Chapter 162 - 24-29

024 Fourth Day

The fourth day of the festival had arrived. For me, it was nearly the fifth since I had been cast into this world.

An attendant led me through the sprawling estate of City Governor Ren Jin. His pace was excruciatingly slow—understandable for a mere mortal, but frustrating nonetheless. The manor itself was vast, a testament to wealth and power, with polished stone floors that sent echoes drifting through the quiet corridors.

Why was I here?

Ren Jin had graciously provided lodging while Elder Lei Fen worked to adapt Gu Jie's cultivation method into something usable at the First Realm. I had no patience for idle waiting, but I wasn't about to abandon my follower in a time of need.

As we walked, I took in the extravagant displays of wealth—gold-inlaid carvings on the wooden pillars, intricate paintings lining the walls, and the scent of rare incense curling in the air.

Just as I was beginning to appreciate the luxurious surroundings, a familiar presence flickered beside me.

Fan Shi.

I had long since noticed her tailing me, her attempts at concealment was useless before my Divine Sense. Now, she finally chose to reveal herself.

"How may I help you, Ms. Fan?" I asked without breaking stride.

Her gaze sharpened. "What is your cultivation realm?"

Again with this? Did no one in this world have any other topic of conversation?

"That is a matter I prefer to keep to myself."

She studied me for a moment, then inclined her head slightly. "I have a match. Excuse me, Senior." Without another word, she turned and left.

At last, we arrived before a set of heavy wooden doors, guarded by two armored cultivators.

The attendant bowed. "We have arrived, honored cultivator."

The guards assessed me with quick, practiced glances before pushing the doors open. They swung inward without a creak, revealing an opulent VIP box. The scent of incense deepened, mingling with the faint energy fluctuations of the enchantments woven into the chamber.

Stepping inside, I took in the space.

The room was grander than I had expected, its design both refined and imposing. Five seats formed a slight arc, offering a commanding view of the arena below. At the center sat Ren Jin himself, exuding effortless authority even in repose. To his left was an elder clad in the flowing robes of the Cloud Mist Sect, his aged features betraying a wealth of experience. Further down sat a middle-aged man with a keen, cutting aura—one glance at his bearing marked him as a swordsman, likely from the Sword Canopy Sect.

This was a gathering of power. And for now, I was its guest.

To Ren Jin's right, two seats remained. One was already occupied by a representative of the Isolation Path Sect, while the other, I presumed, was mine.

Without a word, I took my place, letting my gaze sweep over the gathering.

The man beside me turned slightly, offering a respectful bow. "Greetings, Senior. I am Chang Fan, a disciple of—"

Before he could finish, the Cloud Mist Sect elder let out a dissatisfied grunt.

"Where is Lei Fen?" The old man's voice was laced with impatience. "Leaving us to wait like this… Does he find the next generation so beneath his notice?"

I resisted the urge to sigh. Cultivators and their ceaseless power plays—what a waste of breath.

Chang Fan tensed beside me, caught between his reverence for the elder and his duty to defend his sect's honor.

Before the situation grew needlessly troublesome, I spoke. "Lei Fen is absent for the simple reason that he is performing a favor for me."

The Sword Canopy Elder, who had remained silent until now, finally stirred. "And you are?"

I exhaled inwardly. Surely, no one here was foolish enough to start a fight in a setting as refined as this? Then again, with cultivators, one could never be certain. A single misplaced word could mean the difference between idle curiosity and outright provocation.

"I am Da Wei," I replied evenly. "I've troubled Lord Ren Jin with a… minor incident beyond his city's walls."

The Sword Canopy Elder's eyes sharpened. "That was you?"

How rude.

Maintaining my composure, I continued, "Since then, I have made my apologies to his lordship. I am grateful for his hospitality."

The weight of their gazes settled upon me, their qi pressing in subtle waves, testing, probing.

How predictable.

According to Gu Jie, when one was probed by qi, it felt like countless tiny pinpricks against the skin. I felt nothing of the sort.

But thanks to my Perception stat and Divine Sense, their scrutiny might as well have been written in the air.

Divine Sense had originally been a simple scouting ability, meant to detect hostility in the game. Yet, through repeated use, I had begun to notice it could do far more—perceiving killing intent, presence, even the subtle fluctuations of attention. It wasn't something explicitly detailed in the mechanics, but I recalled vague mentions in old flavor text that suggested its potential. If I trained it further, who knew what else I could refine?

I suppressed a sigh. The two elders weren't exuding killing intent, but their hostility was clear enough that Divine Sense marked them without issue.

Before the silence grew strained, Ren Jin, ever the consummate host, intervened smoothly. "I believe proper introductions are in order." He gestured toward the Cloud Mist Sect elder. "Daoist Da Wei, this is Daoist Pan Xia of the Cloud Mist Sect." Then, to the other, "And beside him is Daoist Long Xieren of the Sword Canopy Sect."

Pan Xia inclined his head and unfurled a folding fan, waving it lazily with a practiced air of ease. "Greetings, fellow Daoist. If you do not mind me asking—what is your cultivation realm?"

I held back a sigh. Here we go again.

"Does it matter?" I replied evenly. "Is it not considered discourteous to inquire about one's cultivation upon first meeting?"

