A powerful and resonant voice echoed through the grand hall. Perhaps not just within the Heavenly Master Hall, but even those in other areas might have heard it.
The sudden action of Yamcha startled the surrounding Taoist priests.
Just as they were about to step forward to stop him, they saw Yamcha casually open the suitcase he was carrying.
What spilled out was a dazzling red "light" so bright it almost blinded them.
"Ten million for incense offerings!"
"Te—Ten million?!"
What kind of concept is ten million?
It wasn't like no one had ever splurged at Longhu Mountain before, but even the most generous had only offered tens or hundreds of thousands. To take out ten million in one go was truly unprecedented.
These Taoist priests were ordinary people, usually in charge of maintaining the temple. They had never seen so much money and were momentarily at a loss.
The scene came to a standstill.
A few minutes passed, and Yamcha once again bowed deeply to the statue of the Heavenly Master and spoke again.
"I am Yamcha, paying my respects to the Grandmaster!"
"Fifty million for incense offerings!!!"
This voice was even louder than before, to the point where even tourists outside the Heavenly Master's residence could hear it.
Fi—Fifty million?
What kind of mad generosity was this?
"What's going on?"
A youthful yet stern voice rang out as a young Taoist in a white robe entered from outside.
He had long silver hair like a waterfall, a cinnabar dot on his brow, and an exceptionally handsome face.
Despite being clearly younger than the other Taoists, they all looked relieved at his arrival and cried out in unison:
"Little Grandmaster Uncle!"
This white-robed young Taoist was none other than Zhang Lingyu, the last disciple of the old Heavenly Master.
Also known as Real Person Lingyu.
Don't be fooled by his age—his seniority was extremely high, and his cultivation was profound.
He had just completed his morning practice when he heard Yamcha's voice and came over.
The other Taoists surrounded him like he was their savior, all speaking at once to explain what had happened.
"This benefactor... please come with me to the backyard."
Zhang Lingyu had already made up his mind. Without waiting for Yamcha's response, he reached out his right hand.
Before things got out of control, he intended to subdue Yamcha and wait for his senior brothers and master to arrive.
The others didn't dare act because they were stunned by the money.
But Zhang Lingyu wasn't concerned about that. It's not so much that he was indifferent to wealth; it's that he didn't really understand its significance.
Even among the world's "special individuals," most ultimately sought fame and fortune.
Just look at those top ten publicly known leaders in the supernatural world—several had quite questionable character.
Only the old Heavenly Master that Yamcha wanted to meet had truly transcended all that.
But the moment Zhang Lingyu's hand touched Yamcha—it passed right through him.
Yamcha's image disappeared.
Afterimage Fist.
"I can't touch him?"
"Is he... a special individual?"
Realizing he'd grabbed air, Zhang Lingyu instantly became alert.
The young man before him, who looked just a few years older, was clearly no ordinary person.
As he thought that, Yamcha once again spoke.
"I am Yamcha, paying my respects to the Grandmaster!"
"Sixty million for incense offerings!"
His voice was even louder than before. Even the residential quarters of the Heavenly Master Mansion could hear it.
Si—Sixty million!
Everyone present—except Zhang Lingyu—was dumbstruck.
Zhang Lingyu didn't care about how much money it was. Since he hadn't caught Yamcha the first time, he tried again, this time using Qi.
His speed increased severalfold.
But unfortunately for him, he was up against Yamcha—who could move fast enough to leave afterimages. Even in the supernatural world, this level of mastery was rare.
No matter how many times Zhang Lingyu tried, he could only grab illusions.
Yamcha dodged effortlessly, without a sound.
Eventually, Zhang Lingyu was left panting from exhaustion, unable to even touch the hem of Yamcha's robe.
Meanwhile, Yamcha remained exactly as he was at the start.
The gap between the two, purely in terms of physical ability, was insurmountable.
Martial artists from the Dragon Ball world—especially the Z Fighters—boasted near-absolute physical prowess across almost every universe. And Yamcha, having traveled through many worlds and acquired numerous abilities, was no exception.
He remained calm and respectfully bowed to the statue once more.
"I am Yamcha, paying my respects to the Grandmaster!"
"One hundred million for incense offerings!"
This number had already surpassed what an average person could comprehend. To Yamcha, it was just "a small goal," but to ordinary folks, ten million could let them live in luxury for a lifetime. A hundred million? That's ten lifetimes.
"I am Yamcha, paying my respects to the Grandmaster!"
