The Underwear Tycoon Grows Up Chapter 31: The Lowest of the Superior

“Is the Sacred Hall really that formidable? Is its power even greater than that of the Supreme Qi-Gathering Sect?” The name certainly sounded lofty, but throughout one hundred thousand years of life, Luo Xingchen had never once heard of such a force.

Simply put, if he hadn’t heard of it, it wasn’t worthy of his attention.

To put it even more bluntly: all such things were trash.

When Wang Zhengyu looked at Luo Xingchen, her expression became even more peculiar. She was seriously beginning to suspect that her senior brother had never once left the mountain. Their first encounter might well have been the first time he’d descended in his entire life.

Her guess was half correct. Luo Xingchen hadn’t left the Supreme Qi-Gathering Sect for the first time in the past two decades; the last time he’d left was a century ago, during his previous tribulation. Typically, Luo Xingchen truly did keep himself apart from worldly affairs.

The woman who claimed to be a member of the Sacred Hall, along with her attendants, felt even greater disdain for Luo Xingchen upon witnessing his “ignorance.” Someone who had never even heard of the Sacred Hall—what sort of backwater bumpkin was this? Even if he was a cultivator, he was clearly of the lowest, most insignificant class.

In short, anyone who didn’t know of the Sacred Hall was nothing but trash.

Spurred by this, the woman regained her confidence. The fear Luo Xingchen had instilled in her moments ago melted away by more than half, and she found her courage again. She was determined to reclaim the face she had just lost—no, not just reclaim it, but do so tenfold.

She lifted her left arm high, making the blood-red mark known as the “Sacred Brand” on her forearm even more visible—or rather, to raise it above all others. As she did so, her attendants immediately knelt to the ground. Even the person propping her up fell prostrate on the earth.

Thus, with her support gone, the woman toppled stiffly to the ground.

“Idiots! Useless fools! What are you doing?!” she shrieked from where she lay, kicking her legs in fury, no different from a child throwing a tantrum. Her attendants remained prostrate, not daring to move, heads nearly burrowing into the dirt.

Luo Xingchen couldn’t make sense of their behavior. It was Wang Zhengyu, who understood the Sacred Hall, who offered him a brief explanation.

Compared to sects like the Supreme Qi-Gathering Sect, the Sacred Hall was a newly risen power, only a little over two thousand years old. Two millennia ago, a man named He Yu had appeared out of nowhere and, single-handedly, founded the Sacred Hall. He claimed to be an emissary sent by a celestial immortal to bring order to the mortal world, and declared that all people were born with different stations, some noble, some lowly.

Members of the Sacred Hall, he proclaimed, were nobler than any mortal. All mortals, when encountering a member of the Sacred Hall, should kneel in respect. Any unaffiliated cultivator who dared act against a member of the Sacred Hall would suffer divine retribution: at best, stripped of cultivation and reduced to ordinary mortality; at worst, obliterated, their souls scattered, unable even to reincarnate.

When He Yu first propagated his teachings, he incited widespread resentment—not just among ordinary folk, but among cultivators as well. As He Yu traveled and recruited disciples, a hot-tempered cultivator struck him down in public, crushing him into a mist of blood before thousands of onlookers. He Yu had shown no trace of spiritual power, no different from an ordinary mortal, and seemed to die then and there.

Yet, not long after He Yu was reduced to a bloody vapor, the sky darkened abruptly.

A terrifying bolt of lightning fell from the heavens, striking the cultivator squarely atop the head. This man, with the power of a Manifestation Realm cultivator, was killed instantly—his soul destroyed, his path obliterated, erased from existence.

Everyone present recalled He Yu’s words. He had not been speaking empty boasts—his words proved to be true.

But He Yu was already dead.

Or so they thought.

The very next day, He Yu reappeared. He had returned to life.

Now, a faint golden radiance of nobility seemed to shroud him, and wherever he walked, the sky turned golden overhead. With the precedent of the cultivator struck down by heavenly lightning, countless people began to believe in what He Yu proclaimed.

In a frenzy, people scrambled to join the Sacred Hall—both mortals and cultivators alike. If you couldn’t beat them, you might as well join them.

Unable to cultivate and become a noble cultivator? Then join the Sacred Hall and become a noble mortal. A lone rogue cultivator, with no one to support you and cowed by the great sects? Then join the Sacred Hall and become an even nobler cultivator!

