Chapter 5: Tournament, Teaming, Trap
The low hum of conversation filled the spacious hall as Shen sat with several other Medicine Hall disciples, his posture straight and his attention focused on the cauldron before him. The stone walls of the room were lined with rows of ancient pill furnaces, each one glowing faintly with the Qi that fueled their internal flames. The faint scent of herbs mixed with the heat created an atmosphere of both focus and pressure.
At the front of the room, an older core disciple, one of the sect's more seasoned medicine makers, stood with his hands behind his back, explaining the intricate details of using a refinement cauldron.
"The art of pill refinement is not just about the ingredients," he began, his voice calm but commanding. "It is about control. Qi, when used properly, can enhance a pill's potency or utterly destroy it. Each furnace here is attuned to the flow of Qi, but it is your responsibility to maintain the balance. Too much fire and the pill will burn. Too little, and it won't form properly."
He paced slowly in front of the class, his eyes sweeping across the disciples. "Your own Qi is the true key. Learning to channel it steadily through the furnace while controlling the intensity of the flames is crucial. As you all progress, you'll realize that every pill, no matter how basic, requires this delicate balance."
Shen sat quietly, absorbing every word. The core disciple continued, demonstrating by igniting his furnace. His movements were smooth, his hands glowing faintly as he channeled Qi into the cauldron with practiced ease. The flames within the furnace roared to life, and in moments, the ingredients inside began to fuse and transform.
"Watch the color of the flame," the disciple instructed. "When it shifts from red to blue, that is the sign that the ingredients have begun to merge. At this stage, it's crucial to guide your Qi slowly, ensuring that no impurities remain. Impurities can weaken the pill, or worse, make it harmful."
Shen's eyes flickered, studying the process intently. This is where control matters most, he thought. Every word, every demonstration was valuable, and his mind raced as he considered the potential applications beyond the simple pillmaking lesson.
After what seemed like an eternity, the core disciple removed the lid of his cauldron, revealing a perfectly formed Cultivation Enhancement Pill, a small sphere glowing faintly with spiritual energy.
"And that, disciples, is how it's done. Simple in theory, difficult in practice." He gestured toward the row of furnaces in front of the disciples. "Now, it's your turn."
Shen wasted no time. As soon as the lesson concluded, he approached his cauldron, his hands moving with calm precision. He prepared the ingredients for the basic cultivation pill, crushing herbs and measuring powders with mechanical efficiency. His mind, however, wasn't entirely on the task at hand.
He was thinking about the potential synergy between pillmaking, bioengineering, and formations—three fields he believed could yield unimaginable benefits if combined correctly. If only I had the proper tools, he mused. The refinement cauldron before him was useful, but primitive compared to the machines he once relied on in his previous life.
Shen's thoughts wandered further. RTPCR machines, fluorescence spectrophotometers, and bioreactors were all tools he had used before that allowed precise analysis and manipulation of biological material. "None of that exists here," he muttered under his breath, guiding his Qi into the cauldron as the flames began to rise.
For a brief moment, Shen's mind toyed with the idea of recreating those machines, but reality quickly crushed that notion. There were simply too many.
"RT-PCR, ELISA Reader, LCMS, Capillary Electrophoresis, Gel Electrophoresis..." Shen recited the list mentally as he controlled the flame's intensity, his thoughts running wild. "It's impossible. Not in this world."
But then another idea crept into his mind, sending a thrill of possibility coursing through him. Magic treasures—artifacts in this world could mimic the functions of machines. If such treasures existed, perhaps he could use them to advance both his knowledge and power.
The pill inside the furnace glowed faintly, and Shen refocused, guiding his Qi carefully as the ingredients began to fuse. The soft blue flame flickered slightly, but Shen maintained control, allowing the pill to form steadily.
When the process was complete, Shen removed the pill from the furnace—a standard cultivation pill, though not as refined as the core disciple's demonstration. Still, it was adequate for now.
Focusing his Qi, Shen began to channel it into the cauldron, feeling the familiar hum of the furnace as it responded to his control. The flames danced at the base, just as Elder Tian had shown them, and Shen adjusted the heat carefully, letting it build slowly. His movements were precise, his control steady. But as he worked, his ears picked up on a conversation from a nearby group of disciples.
"Have you ever seen the Grand Qi Formation in the sect's inner halls? It's said to regulate the flow of Qi throughout the entire sect, making it possible to maintain balance during breakthroughs. It's fascinating how it manipulates energy."
"Yeah, but do you think those formations could be used for something else? Maybe enhancing pill refinement or weapon crafting?"
Wu Shen's mind sparked. He had read about formations before, but he hadn't thought much of them beyond their basic purpose. Formations could direct, amplify, or suppress Qi on a large scale, much like the way machines worked back on Earth. Machines... that word sent a wave of nostalgia through his mind. He couldn't help but think of the various tools and instruments he once used.
"Machines..." he muttered under his breath, focusing on his refinement. But the thought lingered. Machines, formations, and alchemy—what if these could be combined? In his past life as a bioengineer, he had relied on advanced technology to manipulate genetic material, cells, and proteins, all with precise instruments. If only this world had similar devices—he would be leagues ahead of anyone in this sect, or even this entire continent.
His thoughts raced. RTPCR, ELISA Readers, Bioreactors, all of these flashed through his mind. "Of course, none of those things exist here..." Shen thought bitterly. "But magical treasures... perhaps. If this world can refine pills that contain energy, why not magical items that serve a similar purpose as machines?"
He glanced around the room, watching the other disciples focus on their tasks. Their worlds were small, confined to the sect, but Shen's mind stretched far beyond these limits. If I can learn how to create magical treasures, or at the very least manipulate formations... I might be able to replicate the functions of the machines I need. The possibilities were endless.
For now, however, he needed more information on formations and how they truly worked. He had only scratched the surface in his readings. "First, I'll master the basics, and then... I'll take it all to the next level.".
Determined to learn more, Shen headed straight for the library after leaving the Medicine Hall. He spent hours searching through the rows of books, but as the sun began to set, his frustration grew. There were no texts on formations or magic treasure crafting—at least none in the sections he could access.
Shen approached the librarian, a stern woman who barely looked up from her scroll as he approached. "Excuse me, where can I find books on formations or treasure crafting?" Shen asked, keeping his tone respectful but firm.
The librarian raised an eyebrow, finally lifting her gaze to meet his. "Those topics are located on the second floor," she said simply. "Only inner disciples have access to that level."
Shen narrowed his eyes. Of course, there were restrictions. The second floor was reserved for inner disciples—a privilege he did not yet have. There were only a few ways to gain access: reaching Rank 2, working in the sect for 15 years, being related to an elder, or providing enough benefits to the sect to earn a promotion.
"Once again, the sect is limiting me," Shen thought, his frustration mounting. Every day, it seemed, the Fallen Sky Sect's rules and restrictions were getting in the way of his progress. If he wanted to truly advance, he needed access to more knowledge—and that meant becoming an inner disciple as soon as possible.
Shen left the library with his mind racing. The constraints of the sect were becoming more apparent each day, but they only fueled his resolve. There were always loopholes—he just needed to find them.
A few days after Shen's frustrating realization of his limitations within the sect, there was a noticeable change in the air. Whispers of an important event circulated, tension growing with each passing day. Eventually, the rumors took shape, and the sect's grand announcement was made clear:
The Annual Sect Tournament.
The morning sky was clear, a soft breeze rippling through the robes of hundreds of outer disciples as they gathered in the central square of the sect. The atmosphere was alive with excitement and nervous energy, as everyone waited for the sect leader to speak. It was rare for all disciples to be called to gather like this, so anticipation was high.
