Chapter Sixty-Eight: Excitement

Many among the disciples recognized Ge Qian, and the crowd buzzed with discussion.

“Isn’t that Ge Qian, the genius alchemist? His skills in refining pills are truly astounding, but who would have thought he’d be so useless in a duel?”

“It’s common, really. Those cultivators who focus solely on a single craft are usually poor at combat. Once they leave their sect, it’s the road to ruin.”

There were even some with cruel intentions whose eyes flashed coldly, already plotting ways to kill and rob him. After all, alchemists never lack for pills or spirit stones, and without sufficient strength, they’re simply lambs to the slaughter.

Not far off, Lü Xin stood with a frost-cold expression watching Ge Qian on the stage, rage burning in his eyes but with no way to vent it. The hatred between him and Ge Qian was irreconcilable; it was because of Ge Qian that a demon had lodged in his heart, and he was unable to advance to the Foundation Establishment stage. The hatred in his heart surged like a mighty river, endless and unstoppable.

He had hoped to use this tournament to cripple Ge Qian’s cultivation himself, so that Ge Qian would never be able to cultivate again. Now, however, it seemed he would have no such chance—Ge Qian was so abysmally poor in combat, he would be eliminated in the very first round. Clearly, Hongmei’s disappearance had nothing to do with him; he had been overthinking it. Still, sooner or later, he would find a chance to destroy Ge Qian.

In the elders’ stands, Ye Yu, her face veiled in black gauze, watched Ge Qian’s performance with a cold smile at her lips. She mused silently: this Ge Qian is certainly no simple man. He’s deliberately feigning weakness just to gain entry to the Minor Arena. Elite disciples are forbidden from entering the Minor Arena, but with the appearance of the “Spirit-Linked Fruit King,” the sect had decreed that only the first-place winner of the tournament could enter, to lead the fight against other sects for the prize. Ge Qian, entering as an ordinary disciple, would attract no attention, making it easy for him to seize the fruit at the critical moment. What cunning!

But since you’ve encountered me, Ye Yu, your path won’t be so smooth. I’ll inform Bai Ruyu of this, and when the two tigers clash, one will be wounded. Ideally, Ge Qian will blow Bai Ruyu apart, using up all the “Violet Fiend Yin Thunder.” I’ll make sure you wish you were dead—a perfect scheme, striking two birds with one stone.

Elder Cui sat quietly, face unreadable, lost in thought.

Suddenly, Ge Qian deliberately exposed a flaw. A mid-grade magical artifact collided violently with a top-grade one; Ge Qian’s flying sword wailed, transforming into a heap of scrap iron that clattered onto the stage.

Ge Qian immediately cupped his fists and said, “Senior brother’s strength is formidable—I concede defeat. I’ll step down from the stage.”

Zhang Jiu burst out laughing. “Go on, then! Come back in ten years once you’ve trained some more!”

Ge Qian leaped off the stage and, surrounded by scornful looks, retreated to a corner to continue watching the contest.

Zhang Jiu was inwardly delighted—such an easy victory! But just then, a figure alighted onto the stage: exceptionally handsome, though with a chilling aura. Zhang Jiu braced himself and cupped his fists. “Senior brother Lü Xin, for the Foundation Establishment Pill, I must offend you. Please, go easy on me.”

Lü Xin’s resentment was palpable. He had delayed taking the stage precisely to wait for Ge Qian, intending to cripple his cultivation, but Zhang Jiu had ruined the plan. He snarled, “Do you think this is child’s play? In a duel, it’s cripple or be crippled. If you know what’s good for you, get off the stage. Otherwise, don’t blame me for what happens next.”

Zhang Jiu was incensed. Since his debut, he had slain countless peers—his accomplishments were hard-won, not given by fate. He had shown Lü Xin respect only for the Lü family’s sake, but it seemed he’d have to teach him a lesson.

His face darkened. With a sudden thrust, he sent a golden flying knife spinning through the air. “So be it—take this!”

The golden blade flashed brilliantly, far faster and more powerful than it had been against Ge Qian. Clearly, he had been holding back before.

