Martial Arts Master

Translator: Larbre Studio  Editor: Larbre Studio

Lou Cheng did not know if he should cry or laugh when he saw the words ‘Deliveryman’. This must be what they call ‘What comes around goes around.’

Back then, he secretly rejoiced about a large number of Deliveryman copycats diverting suspicions away from him. But, as it turned out, he was about to have a major crime pinned to him!

Damn… Thank goodness most people know about my severe injuries and impeded growth. No one will believe that I would suddenly jump to Horror Grade—the equivalent of a Physical Invulnerability Mighty One!

You are not pinning this one on me!

Lou Cheng heaved a long sigh. He began to mull over the whole affair. The more he thought of it, the more mysterious it seemed to him.

“Strange…” he mumbled, frowning.

There were two oddities in the matter. First, the greatest value in the Holy Grail was the dash of Messiah’s blood spilled on it. The blood held important significance and enlightenment value to all the branch sects of the Mission Sect. Meanwhile, it could at most serve as reference material to practitioners of other systems, such as martial artists. The loss or gain of it wouldn’t matter much to them. It also wasn’t likely to be the work of research organizations from major countries, since there were many other objects of similar nature. They didn’t have to take risks for the Holy Grail.

The second singularity was the timing of the assault. They chose to carry out the heist at a relatively busy time in the morning. Assuredly, that was the timing when security was most lax, yet it also brought complications—it was too conspicuous and eye-catching. They couldn’t cover up their traces at their own leisure by silencing witnesses, erasing security footages or diminishing the societal impacts. That would mean leaving evidence. In a city with many Physical Invulnerable Mighty Ones and a couple of people with extraordinary means like Connecticut, they would be put to perilous grounds if they failed to get away from the city in time.

And getting away from Connecticut was no simple matter. As fast as a Physical Invulnerability Mighty One could get, can they outrun the speed of electromagnetic wave transmission?

With the crime being committed in broad daylight, the Connecticut government wouldn’t take long to respond. All they had to do was to deploy their so-called Horror-grade mighty ones, and have them work with the police and civil defense teams to put the city on lockdown. By assessing the power of everyone passing through, they could prevent the fugitives from sneaking out. Plus, they had satellites and other high-tech devices to monitor desolate places like farms, lakes, and rivers. Without any counter measures, quietly fleeing from the city was no easy task.

With that being said, the risk they bore decidedly outweighed its benefits. That consideration was precisely why the Brutale representatives were bold enough to put the authentic Holy Grail on an exhibition tour in America.

“Perhaps, their interest lies elsewhere? Or was it just a bughouse act?” Lou Cheng shook his head lightly without being any wiser.

The Holy Grail has been in the Brutale’s possession for centuries, yet their research turned up nothing of value. Who would take such huge risks for such bleak hopes?

He decided that it was not worth mulling over something he couldn’t figure out. It didn’t directly concern him anyway. Lou Cheng tapped on his dimming phone screen and shared the entire story with his little fairy, who was still in the middle of class, with great vehemence. He also informed the military informant.

Any incidents involving Physical Invulnerability Mighty Ones deserves the attention of the nation!

…

Meanwhile, Connecticut City was now on its highest alert. Every outbound flight in Orion Airport was delayed, and every departing passenger was inspected once more to ascertain their power.

The police had set up checkpoints on the large river bridge, and cars passed through one by one. Below the bridge, naval ships patrolled the waters and scanned the currents with sonar devices. Across the river, a white-haired elder with arms thicker than an average person’s legs sat in the back of a nanny van. Mediating with his eyes closed in a precautious way, he was no other than the Grand Elder of the Geruga Sect, Steven.

The ships from the naval base spread out on the shimmering lake, running all kinds of high-tech devices. The lockdown was ready. On the dock of one of those ships stood a browned-haired, middle-aged man in a general uniform. He had his arms crossed before his chest, and looked coldly in the direction of Connecticut. The ripples around him ceased, sparkling and pellucid.

Farms and fields connected to the city were all being closely monitored by the satellites beyond the atmosphere. Anyone detected would be reported, identified, and tracked. Aside from all this, more arrangements were made. The existence of exceedingly strong individuals had always guided technology in the direction of subduing them.

…

In the museum of the domed church with shattered windows.

The Archbishop, Kontsev—who was clearly of Latin origin—stood before the warped exhibition shelf and sighed.

“The Lord has always taught us not to neglect today’s misfortunes because of yesterday’s luck. Nothing had happened before this, and we all let our guards down.”

“Yes,” said Townsend. He was also a Crown-grade Mighty One in the Brutale representative team. He drew a cross at his chest and began repenting sincerely.

Normally, he would have been with Mason Walker when the Archbishop gave his sermons, but on that day he slacked off. The hitchless days from before had made everyone complacent and they let their guards down.

Oblak stood on the side in silence, waiting for news from the Connecticut command center.

He felt something at that moment. Turning his eyes to the Exhibition One entrance, he saw three men in black robes walking slowly towards them. The one in the front was a large man. On his forehead, cheeks, and the corner of his eyes were indistinct wrinkles. He had hoary eyes and hair. With just a quick glance, Oblak could sense his immense amiability and nobility. His presence alone invoked trust and submission.