Shen stood among the crowd, his face impassive, though his mind was already calculating. What could this be about? The sect rarely gathered all the outer disciples unless something of great significance was at hand.
At the front of the assembly, Sect Leader Deng Tingfeng stood on a raised platform, flanked by Xiao Jian, the Disciplinary Hall Elder. Deng Tingfeng's presence was imposing, his aura as a cultivator at the Peak of Core Formation hung heavy in the air. The crowd instinctively quieted as he raised his hand, preparing to address them.
"Disciples of the Fallen Sky Sect," Deng Tingfeng's voice rang out, strong and clear, "the time has come for our Annual Sect Tournament."
A wave of whispers spread through the crowd, disciples buzzing with excitement and speculation. Shen remained still, listening carefully, his sharp eyes catching the reactions of those around him.
"The tournament will be held in three weeks," Deng Tingfeng continued, "and only those who meet the requirements may participate. To enter, you must be at Rank 1 Middle Stage or Peak Stage, and you must be under 25 years old."
Shen's mind immediately started to plot. Three weeks. His advancement to Rank 1 Middle Stage had been recent, but that left little time to cultivate further. Even so, his focus remained sharp.
"The first place winner of the tournament will be granted a Rank 2 spell of their choosing, the method to break through the bottleneck from Rank 1 Peak Stage to Rank 2 Initial Stage, and if they are an outer disciple, they will be promoted to Inner Disciple."
The crowd erupted into even more excited murmurs, and Shen's eyes narrowed. A Rank 2 spell and the method to break through? That alone was enough to send ripples through the sect, and the promise of Inner Disciple status for an outer disciple was the most coveted prize.
Shen, however, remained realistic. I won't win. That much he was sure of. There would be many cultivators at Rank 1 Peak Stage who had trained for years for this. But his keen ears caught the sect leader's next words:
"For those who do not win," Deng Tingfeng announced, "but who display exceptional effort, rewards will still be given."
Shen's mind churned. Exceptional effort. It wasn't just about winning; it was about standing out. That was something Shen could use. He wouldn't need to win the entire tournament—he just needed to prove himself enough to be noticed. If he played his cards right, the rewards for notable effort might be just as valuable.
As the assembly dispersed, Shen's mind locked onto a plan. He didn't have time to cultivate enough for a breakthrough, but he could make himself stronger in other ways. A mission spree. He would accumulate as many sect points as possible, buy another spell, and equip himself with magic talismans for the tournament. That way, even against stronger opponents, he could hold his own.
The next three weeks were grueling for Shen, but that was nothing new to him. Day after day, he took on missions, completing them efficiently and with precision. From herb gathering in the nearby forests to manual tasks around the sect, he treated each mission as a stepping stone toward his goal.
He felt the strain of the new weighted gi he wore, but the weight had become something he could easily bear. His body had adapted, and he moved with the same efficiency whether he was wearing the gi or not. Every mission completed added to his growing pool of sect points.
Shen didn't waste time on unnecessary cultivation during this period. That could wait. His focus was on strengthening his arsenal for the tournament.
By the second week, Shen had accumulated enough sect points to make his first purchase. Heading to the Treasure Hall, he knew exactly what he wanted: a close combat spell that could enhance his physical capabilities.
His eyes scanned the shelves, eventually landing on the perfect spell: Iron Palm.
This spell would harden his hands with Qi, turning his strikes into powerful blows capable of breaking through stone and bone. It was exactly what he needed for close-quarter combat, where speed and precision were key but that wasn't all, he also chose this spell specifically for 1 reason.
Satisfied with his choice, Shen made another purchase in the third week: four explosive talismans. These talismans were one of the offensive items that could create powerful explosions equivalent to a rank 1 spell. Shen knew they were his ticket to catching opponents off guard. With careful use, they could turn the tide of any battle.
As the third week passed, Shen found himself more prepared than ever. He now had two spells—Ripple Shroud and Iron Palm—and four explosive talismans tucked away for use in the tournament. Each of these would give him an edge in combat.
With his preparations complete, Shen allowed himself a small moment of satisfaction. His plan had been executed adequately. The tournament would be full of fierce competition, but Shen didn't need to win to succeed. All he needed was to stand out, make his presence known, and reap the benefits that came from showing his worth.
"I won't win this," Shen thought, looking down at the talismans and the new spell scrolls he had acquired, "but they'll notice me."
As the Annual Sect Tournament approached, the preparations of several notable disciples came into focus Each one, with their unique talents and backgrounds, was carefully readying themselves for the upcoming challenge. The stakes were high, and no one wanted to miss the opportunity to either climb in rank or prove their worth.
Li Yue – Core Disciple of the Outer Sect
In the days leading up to the tournament, Li Yue spent most of his time training in the secluded forests surrounding the sect. His reputation as a Peak Stage Rank 1 cultivator was well known, but Li Yue was not one to be complacent.
Li Yue's training was grueling, but calculated. He practiced with a dual-blade technique, one that combined his natural agility with devastating offensive power. His movements were fluid, a dance of death as his blades cut through the air with precision and speed.
In addition to perfecting his martial skills, Li Yue spent hours meditating, refining the Qi within his body to its purest form. He knew that the tournament was more than just a test of physical prowess—it was a test of endurance and willpower. His eyes burned with quiet determination; he had to win, not just for the glory, but to further solidify his place among the sect's elite.
As always, Li Yue's motivations were not purely personal. He had an eye on Shen, whose progress had caught his attention. There was something about the outer disciple that intrigued him, though it was yet to be determined whether Shen would prove useful or a future obstacle.
Zhang Huo – Core Disciple, Rank 1 Peak Stage
As the tournament loomed closer, Zhang Huo, a core disciple of the sect, continued to prepare with the same relentless drive that had made him one of the strongest disciples of his time. Now a Rank 1 Peak Stage cultivator, his place among the core disciples was solidified, but that didn't mean he had any intention of slowing down.
Zhang Huo trained in a private area of the sect reserved for core disciples. His every movement was precise, his focus razor-sharp as he practiced his Stone Fist technique, an earth-based spell that turned his hands into powerful weapons capable of breaking stone and bone. Each punch shattered the rocks in front of him with a resounding crack, his muscles coiled like springs beneath his skin.
For Zhang Huo, this tournament was more than just an opportunity to further cement his dominance—it was a chance to gain access to the most coveted reward of all: the method to break through from Rank 1 Peak Stage to Rank 2 Initial Stage. He was already on the cusp of this breakthrough, but having that knowledge would accelerate his progress and ensure that he stayed ahead of his peers.
Although Zhang Huo was primarily focused on his advancement, he had noticed Shen's progress from a distance. As a core disciple, Zhang Huo didn't often interact with outer disciples, but Shen's name had come up several times in recent weeks—especially after his match with Lan Xiaoyun. Zhang Huo wasn't particularly concerned, but he recognized that Shen was climbing the ranks quickly, and anyone with ambition was worth watching.
Zhang Huo's intense training regimen continued late into the night, and by the end of each day, his body felt like it was made of iron.
Yan Zhi – Outer Disciple, Rank 1 Middle Stage
Yan Zhi, Shen's roommate, prepared for the tournament with a more laid-back attitude. He didn't see the tournament as something to win but rather as a way to show his steady progress. Despite his lighthearted demeanor, Yan Zhi had been training diligently, practicing his Water Flow Palm, a water-based technique that gave him an edge in fluid combat.
