The Chronicles of Alibuda, Volume 22: Chapter 7: A Mysterious Injustice

Phoenix's sudden appearance, and her inexplicable insight, left me with many questions.

I don't object to a pretty girl coming for revenge; after all, it's hard to be without enemies in life. A pretty girl is always better than a burly, bearded man, and if she's truly beautiful, the more the merrier.

But my confusion about Formula One racing made me decide to take action and gather relevant information, lest I be pushed into a racing seat immediately after meeting Yueying—that would be a classic case of being a sucker.

"Oh, don't worry, nephew, nothing like that will happen,"

Mao Yanping explained. The Formula One Grand Prix is held annually, with eighteen to twenty races held in major cities across the Golden Flower Federation. This year is nineteen races, and the final standings are based on points to determine the driver and team champions.

“There are a total of nineteen races this year, and ten have already been completed, which is halfway through. We only just called you in now; there's absolutely no way we'd let you participate halfway through. Don't worry,”

Mao Yanping said. This is a major international competition; countless people around the world are watching. Trying to rig the race list would become an international issue, and no one dares to even consider such a thing.

“However, it's not necessarily true. Basically, there are no real rules in this race. As long as the vehicle complies with the rules, it's all about skill and strategy. Everyone who participates has to sign a waiver of liability. Every year, the race causes considerable casualties. In the past, there have been instances where four-fifths of the participants were eliminated by the end of the race. Simply put, because the rules are so simple, there's not much to break.”

“Hey, are you kidding me? Isn't this a country that values human rights? How can such a major competition cause so many deaths? Are the thieves and funeral industry colluding to organize these death races to boost their profits?”

"No, that's not it. The Golden Flower Federation originally held the World's Number One Martial Arts Tournament every three years, but it was discontinued because the Cihang Jingdian Palace felt it was too brutal and caused too many deaths and injuries. However, while the Golden Flower Federation stopped hosting it, the Ishtar people were eager to do so. This kind of martial arts tournament has always been an excellent opportunity to recruit talent, and for the sake of long-term national strength, the Golden Flower Federation had no choice but to take it back. But considering their stance when it was banned, they had to change it to a racing competition. In addition to comparing individual skills, they also had to compete in terms of equipment resources."

Mao Yanping said, "Essentially a racing competition within a martial arts tournament, so of course there will be more deaths and injuries. Racing competitions can also break the rules of martial arts tournaments, allowing the fair use of magic, which allows magicians to also stand out. Therefore, in each grand racing competition, martial artists, magicians, and even craftsmen confident in their forging skills from all sides will be eager to compete for a chance to rise to the top."

"Hmph, that bald thief from the Cihang Jingdian Palace, are they not going to take responsibility this time?"

“We wanted to manage it, at least to maintain the minimum requirement of holding it only once every three years. But after holding it once, at least eighteen to twenty cities were rolling in money, everyone was driven by profit, and the combined pressure was too much for even the central government to handle, so it became the annual rule we have now.”

To gain a deeper understanding of this year’s race, Mao Yanping and I went to the Trackers Guild to rent video recordings. This service isn’t available everywhere, but in the Golden Flower Federation, due to the high level of magical civilization, important events are filmed on-site and the images are stored in magic crystals. When we retrieve these crystals and play them, we can understand the status of this year’s race.

Atlanta was one of the locations for this year’s race. Although it’s already over and we couldn’t watch it in person, we could still see clear magical images, which was a great help to us.

Trackers without a certain level of expertise cannot rent video crystals from the Trackers Guild, but our team, because of our recent rise to fame, immediately received preferential treatment and was even entertained in a VIP room to watch the video.

"Hey, this place is nice, with a fireplace and a big red carpet, the atmosphere is top-notch. Nephew, next time let's film something nice and bring it to play."

"Crazy, why show videos? If you want to do something, just bring women and have fun. The carpet here is so thick, even if it gets intense, you won't fall off the building."

The racing footage played, showing bizarrely designed, even unbelievable, race cars speeding around the track at breakneck speed.

Beasts pulling race cars—this was a scene I had imagined before, but the reality was more than that. There were also race cars powered by metal machinery, and some that moved with magic. Especially those race cars with white skeletal tigers pulling them—you could tell at a glance that they were Ishtar's wizards competing.

While racing is judged by speed at the finish line, winning isn't simply a matter of being "fast." The prerequisite for reaching the finish line fastest is surviving. Your opponents may not be fast, but they possess deadly advantages. If you can eliminate the faster runners first, even a snail's pace will make you the fastest. During the race

, various methods to hinder the competition abound. Throwing darts, poison needles, and flying stones are just the tip of the icebergs. I even saw someone use a beast pulling the cart to generate electricity and fire, and even unleash devastating palm strikes and fireballs.