Long Xieren scoffed. "That is what you say, yet your qi presence is negligible. If anything, your physique is the only thing of note."

Oh? So that confirmed it—they couldn't detect mana.

Lei Fen hadn't sensed it. Ren Jin hadn't either. Jiang Zhen, for all his experience, failed as well. If any of them could perceive it, they gave no indication of understanding what they were seeing.

A quiet confidence settled over me. So long as their methods remained blind to my true nature, I held a considerable advantage.

Of course, that didn't make being interrogated any less tedious.

I shrugged. "Sect Master Jiang Zhen said the same."

That name drop had exactly the effect I wanted.

Pan Xia's fan stilled mid-wave. Long Xieren's brows furrowed slightly.

I had not spoken falsely. Nor had I revealed anything outright. Just enough to let them infer that I shared some unspoken connection with a high-ranking figure such as Jiang Zhen.

Suck on that, old man.

Chang Fan, the Isolation Path Sect disciple, spoke with a calm yet firm voice. "Master Da is an honored friend of our sect and a peer of our Sect Master. I ask my seniors to extend to him the same respect afforded to the Isolation Path Sect."

Oh? Now that was an interesting spin.

Pan Xia arched a brow, snapping his fan shut with a soft flick. "Ho~ what an unexpected turn of events. Forgive my earlier impertinence, then, but might I inquire about Senior's origins and affiliation?"

A polite veneer, but the intent behind his words was sharp. This Cloud Mist Sect Elder had taken an interest in me, and not the friendly kind. Even as he addressed me as Senior, his question was anything but innocent—a barbed probe wrapped in courtesy.

Still, I had already been named a peer of the Isolation Path Sect's Master. That alone had shifted their perception of me. No need to fight the tide—better to ride it.

I inclined my head slightly, keeping my tone measured. "I hail from a distant land. A traveler, nothing more."

Long Xieren scoffed. "A peer of the Isolation Path Sect's Master, yet you claim to be merely a traveler? Unbelievable. That golden radiance outside the city… That must have been you exchanging pointers with him." He nodded to himself. "Admirable strength, fellow Daoist."

Oh, if only you knew.

I suppressed a sigh. So that was the conclusion they had reached? Not bad. I could work with that.

Pan Xia chose to keep his distance for now, continuing to address me as Senior—no doubt unwilling to provoke an unknown factor. Long Xieren, on the other hand, took a different approach, treating me as an equal. Their motives were unclear, but they were certainly weighing their next move.

And then, something clicked.

The auction.

Gu Jie had mentioned whispers of a significant auction approaching. It wasn't part of the official festival itinerary, but I had a strong feeling it would take place on the final day.

Were they wary of me because they saw me as a potential competitor?

Interesting. I had barely stepped into the world of high cultivator society, and already, they were treating me as an unknown piece on their board.

The tournament had reached the quarter-finals. Outside the VIP box, the crowd buzzed with excitement, a chaotic hum of voices anticipating the battles ahead. Cultivators and mortals alike packed the arena, eager to witness the next generation's clash for supremacy.

Below, the arena's elevated stone platform stood reinforced by intricate formations, ensuring that the destructive force of the upcoming duels would be contained. The sun hung high, casting sharp shadows as two figures stepped onto the stage.

Chief Enforcer Liang Na, standing at the center, would act as the referee. Her expression remained unreadable, her official robes lending her an air of absolute authority. With a single glance, she silenced the murmurs in the audience, her gaze sweeping between the two competitors.

One of them was Fan Shi, the Isolation Path Sect disciple I had met earlier. Dressed in her signature black robes with silver trim, she exuded the same eerie, unsettling pressure as before. Her long, dark hair was tied up, exposing the cold, sharp lines of her face—a blade without a sheath.

Opposite her stood her opponent, a female disciple of the Cloud Mist Sect.

If Fan Shi was a jade beauty, then this woman was an ice beauty.

She carried herself with a regal grace, her expression as composed as a winter landscape untouched by warmth. She wore pristine white robes edged with mist-like silver embroidery, her long, frosty silver hair cascading down her back like a waterfall. Her presence was distant, refined, carrying the faint scent of frozen lilies.

I leaned back in my chair, glancing at the others in the VIP box. "So, anyone here feel like doing some commentary?"

Silence.

I scanned the room. Pan Xia, Long Xieren, and Ren Jin were all watching the arena with the solemn expressions of seasoned cultivators analyzing a battle of significance. Even Chang Fan had his brows furrowed in quiet focus.

Damn. I got spoiled by Gu Jie.

She would have already launched into a detailed breakdown—sect backgrounds, fighting styles, notable achievements. Instead, I was stuck with a room full of serious old men and their scrutiny.

Luckily, Chang Fan was a helpful sort.

He turned to me and asked, "Master Da, what is it you wish to know?"

I gestured toward the ice beauty. "I know Fan Shi, but what about her?"

Chang Fan gave a knowing nod. "That's to be expected, Master Da. After all, you are not from around here."

Pan Xia leaned back, idly waving his fan with an air of satisfaction. "She is our Sect's pride and treasure, a direct descendant of our noble lineage. Her roots trace back to the Parent Sect of Cloud Mist."

I raised an eyebrow. "Parent Sect?"