At the elder’s left-hand side was an emerald-eyed man with scholarly air. There was something unreal about him. He was no other than the Cultivator of Light, Lucas, whom Oblas had an acquaintance with and was from the Spirit Cultivator Sect.

Could the other one be the world-renowned spirit cultivator Grand Cultivator Sysco?

“I’m here to observe the Spirit,” said the leading elder. He smiled faintly when his eyes met Kontsev’s.

Kontsev’s gaze was impassive. He drew a cross with an air of humility.

“May God bless you.”

“Such a malignant curse,” the elder smiled indifferently. “Every step leaves a print. I trust that the three assailants will most certainly be brought to justice. Such an act is a challenge to the orders of society! A challenge to the peace of America and Connecticut!”

“The Holy Grail has the Messiah’s blood. It’s an item that means a lot to us,” Kontsev said. He looked at the elder with meaningful eyes, and said, placidly, “It may be hidden from our eyes for now, but not for long. Two days. Two days at most. Sysco, I hope that information helps you.”

Grand Cultivator Sysco nodded slightly. Without another word, he focused on his psychic powers to hunt down the criminals.

…

In the second floor bedroom, Yan Zheke pored over her books for the imminent finals. After a while, she raised her head and turned to Lou Cheng, who was casually playing with his phone. They began discussing the Holy Grail incident once more.

Towards the end, she gently hammered the table.

“What a pity! I have not yet seen what the Holy Grail looks like!”

For religious reasons, photography wasn’t allowed during the exhibition tour, so there weren’t any pictures of it online. If you wanted to see it, you would have to do it on-site.

“It looked very common,” said Lou Cheng. He fetched pen and paper with great enthusiasm and drew it out for Ke.

After a few quick strokes, he handed it over as though he was presenting a treasure. “It looks just like this!”

Yan Zheke took a quick look. She immediately pursed her lips to stifle a laugh.

After ten seconds or so, she nodded solemnly.

“Cheng, about your drawing skills… Well, let’s just say your calligraphy is better than your drawing skills!”

But my calligraphy is nothing to write home about… Lou Cheng smiled and shook his head. “I don’t accept back-handed compliments!”

As soon as he finished his sentence, he felt a tinge of apprehension. He stood up with a thoughtful look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” Yan Zheke asked, blinking her bright eyes.

“We have guests,” Lou Chang answered with a smile. Slowly, he made his way to the door.

A few steps later, he turned back to her, and said, “Let’s go together. It’s safer if you are closer to me. Just in case anything happens.”

“Okay!” Yan Zheke nodded obediently as she wrapped Lou Cheng’s hand in her own.

They went down to the first floor. The girl sat beside Aunt Du in the kitchen while Lou Cheng went for the door. He pulled it.

Creak, the door opened inwards. Oblak froze. He was just about to press the doorbell.

“How can I help you?” Lou Cheng inquired. He already had a good idea of what was going on.

Beside Oblak, the white-haired Grand Cultivator with grey eyes regarded him with a smile.

“Just a routine investigation,” he said affably.

At that moment, he appeared so immensely noble and endearing to Lou Cheng that he wanted to plunge to the floor, confess everything in his knowledge, and repent for all his sins.

His thoughts took a sharp turn. Visualizing the Confrontation Formula, his body and mind were cleansed of those—not exactly negative—emotions.

“I’ll be glad if I can be of help,” he said with a smile. His eyes were placid, his expression relaxed, as though the Grand Cultivator was nothing more than a neighborhood committee auntie to him.

He’s completely unaffected…Oblak was taken aback.

Without a change in his expression, Sysco went on, “You have been visiting the Holy Top Church on a regular basis lately. Why?”

“I’m searching for a method to attain inner peace,” Lou Cheng gave him the half-truth. “You might have heard about it. I have had quite a number of major setbacks this year.”

He was indeed in search of a method. A method for him to make the breakthrough to Physical Invulnerability Stage, that is. But once he reaches that stage, inner peace will indubitably come to him. Alright! That meant he was not lying!

Oblak was secretly impressed by the way Lou Cheng talked about his frightful setbacks. Ones that could have cost him his entire professional martial arts career. Yet, when he spoke of them, he showed no signs of pessimism or dejection, as though it didn’t concern him. Even the Grand Cultivator’s eyes twinkled.

“About that, perhaps coming to us spirit cultivators would be more effective than going to the church,” Sysco said as though the thought chanced upon him. He then asked, “And what brought you to see the Holy Grail at the museum today?

“Curiosity. Also as a reference. Initially, I was planning to visit with my girlfriend during the weekends, but I happened to be free this afternoon, so I went there in advance to plan for my date,” Lou Cheng said earnestly without a tinge of guilt.

The Grand Cultivator paused. A dull light flitted across his gray eyes.

“You left suddenly before the assault. Did you know something in advance?” he rasped.

Lou Cheng smiled with his mind as clear as an ice mirror.

“As written in my data, I am owner of three supernatural abilities. One of those is my premonition of danger. Since I didn’t know what kind of danger it was, I had to ensure my own safety before warning your people. It might have be a selfish move, but I believe it’s not against the law, is it?”

Sysco nodded slowly. As if seeking affirmation, he asked, “That is to say, you sensed it before the Crown-grade Mason Walker detected danger?”

The words made Oblak hold his breath subconsciously.

Lou Cheng nodded stolidly.

“I guess you can put it that way.”