Chapter Six: The Fiend God of Flaming Clouds (Part Two)

“I’ll tear you to pieces!”
His secret had been exposed, and Da Vinci’s eyes burned with fury.
“This fool really has no sense of self-preservation,” Elder Huiren muttered, utterly bewildered. Originally, Da Vinci had only intended to take a hostage, but now it seemed he truly meant to kill.
“Heh, so he’s just a clown after all.”
A few of the martial artists nearby sneered at Da Vinci. They’d thought he was a formidable opponent after seeing him get the better of Da Vinci a moment ago...
But just then, the abbot who had been lying on the ground suddenly stood up, rapped several of them sharply on the head, and declared, “Your inner strength is better than his, but when it comes time to act, you don’t even dare to fart. Now you have the gall to speak up?”
“…Sorry… Wait… What’s it to you, anyway…”
…
Da Vinci, light-footed and agile, quickly caught up with Xiao Yan and swung his fists at him.
“It’s over…”
Everyone present closed their eyes, unable to watch what was about to happen.
But to everyone’s disbelief, just as the blow was about to land, Xiao Yan’s foot struck a stone and he tumbled forward, miraculously dodging the attack.
Boom—
Da Vinci’s fists smashed into a nearby stone pillar, sending a thunderous rumble through the hall. The pillar shattered instantly into countless fragments.
At that moment, the crowd finally noticed that Da Vinci’s inner strength had grown even more potent—had he been hiding his true abilities all along?
“His inner strength is at the twenty-sixth level!”
A cry of alarm broke out.
Blood suddenly sprayed from Xiao Yan’s mouth. He had never expected the twenty-sixth level of inner power to be so fearsome—even at this distance, he’d been injured by the aftershock. His face turned ashen.
Da Vinci’s expression shifted as well. Perhaps the others believed Xiao Yan had simply stumbled and dodged by accident, but from Da Vinci’s vantage point, there had been no stone on the ground at all. It was as though Xiao Yan had used some kind of footwork…
But… How could that be possible?
It must be an illusion…
No matter what, Da Vinci refused to believe it.
At that moment, the abbot sidled up to Elder Huiren, rubbing a bit of yellow dust onto the elder’s sleeve, and asked suspiciously, “Don’t you think Xiao Yan is acting a bit strange?”
Elder Huiren scrutinized Xiao Yan from a distance but shook his head. “I don’t think so. His inner strength hasn’t changed.”
The abbot nodded, but his brows furrowed in contemplation—the footwork seemed oddly familiar.
Meanwhile, Xiao Yan had scrambled to his feet and was running for his life. This was no game—if he were struck, he’d be dead for sure.
Da Vinci had no intention of letting him go. After all, this boy now knew about his missing manhood—he had to die.
The chase continued for some time, but Da Vinci soon noticed that Xiao Yan seemed to be moving faster and faster…
Crash!

Da Vinci’s foot caught Xiao Yan from behind, sending him flying into a battered wooden door.
Crack—
The door splintered apart, and Xiao Yan tumbled into a small, dark room.
It was dusk, and the light was already dim. The small room, used for solitary confinement, was pitch black—nothing could be seen inside.
“Hmph, where can you possibly run now?”
Da Vinci sneered, leaping in after him.
Outside, everyone exchanged bewildered glances. Even Elder Huiren was at a loss; no one dared enter to see what had happened.
As for Xiao Yan, he was surely finished.
There was only one exit from the confinement room, and in such a cramped space, there was nowhere to run.
“Hahaha… You damned brat, you’re dead this time…”
Da Vinci’s booming voice echoed from within. Then, with a heavy thud, a body shot out from the doorway, slamming into a pillar more than ten meters away. The pillar cracked instantly under the impact.
The body was pinned beneath the rubble, motionless—surely dead.
…
It all happened so suddenly. Everyone believed Da Vinci had gone in and kicked the little monk out, killing him in the process—the boy only had inner strength at the third level, after all.
Closest to the pillar was a monk called Yuan Tong, who felt a pang of sorrow. Tears welled in his eyes as he slowly approached. They were, after all, fellow disciples. But—
“Wait… Who are you?”
The monk froze, footsteps halting mid-stride.
The others, noticing this, moved in for a closer look.
The man pinned under the pillar had half his face obscured by rubble, but those beady, shifty eyes were unmistakable…
Da Vinci?
…
Everyone was struck dumb. Silence fell over the hall.
The pillar fragments shifted, and Da Vinci coughed up a mouthful of blood, his eyes fixed on the doorway to the confinement room. “Impossible… Impossible… What kind of martial art is this…?”
A bald-headed figure emerged from the darkness, rubbed his shiny head, straightened his back, and said slowly, “You bastard! If I’ve studied the Buddha Palm, do I have to announce it to you?”
“Buddha Palm?”
Da Vinci pondered the name for a while but couldn’t recall such a technique. He pressed on, “Who are you, really?”
“My name is Xiao Yan!”
Xiao Yan replied.
Da Vinci: “What? You are the Fiend of the Fiery Cloud?”
Xiao Yan: “???”

“My name is Xiao Yan…”
Da Vinci: “I’ll remember you, Fiend of the Fiery Cloud. We’ll meet again—I’ll have my revenge!”
With a bang, Da Vinci hurled a thunderclap grenade to the ground and vanished.
Xiao Yan: “???”
Elder Huiren hurried after him, shouting, “Thief! Return my ‘Muscle-Tendon Classic’!”
…
“Wait for me! I’m going too!” Hearing this, Xiao Yan scampered out of Golden Mountain Monastery.
Half an hour later, Xiao Yan was dragged back, bruised and bloody, by the Eighteen Arhats.
“Xiao Yan, you rascal, you actually tried to use the thief’s escape as an excuse to leave the mountain? The Eighteen Arhats will not permit it.”
The Eighteen Arhats spoke in unison.
“When Da Vinci showed up, you all ran off to the latrine, but when it’s time to chase, you’re suddenly not busy? Cowards!” Xiao Yan protested indignantly.
“Hehehe…”
The Eighteen Arhats blushed. “But rumor has it a master defeated Da Vinci—we wonder who it could be, to be so powerful…”
“It was me!” Xiao Yan pointed urgently to his own swollen face.
The Eighteen Arhats shot him a look of utter contempt, refusing to acknowledge him.
Only a fool would believe that a weakling with only third-level inner strength had single-handedly defeated a top-tier master with twenty-six layers of power.
No one had been able to see clearly inside the dark confinement room—it must have been a hidden expert lending a hand.
Xiao Yan’s shamelessness truly knew no bounds.
From that day forward, the martial world was abuzz. In every teahouse, tavern, and brothel, people discussed only one thing.
“Have you heard? The legendary thief Da Vinci was instantly defeated by the Fiend of the Fiery Cloud!”
“The Fiend of the Fiery Cloud? Never heard of him…”
“Of course not! They say he’s a top master, with inner strength at the thirtieth level…”
“Thirty levels? Impossible. Even Sword Immortal Li Bai, the greatest martial artist in the world, is only at the twenty-ninth level… Someone’s making this up…”
“That just shows what you don’t know! It’s said the Fiend of the Fiery Cloud kicked Da Vinci into a cripple with a single blow—do you think Sword Immortal Li Bai could do that?”
“Probably not?”
“There you have it!”
“But still…”