulate Mr. Sun Wamin on obtaining the Headless God..."

The host's emotional voice transmitted through the loudspeakers across the venue, and everyone applauded.

Only the applause seemed much lighter than before.

Rao Mingxian, like Zhou Leng and Zhang Xinglie, placed their hands at their sides, without clapping again.

The camera flashes kept flickering on Sun Wamin.

Sun Wamin's gaze was calm, like a frozen lake.

His lower lip kept trembling slightly.

Zhao Tong smiled, appearing very approachable.

Suddenly, a strange sound emanated from the Headless God box.

The sound echoed through the loudspeakers across the venue.

Like the sound of a frozen river cracking open in spring, endlessly continuing.

Everyone on stage remained motionless, as if immobilized by a Demon Spirit Master's Immobilization Technique.

Originally, the person pushing Sun Wamin's wheelchair moved with distorted light surrounding his body.

In a flash, the heads of four Innate bodyguards flew up, and the corpses fell to the ground.

Everyone saw the light surrounding that person distort and his shape change.

His body seemed to be cast in brass, glowing brightly, with skin vastly different from ordinary people.

The blade in his hand was spotless, not tainted with a drop of blood.

He wore a smile as he looked at the audience below.

Most of the adults present recognized this face.

"Tong Tianxia..."

"Tong Wudi..."

"Huang Meng Sect..."

"Prince Yi..."

Under everyone's gaze, Tong Tianxia grabbed Zhao Tong's hair with his left hand and swung his blade with the right.

Dusk descended slightly, a cold glint flashed, and he lifted the head.

From the severed neck, red blood spouted three feet high.

Tong Tianxia tilted his ear as if listening to the sound of the blood spraying.

Hisss...

The body fell, Tong Tianxia smiled and surveyed the venue.

"Blades technique is also a technique."

A dim shadow danced on his face; his smile was malicious like dark fire.

Tong Tianxia bent down, retrieved the Headless God's hand, and strode to the edge of the stage, brandishing the short blade dipped in blood before the curtain.

Long streaks of blood splattered, strokes moved elegantly as if in dragon and snake dance.

The red hue lingered, stirring powerful emotions.

Huang Meng.

An aura of fierce killing intent soared to the sky.

Zhou Leng and Zhang Xinglie exchanged a glance.

The two had discussed the Headless God many times before, both thinking it was not simple.

Until today, they finally understood the true goal of the Headless God dispute.

In the audience, there were ordinary people as well as martial artists, lacking strength.

Not far away, there were Martial Guards, patrols, and some Innate, lacking strength.

A few Grandmasters were scattered around; after a brief consideration, they remained motionless.

Tong Tianxia took out a brass charge horn from his Magic Spirit Bag, tied with red cloth, puffed up his cheeks, and blew loudly.

"Didi-ta-di-da, didi-da-di-da..."

Every Dragon Country person had heard the sound of the charge horn echoing to the skies, stirring passion.

Tong Tianxia strode with Zhao Tong's head in hand, leaped a few times, and disappeared into the dense buildings.

Some experts glanced in Tong Tianxia's direction, and suddenly, they all looked at the rooftop in that direction.

On the rooftop stood a man in a gray trench coat.

The wind blew, and the trench coat fluttered.

That man held a long spear in his right hand, resting on his shoulder, standing high at a hundred meters, overlooking the city.

Zhou Leng's gaze shifted.

Not far away, someone shouted: "Duan Feiyu! It's King Slayer's Spear, Duan Feiyu! This time, Huang Meng Sect sent two Grandmasters."

"King Slayer's Spear..."

"Back then, he was a righteous figure alongside Tong Tianxia, piercing through with one spear..."

Suddenly, a piercing alarm sounded.

Demon Worship Sect attacking the city!

Whenever a Sea Siren, Demon, or Demon Worship Sect attacked the city, once the alarm sounded, everyone panicked, everyone ran chaotically.

But now, in People's Square, the vast majority were not afraid, not frantic.

Some looked in the direction where Tong Tianxia disappeared, some looked at the bodies on the stage.

Only a few were panic-stricken, ran a few steps, and found the people around them surprisingly unafraid, so they stopped in their tracks.

Every time the Demon Worship Sect attacked the city, martial artists mostly bravely fought the enemy, rushing toward the alarm's location.

It's a duty not to be shirked.

But this time, nearly all of the martial artists, including Martial Guards and patrols, stood silently.

They seemed to not hear the alarm.

No one rushed to the location of the long alarm.

That place seemed like a land of unrighteousness.

Everyone, as if just finished watching a stage play, was slowly savoring.

Reluctant to leave.

Zhou Leng recalled the instructions from Chen Changyi and Wang Boxiong.

Rao Mingxian glanced at the Demonized Watch information, his face changed dramatically; he turned to leave, took one step and returned.

He stuffed a soft white cotton cloth-wrapped item into Zhou Leng's hand.

"Take care." After saying, Rao Mingxian left in big strides, running faster and faster, vanishing among the crowd.

Zhou Leng turned his head to ask, only to see a vast sea of people.

He opened the soft white cotton cloth; inside was a jade pendant.

Zhou Leng remembered, the day they chatted at night, Rao Mingxian took it out and showed it.

A key to a cultivation land.

Just now, he didn't see Rao Mingxian's facial expression; he only sensed something wrong with his voice.

Opened Martial Faith, activated voice call.

Rao Mingxian didn't answer.

"Where's Rao Mingxian?" Zhang Xinglie finally reacted.

"I don't know why, he suddenly left."

"Probably something at home. This martial arts contest was quite thrilling."

Zhou Leng looked at the ring, where the host, etiquette lady, and Sun Wamin remained, faces pale, not daring to move.

As if a cold wind blew by, the four of them shivered lightly.

People below, from silence to buzzing discussion.

"Dad, who is Tong Tianxia?"

"A righteous figure."

"Oh, Huang Meng Sect's Huang is for Huang Chao, but who is Meng?"

"Not quite sure."

"I looked at a map yesterday and suddenly thought, wouldn't Meng be Bengal..."

"Nonsense."

The father-son conversation was drowned by the crowd.

Many exclaimed.

"Look, in the sky."

"Look, another small moon appeared."

"I gained another National Divine Technique..."

Zhou Leng and Zhang Xinglie both looked up at the sky.

In early summer, an autumn breeze blew.

May night, June overhead, one large and five small.

.

End of Volume One.