"Oh, my dear nephew, did you see that? These guys may seem like strangers, but they're actually working together to hinder the others and let that red sports car in front break through."

"Holy crap, that's enough! There's even team fighting..."

The flashes of fire, lightning, and blood on the screen were making my eyes blurry. I secretly rejoiced that I wasn't being asked to be a race car driver, because judging from these images, those who win in racing must be teams backed by powerful forces. They rely on teamwork to eliminate opponents one by one and cover their allies. If you rely solely on your individual strength to compete, unless you're a one-in-a-million genius, you'll be dead within three or four races.

"My dear nephew, look, there's a familiar face!"

It really was a familiar face. At the press conference after the Atlanta race, several high-profile race car drivers took off their helmets and gave interviews. Among them was a familiar handsome face. He still seemed as polite and refined as when we last parted, with an upright and dignified air that made people like him at first glance.

"Fang Qingshu, it's incredible that this good-natured man has survived this long."

"Hey, nephew, you underestimate him. This isn't the first time Qingshu has participated in the Grand Prix; he's even won a championship before. Do you think he's here to be bullied?"

Heh, no wonder he's the much-anticipated "Son of Light." It seems like every first place is related to Fang Qingshu. That's just how he is. I don't really like this perfect kid, but I don't hate him that much either.

Throughout the video playback, the sexy race queens, with their half-exposed backs and long, beautiful legs, were also the focus of attention. A few were particularly striking, making Mao Yanping and me want a glass of wine. We could clink glasses while admiring the beauties' buttocks and thighs. This is part of the entertainment of the Grand Prix; the experts appreciate the details, while the laymen just enjoy the spectacle.

As I left the Tracker Guild, I gained a deeper understanding of Formula One racing, and some ideas began to form in my mind. If I were to intervene in the race myself, I could use certain methods and strategies to gain an advantage, but implementing such a coordinated effort wouldn't be easy. Hmm… “By the way, Uncle, there’s something I forgot to ask. What are the rewards for this race? It can’t just be a large cash prize, can it? To attract the best martial artists and mages from all over the land, the prizes must be quite impressive…”

“Oh, that? You’re right, there are indeed prizes. I remember this year’s prizes are…”

Mao Yanping was about to speak when a commotion suddenly came from the other end of the street. It seemed like someone was running towards them, and judging from the figure… it appeared to be a beautiful woman.

"Uncle, it looks like someone's running this way. What's she doing here?"

"Looks like a beauty. Since she's a beauty, of course she's here to throw herself into your arms."

"Oh, and what about that group of burly men following her? Are they here to throw themselves into your arms? They don't need to be carrying knives, do they?"

Seeing a beautiful woman being chased, one would naturally want to be a hero and see if they could take advantage of the situation. But as the girl's face became clearer, I just wanted to turn around and leave, not wanting to linger here for even a moment longer.

"Ah! It's you again, John Farrell!"

"Miss, please show some respect. What do you mean 'again'? It's not like I came here just because I wanted to ambush you. You just inexplicably came here on your own."

I don't like women with sharp tongues, and I like female reporters with sharp tongues even more, let alone one who pointed her finger at me and cursed me on the street yesterday. She really ruined my excitement after watching the racing record.

"Uncle, I'm leaving. You're on your own here. Don't stay out too late with those burly men. Even though you're tough, if you come back too late, you'll end up with a sore backside."

"Hey, nephew, don't rush off. You're the only one here with any fighting ability. You're a man of principle; you can't just stand by and do nothing at a time like this."

"What am I supposed to do here? Some people here are hoping I'll die a horrible

death in the streets. Are you just letting them have their way?" "You've committed countless evils, harmed innocent people, you're despicable and shameless. You deserve to die in the streets. Are you trying to deny it?"

"I'm not trying to deny it. I'm just leaving now. You can wash your backside clean and wait to be gang-raped to death with this scoundrel."

"Nephew! This has nothing to do with me. Don't drag me into this."

Because of this inexplicable verbal sparring, I missed my chance to escape and was surrounded by more than ten burly men.

How many times in my life have I encountered a situation like this, surrounded by a group of burly men? The answers were countless, but being surrounded this time felt a bit strange.

The main street wasn't far, bustling with people. These burly men were trying to conceal themselves, which was understandable, but each of them not only covered their faces with cloths but also their entire heads, making them look like petty thieves from the East China Sea. That was suspicious.