The question was innocent enough—nothing that should raise suspicion. If I was playing the role of a traveler unfamiliar with local customs, a bit of ignorance was only natural. Still, Pan Xia clicked his tongue in annoyance, clearly displeased at having to explain something so obvious—at least, obvious to them.

Thankfully, Chang Fan was much more accommodating. "Master Da, some Sects expand their influence by establishing branches in different provinces, and in rare cases, across entire continents. The Parent Sect refers to the original Sect from which these branches originate."

Huh. So something like a franchise, but for cultivators?

Chang Fan continued, "The Cloud Mist Sect has a long and illustrious history, its roots tracing back to the main continent."

Main continent? That was new.

I had read a fair bit since arriving here, and Gu Jie had shared plenty of stories, but I had yet to come across a proper world map. From what I had gathered, Riverfall Continent was merely one of many under the dominion of the Empire. If they were mentioning the 'main continent' so casually, then the world was much larger than I had assumed.

Chang Fan gestured toward the arena. "Jia Yun of Cloud Mist Sect is a rising star—Second Realm, Sixth Star, Mid Stage."

I rubbed my chin. "And Fan Shi?"

Chang Fan's expression turned serious. "Fan Shi is stronger, but… her path is different."

I glanced down at the stage.

Jia Yun stood with ethereal grace, her pristine white robes edged with silver mist embroidery, an icy contrast to Fan Shi's darker, more ominous attire. The way she carried herself—detached, regal—suggested she was used to being revered.

Fan Shi, by contrast, was motionless, her presence like a still, deep pool.

Liang Na, the acting referee, stepped forward and raised her hand. The match was about to begin.

I leaned back in my seat.

Fan Shi moved first, stepping forward with a graceful bow. "Disciple of the Isolation Path Sect greets Jia Yun of the Cloud Mist Sect."

Jia Yun barely put in the effort to respond. She cupped her fist in return, her expression indifferent, her voice carrying a lazy drawl.

"…The same."

From my seat in the VIP box, I studied them closely. The contrast was stark.

Fan Shi exuded a quiet menace, her dark robes blending into the eerie stillness around her, as if the very air recoiled from her presence. Jia Yun, by contrast, stood untouched—pristine, immovable, an ice sculpture carved in the shape of a woman.

Liang Na cast an even gaze over them both. "The same rules apply as yesterday. The conditions for defeat are stepping out of bounds, drawing first blood, a call for surrender, or incapacitation."

The air grew heavier.

The crowd, sensing the imminent clash, hushed. Even the distant murmur of wind over the arena walls seemed to fade, as if the world itself held its breath.

A moment of silence.

Then—

"Fight."

No movement.

Jia Yun remained where she stood, utterly motionless.

Fan Shi mirrored her, still as a shadow.

Yet, something was shifting between them.

An unseen force pressed outward, subtle but undeniable—a clash of presence, of will. It wasn't just a test of strength or technique. This was a duel of intent, a contest to see who would break the stillness first.

I narrowed my eyes.

This fight had already begun.

025 Betting Games

Fan Shi moved like a shadow, her sleeves fluttering as chains shot forth in a blur. The metallic links twisted and coiled, an unpredictable barrage seeking to ensnare Jia Yun.

Jia Yun, in contrast, wielded her fans with effortless grace. With a flick of her wrist, a gust of wind howled forth, repelling the chains and kicking up a swirl of dust. Fan Shi adjusted her stance, undeterred.

This wasn't a battle of raw strength—it was speed against control, deception against precision.

I leaned forward slightly. These were the kinds of fights I enjoyed—where skill, not brute force, determined the victor.

A voice interrupted my thoughts.

"How about a wager?" Long Xieren's tone carried an easy amusement.

Pan Xia didn't even glance his way before responding, "There's no need. Jia Yun will win."

Long Xieren chuckled, rubbing his chin. "Such confidence… or is it mere favoritism?"

Pan Xia let out a slow sigh, fanning himself lazily. "Jia Yun stands at the Second Realm, Seventh Star. And Fan Shi?" He turned his gaze toward Chang Fan, arching a brow.

Chang Fan hesitated before clearing his throat. "Second Realm, Fourth Star… but she cultivates the path of consciousness—"

Pan Xia cut him off with a dismissive wave. "Even that Lu Gao brat from the Lu Clan surpasses her in cultivation. And the so-called Seven Grand Clans—" he scoffed, shaking his head. "Powerful backing, perhaps, but their foundations are shallow compared to our venerable sects. What is the Isolation Path Sect thinking, wasting effort on someone like her?"

I glanced at Chang Fan, noting the subtle tension in his jaw. He wasn't in a position to refute Pan Xia outright, not without inviting trouble. But I saw what this was really about—Pan Xia wasn't just casting doubt on Fan Shi's chances. He was taking a jab at Lei Fen's absence, questioning the wisdom of whoever had chosen to send Fan Shi into this match.

Sect politics were exhausting.

"Well," I said, stretching lazily as I glanced toward the fight. "I wouldn't count Fan Shi out just yet." There was something undeniably satisfying about rooting for the underdog.

Pan Xia's fan stilled mid-motion. "Oh?"