Yan Zhi's main goal wasn't to win the tournament but to make an impression on the sect's elders. He had already resigned himself to the fact that there would be stronger competitors like Li Yue and Zhang Huo. But Yan Zhi knew that catching the attention could lead to future opportunities.
In the mornings, Yan Zhi would still share meals with Shen, talking about mundane things, never revealing just how serious he was about the tournament. Underneath his carefree nature was a sharp mind, always analyzing the movements and strategies of his peers. He knew that the tournament wasn't just about strength—it was about timing and tactics. And in that arena, he had confidence.
Liu Jing – Outer Disciple, Rank 1 Middle Stage
Perhaps the most surprising development in the weeks leading up to the tournament was Liu Jing's sudden breakthrough. For weeks, Liu Jing had quietly trained, keeping a low profile among the other outer disciples. He often spent time alone, either in the forests or by the rivers that ran through the sect's territory.
Two weeks before the tournament, however, Liu Jing suddenly broke through to the Rank 1 Middle Stage.
Shen, having spent some time with Liu Jing, couldn't help but observe the speed of his advancement. To most disciples, it seemed like Liu Jing had made rapid progress through sheer determination, but Shen's sharp intuition told him otherwise.
"It's not a breakthrough," Shen thought to himself after watching Liu Jing train one day. "since he's been suppressing his cultivation all along."
Shen's Divine Vision had shown him that Liu Jing's cultivation was far higher than what he displayed on the surface. Liu Jing had likely only undone some of that suppression to avoid suspicion. In the third week, Liu Jing even purchased a new spell, Ice Fang, a midrange offensive spell that allowed him to launch ice shards at his opponents. It suited his calm and composed fighting style, adding a lethal edge to his attacks.
Shen couldn't help but feel that Liu Jing was hiding something far greater. His progress was too calculated, too methodical as if everything was part of a larger plan. But for now, Shen kept this observation to himself, planning to see how Liu Jing would perform during the tournament. After all, if there was an advantage to be gained, Shen would find a way to exploit it.
As the days ticked down toward the tournament, the sect was buzzing with energy. Every disciple, from outer to inner, was caught up in the anticipation of what lay ahead. Strategies were being formed, alliances quietly made, and rivalries reignited.
And amidst it all, Shen, Li Yue, Zhang Huo, Yan Zhi, and Liu Jing each prepared in their own way, each with their own goals, but all knowing that the tournament was important for the path forward.
The day of the Annual Sect Tournament arrived, filling the Fallen Sky Sect with a palpable sense of excitement. The main arena, carved into the side of a mountain, hummed with activity as over 120 disciples—both outer and core—had gathered to compete. The tournament offered them a rare opportunity to distinguish themselves, with the promise of valuable rewards and an elevated position in the sect.
High-ranking elders, including Sect Leader Deng Tingfeng, watched from a raised platform. Their eyes scanned the competitors with interest, calculating which of them might rise to prominence shortly. For many disciples, this tournament was the culmination of years of preparation, and the pressure to perform was immense. The tournament itself was simple in structure: knockout matches, with each successive round becoming more challenging.
Shen's First Match
Shen stood at the edge of the arena, his expression a mask of calm. Internally, his mind worked tirelessly, running through potential strategies and outcomes. His first opponent, a Rank 1 Middle Stage disciple, stood across from him, fists glowing with Qi as he warmed up.
Shen's strategy was clear: Ripple Shroud, Iron Palm, and explosive talismans. A cold, efficient method to confuse and incapacitate his opponent without much effort. He didn't need to drag this out, especially since conserving energy for the later rounds was key.
The crowd around them murmured in excitement, waiting for the match to begin. The referee, an inner disciple, raised his hand. "Begin!"
His opponent lunged forward, a typical straightforward fighter, his fist gleaming with a faint layer of Qi. But Shen had already activated Ripple Shroud. Mistlike energy spread out from Shen, distorting his figure until it became a shifting, blurry silhouette. To the crowd, Shen's form appeared to flicker in and out of focus. His opponent's eyes narrowed in confusion, trying to track him, but Shen had already slipped out of range.
The crowd began to boo as they realized they couldn't see what was happening within the mist. To them, it seemed as if Shen was deliberately avoiding a fair fight. But Shen didn't care. His cold gaze remained locked on his opponent, his eyes closed as his Divine Vision activated. Through the mist, Shen could see the Qi trails of his opponent, clear as day.
Perfect.
In an instant, Shen closed the gap between them, his palm glowing with the dense energy of Iron Palm. With precision, he struck his opponent's chest, embedding an explosive talisman at the moment of impact. The combination of the strike and the explosion sent his opponent flying, knocking him unconscious before he even realized what had happened.
The referee stepped forward, barely believing how quickly it was over. "Winner: Wu Shen!"
The crowd erupted in a mix of boos and cheers, impressed by Shen's swift, calculated victory, even if the match felt anticlimactic to some.
Shen stepped back, his expression neutral. This was just the beginning.
Shen's Second and Third Matches
The pattern continued in Shen's next two matches. Each time, he activated Ripple Shroud to disorient his opponents, forcing them to waste their energy and time. Then, as they stumbled and hesitated in the mist, Shen would strike—swift, precise, and with ruthless efficiency. The explosive talismans were used sparingly, but when they were, they ensured quick knockouts. Shen's victories came quickly, one after the other.
After his third match, word of Shen's tactical brilliance began to spread among the disciples. Some praised him for his ingenuity, while others whispered that his methods were underhanded. But, as far as Shen was concerned, victory was all that mattered.
However, Shen's next match brought an unexpected complication: his opponent was none other than his roommate, Yan Zhi.
Shen vs. Yan Zhi
As Shen stepped into the arena for his fourth match, he felt an odd sense of unease. Yan Zhi, despite his easygoing nature, had always been a competent fighter. They had shared meals, conversations, and moments of camaraderie, but that didn't change the fact that today, they were opponents.
Yan Zhi stood at the opposite end of the arena, his usual carefree demeanor replaced by a serious expression. His Water Flow Palm technique caused ripples of blue energy to dance around his hands. Shen noted the skill with which Yan Zhi manipulated his Qi; his strikes would be both fluid and unpredictable.
But Shen's mind remained cold and calculating. He had no qualms about what needed to be done. Sentimentality was a weakness, and in this tournament, he couldn't afford weaknesses.
Shen and Yan Zhi stood face to face in the center of the ring. Both fighters knew that the crowd expected a spectacle, especially since they were familiar with one another. However this was a competition, but to Shen, the outcome didn't matter as long as he could gain the most from it.
The referee raised his hand, signaling the start of the match, and the crowd quieted down in anticipation.
"Begin!" the referee called.
Yan Zhi wasted no time, immediately activating his Water Flow Palm, a faint blue aura rippling around his hands. His attacks were fluid and fast, and he dashed toward Shen with an intensity that matched the roar of the crowd.
Shen, his mind cold and calculating, quickly activated Ripple Shroud. A dense, mistlike shroud expanded around him, obscuring the vision of both combatants as well as the spectators. The mist swirled across the arena, enveloping them both in an opaque fog.
The crowd, unable to see the fight, started to boo loudly, the discontentment growing as they realized the action had disappeared from view. To them, Shen's use of Ripple Shroud seemed cowardly—a tactic to delay the inevitable.
Shen paid no attention to the crowd. They're irrelevant, he thought, his cold eyes narrowing as he closed them and activated his Divine Vision. His world shifted as the mist disappeared from his mind, replaced by the shimmering Qi of Yan Zhi, glowing like a beacon in the fog.
To Yan Zhi, the situation was completely different. He struggled to see, his movements cautious as he tried to pinpoint Shen's location within the swirling mist. His Water Flow Palm was ready, but his strikes became uncertain as he lashed out blindly.