Although the Sacred Hall recruited anyone, with no conditions—anyone willing could join and become a member—just as He Yu had preached, the Hall maintained an extremely strict internal hierarchy.

Outside the Hall, you might be a powerless, lowly mortal; within, you would still be at the bottom. Just like the woman’s attendants now: only fit for serving others, hangers-on at best. Yet even so, many ordinary people still clamored to join, all for the sake of that Sacred Hall halo—a mark of immense honor.

Above these lowest ranks, the Sacred Hall was divided into ten levels. The lowest level bore a single blood-red mark—the Sacred Brand—on the left forearm. Each Brand marked a higher rank. The highest, ten Brands, was possessed only by the founder, He Yu, even to this day.

Not even the current Hall Master, the highest authority in the Sacred Hall, had more than nine.

As years passed, the Sacred Hall expanded rapidly, spreading from its birthplace in the Great Western Continent to every corner of the Nine Provinces. By now, nearly everyone—especially ordinary folk—knew of the Sacred Hall. Since most of its members were still commoners, kingdoms like the Qingyun Empire paid little mind to its activities within their lands.

In this world, cultivators still reigned supreme—power made the final argument.

Having heard all this, Luo Xingchen grasped the essence. To sum it up: anyone with a Sacred Brand was now considered a superior being.

The woman before him, with only one Brand on her arm, was the lowest of the “superior,” but it was enough for her to flaunt wherever she went.

Her attendants remained kneeling, afraid to move. The woman had to haul herself upright.

She had overheard Wang Zhengyu’s explanation to Luo Changtian and was feeling quite pleased with herself. Surely, she thought, this country bumpkin must be terrified now. No sect or backing—what could he possibly do?

“Even if you are a cultivator, with no sect or patron to support you, you dared to strike me—you just wait, the lightning will come for you!” she declared shrilly.

“To be honest, I’ve always wondered what it feels like to be struck by lightning,” Luo Xingchen sighed, shaking his head. “But alas, I’m not some insignificant nobody without a sect.” He brushed off his clothes. “You’re not so old you dribble porridge, yet you still can’t recognize our robes after all this time?” Wang Zhengyu lifted her chin proudly. “We are disciples of the Supreme Qi-Gathering Sect!”

Had this been earlier, she might have been nervous meeting a Sacred Hall member with a Brand, but now she even felt a touch of superiority. So what if you’re from the Sacred Hall?

“I am the sole disciple of the Sect Master of the Supreme Qi-Gathering Sect!” Wang Zhengyu made sure to elaborate. Her status was undeniably higher than that of a mere first-level Sacred Hall member.

Indeed, when the woman heard their identities—especially that Wang Zhengyu was the only disciple of the Supreme Qi-Gathering Sect’s leader—her expression changed dramatically. Already swollen and ugly, her face grew even more unsightly.

She had assumed they were all out-of-towners, and as a noble inner-city resident of the capital, with the added prestige of being a first-level Sacred Hall member, she could easily put these three in their place—even if they were cultivators. She hadn’t expected that one of them spoke with a local accent—and more importantly, they were all disciples of the Supreme Qi-Gathering Sect! And this local girl was the sect leader’s only disciple!

With status upon status stacking up, they were far above her now. She could not afford to provoke them.

But—if she couldn’t risk offending the girl, surely this young man didn’t possess such lofty standing.

Her gaze returned to Luo Xingchen. For having struck her like this, she was determined to extract an explanation.

“Very well, since you’re from the Supreme Qi-Gathering Sect, you too possess noble status. I won’t quibble over your presence here,” she said magnanimously, then abruptly shifted tone. “You may have the right to be here, but there is another matter I must address with you!”

She pointed to her face. “Even as a disciple of the Supreme Qi-Gathering Sect, you had no right to strike me! That’s a desecration of the Sacred Hall. Its sanctity must not be infringed. You must apologize to me!”

Luo Xingchen had no intention of apologizing. Instead, he asked, “And why did I hit you?”

The woman blurted out, “Because I insulted—”

“There, you see? Even you know there was a reason,” Luo Xingchen spread his hands. “You insulted me, and I didn’t kill you—just slapped you twice. That’s mercy. Truth be told, you ought to thank me for sparing your life.”

“Thank you for not killing me?” The woman trembled with rage. “What kind of twisted logic is that?!”