"She fights with unconventional methods," I mused, watching as Fan Shi subtly shifted her footing, as if laying the groundwork for something unseen. "I mean… chains are an odd choice of weapon. Still you don't make it to the quarterfinals without a few tricks up your sleeve."

Long Xieren grinned. "Are you saying you'd wager on the Isolation Path Sect's disciple, Daoist Da Wei?"

I shrugged. "I'm saying underestimating her might be a poor bet."

Pan Xia chuckled. "How diplomatic."

It wasn't diplomacy—I just liked upsets.

Fan Shi's chains lashed out in a deadly arc, but her opponent was already gone. Or so it seemed.

Illusions of Jia Yun flickered into existence, surrounding Fan Shi from all angles. They moved with ghostly elegance, their robes fluttering as they circled, silent as drifting phantoms. A vexing technique, reminiscent of the Doppelganger arts—difficult to fight against, even harder to predict.

Fan Shi wasted no time. With a flick of her wrists, she unlinked her chains, sending them sweeping outward in a ruthless wide-area attack. The links tore through the illusions, shattering them like ripples on water—but for every one that vanished, two more seemed to take its place.

Jia Yun's strategy was clear. She would grind Fan Shi down, maintaining an untouchable presence while forcing her opponent to exhaust herself. If Fan Shi couldn't adapt, she'd be buried beneath an endless tide of illusions.

Pan Xia clicked his tongue. "Tsk, tsk… If she continues like this…" He trailed off, letting the implication linger.

I glanced at Chang Fan. His expression remained polite, but tension lined his jaw, betraying his inner turmoil.

Alright. Conclusion reached, Pan Xia was a jerk.

Leaning toward Chang Fan, I murmured, "This is the quarterfinals, right? But from what I heard, there are only four contenders left. Shouldn't this already be the semifinals?"

Chang Fan shook his head slightly. "Ah, the quarterfinals require each contender to duel all the others to gauge their strength. Only after that will the semifinals begin—a two-on-two match between the four finalists."

He brightened a little, pleased to be helpful. Good for you, man.

I'd expected something more straightforward, but this wasn't too complicated either. A round-robin with a twist.

Long Xieren, who had clearly been eavesdropping, chuckled. "Are there tournaments where you come from, Daoist Da Wei?"

Tournaments?

From Earth? Not really, unless you counted sports or esports.

From LLO? Plenty. PvP tournaments were a daily occurrence. Some were official, others were underground—fights for rare items, money, or just pride.

I shrugged. "There are… Sometimes for treasure, sometimes for fame, or—" I hesitated, shuddering slightly as an old memory surfaced. "—to prove a point."

Long Xieren raised an eyebrow. "A point?"

I sighed. "Let's just say I knew a fellow Daoist who took things too seriously."

I could still picture the guy, standing atop a burning battlefield, declaring his conquest over the mortal realm. He'd insisted on roleplaying as a Demon Lord, even forming a cult-like following in-game.

A mage who'd watched too much anime, probably.

Last I heard, he got permanently banned for 'disturbing the game's balance.' I hoped he was in a better place now—maybe terrorizing NPCs in another world.

Shaking off the memory, I turned my attention back to the fight.

Fan Shi flicked her wrist, sending bolts of grayish starlight streaking toward Jia Yun. They cut through the air like silent arrows, their muted glow eerie against the bright arena.

I leaned forward. That technique looked suspiciously like something from the Psymancer Path in Lost Legends Online.

Jia Yun reacted instantly. With a flick of her fans, she conjured wind blades—razor-sharp crescents that shot forward, slicing through the air to intercept the incoming projectiles. The impact sent out bursts of displaced wind… yet the starlight bolts remained completely unaffected.

Oh no.

I hoped I was imagining things, but Fan Shi proved me wrong, following up with a sequence I knew all too well.

The psychic bolts struck Jia Yun directly.

Nothing happened.

Or at least, that's what it looked like to the untrained eye.

Jia Yun hesitated, no doubt puzzled by the harmless impact. That brief moment of confusion was all Fan Shi needed. She surged forward, chains lashing out—only this time, they shimmered with that same grayish hue.

My eye twitched.

That was Mind Over Matter.

A technique that converted physical attacks into psychic and magical damage. A signature skill of hybrid spellblade builds—Magic Knights, basically.

And psychic damage? It had a 20% to 30% chance to stun, depending on the user's mastery. With the stacking debuffs from Psychic Bolt, that probability increased by at least another 10%. Worse still, the damage wouldn't just strike Jia Yun's body—it would seep into her qi reserves.

Gosh… I was such a nerd.

It helped that I had a personal vendetta against Magic Knight builds.

The ones who thought they were clever for min-maxing magic and melee to become unstoppable tanks or DPS. Annoying to fight. Smug about their builds. And worst of all, they always acted like they'd invented the concept.

Ironically, those same players would accuse Paladins like me of moonlighting as Magic Knights.

I wasn't sure whether to be impressed or irritated that Fan Shi had pulled it off—combining techniques that should have been unique to Lost Legends Online. For a brief moment, she dominated the fight.

But Jia Yun wasn't finished.

Just as the chains closed in, her eyes glowed an icy blue.

The air froze.

