Forty Millenniums of Cultivation

Could it be that an evil disciple had appeared in Red Gold Town, which was a simple and loyal place?

The shocking speculation made many residents worried and sleepless.

As he expected, news came from the Temple of Fist in the second half of the night that an evil disciple had been captured.

In the end, he was caught red-handed and captured an evil, weak, and dirty machine on the spot.

Now, there was a reasonable explanation for the cracks in the sky.

The residents, on the other hand, were more and more panicked and furious. They were all gritting their teeth and pounding their fists on their chests, cursing the damn evil believers for introducing the power of devils and bringing great shame and disaster to the glorious town.

In order to calm the townspeople down, the Fist God Hall decided overnight that the evil disciple would be tried publicly in the morning.

When the news spread out, the citizens of the entire town, including the hunting and training teams, and even the other towns within a hundred square kilometers, were all crowding around the altar of the Temple of Fist.

Everybody was standing on their tiptoes, waiting to see the verdict of the evil Cultivators. At this moment, the sky had just turned blue.

The crack was still stuck in the sky.

It seemed to be a reminder of the Fist God's fury.

As day and night alternated, the color of the sky changed, and so did the color of the cracks.

In the dark night, it was dazzlingly pale.

At dawn, with the brilliant morning sun and blood-red sky, it turned pink like the lips of a baby.

Right now, the sky was bluer and bluer, and the cracks were more and more transparent. If one did not look carefully, they would only see a vague chimney or a long-healed scar.

But no matter how transparent and lackluster they were, the cracks were still there, as if the scars could never be erased.

Looking at the cracks in the sky, Gus felt that there was a scar on his heart, too.

His heart was about to split open.

It was not supposed to be like this, Gus said in his heart.

Ever since he had reported the crimes of his fellow student's hidden machinery last night, it was as if he was caught in a surging torrent. Everything was changing and progressing at lightning speeds, completely out of his control.

Gus was a thin and shy youth. He had a very delicate appearance and was a bit shorter than his peers. If he were to arm wrestle in the Iron Fist Academy, even if it was a student two years younger than him, he could easily defeat him.

He was timid and kind. When he went hunting, even if he encountered a harmless, wounded herbivore, it would be difficult for him to kill it.

In the world of the Fist God, where strength reigned supreme and iron fists reigned supreme, such a physique and personality naturally suffered ridicule and ridicule. Life in the school and the town was not good.

Even so, Gus swore that it was definitely not because of "jealousy" or "hate" that he would report his fellow students—he wanted to help his fellow students get rid of the devils from the bottom of his heart and return to the path of iron fists!

But why…

Gus saw that more and more people were gathering in front of the temple.

The masters and apprentices of the major boxing clubs in the town, the students of the Iron Fist School, the hunters who were wearing animal hides and covered in blood, and the homeless fighters whose temples were bulging because of fatigue were all gazing at the temporary trial platform outside the temple of boxing.

They looked at him, too.

Gus seemed to hear them sneering and pointing at him.

Gus panicked. He turned around and tried to run away, only to run into a black iron statue in front of the temple.

It was a magnificent statue.

It was a picture of a muscular man who was standing on a giant bear, holding a struggling boa in his left hand and the head of a lion in his right hand.

Although it was only made of black rocks, the furious, dominating, and unparalleled strength still leaked out from the depths of the rocks and burned for thousands of years like a torch that could not be extinguished.

It was the statue of the Fist God, the dominator and protector of the world.

It was the image of the Fist God thousands of years ago when he was walking on the earth in the name of 'Punching King', slaying demons and saving all living creatures before he broke into the Divinity Transformation.

Gus trembled and looked at the Fist God.

The statue of the Fist God looked at him emotionlessly, too, as if it were glaring at his soul from the black rocks.

Gus's soul screamed.

He believed in the Fist God.

He swore that nobody in the entire Red Gold Town would worship and serve the Fist God as sincerely as him.

Although his talent was mediocre, no, it was because his talent was extremely bad and he simply didn't have the slightest bit of potential for cultivation, even after staying in the Iron Fist Academy for over a decade, he was still unable to smoothly graduate and join the major boxing gyms. He was even repeatedly beaten to the ground by children two to three years younger than himself, three to five, and even seven to eight years old. Even if he was unable to blow up the weakest of low-level boxing targets with a single punch… He didn't have the slightest bit of doubt towards the path of the Iron Fist, nor did he have the slightest bit of dirty thoughts to use the forbidden power of machinery and steam.

But right now, he was truly confused. Was he right to report his fellow student?

Late in the day, the sunlight was more and more intense, stabbing at the earth and the people like burning javelins.

The crowd was stirred and roaring. The evil disciples had been pushed out of the temple.

"Bah!"

"Shame on you!"

"No matter how weak he is, he shouldn't be using machines. Is he even a human being?"

"The evil Cultivators must be punished!

Gus heard people cursing.

Even the most friendly grandma was breathing hard, trying to spit on the evil Cultivators' faces.

Gus did not dare to look at 'Qin Yi', his classmate who had been reported by him.

But since he was so close, the intense smell of blood reached his nostrils like flames and forced him to look.

"Ah!"

At first glance, Gus almost had a nightmare.

It had only been half a night since he handed Qin Yi over to the Temple of Fist. The poor evil disciple had been tortured to the point that he was barely breathing.

He was tied to an 'X'-shaped execution rack with his hands and feet apart. His skin was torn apart, and his flesh was a bloody mess. There was not a single piece of good meat on his body. Half of his face was swollen to the point that it looked like it was about to explode. The other half of his face seemed to have been torn apart by a wolfhound or an eagle's claw. His teeth, which were on the verge of collapse, were exposed to the air. He was cramping in pain.

Qin Yi had lowered his head and seemed to be in a coma.

As if he had heard Gus' voice, Qin Yi raised his head slightly and opened one of his eyes with all his strength. His pupils, which were blocked by blood, were emitting a sharp brilliance that pierced into Gus' heart. He screamed as if he were a ghost in the deepest level of hell, "Why? I saved you. Why did you betray me?"