"Where are you, Shen?" Yan Zhi growled, his voice betraying his growing frustration.
Shen, silent and deadly, closed the distance between them with ease. With his Divine Vision, he could see the fluctuations in Yan Zhi's Qi with perfect clarity, while his presence was masked by the mist. He wasn't going to toy with Yan Zhi; he didn't have time for that.
As Yan Zhi swung wildly, Shen moved behind him and unleashed Iron Palm, his fist hardening with the power of his Qi. He struck Yan Zhi's back with brutal precision, sending his roommate crashing forward into the dirt. The blow wasn't fatal, but it was far from gentle.
Yan Zhi gasped in pain, trying to gather his breath as he stumbled back to his feet. His eyes darted around the mist, searching for a target, but Shen's form was nowhere to be seen.
"Come out and fight!" Yan Zhi shouted, desperation creeping into his voice.
Shen moved again, another Iron Palm landing on Yan Zhi's ribs. The strike was followed by another and another, each one calculated to inflict the maximum amount of pain while keeping Yan Zhi off balance.
The mist swirled as Shen delivered a final, crushing blow, knocking Yan Zhi to his knees. Shen stood over him, fists clenched, ready to deliver the finishing strike and secure his victory. But just as he was about to land another punch, Yan Zhi's voice cut through the mist:
"Wait!" Yan Zhi gasped, his voice strained and desperate. "Shen, remember—you owe me a favor!"
Shen paused, his fist inches from Yan Zhi's face. His mind raced as he processed the words. The favor. He remembered how Yan Zhi had once helped him integrate into the social circles of the sect and how Shen had silently agreed to owe him. He hadn't expected that favor to be called in now, but Yan Zhi was desperate.
"I'm calling in my favor, Shen," Yan Zhi continued, his voice weaker. "Throw the match."
Shen's eyes narrowed in thought. I could end this right now, he considered, his cold logic dissecting the situation. He had Yan Zhi on the ground, beaten and defenseless. But the next match would pit him against a much stronger Rank 1 Peak Stage disciple, and he was out of explosive talismans. His odds of winning the next fight were slim, and expending all his remaining energy here would be a foolish gamble.
Risk and reward. That was how he saw the world. The tournament isn't worth losing a valuable connection over.
With his mind made up, Shen slowly lowered his fist and took a step back. The mist around them began to dissipate, and the crowd gasped as they saw Yan Zhi, bloodied and beaten, kneeling on the ground. The air was thick with tension as the referee stepped forward.
"I yield," Shen said calmly, his voice cutting through the silence.
The crowd, still recovering from the mist, erupted in confusion and disbelief. Yan Zhi struggled to his feet, his eyes wide with shock. He had expected Shen to fight until the bitter end, but Shen's surrender left him speechless.
"Winner: Yan Zhi!" the referee announced, still somewhat unsure of what had just transpired.
The booing from the crowd grew louder, but Shen barely registered it. Their opinions were meaningless. All that mattered was his progress. He had given up the match, but not out of weakness—this was a calculated move, a decision that would ultimately benefit him more in the long run.
As Yan Zhi was declared the winner, Shen quietly exited the arena, his expression as unreadable as ever. There was no shame in this loss. He had preserved his strength and gained insight into his competition. The real battles in the sect were fought outside of the arena, and Shen knew he was always playing a long game.
After the Fight
As Shen walked away from the arena, his thoughts were already on the future. He hadn't won the match, but in his eyes, he hadn't lost anything either. Yan Zhi had used his favor, and now Shen was free of that burden. In the grand scheme of things, this minor setback was nothing.
More importantly, Shen now had a clear understanding of his limitations. Without his explosive talismans, his strategy was less effective. The power boost from his Iron Palm was potent, but it wasn't enough to guarantee victory against stronger opponents, especially those at Rank 1 Peak Stage. He would need to refine his approach, gain more resources, and—eventually—find ways to outclass his competition.
As Shen passed through the crowd, he could hear the whispers and murmurs of the other disciples. They had seen his strength, but they also knew he had given up. To them, it was a sign of weakness.
Let them think what they want, Shen thought, his cold gaze fixed on the path ahead. Reputation is nothing but a tool. Those who clung to it were bound by the expectations of others, but Shen operated on his terms.
He made his way back to his room, his mind already churning with plans for what came next. The tournament may have continued, but Shen's real fight was far from over.
Liu Jing's third match was eagerly anticipated by the crowd. By this point, the disciples had noticed his clean, efficient victories in the previous rounds. His appearance—a calm, almost nonchalant exterior—had begun to attract attention, and some even whispered that he might be a dark horse in the tournament. But for all the attention, few knew the true nature of Liu Jing's cultivation, which remained masked under his Rank 1 Middle Stage aura.
His opponent for the third match was an outer disciple named Feng Hao, a Rank 1 Peak Stage cultivator who had earned a reputation for his aggressive, hard-hitting style. Standing taller than Jing, Feng Hao radiated confidence and an aura of battle-hardened strength, the kind that came from numerous skirmishes and missions.
The arena buzzed with excitement as both disciples stepped forward, the spectators on edge for what they believed would be an intense showdown.
As the match began, the two fighters faced each other, the tension palpable. Feng Hao, a fierce warrior, wasted no time. He charged forward with raw force, his fists crackling with Qi, preparing to unleash his EarthSplitting Fist—a technique that used brute force to overwhelm opponents.
Liu Jing kept his composure. He had been relying on the Thunder Step, a movement technique that increases the speed of a person's movement and reactions to an amount equal to a minor stage in rank 1. , this helped outspeed his previous opponents, but this one was only going to match his enemy's speed. His body flickered to the side as Feng Hao's devastating punch struck the ground, sending debris and dust flying. Jing smoothly repositioned himself, avoiding the blow with practiced grace.
But something was off.
Jing's movements were quick, but they lacked the fluidity and grace he had shown in the earlier rounds. There was hesitation—something holding him back. Though his speed was undeniable, his usual precision faltered. The suppression of his true power would lose him the match.
Feng Hao grinned, noticing the slight lag in Jing's movements. "Is that all you've got?" he taunted, his voice booming across the arena. Without waiting for a response, he launched a series of powerful strikes, forcing Jing on the defensive.
Jing dodged and sidestepped, but each evasion became more difficult. His breathing became labored as he struggled to maintain his Thunder Step technique. He had been conserving his true power, keeping his Rank 2 Peak Stage cultivation hidden, but now it felt like an iron weight pressing on him, limiting his range of motion and reaction time.
Feng Hao, sensing an advantage, pressed harder. His fists glowed with intense Qi, and he activated his next technique, Crushing Wave Strike, a series of forceful, fluid punches that pummeled the air like waves crashing against rocks.
Jing struggled to dodge, feeling the pressure. He couldn't release his full cultivation in front of the audience—it would blow his cover, and that wasn't something he was willing to do. His movements became more sluggish, his steps less precise. He tried to counter with a simple Qi enhanced Strike, aiming a blow toward Feng Hao's chest, but the punch lacked power.
Feng Hao blocked the strike effortlessly and retaliated with a powerful palm strike that sent Jing skidding across the arena. The crowd erupted in excitement as Feng Hao gained the upper hand.
Jing, now visibly winded, knew he was in trouble. He had tried to fight at Rank 1 Middle Stage and had done well so far, but against a Rank 1 Peak Stage cultivator like Feng Hao, his suppressed cultivation was his downfall.