With a single flick of her fan, walls of frost materialized in an instant, blocking the incoming chains. Then, in the same motion, Jia Yun transformed the walls into jagged ice spires—deadly, spear-like formations lunging straight for Fan Shi.

Fan Shi barely flickered out of the way, her movement technique carrying her just beyond their reach.

Pan Xia, all too proud of himself, remarked, "See? That's the difference in realms."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Yeah, sure, buddy. Keep flexing.

But despite appearances, I wasn't convinced this match was over.

Something about Fan Shi's fighting style gnawed at me.

The way she executed that combo… the way she weaved psychic and physical attacks together… it was too familiar.

Was she like me?

A transmigrator?

Did she come from the game?

A trickle of unease ran down my spine. If she were a fellow player, she would've tried confirming it by now. We all knew to check for allies in unfamiliar settings. Yet, she had never approached me, never shown any sign of recognition.

And she'd been watching me for a while.

She was there when I used Divine Word: Life on Gu Jie, back before I left her in Lei Fen's care. Any experienced Lost Legends Online player would have recognized that skill at a glance.

Yet… nothing.

No reaction. No acknowledgment.

I frowned. Maybe she was an NPC?

No.

That didn't explain anything.

I sighed, running through the possibilities. If she was a fellow player, there was only one way to know for sure.

A test.

I had never tried this before.

In Lost Legends Online, there was a game mechanic that let you send messages across distances—kind of like Voice Chat. It wasn't like the mental transmission techniques of this world, but functionally, it was close enough.

I imagined the connection forming.

And then, I spoke.

"Fan Shi."

To my complete and utter shock—she reacted.

"Huh?"

Oh. Oh crap.

It worked.

What did it mean? Was she from… LLO too? No… I could be mistaken…

I swallowed my surprise, forcing my thoughts to stay measured. If she really was a transmigrator, I needed her to expose herself first.

I kept my tone even, as if this was nothing out of the ordinary.

"This is me, David."

A pause.

Was she surprised? Unimpressed? Hard to tell. But she wasn't distracted—Jia Yun's attacks came fast, yet Fan Shi handled them with a steady, practiced grace.

It made sense. Mind Enlightenment cultivators processed thoughts faster than normal. The problem? Jia Yun could do the same.

Lying was bad. Shameful. But, again… I was dying of curiosity.

So I took the risk.

Keeping my tone casual, I continued:

"Elder Long Xieren suggested a bet between Sects. What do you think?"

Fan Shi's response was immediate.

"I don't care."

…Wow.

Pretty brazen.

If she was a fellow player, she either didn't trust me or didn't care to reveal herself. And if she wasn't a player?

Then I just confirmed that, somehow, some way, game mechanics worked on her.

That was a problem.

A mystery.

And I hated loose ends.

My gaze flicked to Pan Xia, who idly waved his fan, looking utterly bored—as if this match was just a formality.

Fine. If I couldn't get answers one way, I'd get them another.

I turned to him and said, "How about we talk about that bet?" Keeping my tone light, I added, "I feel like betting on an underdog."

More than just a casual wager, I needed to see more.

Did Fan Shi have more Mage-class abilities?

In Lost Legends Online, Mages had an infuriating number of skill paths. Even at low levels, they had at least four to a dozen spells. And if Fan Shi was anything like those players…

I wanted to know.

Pan Xia barely spared me a glance.

"It is a waste of time."

I smirked. Typical.

Without a word, I reached into my Item Box and retrieved a Phoenix Feather—an exquisite plume shimmering with gold and red hues, pulsing faintly with latent energy.

The moment I pulled it out, I knew I had their attention.

Phoenix Feathers weren't just rare. They were legendary.

At least, here.

I had plenty stacked away, courtesy of my old habit of hoarding high-value loot. I had planned to sell them before I found myself in this world.

And they were only one type of treasure in my collection.

Of course, I couldn't afford to show more than this. Flashing one treasure was intriguing. Flashing many? That was how you got robbed, assassinated, or worse—dragged into sect politics.

I twirled the feather between my fingers, letting it catch the light.

"What do you think about it?"

Silence.

Ren Jin and Long Xieren stiffened, their eyes locked onto the feather as if watching a dragon's egg hatch before them.

Pan Xia hid his reaction well, his face masked behind his fan—but his fingers trembled. Just a little.

Only Chang Fan looked uneasy, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

Pan Xia finally spoke.

"What's the bet?"

I leaned back, smirking. "I will bet that Fan Shi wins."

A moment passed.

Then, Pan Xia reached into his robes and pulled out a small, black seed wreathed in eerie blue flames.

"This is a Qi Fire Seed—Nether Ghost Flames," he said, his voice carrying a hint of pride. "It can refine and enchant mysterious metals. I'll wager it on Jia Yun's victory."

The blue flames flickered, casting long shadows against his pale fingers.

Not bad.

Long Xieren chuckled, withdrawing a dark, metallic slab that pulsed with barely contained heat.

"This is Molten Black Steel, refined from the burning blood of a Spiritual Beast," he said smoothly. "Since I suggested this bet, you don't mind me joining, do you?"

He smirked.

"I'll wager this—on Jia Yun winning in the next fifteen minutes."

Pan Xia frowned.

"I am not willing to share the rewards," he said coolly. "I'll bet that Jia Yun wins in the next ten minutes."

