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"You've got trouble, big trouble."
The boss's first sentence left Ye Ling somewhat baffled. What did he mean? What trouble had he caused?
Could it be that Liu Zitong was pulling some Immortal trick? But that shouldn't be the case; the person had already left, only leaving behind a lingering fragrance on the bed.
"Don't panic, what happened, what's the issue?"
Ye Ling stood up, signaling to the boss not to rush, and to speak slowly. In his fluster, he couldn't make things clear.
"Did you offend Bachir? I'm telling you, Bachir is headed here now with more than a hundred people to this hotel, you'd better run, fast, find a way to get out quickly!"
"Otherwise, it's going to be a disaster, you have no idea how much influence Bachir has around here, hurry up and leave, now!"
Hearing the boss's words, Ye Ling nodded calmly, "Oh, I thought it was something serious. No worries."
The boss was startled and became even more anxious. "Are you out of your mind, boy? Do you realize this could lead to death? Hurry and escape, even calling the police won't help."
In the boss's eyes, this was a massive issue, but for Ye Ling, it was less significant than a fart.
Just a bunch of hooligans, incapable of posing any real threat to him, not to mention endangering his life.
"My big brother! You better get going. If you don't leave, I'm afraid they'll tear my shop down, please, I'm begging you, this old man can't afford to defy them!"
"If you don't leave and they demand that I hand you over, if I don't comply, that's going to be big trouble!"
The boss hurriedly spoke in despair, and Ye Ling considered for a moment before standing up. "Don't worry, uncle, I won't get you involved."
After finishing his words, Ye Ling stood up and slowly headed towards the exit, leaving the boss dumbfounded. Is this guy's head okay? Even now, he's still taking his sweet time, acting as if he owns the Southern Border.
Outside the hotel, Bachir was gnashing his teeth, with one arm hanging limply—useless and in severe pain, freshly bandaged.
Logically, he should be lying in a hospital receiving treatment by now, but Bachir, who had always bullied others and never been on the receiving end, couldn't swallow this insult.
With one phone call, scores of burly men from several nearby villages rushed over, brandishing curved knives and with murder in their eyes.
"You damn bastard! Today, I will slaughter you. Even if I kill you, nobody can do a thing to me!"
Bachir was seething, well aware of the minority ethnic policies at play—the government wouldn't want to worsen the situation or take it any further.
Besides, there were more than a hundred people today. The notion that the law does not punish the masses was something Bachir understood.
"Search for him! If you can't find him, tear down this damn hotel for me!"
With a grand gesture from Bachir, the crowd of over a hundred men behind him became eager, charging toward the hotel.
But just then, the door suddenly opened, and Ye Ling walked out unhurriedly. The moment Ye Ling stepped out of the hotel, the door behind him slammed shut with a bang.
Ye Ling was startled and saw the boss's figure flash into a room in an instant.
I'll be damned, is he playing it that cheap?
Ye Ling couldn't help but smirk. Bachir, seeing Ye Ling, let out a malicious laugh, "You scum! Today, I'm going to skin you alive!"
As he spoke, the group behind Bachir started moving, advancing towards Ye Ling with a menacing glare.
Ye Ling remained as nonchalant as ever. To him, this motley crew of ordinary people was barely more challenging than a swarm of ants, far from something that would cause palpitations.
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"Gesang, slay him for me!"
Bachir bellowed, his voice so loud that his arms still buzzed with pain, and he grimaced with bared teeth.
The burly man standing at Bachir's side stepped forward, holding a glinting machete with a ferocious expression. This guy was the local champion warrior.
"Die!"
Gesang instantly strode forward, his towering figure of nearly six-foot-three, charging across the ground like a tank gone wild.
Swish, the machete in his hand chopped down fiercely. Everyone else sneered savagely, certain that if the blade hit Ye Ling's head, it likely would split it in two.
Facing Gesang's menacing advance, Ye Ling remained composed. When Gesang's machete reached above his head, Ye Ling suddenly acted, his fingers grasping the cold machete.
Hum, the next moment, everyone went dumbstruck, witnessing Ye Ling holding the machete and lifting Gesang, who weighed over two hundred pounds, clean off the ground.
Whoosh, with a sharp gust of wind, Gesang was hurled away by Ye Ling's single hand, and with a booming sound, he smashed into the ground.
Sputter, Gesang spat out a mouthful of blood, his eyelids flipped, and he faintly passed out.
Hiss, everyone sharply inhaled, feeling chills run up their spine and the hairs on their back stand on end, a cold sensation rushing from their soles to the crown of their heads.
He was too strong, wasn't he? That was Gesang, the Gesang, and he was just blown away like that, and with such an exaggerated method?
"Kid, even if you are strong, can you be stronger than so many of us?"
"Brothers, kill him! Slaughter this brat, I want to strip the marrow from his bones!"
Bachir roared, and his gang gritted their teeth, wiping away the fear in their hearts, ready to charge at Ye Ling.
But just at that moment, suddenly a figure rushed in front of Ye Ling, her expression cold: "You bastards, do you all want to die? Get the hell out of here!"
Creak, everyone stopped in their tracks, Bachir's rage dissipating instantly.
Over a hundred people, not one of them daring to rebel in the slightest, each with their heads bowed and their hearts pounding resoundingly.
The person standing by Ye Ling's side was the Grand Sorcerer of Bai Village, the successor to the Old Poisoner.
The status of a Grand Sorcerer in the Southern Border was not to be underestimated, and more importantly, their strength was shrouded in mystery, each one a Guardian God of their village.
Bachir and the others quickly retreated, not even daring to breathe heavily. No matter how defiant Bachir was, he wouldn't dare to boast in front of the Grand Sorcerer, unless he thought he had lived too long.
After the crowd dispersed, the Grand Sorcerer turned and bowed deeply to Ye Ling: "Honorable sir, I have been sent by the Saintess to receive you."
"I apologize on their behalf for the earlier affront. Please, as a person of great capacity, don't stoop to their level."
Ye Ling shook his head. How could he possibly quarrel with these ordinary people? That would be beneath him.
After speaking, the Grand Sorcerer took Ye Ling to a nearby large courtyard, where Uwa stood with tightly furrowed brows, surrounded by six Grand Sorcerers.
"What happened? Has something gone wrong?"
Ye Ling stepped forward and asked Uwa softly. Uwa nodded, her expression slightly troubled.
"Indeed, there's been trouble, and it's somewhat tricky."
If something was deemed tricky by Uwa, who was at the Transcendence Tribulation Stage, it was definitely no trivial matter.