Feng Hao smirked, seeing Jing's struggles. "You should've quit while you were ahead," he said, before unleashing a final EarthSplitting Fist. The ground beneath Jing trembled as the full force of Feng Hao's attack crashed into him, sending him flying into the arena wall.
The crowd roared as Liu Jing crumpled to the ground, defeated. The referee quickly stepped forward, raising his hand.
"Winner: Feng Hao!"
Jing lay on the ground for a moment, his body aching, his mind racing. He hadn't lost because of lack of skill—he had lost because of the suppression, the weight of hiding his true cultivation. As the crowd cheered for Feng Hao, Liu Jing stood up slowly, brushing the dust from his robes. His eyes glinted with cold determination. He had underestimated the difficulty of maintaining his ruse, but this loss was just an inconsequential setback.
For now, he had to play his role.
As he left the arena, Liu Jing remained silent, but his mind was already working through the possibilities. The tournament wasn't important, not in the grand scheme of things. His true goal lay far beyond these fights, and a single loss wouldn't change that.
Still, as he glanced back at Feng Hao, a dark thought crossed his mind. There would be a time for reckoning—but today wasn't it.
The final round of the Fallen Sky Sect's Annual Tournament had arrived, and the excitement in the air was palpable. Hundreds of disciples filled the arena, buzzing with anticipation. Everyone's eyes were on the two fighters standing across from each other in the center of the ring: Zhang Huo and Li Yue, the strongest cultivators beneath Rank 2.
Though the tournament had drawn in over 120 participants, none were surprised it had come down to these two. Zhang Huo, known for his unrelenting fire-based techniques and raw aggression, had torn through his opponents with fiery might. Li Yue, on the other hand, was the epitome of cold calculation, wielding his metal-based techniques with lethal precision and control. The contrast between them was stark, and the tension between the two was thick enough to cut with a blade.
The Final Battle: Zhang Huo vs. Li Yue
As the referee stepped forward, raising his hand to signal the start of the match, the arena fell silent. The only sound was the faint whisper of wind as it swept across the stage.
"Begin!"
Zhang Huo wasted no time, charging forward with the intensity of a raging inferno. His hands blazed with crimson flames, and his entire body exuded an oppressive heat. Without hesitation, he unleashed his signature move, the Blazing Tiger Fist, twin tiger-shaped flames roaring to life around his fists as he launched himself toward Li Yue.
Li Yue, calm as ever, sidestepped Zhang Huo's attack, a shimmering metallic aura surrounding his body. With a flick of his wrist, he summoned his Piercing Sword Qi, a sharp, metallic force shooting from his fingertips. The Qi tore through the air with deadly accuracy, aimed directly at Zhang Huo's midsection.
Zhang Huo twisted his body, narrowly avoiding the sword Qi, but a slight cut appeared on his arm, drawing blood. "Hmph!" Zhang Huo grunted, a fiery light burning in his eyes. "You think your little scratches will stop me? You're courting death, Li Yue!"
Without a word, Li Yue countered with another sharp swipe of his hand, his Sword Qi following closely behind Zhang Huo's every movement. Zhang Huo, unfazed, activated a low-grade defensive talisman he had hidden up his sleeve. A barrier of flame erupted around him, shielding him from the sharp metallic Qi that bombarded his position.
The barrier flickered and pulsed as the Sword Qi clashed with the flames, sending sparks flying in every direction. But Zhang Huo wasn't finished.
"Let's see how long you can keep that calm face!" Zhang Huo roared as he pulled out a low-grade fire talisman. With a flick of his wrist, the talisman ignited and turned into a flaming serpent, coiling and hissing as it shot toward Li Yue with terrifying speed.
Li Yue's eyes narrowed as he pulled out a low-grade talisman of his own, one that summoned an Iron Wall before him, shimmering with metallic Qi. The flaming serpent collided with the iron barrier, sending shockwaves across the arena as fire and metal clashed.
Zhang Huo smirked. "Your defenses may be solid, but they won't hold forever!"
With another swift movement, Zhang Huo pulled out a small magic treasure, a Blazing Fire Orb. The orb hovered above his hand, pulsing with dangerous energy. He hurled it into the air, where it hovered ominously, growing brighter by the second.
Li Yue remained unfazed, but his eyes sharpened as he recognized the power behind the orb. "You think a trinket like that will be enough?" He waved his hand, activating his magic treasure—an Iron Feather Shield. The shield hovered in front of him, its surface gleaming as it absorbed the ambient Qi around it.
With a deafening roar, Zhang Huo triggered the Blazing Fire Orb. Flames exploded from it, raining down in torrents of fire toward Li Yue. The entire arena seemed to glow with the intense heat, the spectators in the stands shielding themselves from the wave of oppressive energy.
Li Yue's Iron Feather Shield expanded, deflecting most of the fire, but some of the flames still licked at the edges of his defenses. For a moment, it seemed as though Zhang Huo might overwhelm him.
Li Yue's cold voice cut through the roar of flames. "You're nothing more than a brute with fire. Let me show you the true power of control!"
With a swift motion, Li Yue conjured his Metal Qi, forming dozens of razor-harp blades in the air around him. With a flick of his wrist, the blades shot toward Zhang Huo, cutting through the flames with lethal precision.
Zhang Huo's fiery barrier flickered under the onslaught, and for a moment, he was forced on the defensive, the metallic blades cutting into his flaming aura. He gritted his teeth, blood trickling from a wound on his shoulder. But instead of retreating, Zhang Huo smiled.
"Is that all you've got?!" Zhang Huo bellowed, bloodlust flashing in his eyes.
He threw caution to the wind, letting his Qi surge to its peak. His Blazing Fire Orb pulsed violently, releasing another wave of flames, but this time, Zhang Huo followed it up by unleashing his full power.
"Blazing Dragon Strike!" he roared, summoning a massive fire dragon that coiled around his body before surging forward, its fiery maw wide open as it hurtled toward Li Yue.
Li Yue's eyes narrowed. He knew this was Zhang Huo's strongest move. With a cold, focused gaze, he summoned his final defense.
"Iron Wall!"
A massive, shimmering wall of metal Qi erupted from the ground, towering over Li Yue and blocking the path of the dragon. For a moment, the fire dragon and the Iron Wall clashed, flames licking against the metallic surface. The arena shook as the two powerful techniques collided, the sheer intensity causing cracks to form on the stone floor.
The crowd watched in awe as the two titans struggled for dominance.
But this time, Zhang Huo had prepared. As the fire dragon clashed against the Iron Wall, Zhang Huo activated the Blazing Fire Orb one last time, sending a concentrated burst of flame at the exact spot where the dragon struck.
With a deafening crack, the Iron Wall finally shattered, and the fire dragon surged through, colliding directly with Li Yue. The impact sent Li Yue skidding backward, his metallic armor shattered, and his body burned in several places. He coughed up blood, struggling to stand.
The crowd gasped as the dust settled. Zhang Huo stood at the center of the arena, panting but victorious. His fire dragon dissipated, leaving scorch marks across the stone floor. Li Yue, though bruised and battered, struggled to his feet, his expression still calm but weakened.
The referee stepped forward, raising his hand. "Winner: Zhang Huo!"
The arena erupted in cheers, but Zhang Huo's eyes remained fixed on Li Yue. Despite his victory, there was no gloating in his gaze—only the promise of future battles to come.
As the crowd celebrated, Shen watched from the sidelines, his expression unreadable. The real battles were not fought in the arena but in the shadows. And Shen, always calculating, knew this was just the beginning.
The final battle concluded, and the arena buzzed with the aftermath of the climactic showdown between Zhang Huo and Li Yue. With the dust settling and the tournament officially over, the sect leader, Deng Tingfeng, rose from his elevated platform, stepping down to address the gathered disciples.