He tapped his fan against his palm.

"The one closest to their bet takes all."

Before I could respond, Ren Jin reached into his sleeve and placed a delicate purple flower on the floating table between us. A faintly sweet scent drifted through the air.

"This is True Royal Divine," he announced. "A spiritual flower capable of temporarily raising one's cultivation by an entire realm. If refined into a pill, it can even grant a permanent breakthrough—below the Sixth Stage, of course. It's also a rare ingredient for restoring lost cultivation or empowering cultivators in dire moments."

The air grew heavy with expectation.

Then, Ren Jin smirked.

"I bet this all ends in a tie."

A tie?

I narrowed my eyes.

Did he know something I didn't?

No—he had the referee in his payroll.

Ren Jin wouldn't cheat, right?

…Hopefully.

Below, Fan Shi and Jia Yun clashed in a whirlwind of motion. Speed, precision, raw power.

It was time for some deception.

I reached out, focusing on Fan Shi from a distance. I activated Voice Chat.

"Fan Shi."

She flinched—mid-dodge. Still unused to it.

Good. That meant she wasn't immune to surprise.

I kept my voice calm.

"The Sect has made a bet with the other Sects and City Governor Ren Jin."

A beat.

"If you win, you get to pick one treasure from the spoils."

A pause.

Then—ever so subtly—Fan Shi smiled.

That ought to motivate her.

Hey, I am a Paladin, but I could be scrupulous too.

026 Unreasonably Foxy

Fan Shi's breath came ragged. Her body ached, her limbs burned, and though the gap between her and Jia Yun was only three stars, it felt as though she were striking an iron wall with bare fists.

Each time her chains lashed out, they met only ice—walls rising in an instant, absorbing the impact before twisting into jagged spikes that hurtled toward her. She dodged, but her movements grew sluggish, exhaustion weighing her down like lead.

And then there were the illusions.

Born from the swirling mist of Jia Yun's icy domain, specters flickered in and out of existence, multiplying with every failed strike. Fan Shi knew they weren't real, but that knowledge did nothing to still her hands. The moment she cut one down, two more took its place, like a hydra that could never be slain.

Her consciousness pulsed as she searched for the real Jia Yun. There—hidden among the fakes, a flicker of killing intent. She tensed, ready to strike.

But before she could act, a fresh wave of ice daggers streaked toward her.

She twisted aside, barely avoiding them.

She was losing.

Then a voice echoed in her mind. Not Jia Yun's. Not her own.

A familiar voice—one she had never quite trusted.

"The Sect has placed a wager with the other sects and City Governor Ren Jin," Da Wei's voice was calm, almost casual. "If you win this match, you may claim one treasure from the spoils."

Fan Shi staggered mid-step.

Da Wei. She had always been wary of him—not just for his unpredictability, but because her Mind's Eye warned her of his presence. Whenever she observed him, an instinctive fear clawed at her, treating him as an insurmountable threat.

But now, that fear faded, if only for a moment.

"What treasures?" she asked, cautious.

"Qi Fire Seed Nether Ghost Flames, Molten Black Steel, and True Royal Divine."

Her gaze sharpened.

She prided herself on her knowledge, yet these names were unfamiliar. Still, she could guess their worth.

A Qi Fire Seed—likely a rare fire core, invaluable for alchemy or artifact refinement. Molten Black Steel—undoubtedly a divine forging material, capable of crafting top-grade weapons.

But True Royal Divine?

"What does the True Royal Divine do?"

"If eaten raw, it will temporarily raise your cultivation by an entire realm. If properly refined, it grants a permanent breakthrough—but only for those below the Sixth Realm."

Fan Shi's heart pounded.

A treasure that could directly elevate one's cultivation? If true, then even a cultivator at the Fifth Realm could ascend in a single step. Fan Shi knew the chances of claiming it for herself were slim. But if the sect won, they would have to reward her.

With that, she could reach the Third Realm far sooner than she had ever hoped.

"I want it," she murmured.

The words left her lips before she even realized.

A sudden gust of cold reminded Fan Shi—she was still in battle. Jia Yun had not paused her assault just because she was lost in thought.

Fan Shi exhaled sharply. She had to win.

Her fingers curled, tightening around the hidden chains within her sleeves. She took a slow breath, steadying the storm in her mind.

The sect had chosen to bet on her.

The thought stirred something deep inside—pride, perhaps. But more than that, an unbearable weight settled upon her shoulders.

It was too much.

She remembered the day she found the tome.

A dusty, unassuming book, buried among the forgotten relics of an old ruin. She had been a child—too curious, too reckless. She remembered opening its pages, the ink shimmering, the paper dissolving into motes of light.

And then, the pull.

A flood of knowledge, searing into her mind like a brand.

She remembered dying.

Or rather, something inside her had died that day.

She was no longer the same.

She had magic. Magic she should not have.

She hid. She feared. She buried her power beneath layers of pretense, dreading what would happen if anyone saw.

But secrets had a way of slipping through the cracks.

One day, someone saw.

One day, they pointed.

One day, they screamed.

Demon.

She ran.

Through villages, through forests, through the endless whispers of fear and hatred. Until, at last, she met him.

The Sect Master of the Isolation Path.