Lü Xin snorted coldly. “Since you won’t show respect, you have only yourself to blame.”

He tossed out a “Swallow Wing Wheel,” saturated with wood spirit energy—a top-grade artifact. It spun in the air, splitting into two, and hurtled toward Zhang Jiu, slicing the air with deafening bursts.

The pressure on Zhang Jiu doubled instantly—the “Swallow Wing Wheel” was a rare dual artifact of immense power. Not to be outdone, he surged his spiritual energy, driving the golden blade as he fought Lü Xin.

But as the fight wore on, the outcome became clear. Zhang Jiu was getting flustered and running out of energy, while Lü Xin grew ever fiercer. The “Swallow Wing Wheel” left afterimages as it targeted Zhang Jiu’s dantian relentlessly, determined to destroy his cultivation.

Drenched in sweat, Zhang Jiu realized he had overestimated himself. With no family background, no matter how hard he tried, he could not compete with a scion of a great clan. In both technique and weaponry, he was outmatched.

Such is fate. Judging by Lü Xin’s intent, he meant to cripple him. Better to concede now and seek another chance at the Foundation Establishment Pill.

With that thought, he said, “Please, senior brother, show mercy. I admit defeat.”

Lü Xin ignored him and pressed the attack with even greater savagery, inwardly sneering. Those who ruin my plans or refuse to obey must be punished.

Zhang Jiu frowned, then suddenly mustered his strength, sending the flying knife flashing outward at speed. Seizing an opening, he leaped out of the circle and saluted. “Senior brother, I admit defeat!”

But Lü Xin, enraged, sent the wheel spinning straight for Zhang Jiu, ignoring the rules and aiming to kill.

The wheel tore through the air toward Zhang Jiu’s dantian, now only an inch away, when suddenly, a sword light descended from above, striking the “Swallow Wing Wheel” and shattering it in two.

The one who intervened was a black-faced elder. With just a single stroke of sword qi, far beyond Lü Xin’s own, he could easily have taken Lü Xin’s head.

This was Elder Zhao Shan, head of the Disciplinary Peak, in charge of enforcing laws—stern and impartial, feared by all wayward disciples. His authority was immense.

If the rules were broken during the tournament, what reputation would the Disciplinary Peak have? So he intervened, halting Lü Xin’s foolish act. He said coldly, “Lü Xin, Zhang Jiu has already conceded, and yet you continue to attack. What is your intention?”

Lü Xin quickly bowed and replied respectfully, “Elder, you are wise. My ‘Swallow Wing Wheel’ is not yet fully under my control—I nearly caused a disaster. Thank you for intervening, or I might have made a grave mistake.”

He had already prepared his excuse, delivering it smoothly and flawlessly.

Clearly, for the sake of the Lü family, the elder did not press further. “Hmph. Since it was unintentional, I’ll let it pass this once. But let it not happen again.”

Lü Xin repeatedly agreed.

Zhang Jiu gritted his teeth and jumped off the stage, thinking to himself: Lü Xin, if I ever get the chance, I’ll make you wish you were dead. Luckily, I had the foresight to gift Elder Zhao Shan a six-hundred-year-old spirit herb I stumbled upon; otherwise, my dantian would be gone and my cultivation ruined forever.

With that episode over, Lü Xin inadvertently caught sight of Ge Qian, who stood with his hands clasped behind his back, a look of contempt on his face. Ge Qian even shook his head and turned away, and, most galling of all, raised his pinky and gestured downward.

It was as if to say: “Good-for-nothing, all your schemes still can’t touch me. Don’t think being the Lü family’s young master means anything—in my eyes, you’re nothing. If you’ve got the guts, come down here and kill me!”

Lü Xin’s fury nearly exploded—blood and rage surged within him. He wanted nothing more than to leap down, kill Ge Qian, tear his tendons, peel his skin, dig out his heart, and refine his soul.

Hatred, boundless as the sea, raged within him, and demonic intent threatened to consume his mind. Fortunately, he still retained a shred of reason and managed to suppress the darkness—if he lost control, he would become nothing but a mindless killer, a walking corpse.