The captain of the United Mercenary Investigation Team, Hajj, returned from Robin's place feeling deeply unsettled. The images Robin had shown him had instilled a profound sense of crisis; he felt he had been sucked into an exceedingly dangerous maelstrom.
Hari had scrambled through the mercenary alliance ranks for years, gaining a wealth of experience. From the appearance and subsequent demise of the elite mercenary "Thousand Faces" Alva, he vaguely sensed that something momentous was brewing between the Caesar Mercenary Corps and the Tran Mercenary Group.
“While the Tran Mercenary Group is formidable, opposing a super-family like the Caesars, with their deep ties in both politics and the military, will likely spell their doom,” Hari mused to himself. “'Thousand Faces' Alva was the ace of Caesar intelligence. According to the Alliance archives, Alva’s mission completion rate was one hundred percent. They wouldn't deploy such an elite operative unless the Caesar Mercenary Corps regarded the Tran Mercenary Group with extreme seriousness.”
“Perhaps I should extend an olive branch to the Caesar Mercenary Corps.”
Just then, his room’s doorbell shrieked insistently. In an instant, a member of the investigation team shouted, “Captain, hurry! Something major is happening!”
“What is all this racket?” Hari, abruptly pulled from his thoughts, felt a sharp irritation. He strode to the door and yanked it open, immediately snapping at the young subordinate with vibrant green hair standing before him, “What is the meaning of this state? No matter what has occurred, you shouldn’t be this frantic. Isn't this embarrassing the Mercenary Alliance?”
“No, Captain! It’s true!” the green-haired youth insisted urgently. “Something big is happening! Come see quickly—it’s right outside my room!”
Seeing the sheer panic etched on his face, as if the sky would fall if Hari didn't follow, Hari snorted, “Fine. Let’s go look.”
This young man lived in the room diagonally across the hall from Hari, making the distance only a few steps.
Hari entered the room and saw the green-haired youth's roommate—another middle-aged investigator with gray hair—pressed against the window, peering intently through a pair of binoculars pointed downward.
The green-haired youth called out to the other man, “Captain’s here! Let the Captain look!”
The gray-haired middle-aged man turned, handed the binoculars to Hari, and said, “Captain, it’s downstairs. Directly below us—Robin and Yang Ying are both there.”
“Yang Ying?” Hari’s heart lurched violently. His eyes widened as he stepped forward, taking the binoculars from the gray-haired man while demanding, “Are you absolutely sure that’s Yang Ying, the head of the Tran Mercenary Group?”
“Confirmed!” the gray-haired man and the green-haired youth replied in unison. The middle-aged man gestured downstairs, “It’s right over there.”
Hari brought the binoculars to his eyes, following the middle-aged man’s direction. He immediately spotted Yang Ying and his entourage. From this angle, he mostly saw the tops of their heads, but Yang Ying and Robin were fortunately turned slightly sideways toward their position, allowing for a clearer view.
Hari observed carefully for several seconds, muttering, “It is indeed Yang Ying and Robin. What business does the leader of that small Tran Mercenary Group have here? He didn't even show up to welcome us when our investigation team first arrived in Grayport.”
Master Pang Qian had his back completely to Hari, presenting only his rear view, which left Hari’s observations frustratingly vague.
“This person must be the key,” Hari frowned in thought. “Someone who warrants such personal attention from Yang Ying cannot be insignificant. Could he be a member of one of the Alliance Committees?”
He continued to look down, noting Master Pang Qian was clad in loose, flowing robes, with only a hood trailing behind him, obscuring his back almost entirely and yielding little useful information.
“Wearing robes? Wait, that’s a monk’s habit! Could he be—” Hari whispered to himself. “Not many people wear those robes out in public; the most famous are the legendary Psions. Could this person be a Psion?”
“Captain, a person in a monk’s robe isn't necessarily a Psion. Many Western religious figures and Psion worshipers dress like that,” the green-haired youth interjected.
Hari shook his head. “Would Western religious figures or Psion admirers warrant a reception from someone like Yang Ying? Impossible!”
The green-haired youth instantly fell silent.
Hari continued his surveillance, pondering, “It seems Yang Ying, the head of the Tran Mercenary Group, is treating this suspected Psion with extreme deference. It looks like the attitude one shows an elder. Hmm, worth watching. Perhaps the Tran Mercenary Group is connected to the Psion Temple.”
The thought sent a tremor through Hari. The Psion Temple—what an immense entity! He didn't know much, but the mere fraction he was aware of was enough to inspire terror.
It was a colossal power structure composed of tens of thousands of Awakened, several Masters, and countless peripheral organizations, wielding unparalleled influence across political, economic, and military spheres.
The G-1 Mercenary Corps might rank first in the Asteroid Belt, but its pillar, the Holy Light Knights, paled in comparison to the Psion Temple by a factor of a hundred thousand miles!
Hari hadn't expected that, right after deciding to align himself with the Caesar Mercenary Corps, he would witness Yang Ying in company with a suspected Psion.
“Captain, could it be that Yang Ying intentionally had someone dress in a monk’s robe to draw our attention?” the gray-haired middle-aged man speculated. “To make us think the Tran Mercenary Group has ties to the Psion Temple.”
“That’s possible,” Hari admitted, wiping a bead of cold sweat from his brow. He addressed his two subordinates, “Don't scare yourselves unnecessarily. Psions are rarely seen; normally, outside of the Earth Headquarters and the front lines, you never see one. And even if it were a real Psion, he’d still be far beneath Mr. Saint Lapore, the commander of the Holy Light Knights. Unless it’s a Psion Master, but the Tran Mercenary Group, as powerful as they are, how could they possibly associate with a Psion Master who shuns worldly fame?”