His voice echoed through the arena. "Disciples of the Fallen Sky Sect, you have all displayed great skill and perseverance. It brings me pride to see such a high level of cultivation and determination among our ranks. This tournament is a testament to the strength of our future generation."
The sect leader walked forward, making his way toward Zhang Huo, who had been declared the victor of the tournament. Zhang Huo, though still recovering from his intense battle with Li Yue, stood tall as Deng Tingfeng approached.
"Zhang Huo, your victory today has earned you the title of our tournament's champion." Deng Tingfeng offered his hand, and Zhang Huo took it with a respectful bow. The sect leader's expression softened a rare show of approval. "The Treasury Hall Elder will personally oversee your rewards. In addition to the rank 2 spells of your choosing, he will impart to you the method to break through to the Rank 2 Initial Stage. As you know, this knowledge is forbidden to share, but with it, you will be prepared for the next step in your journey."
Zhang Huo bowed deeply. "Thank you, Sect Leader. I will honor the sect with this opportunity."
As the cheers from the crowd subsided, the sect leader nodded, stepping back toward his platform. "The tournament is over, but before we conclude, each elder will now call out the names of those they believe deserve special recognition. Remember, strength is not the only measure of greatness. Determination, perseverance, and cleverness are equally important."
One by one, the elders rose, calling out the names of disciples they felt had shown promise or merit. Some were outer disciples who had fought valiantly, others were core disciples who had stood out despite not reaching the finals. None of the names were familiar to Shen until Li Ruo, the Outer Sect Elder, stepped forward, calling for both Li Yue and Wu Shen.
Li Yue, still recovering from his battle, gave a short nod and approached his aunt, his expression composed. Shen, on the other hand, stepped forward with a neutral face, his mind ever calculating. He hadn't expected to be singled out by an elder, but he wouldn't pass up an opportunity for additional rewards or favors.
Li Ruo smiled warmly at the two of them. "Li Yue, your performance today was exceptional as always," she said, looking at her nephew with pride. "Though you didn't win the tournament, you showed the meticulousness and brilliance we all expect from you. Well done."
Li Yue bowed slightly, his cold gaze steady. "Thank you, Elder Li."
Then Li Ruo turned her attention to Shen, and her tone shifted slightly, though it remained warm. "Wu Shen, you've been with the sect for less than six months, and yet, you've already made quite the impression." Her words hung in the air, surprising a few of the disciples nearby. "Your progress has been surprising, and your ability to strategize is noteworthy for someone who has been here for such a short time."
Li Yue, who had remained silent up until now, glanced at Shen with disdain. "What is someone like him doing here?" His voice was low, but the words carried a sharp edge.
Li Ruo, sensing the tension, raised her hand in a playful gesture. "Now, now, no need for that, Li Yue. Wu Shen has earned this recognition. Besides, don't you think the two of you look cute standing together?" She smiled mischievously, attempting to lighten the mood with a joke.
Neither Shen nor Li Yue responded. They simply exchanged judging looks, cold and emotionless. Shen's thoughts, however, betrayed his outward calm: Disgusting.
Li Ruo's playful demeanor faltered, clearly disappointed that her joke hadn't landed as intended. With a small sigh, she waved off the tension and continued, returning to her formal tone. "Anyway, Wu Shen, as a token of my appreciation for your hard work, here are 3,000 sect points. Use them wisely."
Shen's eyes flickered with a brief flash of satisfaction as he received the sect points. "Thank you, Elder Li," he said, bowing deeply. Though he maintained a respectful posture, inside his mind was already calculating how best to use these points. 3,000 sect points could go a long way.
Li Ruo then turned back to her nephew, Li Yue, and handed him a small, ornate box. "And for you, Li Yue, a special magic treasure from my collection. I trust you'll find it useful."
Li Yue accepted the box without a word, his expression unreadable as he examined the gift. He gave his aunt a slight nod before stepping back.
The conversation ended there, the air between Shen and Li Yue still heavy with unspoken tension. As they walked away, Shen could feel the eyes of his fellow disciples on him—some curious, others judgmental. It didn't matter.
After receiving the 3,000 sect points, Shen wasted no time. He made his way to the Treasure Hall with a clear objective in mind. The crowd from the tournament had dispersed, and the usual bustle of sect life had resumed. The Treasure Hall was a grand building, its walls adorned with symbols representing the vast wealth of knowledge, spells, and treasures stored within.
Shen approached the disciple managing the spell parchments and spoke without hesitation. "I'd like to purchase the spell scroll for Qi Arrow and 10 spirit stones."
The disciple raised an eyebrow, surprised by the combination. "Qi Arrow? A straightforward offensive spell for a middlestage Rank 1 cultivator. It costs 1,500 set points. The spirit stones, are 50 points each, making it 500 points for 10. Are you sure you want to spend all your points now?"
Shen nodded, his face calm but resolute. "Yes."
The disciple shrugged and processed the transaction. After handing over the scroll and the spirit stones, the disciple wished him luck, though Shen barely acknowledged it. His mind was already focused on the next task—refining the spell.
When Shen arrived back at his room, he found Yan Zhi already there, seated on his bed and reading through a scroll. The room was dimly lit, the quiet atmosphere providing a sense of calm after the day's events.
Yan Zhi looked up when Shen entered and grinned. "I didn't expect you to let me win during the tournament. I thought you were going to knock me out cold for sure."
Shen paused, keeping his expression neutral as he put away his things. "Promises are important to me," he lied smoothly, his voice steady. He wasn't about to reveal his true reasons—like how he was running low on talismans and faced a much tougher opponent next. He knew that giving up the fight had been a calculated decision.
Yan Zhi chuckled, clearly not suspecting anything. "Well, I appreciate it. You had me on the ropes, though. Your Ripple Shroud technique was tricky to deal with. I couldn't see a thing!"
Shen shrugged as he placed the scroll and spirit stones on his desk. "I've always preferred strategies that give me an edge. It's not about overwhelming strength—it's about using every advantage you have." His tone was casual, but beneath his words, there was always a hint of his true nature: calculating, precise.
They made some small talk, with Yan Zhi recounting his own tournament experience and how nervous he had been facing Shen. Shen offered a few cordial replies but kept his attention divided. His mind was already focused on the spell refinement he was about to undergo.
After a few minutes, Yan Zhi stood up, sensing Shen's desire to get to his task. "Well, I'll let you get to it. I know you're probably eager to work on your new spell. If you need help or anything, just let me know."
Shen nodded politely. "Thanks, but I should be fine."
Yan Zhi smiled, then left the room, leaving Shen alone in the quiet.
With the room to himself, Shen set to work. He unraveled the Qi Arrow scroll on the desk in front of him, its parchment glowing faintly with the power it held. The intricate diagrams and symbols explained the technique in detail. Qi Arrow was a basic but effective long-range offensive spell, perfect for a cultivator in Shen's current stage.
He placed the 10 spirit stones next to the scroll, knowing that these would be consumed in the process of learning the spell. Learning a spell required not just the physical scroll but also the infusion of spiritual energy from the stones. As the user absorbed the spell's essence, they would commit the technique to their soul.
Shen sat cross-legged on his bed, holding the scroll in his hands. With a steady breath, he closed his eyes and began circulating his Qi. Slowly, he picked up one of the spirit stones, channeling his energy into it. As the stone began to glow faintly, Shen felt the essence of the Qi Arrow spells stirring within the scroll.