Furthermore, their unique aura, though not strong, was… well, something was off.

"Heroes, please stop! Let me say a few words."

Before a conflict broke out, I tried my best to avoid bloodshed. Thinking about it, I really am a peace-loving, kind-hearted person.

“I have nothing to do with this woman. I hate paparazzi more than anything. You can grab her and gang rape her until she's bruised and broken, I won't complain. If that's not enough, you can take this old bastard next to me. I'll gladly offer him up, no extra charge.”

“Nephew, this…”

“What do you mean, this? Leave the dimensions of the coffin you want, and get ready to die.”

Although I tried my best to avoid conflict, my efforts to seek peace were met with no response. In fact, the group of masked men were enraged after hearing my words, denouncing my words and actions as despicable and shameless, the work of beasts, and that I would surely fall into the eighteenth level of Avici Hell after death. It was quite ridiculous; the villains chasing after a weak woman and the heroes rescuing her seemed to have their positions reversed.

The men demanded what Charlotte had photographed, but Charlotte refused. The atmosphere between the two sides became increasingly tense, and finally, they came to blows.

拍下来的东西又不在我手上，照理说，我是可以置身事外的，但这群大汉可能不屑对女子动手，又或许我看起来比狗仔队更欠揍，他们居然第一个就往我这边招呼，几双猛拳先后重击过来，力道沉稳老练，具有破石裂碑之威，竟全都是力量不俗的好手。

（妈的，不打大叔先打我，欺负我是魔法师吗？）

我心中暗骂，但魔法师可未必好欺负，尤其是一个多才多艺的魔法师，更常常让优秀武者摔个大筋斗。

看准重拳来势，我轻轻侧身闪躲，由于身手不够灵活，动作不快，这一拳闪得极险，刚劲拳风刮得面门生疼，但我的反击却在敌人力尽时出现，反手一拂，早已暗中戴上金银手套的掌心按过敌人手臂，顿时金芒一闪。

This scene repeated itself several times, with flashes of gold and silver light intertwining. When the burly men who had delivered the powerful punches stumbled back, they clutched their arms and screamed frantically.

"My...my hands!"

"How did your arms become like this?"

"The healing spells are useless! What kind of magic is this?"

The burly men and their companions were terrified. The arms I had just touched had all undergone a bizarre mutation. Not only had they lost all feeling and become immobile, but they were also shimmering with gold and silver, looking like incredibly valuable golden or silver arms. From

a purely monetary perspective, these arms were indeed very expensive, but seeing one's own arms transformed into this—flesh and blood devoid of feeling, turned into cold, heavy metal—was terrifying. Especially when those guys desperately used healing spells, chanting them over and over, the holy, gentle light constantly radiating, but the gold-sealed, silver-transformed parts showed no signs of improvement, their hysterical screams and tearful panic were truly hilarious.

"It's useless. My magic that turns stones into gold is a celestial art from another continent. You can chant the recovery incantation a hundred or a thousand times, but you still won't be able to break it. If you know what's good for you, get out of here, or else..."

"Release...release the magic on my fellow disciples! Young man, don't think that just because you've mastered a little magic, you can run

rampant in the Golden Flower Federation. The world is vast, and you have no idea who you've offended. We..." "Wait a minute. I wouldn't dare say I'm anything special. The Golden Flower Federation is full of hidden talents. I, with my meager abilities, have a little self-awareness. I'm just curious to see what you bald monks from the Cihang Jingdian Palace can do to me."

"Ah? You...how could you..."

"Huh? Why are those shocked cries so quiet? Oh, or rather, these monks are not only bald thieves from Cihang Jingdian Temple, but also bald donkeys from Jingnian Chan Society! Whatever, none of those bald heads are good people anyway."

The humiliation and anger at being ridiculed by my venomous snake seemed to pale in comparison to the terror of their identities being exposed. These bald donkeys were very surprised that their identities had been recognized, but they had really given away too many clues.

"Thieves wrap their heads because their hair gets in the way, but you all wrap your heads up, it's obviously to hide your identities. It's not a good look for monks to chase women in the street, is it? Wrapping your heads is one thing, but you still habitually refer to yourselves as 'poor monks' when you speak, are you afraid people won't recognize you? Calling yourselves 'poor monks' is

one thing, but when you reply with incantations, it's like you're setting them off like you're not putting in any effort. Do you think they're fireworks? Or are you afraid people won't know you're monks?" To be honest, the arrogant feeling of petty people getting their way is fucking satisfying... While I was mocking this group of monks, Mao Yanping completely disregarded his refined image and applauded and cheered for me. Even Charlotte's gaze towards me changed slightly, but when I glanced at her, she snorted and turned her head away, continuing to maintain her hostile attitude.

