Second Chapter!

"That's way too much!" Jun Wuyi shook off his shock, voice heavy with gravity.

"Not at all! Not in the slightest!" Tang Paozhi waved a hearty hand, "Cousin dear needs no other talent—only knows how to make money. Now that I've got it, why stop halfway?" He lowered his voice conspiratorially, "Three? ... You remember who from Tianxiang City? The brat showed off there. I—I mean, your humble cousin flew two wagonloads of gold down the street and pelted him with golden bricks until he..."

"Bring Tang Daoshou inside immediately!" Jun Wuyi's voice roared across the hall before another word could be said. How dare a man of such prestige behave so vulgarly?

"But Uncle, I haven't finished yet! You must hear this—" Tang Yuan struggled to continue his "heroic tale."

"Out!" A single kick from Jun Wuyi struck Tang's ample rump mid-protest. The impact felt like sinking into a watermelon—no resistance at all.

The rotund man nursed his cushion-like posterior with theatrical lamentation, then waved for four attendants to unfold a plush divan from the crowd. With exaggerated ease he reclined onto it, gesturing imperiously, "Lead me to Young Lord Jun. The walk nearly killed me..." His soft-spoken words carried clearly—after all, Miaoxiaomiao possessed a ZunZhe's cultivation and could certainly hear every syllable.

The golden brick assassination? The fat man lounging on velvet cushions before thousands of witnesses? She finally closed her gaping mouth with a breathy exclamation: "Now I understand why he's so... round."

Indeed, the count had been precise—his legs took no more than ten steps today. No wonder his belly swelled from mere exertion! Jun Wuyi mopped his brow, mentally noting to remind Mo Xie about another diet session later. How could such treasures not be used for health?

A shrill child's voice shattered the moment: "Sun rises in East—only undefeated! Ten thousand years, unify the realm! The Eastern Clan arrives with congratulations..."

Needless to say—it was Xiao Huan, better known as Dongfang BuBai.

Just as Tang Yuan departed, a new menace had arrived with Dongfang Wenqing and others trailing behind him. Before Jun Wuyi could breathe easy, a cold wind swept the hall like winter itself—Dongfang Xueshan's Lord Hanshanmeng brought a host of elite warriors to offer greetings.

After the flurry of arrivals:

"Tianxiang Empire brings its felicitations! A gift for the Demon King's establishment..."

"Tiannan City, entire province!"

The messenger was Li Youran, whose enmity with Jun Moxia had been well-documented. The crowd gasped anew—Tianxiang's offering dwarfed even Fat Merchant's gold mountain.

Only Mo Wuda and other sages showed no surprise. This political maneuver was brilliantly executed: Tiannan City now became an impregnable southern bastion under Demon King's protection while remaining under Tianxiang's nominal sovereignty. A perfect transaction—peace through appeasement.

Jun Wuyi accepted with a wry smile, guiding Li Youran inside. But the next announcement changed everything:

"Reclusive Palace's Mo WuDao greets the Demon King's establishment!"

Silence fell like stone. The Three Holy Lands' envoys were expected—but not their leader himself!

Then three more voices rippled through the crowd:

"Ancient Gold City's Xie Chuchen..."

"Mourning Blood Sea's Huyan Aobo..."

"Elusive Hall's Miaozhan..."

The Four Powers had arrived together!

"Welcome, all esteemed guests," Jun Wuyi modulated his tone carefully. Then Mo WuDao raised a quiet question: "With such honor, why has your Demon King not yet shown himself? Is this the way to respect heroes?"

This was dangerous ground—the Demon King's absence could be twisted into arrogance or fear. The Three Holy Lands' families erupted in murmurs; nearly ten thousand voices rose at once.

Mo WuDao remained still as a blade, his question simple but venomous. If Jun Moxia refused to appear, the Demon King would look indifferent. But if he emerged now, it would seem craven submission. Either way, Tianxiang's position would be strengthened while its rivals weakened.

Then—a voice like wind through bamboo: "Mo WuDao, must you think yourself above all others? You demand face, yet we treat every hero equally. Whether Reclusive Palace's sovereign or any common guest, all receive the same courtesy. What purpose does your question serve?"

The clamor vanished as if struck mute. Miaozhan's eyes gleamed with appreciation. The speaker had not only silenced dissent but elevated the Demon King above all—equal to the Three Holy Lands themselves! A masterstroke of both rhetoric and power.