He looked at her—not with fear, not with anger, but understanding.

And then, he made an offer.

A place in the sect. A place to belong. A path to walk.

Now, she stood in this arena, bearing the weight of that choice.

She would not lose.

"I will not lose." Fan Shi's voice was calm, yet resolute.

Jia Yun scoffed. The air around her grew colder, her relaxed stance shifting at last. No doubt, she had received orders from her elders. The gambling happening above was pressuring her to end this match quickly.

Fan Shi's gaze flickered toward the VIP section.

Her eyes met Da Wei's.

He watched her with an unreadable expression. A challenge, silent but undeniable.

In that instant, ice spikes erupted beneath her.

She leaped.

"I will show you what I've got," she said, the barest hint of a smirk playing on her lips. "So don't blink."

The air was sharp with frost, the ground littered with jagged ice.

Yet Fan Shi danced.

Mind's Eye pulsed in her consciousness, reading every shift, every attack before it came.

Force Step sent her gliding across the battlefield, her movements erratic, unpredictable.

But against Jia Yun, it wasn't enough.

So she layered it.

Drifting Willow.

The signature movement art of her sect.

She twisted and turned, light as a drifting leaf, weaving through the storm of ice with unnatural grace. Paired with Force Step, she seemed almost weightless, as if she belonged in the air.

Behind her, her chains slithered like serpents, gaining momentum with every step.

And then, she struck.

Fan Shi's breath was slow and steady. Her body ached, her limbs screamed in protest, but her mind remained clear.

She had long stopped trying to comprehend the knowledge seared into her soul that day.

The mysterious tome from her youth… unreadable, its intent unknowable. Yet the moment she absorbed it, understanding had been forced upon her.

Psymancy Path of the Mage's Legacy.

She still did not fully grasp its meaning. But she knew what it could do.

Spells that touched the mind.

Techniques that bent reality through sheer force of will.

A power that teetered on the edge of heresy.

Her chains struck true.

Jia Yun's fans whipped up a howling tempest of ice, the air itself crystallizing into a frigid storm.

But the chains did not stop.

They tore through ice, through wind, through every defense she raised.

Thin red lines bloomed across Jia Yun's skin, the price of using her own bladed winds as a shield.

Yet she endured.

Until she hesitated.

Until her hands stilled.

Her brows furrowed, confusion flickering across her face as she stared at the chains embedded in her arms.

She gritted her teeth, Qi surging as she tried to rip them free.

Nothing.

Ice gathered around them, trying to freeze and shatter the metal.

Nothing.

Wind blades slashed, trying to sever their hold.

Nothing.

Jia Yun's breath hitched. "What is this?"

Fan Shi tilted her head, watching her struggle.

"Aren't you curious what those Psychic Bolts I threw at you earlier do?"

Jia Yun's head snapped up. "What?"

Fan Shi smiled.

The bolts themselves had been harmless.

But they had marked Jia Yun's soul.

And now, with Mind Over Matter reinforcing her chains, every strike tore deeper, every impact bypassed her defenses, every struggle became futile.

But that wasn't the worst part.

Fan Shi's grip tightened. Her Qi pulsed.

She whispered, "Don't worry. You won't die."

And then, she pulled.

"Soul Rend."

Jia Yun's scream shattered the silence.

It was a sensation beyond agony—her very soul ripped from its vessel, wrenched into the air like a phantom exposed to daylight.

Gasps rang through the stands as spectators bore witness to the chilling sight—Jia Yun's body standing rigid while her translucent form writhed above, clawing at something unseen, desperate to return.

And then—

The Psychic Marks embedded within her erupted all at once.

Jia Yun screamed.

Her voice, sharp and unrestrained, echoed across the arena.

Her soul trembled. Her body convulsed.

She reached out—so close, so close—

Fan Shi let go.

Jia Yun's soul snapped back into her body.

Relief barely had time to register—

Fan Shi was already there.

A blur of Force Step and Drifting Willow, her movement an art of deception and fluidity.

Chains coiled.

Arms bound.

And then—

A haymaker.

It connected.

Fan Shi had never trained in grand offensive techniques. No palm strikes that could split mountains, no sword arts that could cleave rivers.

She was a master of movement. Of stealth. Of refinement.

Her master had once told her: "Your techniques are already bizarre enough. Build your foundation first. When the time comes, your strength will follow."

So she had listened.

Years spent perfecting footwork, evasion, deception.

And now, against an opponent like Jia Yun—

She had but one answer.

A single, violent, instinctive punch.

Jia Yun barely reacted in time.

A flick of her fans—mist and wind exploded around her.

She reappeared a short distance away, doubled over, coughing violently. A thin line of blood traced down her lips. 

She wiped her mouth.

Then, she froze.

The elegant, aloof mask she wore cracked.

Her ice-cold beauty melted—replaced by something raw.

Seething. Monstrous. Rage.

Jia Yun's lips curled. Her eyes burned as she froze the little blood droplet. The acting referee remained quiet at the sight of blood, deciding not to declare her defeat, which probably had something to do with the bets or that something so minor didn't warrant such a decision with finality.

"You dare hit my beautiful face?"

Her voice trembled—not with pain, but unrestrained emotion.

Then—

A sharp turn of her head.