"Since you know we're from the Pure Mind Zen Society, why don't you quickly undo the spell on my fellow monks? Aren't you afraid...?"

"Afraid of what? A large group, is that it? You big monk have torn off your mask and revealed your bandit face, trying to show off your power with numbers? Ha, I'm not afraid to tell you, the Pure Mind Zen Society's reputation is intimidating, but if it's full of people like you, even a large group won't scare anyone."

As I said this, I began to coldly observe the surrounding movements. Since these big monks came to steal the item, they wouldn't leave easily until they achieved their goal, so persuasion was useless; they didn't seem to have much combat experience, easily toyed with by me, but their skills were quite formidable. They just didn't understand their own strength, which is why they were intimidated by me. In fact, if it really came to a bloody battle, unless I used the Hellish Lust God, I really didn't have the confidence to win against a dozen of them on my own. Summoning the Hellish God of Lust guarantees victory, but after frequent use of the Hellish God of Lust, my ferocity has greatly increased, making it almost impossible to leave any enemies alive in battle. Cihang Jingdian is, after all, the number one sect in the world; killing these dozen or so bald monks would have serious consequences. Therefore, it would be best to just use words to intimidate them, exaggerating my abilities to frighten them into retreating—that would be ideal.

The gold and silver gloves obtained from the Sea God's Palace aren't actually that powerful. It's said that the gloves' first owner was an extremely powerful demon who mastered a special technique using a mutated silkworm worm. Combined with the gloves, it possessed the ability to turn things into gold. After sealing a person's flesh with gold, the mutated metal would gradually corrode the flesh, metallizing the interior—extremely insidious, which allowed it to roam the land.

However, this demon mysteriously disappeared, and his unique technique was lost. The damaged gloves eventually fell into the hands of Famit, becoming his travel expenses during his youth. The ability to seal the glove's surface with gold would only result in a thin layer of metal, easily scraped off with a little time and care. Even without scraping, it would disappear naturally after 24 hours. So, if I didn't use some persuasion to scare these guys away, things would get complicated once the truth was revealed.

However, just as I was about to exaggerate the consequences of the gold seal on my arm and casually ramble about my lineage to terrify these monks, a Buddhist chant suddenly came from behind them.

"Amitabha."

The chant, imbued with the authentic power of Zen, struck like a temple bell, resonating heavily in everyone's hearts. For a moment, everyone's mind went blank, and they briefly lost consciousness. Even I was momentarily stunned. When I finally regained my senses, I found an old bald man among the group of monks. He wasn't tall, but he looked kind and benevolent, with a warm smile that seemed quite approachable.

The old bald monk was unremarkable in appearance, but the skill he had just displayed was no ordinary feat. The Heavenly Dragon Chant for Purifying the Mind and Suppressing Evil was a unique technique of the Cihang Jingdian Temple, impossible to execute without decades of Chan practice. Although it was unclear whether he was from the Cihang Jingdian Temple or the Jingnian Chan Association, he was clearly an elder of this

group of bald thieves. "Amitabha, young benefactor's skill is truly remarkable! Unexpectedly, after hundreds of years, the Thunderbolt Sect's golden and silver gloves have reappeared in the world. However, the silkworm gu is rare, and young benefactor probably doesn't have the ability to cultivate that ultimate palm technique, so… well, well."

The old monk was quite skilled; he immediately understood my background, and his martial arts were exceptional. With each "well," he removed the golden seal from a monk's arm. This wasn't magic, but rather the shattering of the surface seal with profound internal force. Any more force would damage the flesh inside. He removed the seals from five or six monks in succession, using just the right amount of palm force, demonstrating his high level of martial arts.

However, seeing the gratitude in these bald thieves' eyes, coupled with their obvious embarrassment at being saved by their adversaries, I was certain of the newcomer's identity.

"So you're the master from Cihang Jingdian. The Jingnian Chan Association keeps talking about independence, reform, and even subduing demons to save the world, but when they run into trouble, they go back to beg their uncles and elder brothers for help. It's laughable."

Touched on a sore spot, the senior monks glared at me angrily, but the kindly smiling old monk stopped them, chanting Buddhist mantras and bowing to us with his palms together. Cihang Jingdian's Chan practice is world-renowned, emphasizing the use of a single bow and gesture, formless and invisible. Fearing I'd be ambushed, I dodged, but unexpectedly, the old monk's bow was directed at Mao Yanping.

"Benefactor Mao, it's been a long time. It's been over twenty years since our hasty parting years ago.

