Chapter 768
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Chapter 768: His Name is Zhou Ping
“Now, do you have anything else to say?” Lin Qiye squinted at the Prison Calamity and slowly spoke.
“What… exactly is it?” The Prison Calamity, deprived of life, couldn’t help but ask, “That is definitely not a presence that humans can emit… Is it some kind of divine artifact?”
“It’s not a divine artifact; it’s just an ordinary chopstick, merely infused with someone’s power.”
Lin Qiye walked in front of the Prison Calamity, holding the half-chopstick horizontally before him, and said lightly:
“Who says humanity has an end?
Who says humanity is destined to be unable to defeat the gods?
I have witnessed a man break through that ceiling, wielding the laws, slashing down deities, carving out a path for humanity…
This chopstick comes from him.”
Wielding the laws, slashing down deities…
The Prison Calamity murmured to himself.
A glimmer appeared in his eyes.
Such a person… does he really exist? Is there truly a possibility for humanity to slay gods?
“Who is he? What is his name?” The Prison Calamity raised his head, looking at Lin Qiye with longing in his eyes.
Lin Qiye paused for a moment and slowly spoke: “The Sword Immortal of the Great Xia, Zhou Ping.”
“Zhou Ping…”
The Prison Calamity repeated the name over and over, letting out a long sigh, “How wonderful it would be to witness that scene with my own eyes…”
He shook his head, looked up at Lin Qiye, his eyes now calm, “Destroy this cage. Although I couldn’t see him slashing down the deities, witnessing that strike that annihilated the thunder beast is enough for me to have no regrets.
I never expected that what I pursued my entire life but could never touch, I would actually see with my own eyes before I die…”
The Prison Calamity laughed self-deprecatingly.
Lin Qiye reached out, grasping a black cage bar on the Prison Calamity’s body, and said softly, “Farewell, Oracle.”
Clang—!
The cage that was embedded in the Prison Calamity’s body was pulled out by Lin Qiye himself. The life force that had been forcibly retained within him dissipated rapidly the moment the cage was destroyed.
The light in the Prison Calamity’s eyes faded, his head drooped, facing the place where the sword mark lay, half-kneeling in the ruins, completely devoid of life.
He resembled a devout seeker, kneeling on the wrong path, bowing his head in repentance.
He was dead.
Lin Qiye looked at the half-kneeling, lifeless Prison Calamity with a complex expression and turned to walk towards the city.
His figure vanished into the swirling dust.
Tokyo, a scene of devastation.
…
Half a day later.
Hokkaido.
Leisure Club.
Baili Pangpang sat on a leather sofa, gently swirling a glass of champagne in his right hand, the spherical ice cubes clinking against the glass, producing a tinkling sound.
He took a sip and smacked his lips:
“It’s been a long time since I’ve had such good wine… No wonder my bro is so impressive, he can thrive anywhere!”
Baili Pangpang held the champagne and sat down next to Shen Qingzhu, leaning close to his ear and asking, “Bro, do you have… flower girls here? I haven’t seen any yet. Why don’t you call a few up to play for a while?”
Shen Qingzhu glanced at him, pondering seriously for a moment, “No flower girls, but there are quite a few male models. Do you want me to call some to keep you company?”
“…Then forget it, I’m not interested in men.” Baili Pangpang shrugged, “But you could ask Sister Lan if she needs…”
Baili Pangpang winked at Jialan, who was sitting nearby.
Jialan was taken aback, as if recalling something, and pouted slightly, speaking sourly:
“Male models? That’s not as good as calling a host… I heard that someone has become a new star in the Japanese host scene, and the girls he has accompanied could circle Tokyo. Every night, there are plenty of rich women willing to spend their fortunes on him.”
“A new star in the host scene?” Baili Pangpang was puzzled, “Who is it?”
“Definitely not me; I was locked up in the ‘Pure Land’ for two years.” Cao Yuan was the first to deny.
“Not me either; I’ve been with Jiang Er the whole time.” An Qingyu followed up.
The air suddenly fell into silence.
Everyone’s gaze turned to Shen Qingzhu.
Shen Qingzhu remained silent for a long time, “Stop looking; it’s not me either. I’m the leader of the Black Kill Group; how could I possibly be a host?”
If it’s not any of these people, then it must be…
“Qiye? Where’s Qiye?” Baili Pangpang’s eyes widened.
“He said he wanted to go pay respects to a deceased person with his colleagues.”
“Colleagues? Where did he get colleagues from?”
Shen Qingzhu thought for a moment, rummaged through his belongings, and pulled out a crumpled flyer, likely left over from several months ago. The paper was thin and had a cheap feel.
Shen Qingzhu laid the flyer on the table, smoothing it out forcefully. At the top of the flyer, written in blue and purple ink, were the words “Black Wutong Club,” and below them stood four men.
The two men in the center occupied nearly half of the flyer. The one on the left wore a blue-gray floral kimono; beneath the loose collar, his well-proportioned collarbone highlighted a body line that could be described as perfect—long yet powerful, with a handsome face and eyes as cold and deep as a long knife in the rain.
The man on the right wore a black and red floral kimono, holding a red umbrella. Underneath his messy and casual black hair, a handsome face gazed indifferently ahead, looking down on the world like a king.
“Hiss!!!”
The moment they saw this face, everyone present, except Shen Qingzhu, gasped in shock!
Shen Qingzhu was not surprised; after all, he had been to Black Wutong many times and even had the fortune to receive the “joint service” of these two from the flyer in a small room of the Black Kill Group.
“This is Qiye!?” Baili Pangpang exclaimed in disbelief, “He, he… he really went to be a host?”
Cao Yuan stared at Lin Qiye’s photo on the flyer, unable to suppress a gulp.
“Don’t say… this outfit looks pretty good.”
“Bring me back a copy later.” An Qingyu said seriously, “I want to frame it.”
Jialan gazed at the incredibly handsome figure on the flyer. Upon hearing this, she suddenly stood up, snatched the flyer, and resolutely shook her head, saying:
“No way! This thing can only be kept by me!”
“Sister Lan, don’t be so stingy!” Baili Pangpang laughed as he stood up, “This kind of thing should definitely be shared with everyone.”
“Yeah, show us again; we haven’t finished looking yet…”
Under the persistent persuasion of the crowd, Jialan reluctantly placed the flyer back on the table.
On the flyer, besides the two main hosts in the center, in a small area behind them stood a handsome guy in a white and yellow floral kimono, with golden hair, smiling as he stood behind the two.
“This one’s pretty handsome too, but compared to Qiye and the other one, he’s still a bit lacking.” Baili Pangpang began to critique seriously.
Suddenly, he seemed to discover something.
He pointed at the middle-aged man above the three, who was smiling and embracing them, and asked curiously, “Who’s this uncle? Is he also a host?”
“Yes.”
This time, it was An Qingyu who spoke.
He paused for a moment and added, “This man is Japan’s number one host, Kyosuke.”
