Chapter 31 - The Tournament Begun

Lao Xie left the garden without looking back.

The sound of falling water faded behind him, and the pale scent of crushed petals gave way to the cool breath of night. The path ahead was dim, cloaked in quiet, but his thoughts weren't.

The moment with Ling Ruxin replayed softly in his mind—not the words exchanged, but the way her tone had shifted.

"So she's curious now…" he thought.

He didn't smile, but the corner of his mouth twitched faintly.

He hadn't answered most of her questions. That wasn't necessary. Curiosity was a more valuable hook than any explanation.

And she had bitten.

The moon hung low above the peaks as he crossed the final path back to his hut. His robes fluttered lightly with the wind, untouched by dust or doubt.

Once inside, he sat cross-legged once more, calm and still as stone.

Ding!

[System Notification – Sub-Task Completed]

Task: Potential Threat to Main Task

+10% Main Task Progress Awarded.

His eyes remained half-lidded.

Lao Xie didn't react outwardly. He merely brushed his sleeve lightly as if wiping off dust. Internally, though, he gave a quiet hum.

Then, He raised his hand lazily, summoning the system panel again in the dim moonlight.

[Main Task – Ling Ruxin]

Progress: 10%

Time Left: 23 Days

"Mhmm," he hummed slightly.

.....

Time slipped by quietly in the days that followed.

Lao Xie remained in seclusion, neither seen in the training grounds nor among the wandering outer disciples. It was as if he had vanished again just like before.

But within the stillness of his hut, he was not idle.

Each day, he cultivated in silence.

The Qi in his body, once freely flowing, was now being refined into something far more stable condensed and mastered. His presence grew quieter but heavier, like a sword sheathed in fine silk, no longer leaking a single ounce of unnecessary sharpness.

He made no breakthroughs, but that's fine. His goal was simply to consolidate his cultivation.

Outside, the sect buzzed.

Talk of the tournament spread like wildfire. Names were whispered, bets placed. Disciples who had remained idle for months now sparred until dusk. Even elders began making appearances, quietly watching from afar.

Lao Xie ignored it all.

Only on the morning of the seventh day did he finally stir.

The first light of dawn crept past the wooden windows of his hut. He opened his eyes slowly, drawing a calm breath as he rose to his feet. His movements were as fluid as ever, but his steps now carried a heavier weight where one not easily noticed.

The registration ended 4 days ago and now the tournament had begun.

On the other side, the Silver Crescent Sect's Martial Hall had transformed.

What was once an open training space had been reshaped into a proper battleground. The dueling platform stood raised and wide, surrounded by formation rings that shimmered faintly in the light. Dozens of disciples had already gathered, outer disciple robed in varied colors, all arranged by their respective peak.

Azure Edge Peak, home to the sword cultivators, sat to the east. Their figures were upright and silent, bearing an air of refined sharpness. Sword cultivators were known for their discipline, grace, and fatal precision. Among them, a single move could decide the outcome of a fight.

To the west was Crimson Gale Peak, the territory of the spear cultivators. Their disciples stood tall with an aggressive edge in their posture, their eyes filled with fighting spirit. It was said the spear cultivators were like fire given to their nature bold, fast, and unstoppable once their momentum took hold.

The south belonged to the disciples of Flowing Note Peak. These were the cultivators who followed the path of music, guqin and zither users whose techniques blurred the lines between sound and spirit. Most of them were quiet, elegant and even aloof. But among them were those who could shake the heart with a single note. Their presence was often overlooked until it was too late.

And to the north stood Iron Ring Peak, the Fist Path. These disciples bore no weapons save their own hardened bodies. They were cultivators of brute force, tempered strength, and relentless close combat. Their robes were the most worn, many bearing marks of hardened training. Where sword and spear danced, they crushed forward like mountains in motion.

Though it was technically a sect event, the competition between peaks was just as fierce as the matches themselves.

And somewhere far from the noise.

"Today's my matches," Lao Xie muttered, stepping lightly toward the sunlight pouring through the wooden slats of his hut.

The tournament had officially begun, and today marked the second day of its opening phase. Outside, the stir of excitement could already be felt drifting from the distant Martial Hall cheers, footsteps, and the crisp clash of spiritual energies weaving into the morning air like a rising tide.

A faint shimmer appeared beside him.

He turned his head slightly to glance at the translucent screen hovering midair, its crimson hue familiar now.

[Side Task - Outer Disciple Tournament]

Match 17 – Host vs Feng Zhan

"Match seventeen…" he repeated under his breath.

"It's your first match today, Host."

The system's voice rang with its usual tone, but he could sense a subtle trace of interest in it.

"Feng Zhan?" he murmured. "Doesn't ring a bell."

He turned his gaze slightly, focusing on the name displayed in the panel. Almost immediately, a subtle panel flickered acrossed his vision, like a second layer unfolding beneath the first.

[Observe Activated]

Target: Feng Zhan

Cultivation Stage: Body Tempering, 7th Stage

Age: 17

Affiliation: Crimson Gale Peak

Combat Style: Momentum-based spear techniques, aggressive opener, lacks stamina control.

Lao Xie read through the lines calmly. He had used this trait on several other disciples before. Some out of caution, others simply to test the system's range. But this one was… typical.

"So this is how it works…" he muttered.

"An outer disciple of Crimson Gale Peak. Spear cultivator. Strength-focused. Aggressive. Lacks patience," the system echoed, confirming his own reading.

"I see," Lao Xie said calmly. He tied the last knot on his belt and adjusted the loose edge of his sleeve. "Just another one who thinks the first strike will win it."

"Shall I analyze the most efficient way to defeat him?"

He didn't respond immediately. Stepping past the doorway, Lao Xie let the early morning light wash across his figure, the cold air brushing the edge of his robes.

"No need," he said after a moment, golden eyes narrowing as they turned toward the Martial Hall in the distance. "I'm not here to win quietly."

"Understood."

Soon after, Lao Xie tidied his appearance with practiced ease before making his way straight to the Martial Hall.

Martial Hall.

A match had just ended, and the air trembled with noise.

"The winner of Match Sixteen, Zhang Weiren!" Elder Mu's voice rang out, amplified by a formation. His declaration boomed across the field like thunder, stirring an eruption of cheers.

WUUUUUAAAAAHHH!!

A wave of shouts, whistles, and clapping thundered through the crowd.

The stone platforms around the dueling ring were packed. Outer disciples of every peak leaned forward, some already on their feet, while others waved their arms or slammed their fists into the railings with excitement. A few even shouted their wagers across the seats, arguments breaking out in corners as spirit stones exchanged hands.

"I told you! Zhang Weiren would crush him!" one voice roared above the others.

"Haha! He didn't even break a sweat!"

"Brother Zhang! You're invincible!" someone yelled from the front row, cupping their hands and shouting until their voice cracked.

Zhang Weiren, calm, sweatless, and still twirling his spear with flair. He offered a polite nod, though the smug tilt of his chin made it clear he enjoyed the attention.

The atmosphere buzzed with momentum, restless with anticipation for the next match.