Chapter Sixty-Nine: A Coincidental Name

Let us turn back the clock to the length of an incense stick ago.

Fourth Senior Brother Han Zhi Fei had just told him that his gift for their first meeting was already docked outside. Zhang Ning was astonished—what kind of gift could it be? On Waterblue Star, such a present would have to be a luxury car, a yacht, or perhaps even a helicopter. But, since this was another world, Zhang Ning immediately guessed that Fourth Senior Brother’s gift must be a flying artifact of some kind! The thought filled him with such excitement that he nearly dashed out in nothing but his underclothes, and it was only thanks to Han Zhi Fei’s insistence that he managed to get a couple more layers on.

But when he finally stepped outside, Zhang Ning was utterly dumbfounded. Hovering in the sky was a colossal, cloud-shadowing vessel shaped like a ship. Though it wasn’t quite as enormous as the great cargo-carrying bellied boats, its sheer size was still enough to make one tremble in awe. The hull, forged from some unknown, jet-black and gleaming material, radiated a metallic luster that evoked the terror of a war machine.

All of this would have been unremarkable—had it not been for the countless enormous tentacles sprouting from the ship’s body, thrashing and striking all around. Anything that ventured near was immediately battered away or destroyed, demonstrating the vessel’s overwhelming offensive power. Yet, no matter how mighty the attack—those were still tentacles!

What was going on? Could this world possibly be modeled after Cthulhu mythos? Zhang Ning peered more closely, but instead of feeling confusion or horror, his mind began to uncontrollably wander toward thoughts only suitable for those over eighteen... He forced himself to stop!

He eyed Han Zhi Fei suspiciously—could Fourth Senior Brother have been sent by Third Senior Brother to test him? To see if he’d been behaving lately? After all, Third Senior Brother had once misunderstood him as a little pervert.

Han Zhi Fei, as always, seemed unable to pick up on these mental wavelengths. Seeing Zhang Ning’s expression, he pondered for a moment before saying, “The entire ship is forged from Nine Heavens Black Iron—impossibly tough. Even a full-force strike from a Martial Emperor would leave no mark upon it. Yes, a Martial Emperor.”

Zhang Ning curled his lips. Well, Fourth Senior Brother probably wasn’t the type to play such tricks.

Actually, Zhang Ning was already standing on a flying artifact—presumably Fourth Senior Brother’s own, which seemed perfectly ordinary. So why was the gift a monstrous tentacled creature?

He hesitated, then ventured, “About the thing in the sky… It’s not that I dislike it, but…”

Han Zhi Fei blinked. “You like it, Junior Brother? That specimen’s been cultivated for quite some time now, developed under the guidance of Senior Brother. It’s used for comprehensive sweeping attacks—highly flexible and convenient.”

Sweeping attacks? Zhang Ning’s lips twitched. Were people in this world just too naive, or were his seniors simply too skilled? They certainly played the part with utter seriousness.

He could only feel the utmost admiration. He’d always known that Senior Brother was a consummate scholar, capable of building a life from scratch even in another world. Only now did he realize—appearances could be deceiving. Truly worthy of being a predecessor in transmigration.

Suddenly, Zhang Ning asked, “By the way, Fourth Senior Brother, may I ask Senior Brother’s name?”

He genuinely didn’t know. It just occurred to him to ask, since biographies of their sect’s founder were always so drenched in praise that they read like mythology, the fan filter so thick it could be measured in meters. All Zhang Ning knew was that the senior’s title was the Demon Emperor of Ten Thousand Umbrellas; annoyingly, his actual name was always kept secret—he wasn’t exactly a sheltered maiden, so why the secrecy?

Han Zhi Fei replied, “Senior Brother’s name is Qin Guanlan.”

Zhang Ning was taken aback—the coincidence was uncanny. The characters for “Guanlan” were the very ones his father on Waterblue Star had chosen for his courtesy name, making him something of an oddity among his peers who had long forgotten such traditions. His father’s surname was Qin; Zhang Ning bore his mother’s surname, Zhang. So “Qin Guanlan” was actually the online alias Zhang Ning had chosen for himself—a curious connection indeed. But with so many people sharing that name, to find it belonged to Senior Brother was truly an honor.

He glanced once more at the tentacled beast in the sky. “Is it fixed in place by an array? Senior Brother is truly formidable. I really must pay him a visit someday.” He was internally full of complaints, paying little heed to his words, but Han Zhi Fei merely nodded, his gaze dim. “You should… But those tentacles are not held by arrays.”

“They’re not?” Zhang Ning was startled; such violent tentacles, and yet they weren’t bound by any formation?

Han Zhi Fei explained that the tentacled monster originated from the Spirit Plant Sect of Zhongxing City—as the name suggested, the creature was actually a plant! In other words, it was the ship’s potted flower.

Though surprised, Zhang Ning found this to be rather routine. Odd, perhaps, but he was genuinely delighted by this gift. He bowed solemnly, “Thank you for your generous welcome gift, Senior Brother. I like it very much!” Han Zhi Fei’s face remained impassive, but there seemed to be a gleam in his eyes.

“Junior Brother may name your flying vessel as you wish.”

Zhang Ning agreed, thought for a moment, then burst into a radiant smile. “Then I shall name it the Cthulhu Warship!”

Han Zhi Fei nodded with certainty. “An excellent name!”

Zhang Ning secretly stuck out his tongue.

As the two stood talking on the deck, a disciple in the uniform of the Grand Freedom Demon Sect hurried up, knelt before them, and announced, “Your Highnesses, Young Master Meng has arrived!”

Young Master Meng? Zhang Ning looked at Han Zhi Fei in confusion, but Senior Brother’s face remained stone-cold as he replied, “Then have Young Master Meng brought in.”

No sooner had he spoken than a young man of about twenty strode onto the deck—sharp-browed and bright-eyed, brimming with vitality. His bearing and demeanor were the very image of a righteous young hero, a stark contrast to Zhang Ning, who had just been discussing revenge and annihilation with his senior brother.

The young man approached with poise, bowing with a smile. “Greetings to the two esteemed disciples of the Venerable Demon Lord of Myriad Phenomena. Your master’s discerning eye is indeed as renowned as the stories claim!”

“Young Master Meng.”

Zhang Ning saw that Fourth Senior Brother also bowed solemnly, without a single pleasantry, though Zhang Ning could sense the seriousness with which he regarded the newcomer. Zhang Ning responded politely in turn, “A pleasure to meet you, Young Master Meng. I have long heard of you!” At the same time, he thought to himself: Surname Meng? Such a distinguished figure—could it be?

In the blink of an eye, a young woman in verdant robes stepped onto the deck, her features pure and spirited—it was Meng Meng, with whom Zhang Ning had faced the beast tide on the Wushen Gorge prairie. Zhang Ning thought, as expected, and greeted her, “Miss Meng.”

Yet Meng Meng, who had once faced life and death alongside him, now stomped over with cheeks puffed in indignation, standing behind Young Master Meng without acknowledging Zhang Ning at all.