The refinement process was meticulous. Shen's mind focused entirely on the task at hand, guiding the energy from the spirit stone into the scroll, and then from the scroll into his body. He could feel the spell being etched into his soul, its technique becoming a part of him.
Each spirit stone burned away quickly, its energy spent as it transferred the knowledge of the spell to Shen. One by one, the stones dissolved into dust, leaving behind a faint, shimmering glow in the air as the last of the spell's energy settled within him.
After what felt like hours, the process was complete. Shen opened his eyes, a faint gleam of satisfaction in them. Qi Arrow was now his, ready to be used when the need arose.
But there was no time to rest. Shen knew the world of cultivation never stopped moving, and neither would he. He would use this spell, and any future resources, to further his ambitions within the sect. As he looked out the small window in his room, the moon high in the sky, Shen felt the familiar stirrings of his long-term goals driving him forward once more.
In the dimly lit confines of Li Yue's room, silence reigned as he lay alone on a simple futon. His usually pristine skin was marred by deep burns, the lingering evidence of his fierce battle with Zhang Huo. With methodical precision, he applied a regenerative elixir to his injured flesh, his hand steady as he spread the glowing liquid across the damaged areas. Slowly, the skin beneath began to mend, the powerful elixir doing its work.
Minutes passed, and Li Yue's burns vanished, his body restoring itself to its flawless state. He let out a sigh, but it was not one of relief. It was the sigh of a man brooding, contemplating his defeat. His hand, still resting on the now empty bottle of the elixir, clenched tighter until the glass cracked under his grip.
Suddenly, a crazed look overtook his face, his usually composed features twisting into something feral. With a low growl, he stood up and turned toward the wooden desk where he had earlier propped his arm. The next moment, Li Yue exploded into a fit of rage.
"Zhang Huo!" he spat, slamming his fist into the desk, shattering it instantly. His breathing grew ragged, and his Qi flared uncontrollably, causing the temperature in the room to rise. His fury, once contained beneath the surface, now unleashed, took the form of wild destruction.
One piece of furniture after another fell victim to his wrath. The table, the chair, even the delicate vases his aunt had sent from the treasure hall—all were obliterated under the force of his rage. The wood splintered, and ceramic shards scattered across the floor as the room became a chaotic mess.
For a full minute, Li Yue rampaged, his eyes wild with unrestrained anger. His body trembled with fury, his usually immaculate hair now disheveled and hanging loosely over his face. But then, as if he had exhausted his fury, he stopped, standing amidst the wreckage of his once orderly room. His chest heaved with labored breaths, and the once proud core disciple now looked like a man on the edge of madness.
As the haze of rage began to clear, his eyes fell upon a small box—the one his aunt, Li Ruo, had given him after the tournament. His lips curled into a grim smile, and with a swift motion, he ripped the top of the box off, eager to see what lay inside.
When he gazed into the box, his entire demeanor shifted. The rage in his eyes was replaced with a manic glee as he saw the contents—a small but powerful treasure, gleaming with a faint light that pulsed with hidden energy. Li Yue let out a low, crazed laugh, the kind that sent chills down one's spine.
"Yes..." he whispered to himself, his voice dripping with anticipation. "This will certainly be my new trump card."
His laughter grew louder, echoing in the empty room. The treasure in the box shimmered in the dim light, a symbol of newfound power. Li Yue gripped the box tightly, his eyes alight with the fire of ambition.
"Zhang Huo may have bested me this time," he muttered to himself, "but the next time we cross paths, I will show him the true meaning of despair. I'll show all of them."
The treasure in his hands would be the key. A weapon that would turn the tides in his favor. His laughter continued to echo, a dark and twisted sound, as he clutched his new trump card close to his chest.
The following morning, Wu Shen had a specific plan in mind as he headed out early to the Mission Hall. He was now strong enough, at Rank 1 Middle Stage, to venture into the deeper parts of the forest and hunt spirit beasts. However, hunting spirit beasts was no simple task, and Shen knew he couldn't go alone. He needed to form a hunting party, consisting of at least three cultivators, to increase his chances of success. In these dangerous missions, cultivators relied on teamwork—each member needed to have different combat specialties to balance out the group.
Arriving at the Mission Hall, Shen immediately scanned the area, seeing the usual hustle and bustle of cultivators discussing missions, bartering for spirit stones, or chatting with companions. The hall was packed with disciples, most in their mid-teens, some older, others in their early 20s. Among them, Shen noticed the variety of weapons strapped to their belts, the gleam and the soft glow of Qi occasionally flaring around a few as they practiced small techniques.
Shen made his way to an empty table at the far corner of the room, pulling out a chair and sitting down with an air of determination. After a moment, he took a deep breath, preparing himself.
"LOOKING FOR HUNTING PARTY! LONG AND CLOSE-RANGED COMBATANT AT RANK 1 MIDDLE STAGE!" Shen's voice boomed across the hall, echoing off the walls.
The entire room fell silent as dozens of eyes turned in his direction. Most were filled with irritation or outright disdain. It wasn't common for someone to shamelessly advertise themselves like this in the Mission Hall. Cultivators usually formed teams through quiet agreements or recommendations, not loud announcements.
"This junior... has no shame," a voice muttered from a nearby table.
Several disciples shook their heads in disapproval, and a few even cast annoyed glances at Shen. But after a few seconds of awkward silence, the room returned to its usual noise as the disciples resumed their conversations. Shen, unfazed by the judgmental stares, simply leaned back in his chair and waited.
Five minutes passed.
Once again, Shen took a deep breath, and this time, his voice was even louder. "LOOKING FOR HUNTING PARTY! LONG AND CLOSE-RANGED COMBATANT AT RANK 1 MIDDLE STAGE!"
The air in the hall shifted, and this time, several disciples groaned audibly. Some shot him deadly glares, while others whispered amongst themselves, clearly irritated by Shen's persistence.
A tall disciple, with broad shoulders and a wooden staff strapped to his back, stood up and approached Shen's table, his face twisted in annoyance. His hair was tied in a rough knot atop his head, and his voice was harsh as he addressed Shen. "Junior, are you courting death with that mouth of yours? This is not how things are done here!"
Shen didn't flinch. He merely looked at the man with a calm, almost detached gaze, before replying. "I have no time for unnecessary duels. If you're not interested in joining my party, leave me be."
The taller disciple gritted his teeth, clearly not used to being dismissed so easily, but after sizing Shen up and seeing the lack of concern in his eyes, he let out a frustrated huff and returned to his seat. Others soon followed, throwing Shen disdainful looks, but none could provoke him into responding further.
For forty minutes, Shen continued his shameless advertising. Each time he yelled out, more and more disciples looked ready to throttle him. If looks could kill, Shen would have long since been reincarnated. Some challenged him to spar, but Shen waved them off, uninterested in wasting time. As the minutes passed, the tension in the hall grew thicker.
Just when it seemed like no one would approach him, the doors of the Mission Hall opened, and two boys who looked strikingly similar stepped inside. Twins. They had the same sharp features, light brown hair, and slender builds, though one carried a bow slung over his shoulder, while the other had a spear strapped to his back. Their presence immediately drew some attention—not only because of their matching appearance but because the aura around them spoke of skilled fighters.
They made their way over to Shen, ignoring the hostile atmosphere surrounding his table. The less shy of the two stepped forward, offering a small but somewhat forced smile.
"We heard you're looking for a hunting party," he said, his voice steady but tinged with something unspoken. "We could use a third. Our older brother... we lost him while hunting spirit beasts a while ago. We haven't been able to go hunting since. You should join us."
