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Several days passed in a flash, and the situation continued to ferment.
Balak Kingdom, Shrek Academy.
Lan Minghua lounged lazily on the rooftop, basking in the sunlight, but his expression was filled with melancholy.
No one had come to cause him trouble. This was far too unreasonable.
Strange… where are the people from the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect? Ning Fengzhi died by my hand—shouldn't they be charging in, full of righteous fury, to avenge him? Why is there not even the slightest reaction?
In truth, Lan Minghua could understand why the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect had not sought revenge.
After all, their place among the upper three sects was not due to their own strength, but because of Sword Douluo and Bone Douluo.
Now, with both of Sword Douluo's arms severed, he was essentially a cripple.
Even with the soul power of a Titled Douluo, he was not much better than a disabled man.
As for Bone Douluo, there was even less to say—his strength was a notch below Sword Douluo's.
If Sword Douluo could not win, Bone Douluo coming for revenge would be nothing more than delivering himself as a meal.
What puzzled Lan Minghua was that the Spirit Hall had also shown no reaction.
Something's wrong—very wrong. Why hasn't the Spirit Hall come to cause trouble? Could it be they're afraid?
Narrowing his eyes, Lan Minghua caught a whiff of conspiracy in the air.
I crippled both Yue Guan and Gui Mei. By all logic, the Spirit Hall—or more precisely, Bibi Dong—would never let such a thing slide.
After all, the chrysanthemum and ghost shadows engraved on the Pope's token represented Chrysanthemum Douluo Yue Guan and Ghost Douluo Gui Mei.
Striking at those two was equivalent to slapping the Spirit Hall squarely in the face.
So why, after all this time, have they made no move?
Could it be they haven't located me?
No—absolutely impossible.
The moment the thought surfaced, Lan Minghua dismissed it himself.
There was no way the Spirit Hall didn't know where he was.
In fact, the day he made a move against Tang Hao, he had already entered the Spirit Hall's line of sight.
Otherwise, Yue Guan and Gui Mei would never have invited him to become an elder of the Spirit Hall.
While Lan Minghua was still puzzling over the matter, his gaze happened to fall on Yu Xiaogang, who was instructing Tang San and the others to run while carrying stones.
Suddenly, realization dawned.
Yu Xiaogang? Yu… Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan?!
A phrase popped into Lan Minghua's mind—one that might just be the key.
The upper three sects—united in breath and branch!
"That's right… those were Ning Fengzhi's words. Although the actual relationship between the three sects isn't as close as 'united in breath and branch' suggests…"
At that moment, Lan Minghua more or less guessed why neither the Spirit Hall nor the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect had made a move against him.
While the upper three sects' relations weren't as harmonious as claimed, neither the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan nor the Clear Sky Sect had publicly denied it.
They were all wary of the Spirit Hall.
The sect leaders had long since seen through the Spirit Hall's ambition.
Because of that ambition, the upper three sects were destined to stand in opposition to the Spirit Hall.
And in a one-on-one fight, not a single one of the three sects could match the Spirit Hall.
Thus, when Ning Fengzhi declared that the three sects were united, the other two sects did not refute him.
They knew that this statement would make the Spirit Hall wary of them, just as they were wary of the Spirit Hall.
For the upper three sects, the claim was all benefit and no harm—why wouldn't they use it?
The Spirit Hall's inaction toward me is merely a test to see whether the upper three sects truly stand united.
If the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan and Clear Sky Sect show no signs of aiding the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect, then "united in breath and branch" would be nothing but a joke.
But if the three sects truly are united, then they would have no choice but to move against me.
The Spirit Hall clearly understands my strength—forcing me into a clash with the upper three sects would leave both sides wounded, allowing them to reap the benefits.
What a clever calculation.
Lan Minghua chuckled coldly to himself.
He had finally figured out why neither side had made a move—they were both waiting, both scheming.
The Spirit Hall stayed its hand because it was in no hurry.
The Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect stayed its hand because it lacked the strength and feared exposing a lie.
Their little games cost Lan Minghua nothing.
Fine, keep stalling. The Tianlong Gang's name is already out there. The longer you delay, the more others will believe you fear us.
Lan Minghua knew that with Ning Fengzhi's death known across the land, both his own name and that of the Tianlong Gang had spread far and wide.
With neither the Spirit Hall nor the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect making a move, others would naturally assume they feared the Tianlong Gang's power.
Such free publicity was something Lan Minghua would never turn down.
Go ahead and stall—this, to me, is truly all benefit and no harm.
He had harbored a trace of worry—after all, while his combined strength was equal to a level ninety-eight Titled Douluo, that did not make him truly invincible on the continent.
Even with his diverse martial skills, he might not be able to bridge the gap of that single level.
If Qian Daoliu personally took the field, the outcome of a battle between them was far from certain.
But now, that worry was gone.
Glancing at his impersonation progress, which had reached forty-nine percent, Lan Minghua felt his last concern vanish.
If soldiers come, block them; if water comes, dam it. Take your time.
With that, Lan Minghua stopped paying attention to the Spirit Hall and the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect, and went back to lying around teaching his disciples.
In Shrek Academy, Yu Xiaogang looked enviously at Lan Minghua stretched out on the rooftop.
After all, Lan Minghua's disciples were all prodigies no less talented than Tang San—some even surpassed him.
Damn it, if only they had taken me as their master, I could have proven every one of my theories. But no… they chose Lan Minghua, who knows nothing about martial souls.
This, Yu Xiaogang dared only to grumble in his heart, never aloud.
He had, after all, witnessed Ning Fengzhi's death with his own eyes.
Lan Minghua had killed the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect's sect master as if slaughtering a chicken. Yu Xiaogang, as merely the son of the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan's sect master—and not even a widely known one—hardly posed a threat.
And Oscar and the others weren't fools—they wouldn't abandon a powerful Titled Douluo to study under a mere Grand Soul Master.
For the sake of his own life, Yu Xiaogang dared not try poaching disciples outright.
Still, he had not given up. His goal was to train Tang San and the others to surpass Oscar's group, thus tempting them over.
He had complete confidence in his theories and teaching ability, firmly believing that all geniuses should follow his guidance.
The thought brought a hidden smile to his heart.
With a stern face, he barked at Tang San and the others, who were running with stones on their backs: "Faster! Don't let those lazy ones get ahead of you!"
From the rooftop, Lan Minghua glanced at him and uttered just two words: "Idiot."
Yu Xiaogang doesn't even realize that Oscar and Zhu Zhuqing have already reached level forty, and Meng Yiran is at thirty-nine.
Among Tang San's group, the highest is Dai Mubai, at only level thirty-seven.
The advantage granted by the immortal herbs will last a long time—how could Tang San's group possibly catch up?
What will they use to close the gap? Their heads?!
And Yu Xiaogang dares to say Oscar's group is lazier?
That's nothing more than poverty limiting his imagination.
Since when did weighted training require crude methods like carrying stones?
To the short-haired, short-sighted Yu Xiaogang, Lan Minghua didn't even bother giving a second glance.
If any of his disciples were foolish enough to be tricked by Yu Xiaogang, such a stupid student wouldn't be worth keeping.
Not far away, Oscar and his two companions—training with gravity-sensing wristbands—couldn't help but twitch their lips upon hearing the exchange.
"Pah, that old man's trying to bait us. If he weren't the dean's friend, I'd love to give him a couple of slaps."
(End of chapter)