The Red-Robed Deacon’s face was already swollen like a purple eggplant when the Imperial Uncle gave him another solid slap across the face.
Several bloody back teeth flew out through the cracks in the wall.
The Imperial Uncle did not even spare the quack doctor a glance. He turned around and dropped to his knees in front of Su Yaoyao with a thud.
“Little Immortal! You are my second parents and a living bodhisattva reincarnated!”
“If you hadn’t stepped in, this old life of mine would have been lost to that damnable incense-ash water!”
The First Madam and the rest of the household followed suit, kneeling all over the floor and offering their heartfelt thanks.
Su Yaoyao stood there calmly, waving her hand with the bearing of an unfathomable master.
“We take people’s money and rid them of their troubles. Our Scientific Cultivation Hall has always been fair to everyone, young and old.”
The moment he heard the word “money,” the Imperial Uncle understood perfectly.
He sprang to his feet, full of vigor, and roared toward the steward outside.
“Quick! Open the treasury! Bring out all ten thousand taels of gold I’ve been keeping as private savings!”
“Offer every last bit of it to the Little Immortal! If even one tael is missing, I’ll skin you alive!”
The steward scrambled away on all fours to open the treasury.
Before even the time it took to burn a stick of incense had passed, more than a dozen strong household servants came huffing and puffing out, carrying five heavy redwood chests.
When the lids were pried open, golden ingots glittered beneath the sunlight with an irresistible sheen.
The glare nearly blinded the Red-Robed Deacon’s miserable eyes.
Su Yaoyao gazed at the ten thousand taels of gold, her large eyes curving into crescents as the corners of her mouth rose uncontrollably.
“The Imperial Uncle is far too generous. In that case, I suppose I’ll accept it.”
Little Dumpling stepped forward and casually brushed her tiny hand across the five large chests.
Whoosh!
All five chests of gold vanished into thin air and landed securely inside her portable space.
The sight of her taking objects from a distance with a single gesture left the Imperial Uncle utterly dumbfounded. He became even more convinced that she was a genuine immortal.
“Bring me a brush and ink!”
The Imperial Uncle’s face flushed with excitement. With a grand flourish, he wrote eight large characters across a premium golden-thread nanmu plaque:
“Scientific Cultivation, Boundless Power!”
That still wasn’t enough. The Imperial Uncle personally hired a procession of more than a hundred musicians.
With gongs and drums pounding and lions and dragons dancing, they escorted the plaque in grand fashion all the way to the shop opposite the headquarters of the Divine Cult.
The golden sign reading “Scientific Cultivation, Boundless Power” was hung high beside the glittering neon lights.
News of the Imperial Uncle’s miraculous return from the brink of death spread throughout the Great Yan capital as if it had grown wings. Within half a day, everyone had heard.
This was the Imperial Uncle of the current dynasty!
The very man whom a deacon of the Divine Cult had pronounced beyond saving—and who had been told he would have to surrender half his fortune.
Yet a little girl from the medical hall across the street had cured him with a glowing iron contraption!
Without spilling a single drop of blood.
And without making him drink any disgusting incense-ash talisman water!
The bombshell sent shock waves through the entire circle of Great Yan’s elite.
The high officials and wealthy merchants who had long been bled dry by the Netherworld Cult under the pretext of divine punishment finally came to their senses.
What divine protection? What utter nonsense! It had all been a scam designed to extort money!
Before long, a once-in-a-century spectacle appeared on the streets of the Great Yan capital.
The princes, nobles, ministers, and tycoons who normally held themselves high above everyone else did not even sleep that night.
They brought their servants and carried chest after chest of gold, silver, and jewels to the entrance of the Scientific Cultivation Hall, forming a long queue.
The line stretched from one end of the street to the other, then turned two more corners.
“Stop shoving! This marquis arrived first! I want to purchase the Scientific Cultivation Hall’s Super VIP package!”
“Get lost! I’ll pay double! My old father needs a safety talisman—ah, no, a scientific treatment course!”
To snatch a spot closer to the front and get a better queue number, the nobles did not hesitate to have their servants start fighting.
On the opposite side of the street stood the magnificent and luxurious headquarters of the Netherworld Cult.
Yet its entrance was deserted, without so much as a ghost in sight.
Not only did no one come to offer incense, but large numbers of former believers had gathered outside the cult’s gates to make a scene.
“Frauds! Give us our money back! Return the incense offerings I donated yesterday!”
“Quack doctors! Cancel our membership cards—we’re leaving the cult!”
