Chapter 145 - 144: Human Banner, Crossing the River

Humiliation. Shame.

They hadn't even exchanged blows, yet they were defeated by a single glance. A wave of resentment washed over the Martial Artists.

At the same time, a sliver of doubt rose in their minds.

'Could this Fang Can really defeat a First Turn Martial Artist?'

Thinking back on that glance, it was almost as effective as a First Turn fighting a Ninth Layer; just the force of his gaze had made them kneel.

This proved that, at least in terms of Heart Image, Fang Can was on par with a First Turn.

Kneeling by the riverbank in a daze, they were about to get up when they saw Martial Artists striding across the waves from the opposite shore.

These Martial Artists were numerous—thousands of them at a glance—and each moved with nimble grace. All several thousand of them were Heart Image Martial Artists.

"How is this possible? Several thousand people, and all of them are Heart Image Martial Artists? Are they all Fang Can's devotees or something?"

One of the kneeling Martial Artists exclaimed, so shocked he forgot to even stand up.

The thousands of people were carrying all sorts of bags and bundles as they crossed the river, but what drew their attention most was the massive flagpole carried by three Martial Artists.

The entire flagpole was about thirty to forty meters long, and hanging from it were fifty or sixty pale-faced, naked Martial Artists.

Chains made of steel wire were wrapped directly around their necks, just like men being hanged. If not for their powerful physiques, any ordinary person treated this way would have been strangled to death in seconds.

As the three men carrying the pole advanced, the fifty or sixty people hanging from it swayed in the howling wind like paper dolls.

Suddenly, one of the Martial Artists' eyes widened as if he had seen a ghost.

Because among those swaying figures, he recognized four or five people.

"Ye Modao, 'Single Saber,' number 352 on the Budding Dragon Ranking; Yang Shen, 'Ghostly Sorrow,' number 451; and Wang Kensheng, 'Heaven-Splitting Hand,' number 985..."

A strange sense of horror rose from the depths of his heart as he looked at the familiar faces hanging from the pole.

Each one of them was famous to some degree in Great Yan, and any single one of them could have fought the onlookers for dozens of rounds without a clear winner.

And yet, here this group of Budding Dragon Ranking Martial Artists were, stripped naked like roasted ducks and hung up without a shred of dignity, like a piece of performance art.

In that moment, everyone present had a hallucination of themselves hanging from that flagpole.

"Could it be... that all fifty-plus of these people were defeated and humiliated by Fang Can?" his companion voiced the thought on all their minds.

"Not exactly. One defeats an enemy. One simply rolls over an ant in a sedan chair."

Ye Yonglie stepped onto the opposite bank, his gaze calm as he looked at the kneeling Budding Dragon Ranking Martial Artists before him.

'These guys who were forced to their knees by a single glance from Fang Can have the gall to think they were "defeated" rather than utterly crushed?'

If they hadn't already reached the Capital City, and if the Human Banner behind him wasn't already too full with its fifty-plus people, these guys would have been added to the list.

With a series of explosive splashes—BANG BANG BANG BANG—the thousands of Heart Image Martial Artists landed on the shore in full view of the tourists on the great bridge.

One of the Martial Artists, noticing the tourists staring at the Human Banner, grew anxious.

"Brother Ye, now that we've reached the capital, please let our gods down."

As he spoke, the thousands of Martial Artists who had crossed the river all knelt in unison. "We implore Brother Ye, be merciful and release our gods."

Only then did the onlookers realize that these Martial Artists were not Fang Can's devotees at all. Instead, they were the devotees of the ones hanging from the pole.

Seeing the thousands of people kneeling, too afraid to resist, a trace of contempt arose in the hearts of the local Martial Artists.

'Why don't you thousands of Heart Image Martial Artists just team up and fight Fang Can?'

Being begged by several thousand Martial Artists, Ye Yonglie lifted his head slightly, feeling his own Realm had improved by a tiny fraction.

Recalling Fang Can's instructions, Ye Yonglie nodded. "You may take your heretic gods and go. Be more careful next time. Give way and keep your distance. Don't cause trouble for my god."

"Thank you, Brother Ye," the Martial Artists said gratefully.

"You should be thanking my god for his magnanimity," Ye Yonglie said coldly. "After all the trouble you caused before, it is only by my god's mercy that you weren't all crushed to death."

Thinking of Fang Can's previous display, the devotees' faces stiffened. They truly didn't dare to face him. They just dismantled the ropes on the flagpole one by one and freed their respective gods.

In a short while, the Martial Artists were rescued. Their devotees draped clothes over them, and then, with broken hands and feet, they were carried away on their followers' backs, their faces etched with shame.

In a matter of moments, the entire area was empty, leaving only the hundred or so Heart Image Martial Artists from Fang Can's group.

"Let's go. We're entering the city." Fang Can only spoke after most of the people had dispersed.

As they walked to the city gate, Fang Can saw his own devotees, who had been waiting for a long time. They approached with smiles and said:

"My God, we have already purchased a residence for you in advance. Please, follow me."

Fang Can nodded lightly and entered the Capital City with his devotees. No one stopped or questioned them along the way; it was so smooth it was almost unexpected.

As they made their way through the bustling capital of Great Yan Country, Fang Can turned his head to Ye Yonglie. "How is that Dragon-Carved Black Gold Broadsword being handled?"

"It has already been sent to the best forge in the Capital City. Their master is a First Turn craftsman, and he has agreed to melt down and recast our Sacrificial Artifact into a long spear of proportional size."

"As for payment, he will keep the leftover scraps from the Sacrificial Artifact."

"That doesn't matter. How long will it take?" Fang Can asked.

"It will be finished within seven days. Someone will deliver it to our door when it's ready," Ye Yonglie said.

"Good." Fang Can nodded in satisfaction.

"However, one other thing happened after our people entered the Capital City."

Ye Yonglie lowered his voice. "Given how every inch of land in the Capital City is worth its weight in gold, we thought purchasing property would be difficult."

"But as soon as we expressed our intent to buy, the real estate agents let us choose from every vacant plot of land in the city."

"It's probably because of Jiejian Mountain," Fang Can said slowly, watching the stream of people before him.

'Thinking about it, I've really received quite a few favors from Jiejian Mountain. If I have the chance in the future, I should definitely do my best to repay them.'

'Repay a drop of kindness with a gushing spring. And when the spring runs dry, repay it with a geyser.'

Meanwhile, thanks to the high-profile river crossing, news of Fang Can's arrival in the Capital City had already reached the major powers through their various networks of informants.

Immediately, a massive number of invitations descended upon Fang Can's new residence like snowflakes.

The letters arrived even before Fang Can himself did.

Clearly, these powers were well aware of his devotees' real estate activities; they were probably the ones who gave them the green light in the first place.

But compared to the major powers of the Capital City, the smaller factions were baffled. They couldn't understand why the big shots were paying so much attention to Fang Can.

Fang Can wasn't the only Disciple from a Sect led by a Fourth Turn expert entering the Capital City this time, but none of the others had received such an enthusiastic welcome. It was almost a little *too* filial.

As for Fang Can himself, after settling into his new mansion, he stared at the pile of more than two hundred invitation letters and hesitated.