To see you again, my old friend, still as radiant as ever, truly delights this old monk." "I, Mao Yanping, am also overjoyed to have the opportunity to pay my respects to Master Ku. I wonder how the other two Arhats are?"

Mao Yanping had previously served in the Golden Flower Federation and was a close friend of Layman Xin Deng, so it wasn't surprising that he recognized other monks. However, I was still surprised to hear him call out their names.

The Cihang Jingdian's seniority system was previously led by the "Zhi" generation, and currently, the "Xin" generation is in charge. Besides the head, Xin Ren Chan, there are several other high-ranking monks from collateral branches who are not fellow practitioners of Xin Chan but belong to the same "Xin" generation. Their Dharma names are Ku, Zeng, and Chi. They are the three great Arhats of Cihang Jingdian after Xin Chan, possessing both high martial arts skills and significant power. I never expected to encounter such important figures so soon after joining the Golden Flower Federation.

Since both sides had a prior relationship, things were easier to talk to. The Cihang Jingdian Temple and the Jingnian Chan Association had been locked in fierce conflict in recent years, and these senior monks seemed afraid to openly admit to Master Ku why they were chasing respectable women in the street. They could only glare at us resentfully before leaving in a sorry state.

I thought the matter was over, but no sooner had the monks left than Master Ku chanted a Buddhist prayer and invited me to the Cihang Jingdian headquarters, promising to depart immediately.

Of course, I refused, even though Mao Yanping had tried to smooth things over, saying I was naturally restless and not suited to visiting Buddhist temples, but would visit sometime in the future, and there was no need to force myself today. However, even his connections didn't work this time. Master Ku swept his sleeves aside, blocking our path, clearly intending to forcefully invite me.

"Great monk, what do you mean by this? In the Golden Flower Federation, can monks openly kidnap people? Don't forget there's a paparazzi team here. If you don't get out of the way, you'll be ruined tomorrow."

"Amitabha, monks don't lie. Young benefactor, you are implicated in the murder of my uncle, Elder Zhishan, and are highly suspected. Our sect has already circulated your image throughout the Golden Flower Federation and is searching for you to assist in the investigation."

These words were like a bolt from the blue. Although I had known something was amiss, I never imagined it would be this bad. Elder Zhishan died on Sealed Spirit Island; the murderer should be the Black Witch Heavenly Maiden by any measure. What does it have to do with me? Why are they asking me to assist in the investigation?

(Oh no, it's highly likely the Black Dragon Society struck first and started intelligence gathering. If those bald monks catch me...)

Remembering the cunning of that old scoundrel Zhi Shan, I have absolutely no faith in his disciples and followers. Moreover, there's the hypocrite Xin Chan in the Cihang Jingdian. He must know perfectly well what Zhi Shan's last words were, given his collusion with the Black Dragon Society. If I'm invited back to assist in the investigation, I'll be killed before I even open my mouth.

Not going is a given, but finding a reason is difficult. At this point, no matter what I say, they won't listen. In the end, only force will tell. This old bald man is one of the three Arhats of Cihang Jingdian, renowned throughout the world; he's definitely not someone to fight. Besides, this is his territory. Even if I summon the Hellish God of Lust, I don't necessarily have much of a chance of winning.

(If we lose, so be it; but if we win, and this old bald man is killed by me, it will automatically confirm the Black Dragon Society's conspiracy, and we'll never be able to clear our

names again.) I gave Mao Yanping a wink, and together we tried to stall for time. Although the old monk's Buddhist name was Xin Ku, he was surprisingly calm. He quickly saw through our stalling tactics, gave a low shout, and his smile vanished. He shook his head at us.

"Young benefactor, as long as you're willing to go back with me to assist in the investigation, I will guarantee your safety until the truth comes out. Running away is useless, and delaying won't solve anything. Your actions..."

“Old monk, many of my friends were vouched for like this before being asked by the cops to assist in an investigation, and they all came back broken and battered. Do you think I'll believe you? Besides, simply delaying won't solve the problem, but my delay might… What are you waiting for? Let's do it!”

Responding to my call, several arrows pierced the air, striking Master Ku just inches from his chest, breaking through his sleeve and allowing Mao Yanping and me to step back and create distance.

Yu Ni, who had quietly arrived nearby, gracefully appeared from a tall building behind us, twirling beautifully in the air before landing steadily in front of the three of us.

“Well? Old monk, my helper has arrived. She needs someone to assist in the investigation. Go through her first.”

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The Chronicles of Alibuda, Volume 22: Chapter 7: A Mysterious Injustice

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