"Two hundred million for incense offerings!"
Each time Yamcha spoke, his voice grew louder, more powerful, more awe-inspiring.
Ten million? Fifty million?
By the time he reached one and two hundred million, it started to feel surreal.
Would someone really donate two hundred million just to meet the old Heavenly Master?
It's notoriously difficult for regular folks to even catch a glimpse of the Grandmaster.
And two hundred million... that kind of money could fill an entire courtyard if converted to cash. You could throw bundles at someone until they died and still have money left over.
Forget seeing the Grandmaster—with two hundred million, you could sleep with the first ladies of small nations. Heck, maybe even the presidents themselves.
But saying Yamcha was crazy or joking was hard—because that dazzling suitcase didn't look fake.
In truth, Yamcha already knew the Grandmaster lived in the private quarters of the Heavenly Master's estate—where generations of Grandmasters had resided. That area was off-limits without an invitation.
Breaking into someone's private quarters uninvited would be extremely rude.
He wasn't here to start a fight—he came to pay his respects.
"Hahaha! I heard someone was offering two hundred million just to see me—I didn't know I was worth that much!"
A hearty, slightly mischievous voice rang out.
Then a tall, straight-backed elderly Taoist with long white brows and hair walked in.
He wore a black Heavenly Master robe, his face calm and serene. As he looked at Zhang Lingyu, a rare warmth crossed his expression. But what struck Yamcha the most were his eyes—plain at first glance, but glowing faintly with hidden brilliance.
Even more surprising to Yamcha was the fact that he couldn't sense any Qi from the old man—this had never happened before. It was like the man standing before him was just a regular elderly gentleman.
But it wasn't that he was hiding his power—he truly seemed ordinary.
The realm of returning to simplicity.
This was the current Grandmaster of Longhu Mountain—Zhang Zhiwei!
The very same Grandmaster Yamcha referred to, and a legendary figure said to be able to defeat anyone with "just one move."
Mysterious yet plain. Two contradictory terms, yet incredibly fitting.
A true grandmaster.
That was Yamcha's first impression of him.
Following behind him were several blue-robed Taoists, their presence even more imposing than Zhang Lingyu's.
"I am Yamcha, paying my respects to the Grandmaster!"
Upon seeing him, Yamcha bowed deeply and solemnly said, "Your value cannot be measured by something as vulgar as money."
He took out a black card and gently placed it on the offering table.
"There are ten billion on this card."
"All of it, donated to Longhu Mountain's Heavenly Master Mansion."
His tone was so calm it sounded like he was donating a mere hundred yuan.
Hiss—
Even the seasoned disciples behind the Grandmaster couldn't help but gasp.
Ten billion.
Such is the power of money.
In any world, money can solve 99% of problems.
After traversing multiple worlds, the one thing Yamcha no longer lacked was wealth. Even the most casual business move could generate amounts ordinary people couldn't dream of.
But the Grandmaster was not someone who could be bought with money.
This donation was merely the price of entry—just a token to request a meeting.
Nothing more.
"Well now, who'd have thought this old man was worth so much," the Grandmaster chuckled, stroking his beard with delight.
He was the only one in the room who showed no surprise at Yamcha's gesture. Even Zhang Lingyu had been stunned—even if he didn't care much for money, he still knew the difference between ten billion and a thousand yuan.
It was simply too much.
"This isn't the right place to talk."
Seeing more and more onlookers gathering, the Grandmaster waved his hand and said, "Come with me to the backyard."
Following behind the Grandmaster, Yamcha soon arrived at the private residence area. There, a traditional building came into view. Outside its gate stood a massive stone inscribed with four characters: Dao Zi Qing Xu (The Dao Arises from Emptiness).
These four characters were powerful yet ethereal. Just looking at them brought a sense of enlightenment—similar to the calligraphy Yamcha had once taken from Netero, which also contained the essence of the Dao.
Once hot tea was served, the Grandmaster waved his hand, dismissing his disciples.
Before long, only Yamcha and the old Grandmaster remained in the room.
"Finally, they're gone."
As he said this, the Grandmaster's demeanor shifted drastically. If he had once seemed deep and inscrutable, now he felt like that neighborly old man who always plays chess with you—but constantly takes back his moves.
The mischievous old master.
That was Yamcha's second impression of him.
"So tell me, young friend. What made you spend so much 'worldly wealth' just to see me?"
"I want to become your disciple, Grandmaster."
(End of Chapter)