Tell him, I’m in love with him

Tell him, I'm in love with him...

With an amused glint in his eyes, Qin Wentian focused on his challenger. "You seem quite confident."

"Confidence is the fruit of strength," Fat Boy chuckled. He wasn't one to engage often, but each time he did, the Hell Arena paid a hefty price. His battle record was, without a doubt, manipulated.

"Then let's see that strength," Qin Wentian quipped. However, his words barely had time to hang in the air before a powerful gust of wind enveloped the surroundings.

The gust surged, engulfing the arena in its force. Fat Boy remained stationary, appearing completely in control of the situation.

"Mandate of Wind," Qin Wentian instantly deduced. This was the manifestation of a Mandate—a fundamental principle of the world. The initial insight into the Mandate of Wind was simply wind itself, the essence of the ever-present energy.

The wind intensified, tugging at Qin Wentian's robes and its sound becoming increasingly fearsome. The force grew until it felt like standing amidst blades that threatened to slice him apart. Those who had comprehended a Mandate were leaps and bounds stronger than their non-Mandate peers. For instance, Qin Wentian's Initial Boundary Mandate of Force had effectively doubled his strength. If he fought someone of the same level without a Mandate, his opponent would likely meet their doom.

Suddenly, Fat Boy vanished, blending seamlessly into the wind. Qin Wentian could only catch fleeting glimpses of his swift movements all around him.

Fast—astonishingly fast. Fat Boy's figure melded with the wind, a fluid entity that was everywhere and nowhere. In an instant, a formidable force bore down on Qin Wentian. An array of fist shadows blurred into a single line, their explosive energy racing toward him. Even before the fists connected, the wind they generated slammed into him.

Swiftly sidestepping, Qin Wentian executed the Nine Heavenly Garuda Movement Technique. His footwork left afterimages behind as he retreated at incredible speed. Simultaneously, his Falling Mountain Palms struck out, materializing a mountain peak that descended like a plummeting boulder, aiming to intercept the fist shadows. But the mountain shattered upon impact, the relentless fists breaking it down. It was as if there was no limit to the onslaught of fist shadows from Fat Boy.

A resounding boom echoed as Qin Wentian unleashed another palm strike to block the assault, his body forced backward from the impact. He sensed the immense power within the relentless onslaught of fist shadows converging on him.

"The Mandate of Fist, is it? What's the first level insight for it?" Qin Wentian's gaze bore into Fat Boy. It was a rare sight to see someone at the second level of Yuanfu comprehend two Mandates, and even more so when those Mandates were both at the peak of the Initial Boundary, teetering on the edge of the Advanced Boundary.

"The first level insight of the Mandate of Fist is Layered-Strike," Fat Boy responded, his confidence palpable. "The fist shadows are layered, overlapping to become omnipresent. Winning so many consecutive battles is remarkable. Your Mandate of Force combined with your innate techniques might let you defeat many, but today, you'll still lose."

"Is that so?" Qin Wentian's lips curled into a smile. Suddenly, a wave of drowsiness enveloped Fat Boy's consciousness. An overwhelming lethargy took hold, as if he were about to plunge into a deep slumber.

"What? What's happening? Why am I so sleepy?"

Fatigue surged like never before. The confidence that fueled him earlier seemed to dissipate, his imposing aura waning.

The first level insight of the Mandate of Dreams—Sleep-Immersion.

This Mandate's will induced a profound desire for deep sleep. When wielded in combat, its effect was overwhelming.

"Hey, watch my speed," a voice chimed in Fat Boy's ear. Gritting his teeth, he unleashed a furious roar. His torrential fist shadows layered upon each other, crashing forth like an unending tsunami. But in response, Qin Wentian pressed his palms together, thrusting forward like a keen-edged sword.

"SHATTER." An intense pressure bore down on Fat Boy. The resulting force sent him hurtling out of the arena, crashing onto the ground below. It was evident that he couldn't best Kirin, his undefeated streak persisting. If the Hell Arena aimed to halt Qin Wentian, they would have to dispatch someone even more formidable.

"I've lost," Fat Boy muttered, bowing to Qin Wentian in gratitude before exiting the arena.

"57 consecutive victories," the spectators mused. From the clash between Fat Boy and Qin Wentian, they could discern that Fat Boy was a pawn sent by the Hell Arena. Those who had bet on Qin Wentian's defeat now found renewed hope, only to have it swiftly dashed.

Kirin's momentum appeared insurmountable, a veritable second-level Yuanfu juggernaut. Speculation arose over whether he could attain an unprecedented 100 consecutive victories.

"Kirin, triumphant! 57 consecutive victories, 0 losses," the judge's proclamation was met with thunderous applause. This battle record seemed almost supernatural.

The moniker "Kirin" was on the brink of becoming legendary within the Hell Arena.

"Care to continue?" the judge inquired of Qin Wentian.

"Why not?" Qin Wentian's response was casual. He chalked up three more triumphs, pushing his streak to 60 before he departed.

Now, Kirin's battle record stood at 60 victories, 0 losses, achieved within just two bouts. It was as if the astral energy in his Yuanfu were boundless.

Qin Wentian's gaze swept the audience, a smile lighting up his face as he spotted Chu Mang giving him an emphatic thumbs up.

"Ready to leave?" Qin Wentian teased.

"Let's head back," Chu Mang concurred.

...

In a grand hall within the Leng Clan's compound, a congregation had formed.