Whether he was trying to reassure his subordinates or himself, he wasn't sure. He lifted the binoculars again, wanting to gain a clearer view.
At that moment, Master Pang Qian in the scope turned his head, and Yang Ying also looked up toward their position.
Hari shuddered, frozen in place.
“Pang… Pang…” He stammered the syllable "Pang" several times before letting out a near-scream, “Master Pang Qian!”
The gray-haired man and the green-haired youth exchanged glances, then simultaneously asked Hari, “Captain, is he truly a Master?”
The binoculars slipped from Hari’s grasp, crashing onto the floor and shattering the lenses, but he didn't even notice. He turned away from the window and sank into a nearby chair.
Cold sweat poured down his face.
The green-haired youth picked up the broken binoculars tenderly; they were his personal property, yet he dared not ask the Captain for compensation.
The gray-haired middle-aged man repeated his query, “Captain, the person suspected of being a Psion is actually a Master?”
Hari nodded absently. “That’s right. Master Pang Qian is one of the rare few Psion Masters who visited Vorel. I saw him from a distance twenty years ago, watching him walk into the Alliance headquarters alongside the commanders of the three great mercenary corps and the Chairman of the Alliance Committee. That face then is the exact same face today; he hasn't aged at all.”
The gray-haired man gasped in awe. “The Tran Mercenary Group really has contact with a Master! Truly formidable!”
Hari’s mind was a storm of conflict. A Psion Master connected to the Tran Mercenary Group—this was no minor incident. If word got out, its impact could rival that of the entire Grayport Campaign!
What was he to do?
If the Tran Mercenary Group received the backing of the Psion Temple, even the Caesar Mercenary Corps would have to yield!
Hari deliberated for a long time before finally making his decision.
“There are too many people trying to curry favor with the Caesar Mercenary Corps; one more won't matter. But the Tran Mercenary Group’s foundation in the Alliance is still shallow. If I pledge allegiance to them, I’ll be recognized and utilized much sooner. Fortune favors the bold!”
He patted his head, then pulled a tissue from the table to wipe his face. Staring seriously at his two subordinates, he commanded, “No one speaks a word of what happened here.”
Both subordinates nodded repeatedly.
“Time to confront Robin downstairs,” Hari announced, rising and leaving the room.
Downstairs, Yang Ying and Master Pang Qian glanced up at the hotel building. Yang Ying smiled, “It seems we have an audience; they’ve been watching for quite a while.”
“Your perception is sharp,” Master Pang Qian agreed with a smile.
Robin looked toward the hotel tower. “This is exactly where we arranged for the Mercenary Alliance investigation team to stay. Could it be them?”
Master Pang Qian nodded. “Yes, members of the Mercenary Alliance. I remember the person holding the binoculars. I saw him in Qingrui.”
“Oh? When did you meet him, Master?” Yang Ying asked with curiosity.
“Twenty years ago, when I was apprehending an Awakened fugitive in Vorel. The Mercenary Alliance held a welcome ceremony right outside that egg-shaped Alliance building, and he was mixed in with the onlookers,” Master Pang Qian replied.
“Twenty years ago? Among the onlookers?” Yang Ying was astonished. “You still remember such details, Master? Your memory is truly extraordinary.”
“Don’t envy it. Perhaps one day, you too will cultivate to the Master realm,” Master Pang Qian said with a smile.
“The Master realm? How does one attain the Master realm?” Yang Ying felt a sudden tension; this was a golden opportunity to ask.
Although Yang Ying had collected a wealth of knowledge, he still had no definitive path toward the Master realm. He couldn't decipher the cultivation methods of the Tai Chi School, he disliked the Way of Holy Light, and even the Psion Temple’s scriptures offered no precise guidance.
Now that he had encountered a Master, it was the perfect time to inquire!
Yang Ying only feared that Master Pang Qian, bound by the Psion Temple's edicts, would refuse to teach him.
Master Pang Qian fell into contemplation upon hearing the question.
“Master, is it forbidden to speak of it? Then never mind,” Yang Ying saw Master Pang Qian looking hesitant and voluntarily abandoned the opportunity.
However, Master Pang Qian shook his head. “It’s not that it’s forbidden. In truth, there is no fixed cultivation method for the Master realm. The Psion Temple has no scripture that guarantees someone will become a Master; otherwise, there wouldn’t be hundreds of quasi-masters stuck at the bottleneck.”
“This…” Yang Ying felt a wave of disappointment.
In fact, the Psionic Knowledge held a similar assertion, yet Yang Ying had clung to a sliver of hope.
“But, I still have something I can teach you,” Master Pang Qian said with a gentle smile. “Follow me.”
Master Pang Qian walked into the hotel and asked the attendant for a set of calligraphy implements—the higher-end hotels always stocked such items.
The attendant recognized Robin immediately and notified the lobby manager, who soon had the brush, ink, paper, and inkstone prepared in a private sitting room.
Master Pang Qian instructed the hotel staff to withdraw. Then, wielding his brush, he wrote four large characters and addressed Yang Ying: “There are thousands of paths to Mastery. Some become Saints through great love, some through carefree existence, and others by discarding all notions of good and evil. Thus, every road can lead to Sainthood, yet every road hides detours and traps. I cannot guide you on the other paths, but I can point out one road for you.”
Saying this, Master Pang Qian waved his hand, and the Xuan paper on the table lifted by itself, hovering in mid-air.
On it were inscribed the four large characters.
Please vote with monthly and recommendation tickets!