The Sacred Leaves Family's Wishes for Peace

In Fang Ting's private courtyard, Fang Luo and the others were gathered, sipping on spirit wine freshly brewed by Fang Chu, chatting about the gamble that had shaken the continent.

"That bald donkey wouldn't stake so much unless he had something up his sleeve," Fang Chen said with certainty.

Fang Luo nodded.

"This Kongjing is the grand-uncle of the abbot of Ten Thousand Buddha Temple. He's probably already ascended to the Emperor Realm."

[And just when the Fang Clan was wondering how to deal with the Western Region's Buddhist sect to take full control of Cangzhou, they came knocking themselves.]

Fang Qiufeng chuckled.

"The old monk must think he's the only one who became an Emperor. He's probably already fantasizing about what comes after his 'certain victory.'"

Everyone shared a knowing smile.

Originally, Fang Ting had hesitated—should they announce the bet publicly? But as if afraid Fang Ting would try to quietly renege or simply to rub in their expected victory, the Buddhist sect started spreading the news first.

That made Fang Ting laugh out loud.

"Well, since you're so eager for the world to know, let me grant you that little wish."

He ordered Zui Xian Tower's intelligence network to broadcast the event across the continent.

Zui Xian Tower's reach and speed far surpassed that of the Buddhists. Where the monks had only promoted the story within Ascension City, the Tower's system had spread every detail of the wager across all of Cangzhou within a short span.

Naturally, the public was shocked.

"Holy crap! That's a massive wager!"

"It's not an all-out war, but the stakes are just as high—win or perish!"

"The Fang Clan is strong, but the Buddhist sect has existed for ages. Their foundations run deep!"

"Thank heavens it's just one match. If it were a five-match or seven-match series, Fang Clan wouldn't have enough Saint Kings to compete."

"Something this huge—we have to see it in person!"

"Let's head there now!"

Many were already headed to Ascension City—some to settle, some to tour.

But now, droves more came solely to witness this historic duel.

In just three days, the city's population ballooned by over 30%, adding hundreds of millions more.

At the appointed hour, the Martial Arena was packed to the brim.

At least tens of millions filled the grounds—more than the population of any city in Cangzhou outside Ascension City itself.

Fortunately, the arena was large enough to hold over a hundred million, though those further back could barely see.

The Western Buddhist faction sat together, eyes closed, chanting sutras. To outsiders, it looked like they were trying to hug Buddha's leg at the last moment.

Then came noon.

Fang Ting arrived with the Fang Clan's delegation.

He walked in front, clad in flowing white robes, his bearing ethereal—like an immortal descended to the mortal realm. Beside him, as dazzling as ever, was Yin Xianhong.

Behind them were Fang Luo, Fang Chen, and the other prodigies—fewer in number than expected.

After all, this was Fang Clan territory. Why bring a whole army just to walk in their own backyard?

"Look, the Fang Clan is here!"

"Patriarch Fang… what a flawless man."

"Who will they send up? Lady Yin?"

"There's no True Dragon Ranking restriction here, so they'll surely send their strongest."

"If that's the case, Fang Clan is at a disadvantage. The Buddhists definitely have someone at Ninth-Tier Saint King. Fang Clan doesn't."

As the Fang Clan arrived, the monks opened their eyes—confidence gleaming within. In their hearts was the yearning to spread the Dharma, to transform Cangzhou into a Buddhist dominion.

Kongjing greeted calmly.

"Patriarch Fang, are you prepared?"

"Of course," Fang Ting nodded.

"Then… who will the Fang Clan send?" Kongjing asked.

His eyes drifted briefly to Yin Xianhong. A Ninth-Tier Saint King—impressive for her age—but not a threat to their top-tier cultivators.

If it was her, they wouldn't even need Kongjing to fight.

Yin Xianhong's current level was due to Fang Ting's support. When they first met, she was only Fifth-Tier Saint King. By natural progress, she'd be at best Seventh-Tier now.

But after cultivating with Fang Ting and ingesting demonic tree fruit given by Fang Hao, she broke through to Ninth-Tier.

Her fellow Palace Lord Shen Hongyi, who had once surpassed her, now watched helplessly as she overtook him—and was now on the verge of catching up to Elder Wang.

Then Fang Ting casually said:

"The Fang Clan doesn't have many people to choose from, unlike the mighty Buddhist sect. So, I, the Patriarch, will take the field myself."

What?!

The moment he spoke, not just the monks—but even the tens of millions watching—were stunned.

"What did he just say? He's going up?!"

"I don't mean to disrespect the Patriarch. His talent is probably the best in Cangzhou history. But... it hasn't been long since his rise."

"Last time he acted, he was at Second-Tier Great Saint. Even if he's advanced, maybe he's at Eighth or Ninth-Tier. How's that going to match a Saint King?"

"If not Lady Yin, then call in Elder Wang from Divine Palace! Why go himself?"

"Is this courage or sheer madness?"

The arena was filled with skeptical murmurs.

They weren't questioning Fang Ting's talent or potential, but the wisdom of this decision.

The wager was colossal. Was he really going to gamble the entire Great Qian Dynasty on this?

Kongjing didn't mock him. Something felt... off.

"Something's not right," he thought. "Why send himself?"

He narrowed his eyes and scanned Fang Ting and his surroundings again and again with his divine sense—finding nothing unusual.

"Is this some kind of trick? Trying to bait me into sending someone weaker?"

"Is this psychological warfare?"

Aloud, Kongjing said:

"So... you wish to provoke me into choosing someone on your level?"

Fang Ting's expression remained calm.

"Send whoever you like."

Kongjing frowned but decided: stick to the plan. He would go. Whatever the Fang Clan was plotting, overwhelming power would crush it.

"Then let me witness how brilliant the Patriarch truly is."

Kongjing was the first to rise, flying high above the arena.

The formations around the stage could block Saint-level attacks—but not those from the Emperor Realm. It was better to fight above, lest any stray blows injure the very people they hoped to one day convert.

In Kongjing's eyes, Ascension City's people were already Buddhist property.

Fang Ting smiled faintly and followed him up.

To the world watching below—it looked like certain death.