Yan Tie had already arrived, seething with suppressed rage. If not for the fact that the Leng Clan was considered a major power, they would have dispatched him swiftly. After all, allowing a Yuanfu realm cultivator to stir turmoil within their domain was unacceptable.

"How do we address this?" queried an elder of the Leng Clan.

"If we mishandle this, we can kiss the trial slot goodbye. And mark my words, Yan Tie's wrath will undoubtedly fall upon our Leng Clan. Even if we manage to substitute someone else into the exchange, they'll be signing their death warrant against Yan Tie's vengeance."

These words came from none other than Leng Lin's father. When the Clan almost decided to send Leng Lin back to Yan Tie, the man nearly suffered a cardiac arrest. Thankfully, Yan Tie's insistence on Leng Ning alone had saved him from that fate.

But now, to everyone's surprise, Leng Ning had landed herself a third-ranked Divine Inscriptionist as her beau. Talk about luck.

The one in charge turned to him, inquiring, "What's your take on handling this?"

"The deceased was Yan Tie's disciple, but it's clear from his reaction that they shared a close bond. Qin Wentian's future is grim; Yan Tie will seek retribution. If we aim to placate Yan Tie, we should consider presenting Qin Wentian as a peace offering. Alongside Leng Ning, of course. Such generous terms would surely earn his favor."

"But wouldn't this tarnish our Leng Clan's reputation?" Leng Ning's father interjected, torn between his paternal instincts and a sense of responsibility for the Clan.

"Ha, the audacity for you to speak, given that your daughter is at the root of this chaos. If not for your obstinacy, we would've handed Leng Ning over to Yan Tie long ago. Without that, we wouldn't be facing this mess today."

Leng Ning's father froze as a frosty silence engulfed him. Surrendering to the inevitable, he shook his head and sighed inwardly. Powerlessness brought with it a loss of stature.

"Who shall we send as envoy to Yan Tie?" the leader inquired.

"I'll go," volunteered Leng Lin's father.

"Hold on, are we really ready to toss away the honor of the Leng Clan for the sake of Yan Tie? And have we actually weighed the consequences of turning away a young third-ranked Divine Inscriptionist Grandmaster?" Leng Ning's father persistently tried to sway the council.

"The deceased was Yan Tie's disciple, correct?" the leader confirmed.

"Yes," Leng Lin's father replied with a nod.

"Then consider this: if Yan Tie seeks revenge and our Leng Clan obstructs him, do you honestly believe that the entire Yan Clan wouldn't rally behind him?" The leader's inquiry was pointed.

Leng Ning's father had no choice but to shake his head. Even the Yan Clan relied heavily on Yan Tie's capabilities. If he demanded vengeance, they'd undoubtedly support him without hesitation.

"Granted, the third-ranked Divine Inscriptionist is exceptional, but the cost to safeguard him is exorbitant. It's simply not worth it," the leader stated nonchalantly. "Given the circumstances, we'll sacrifice Leng Ning. Put someone on her tail for surveillance and start planning the capture of the third-ranked Inscriptionist. Both of them will be our offering to Yan Tie."

And so, the Leng Clan resolved to forsake Qin Wentian and mend fences with Yan Tie.

Not stopping there, they would even aid Yan Tie in apprehending Qin Wentian. Having already irked him, the Clan decided to fully commit to ensuring that he had no chance of resurgence.

"Excellent suggestion," concurred numerous elders. Meanwhile, Leng Ning's father could only stand on the periphery, eyes filled with desolation.

He had initially rejoiced over Leng Ning's association with a third-ranked Divine Inscriptionist, anticipating an elevation of his status within the clan. Moreover, she was his daughter—naturally, he hoped for the best. But now, those hopes lay in tatters. The Leng Clan had chosen to forsake both Leng Ning and Qin Wentian.

Long before Yan Tie arrived at the Leng Clan, Leng Ning already felt that something was amiss. Her instincts were telling her that what will be, will be. It seemed like this was her destiny, and she would never be able to escape the pull of her fate. Hence, even before the Leng Clan's elders gathered in the council, she had already made her decision to sneak out of the Leng Clan.

Outside the Leng Clan, Leng Ning and Fan Le were sprinting madly away. But suddenly, Leng Ning halted her steps.

Fan Le turned and stared at her, "Come with me, let's go find my boss."

"You can leave, don't worry about me any longer."

"NO." Fan Le's body was trembling from agitation. "Leave with us, my boss will surely have a solution. Believe in him."

Leng Ning's eyes were brimming with tears as she frantically shook her head. "This is my destiny. Tell him this, without him, I would have long entered the Yan Clan and become the woman of that monster. He was the light at the end of my tunnel. But in spite of everything he's done to protect me, it appears that my destiny has already been fixed, with no hope of escape. But, I truly am grateful to him. Tell him not to return here. And tell him… to forget me. I'm not worth the risk of him taking revenge for me."

She turned away, running back to meet her fate, her tears falling like rain from the skies.

"YOU CAN'T GO BACK THERE!" Fan Le bellowed.

"LEAVE ME!" Leng Ning screamed, despair evident in her voice. Fan Le stood there dumbly, agony twisting his heart. Little Rascal, who was in his arms, began wailing relentlessly.

And at that moment, Fan Le saw Leng Ning's silhouette pause, and then turn to face him. Despite the tears falling unchecked, her eyes contained hints of a poignant smile within them.

"Tell that braggart this, I've fallen in love with him." And with those words, Leng Ning turned again, this time with a smile on her face, and sprinted back to the Leng Clan. That last smile of hers was as radiant as the blazing sun, its beauty forever branding itself onto Fan Le's heart.