The steps outside the cult were covered with rotten vegetables and rotten eggs hurled by the angry crowd.
The two shops were separated by nothing more than a single street, yet they were worlds apart—one blazing with prosperity, the other frozen in desolation.
Inside the Scientific Cultivation Hall, Su Zhen sat behind the front desk, working himself to the bone.
With one hand, he held a seal and dipped it into red ink.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
He stamped every Super VIP receipt as if he were marking cuts of pork.
Su Yaoyao, meanwhile, sat atop a small mountain made of gold ingots, holding a golden abacus in both hands and working the beads so quickly they nearly sparked.
Father and daughter counted money until their hands were almost cramping, their faces glowing with blissful smiles.
This round of commercial competition had not merely ended in victory. They had ripped out their enemy’s money tree by the roots—and chopped it into firewood for good measure!
At the same time.
Deep within the headquarters of the Netherworld Cult, in a gloomy underground hall where no sunlight had ever reached, eerie green ever-burning lamps illuminated the walls.
The atmosphere was suffocating.
A battered figure knelt in the center of the hall.
It was none other than the Red-Robed Deacon, whom Su Zhen had slammed into the wall at the Imperial Uncle’s residence that afternoon and whom his men had only managed to dig out after considerable effort.
His face was so swollen that it was impossible to make out his features. He looked like a purple steamed bun that had fermented far too long.
Dust and blood covered his entire body. He crawled and staggered across the cold black basalt floor before kneeling and wailing toward the elevated platform at the far end of the hall.
“Master! You must stand up for your subordinate! Stand up for our Netherworld Cult!”
“That accursed Scientific Cultivation Hall across the street has gone too far!”
The Red-Robed Deacon slammed his head against the floor again and again, embellishing his story wildly.
“That little demoness had some kind of wicked, demonic device! It glowed, and it could even cut open people’s stomachs!”
“Not only did she steal the credit for saving the Imperial Uncle, she publicly smashed our cult’s reputation!”
The more agitated the Red-Robed Deacon became, the more he pulled at the wounds on his face. The pain made him suck in a sharp breath.
“And then there was the bodyguard beside her! That old geezer with the dead-man’s face!”
“I didn’t even touch the hem of his clothes. He beat me into this useless state without even drawing his sword!”
“Master! They clearly came prepared. They deliberately came to destroy our cult!”
The Red-Robed Deacon sobbed as though he had suffered the greatest injustice in the world.
“Now the entire city’s believers are demanding refunds! The incense offerings our cult received today have plunged by ninety percent!”
“If we don’t eliminate those two demons, our Netherworld Cult will have nowhere left to stand in the Great Yan Kingdom!”
His miserable cries echoed throughout the empty underground hall.
Above the elevated platform hung layer upon layer of heavy black bead curtains.
Behind the curtains, a figure sat indistinctly in the shadows.
The figure said nothing. The hall fell so silent that the only sound was the Red-Robed Deacon’s ragged breathing.
Just as the Red-Robed Deacon was preparing to continue his tirade, a terrifying pressure capable of freezing the soul suddenly surged out from behind the bead curtains like a tidal wave.
The pressure was cold and savage, carrying a bloodlust so overwhelming that it left everyone struggling to breathe.
The eternal lamps in the great hall swayed violently, their flames flickering erratically between bright and dim.
The Red-Robed Deacon suddenly felt his breath catch, as if an invisible giant hand had clamped tight around his throat.
He could not even utter a word of plea for mercy, trembling like a sieve as he collapsed onto the floor, cold sweat soaking through the back of his robes.
Up on the high dais, the pearl curtains swayed gently.
They let out crisp, chilling clinks that sent shivers down the spine.
A fair, slender, flawless jade-like hand slowly reached out from the thick, oppressive darkness.
On that hand rested sharp, icy silver metal bracers.
Amidst glints of silver light, the hand gently pushed aside the pearl curtains before it.
The Netherworld Cult Master finally made her appearance.
She was clad in a blinding scarlet robe the color of fresh blood, looking bewitchingly lethal under the dim, eerie glow of the bluish-green lamps.
On her stunningly beautiful face, she wore a half mask carved to look like a green-faced, fanged Asura, leaving only a pair of eyes on full display — eyes so icy cold they seemed to freeze the very air.
She looked down at her useless subordinate kneeling on the ground, the same way one would glance at a trivial ant.
Her red lips parted slightly, and a voice so frigid it could have dripped shards of ice echoed faintly across the great hall:
"Dare to provoke your old lady? Tonight, I will flay every last one of them with my own two hands!"