Shen's eyes flickered with interest as he studied the twins. Up close, he could see the subtle differences between them. The one who spoke had a more confident posture, though there was a lingering sadness in his eyes, likely tied to the loss of their brother. The other twin, though quiet, seemed sharper, his gaze cold and calculating as he glanced around the hall as if weighing every cultivator he saw.
"Names?" Shen asked, leaning forward slightly.
The confident one spoke first. "I'm Hua Lian, and this is my brother, Hua Liang. We're both Rank 1 Middle Stage cultivators."
Hua Lian had a more open face, with brown eyes that spoke of determination. He seemed to handle the group's diplomacy, while his brother, Hua Liang, remained silent, nodding in acknowledgment. Hua Liang had sharper features, his eyes a piercing green that scanned their surroundings warily. The brothers' weapons spoke of their roles—Hua Lian, the archer, focused on long-range attacks, while Hua Liang, with his spear, specialized in mid to close-range combat.
Shen nodded thoughtfully. "I'm Wu Shen. Rank 1 Middle Stage. I can handle close-range and long-range combat with some defensive measures. You two seem capable. Let's form a party."
The twins exchanged a glance, then nodded in agreement.
"We leave tomorrow morning," Hua Lian said, his voice firm. "Meet us at dawn at the western gate of the sect. We'll be heading to the deeper forest."
Shen gave a slight smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "I'll be there."
As the twins left, Shen leaned back in his chair, his mind already racing through possible strategies. Hunting spirit beasts was a dangerous business, but the rewards were worth it. He needed resources, spirit stones, and more experience—this was the next step in his cultivation journey.
Before long, Shen stood up and left the Mission Hall, his mind buzzing with thoughts about the upcoming hunt. Yet, as he walked, a strange feeling gnawed at the back of his mind. Something about the Hua twins felt... off. Their story, the way they approached him—it had all seemed too convenient. His instincts, honed over two lifetimes, whispered that there was more to this pair than met the eye.
Shen's expression remained calm, but inwardly, he prepared himself. Caution would be necessary. He had no intention of letting his guard down, not with such valuable rewards at stake. In this world, trusting too easily could be the difference between life and death.
Shen made his way to the Treasure Hall with a clear objective in mind. The unsettling feeling from the Hua twins still lingered in his mind, and as he walked through the market street, he decided that it would be wiser to overprepare than to underestimate the dangers ahead.
Inside the Treasure Hall, shelves upon shelves of talismans, pills, and other magical items lined the walls. Shen walked straight to the talisman section, eyeing the rows of finely crafted papers, each imbued with different powers. He reached for a series of talismans that would help secure his safety, even in the face of overwhelming odds.
He started by purchasing five lifesaving talismans—defensive talismans that could block any attack under Rank 2. These were expensive, nearly draining his resources, but he knew their value in a life-and-death situation. Next, he grabbed five explosion talismans—versatile in both offense and defense, useful in distracting, trapping, or outright eliminating enemies.
Then, he picked up one each of the strength, speed, and endurance-increasing talismans. These would be useful in close combat, giving him an edge when his body couldn't keep up with stronger cultivators. He was careful to note their potency: while they weren't miraculous, they would boost him enough to give him a fighting chance, especially against stronger Rank 1 Peak Stage opponents. His mind wandered briefly to the final battle between Zhang Huo and Li Yue. Thinking back, Shen now suspected both of them had used talismans similar to these during their match, explaining their pseudo-rank 2 levels of strength and speed.
Looking at the small stack of talismans in his hand, Shen felt a pang of reluctance. This wasn't how he wanted to spend his sect points. He had originally planned to save up for more spells or valuable items that could improve his cultivation, but, as the saying went, "A man who sleeps with a dagger is a fool every night but one." Shen had learned the importance of always being prepared—that one night could mean the difference between life and death.
If something went wrong during the hunt, if the Hua twins had ulterior motives, or if they encountered a spirit beast beyond their capabilities, he would not be caught off guard. With these talismans, he was confident he could handle most threats, even if it meant expending all of them. He could even take down a Rank 1 Peak Stage enemy or two Rank 1 Middle Stage cultivators if it came to that.
The purchase left him with far fewer points than he had hoped, but Shen consoled himself with the thought that talismans were, in essence, like insurance. The only time you regret having them is when you don't need them—but when you do, they could save your life.
With the transactions complete, Shen carefully stored the talismans in his bag of holding, a slight smirk forming on his face. He was ready. No matter what the Hua twins had planned, or whatever dangers lay ahead in the deeper parts of the forest, Shen would be prepared.
The next morning, Shen met the Hua twins at the western gate of the sect, just as the first light of dawn began to illuminate the sky. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and earth, but the tension between the three of them lingered just beneath the surface. Shen had kept his expression neutral, but his mind was already calculating—he had spent the previous night considering every possible scenario that could unfold on this hunt.
Without much conversation, they set off into the forest. The further they went, the thicker and darker the trees became, the canopy above blocking out much of the sunlight. Shen moved with the same quiet grace he always did, his eyes darting around, noting every detail. Each sound, each shift in the wind, was cataloged in his mind. The twins, however, seemed unfazed by the eerie atmosphere. Their familiarity with the terrain was apparent as they navigated the overgrown paths with ease, leading Shen deeper into the wilderness.
The more talkative of the twins, Hua Jin, started speaking after the first few hours of trekking through the forest. "We're hunting a Peak Stage Stone Tiger, a fierce spirit beast with a body as hard as stone and fangs like daggers." His voice was steady, but Shen detected the faintest tremor underneath it. "We fought it before. Managed to wound it pretty badly, but it... it killed our older brother. Dragged his body into a cave deeper in the forest. That's where we're heading."
Hua Jin's voice wavered slightly when he spoke of his brother, but Shen wasn't moved. His mind focused instead on the inconsistencies in their story. They were leaving too many gaps, and the way they avoided eye contact when speaking of the beast was telling. They were hiding something. Suspicious, Shen thought, but he kept his face blank. These two are a hundred and thirty years too young to try and trick me.
Still, Shen was content to play along for now. There were no immediate threats, and the deeper they ventured into the forest, the more valuable the prey. If there was a Peak Stage Stone Tiger, the rewards would be great—both in terms of materials and set points. And if they truly had lost their brother, retrieving his remains would be simple enough.
"Half of the reward for the body of the Stone Tiger is yours," Hua Jin continued, glancing over at Shen. "As long as we can retrieve whatever remains of our brother."
Shen said nothing for a moment, only nodding. Half the reward? As if they had anything to offer him other than a headache. He thought over their promise carefully, already seeing through their shallow ploy. They're already trying to manipulate me, he mused. But I'll play along. For now.
By the time the sun was high in the sky, they had ventured far beyond the usual hunting grounds of the outer disciples. The forest had become dense and foreboding, the thick underbrush crunching underfoot with every step. No longer were they surrounded by the familiar sounds of small animals or the occasional flutter of birds. Now, it was eerily quiet, the type of silence that spoke of greater dangers lurking nearby.
Hours passed in near silence, the tension between them building, until at last, they arrived in front of a large cave nestled into the side of a rocky hill. The entrance was wide, jagged, and dark, its depths swallowed in shadow. The air around the cave felt heavy with an unnatural presence, the kind of oppressive atmosphere that could only mean a powerful spirit beast was nearby.
"This is it," Hua Jin said, his voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid the creature inside might hear him. He glanced at his twin brother, Hua Wei, who had been silent for most of the journey. There was something in the way they exchanged glances that set Shen further on edge.
Shen stood still, gazing into the mouth of the cave. Blinking he could see qi trickeling out the cavem, a sure sign that something was within. His thoughts turned dark, suspicion growing with each passing second.