Her gaze locked onto the VIP section above.

Fan Shi followed her stare. Her stomach twisted.

Jia Yun's expression shifted. The rage remained, but it twisted into something else—something predatory.

She exhaled.

And whispered:

"Understood, Elder."

A cold wind swept the arena.

Mist curled at her feet.

A storm gathered overhead.

And then—

"Bloodline Art: Nine-Tailed Fox Ascendance."

Blue flames erupted, coiling with icy mist and rolling clouds.

Her pupils stretched into slits.

Her once-human ears elongated—white fur covering their tips.

Three fox tails unfurled behind her.

The air thickened. The pressure spiked.

Fan Shi's pulse pounded.

And then—

A voice rang in her ear.

"What are you waiting for?! Don't let her transform! Attack her!"

That weird stranger—Da Wei.

"Fuck, they're cheating!"

Fan Shi didn't fully understand what he meant.

But she understood the urgency.

She moved.

With a flick of her wrist, her chains unlinked and shot forward like projectiles.

They streaked toward Jia Yun—

Only to waver.

A breeze. A simple, unnatural breeze. The chains were knocked off course, their path bending mid-air.

The mist parted.

Jia Yun stepped forward—transformed.

A woman with fox ears. Three tails. And an aura of unnatural cold.

Da Wei's voice came again. This time, filled with deep regret.

"This is more than just being a little foxy…"

Fan Shi exhaled sharply, muttering under her breath.

"You are not helping."

The energy pouring from Jia Yun was oppressive.

This wasn't a minor boost.

This wasn't a clever trick.

Her cultivation had leapt an entire realm.

Will Reinforcement Realm.

First Star.

Mid-Stage.

Fan Shi's fists clenched.

"This is just unreasonable."

Fan Shi barely dodged in time.

The moment her foot touched the ground, an explosion of frost erupted beneath her. Ice lanced up, jagged spikes aiming to impale her. She twisted mid-air, a desperate Force Step carrying her sideways—

Too slow.

A spear of ice ripped through her sleeve, slicing into her forearm. She bit down a cry, landing hard and rolling across the frozen ground.

The pain barely registered. She didn't have the luxury to dwell on it.

Jia Yun was stomping her.

The fox-eared woman stood amidst swirling mist and biting cold, her three tails flicking lazily behind her. The difference in power was palpable. Her Qi surged, no longer refined and delicate—it was suffocating.

A flick of Jia Yun's fan.

A freezing gale howled forward, razor-sharp and filled with shards of ice.

Fan Shi jumped—no, she tried to.

Her legs locked mid-movement.

The frost had crept up without her noticing, freezing her feet to the ground.

Her heart lurched.

Then the wind hit her.

Ice slashed across her arms and shoulders as she threw them up in defense. A sharp, burning cold crawled into her veins, numbing her limbs instantly. She stumbled back, gasping, fingers trembling.

Jia Yun tilted her head, her expression filled with amusement.

"You're quick," she mused. "But not quick enough."

Fan Shi clenched her teeth. The frost clinging to her legs shattered as she forced her Qi through her meridians, her body heating up just enough to break free.

She had no openings. She had no way to strike back.

Jia Yun was too strong.

Her chains weren't working. Her movements weren't enough. Her Psymancy was landing but not sticking—Jia Yun's cultivation had pushed past whatever advantage she had before.

It was hopeless.

She refused to accept that.

Jia Yun sighed. "You're still standing? Fine, then—"

She raised her fans—

A roar of wind followed, the mist surging.

"Ice Lotus Descent."

The temperature plunged.

Glistening lotus petals, sculpted from pure ice, materialized above them, hundreds—thousands—suspended in the air like falling snowflakes.

A warning flared in Fan Shi's instincts.

This wasn't an attack. This was a finishing move.

Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.

Then—

The petals fell.

Fan Shi moved.

She twisted, darting forward, chains lashing out. If she could reach Jia Yun—

A petal grazed her shoulder.

Her entire left side went numb.

Another petal brushed past her leg—she couldn't feel her foot.

One more, and she was done.

Jia Yun smiled, her slitted pupils narrowing. "You should've stayed down, little girl."

Fan Shi forced her body to move, Qi flooding her limbs, pushing past the numbing cold.

"I am not… a little… girl…"

Frosty breath escaped her lips, her eyes narrowing into dangerous slits.

027 Divine Possession

Jia Yun was winning.

Not just by a small margin—she was utterly overwhelming Fan Shi.

She was faster. Stronger.

Her three tails lashed through the air, her movements fluid as drifting mist, yet sharp as honed steel. With every flick of her wrist, her fans sent out slicing arcs of wind and shards of ice, each strike a seamless blend of elegance and lethality.

Fan Shi barely evaded each assault, her steps growing more frantic, her breath coming faster. She was struggling.

And that infuriated me.

I activated Voice Chat.

"Sidestep left, then pivot—she's targeting your legs."

Fan Shi obeyed without hesitation, slipping past a crescent arc of wind that would have swept her footing from under her.

"Jump—now!"

She leaped an instant before an ice spear burst from the ground beneath her.

I exhaled, my mind sharpening.

This wasn't like a simple sparring match. Back in Lost Legends Online, reading an opponent's attack pattern like this would have been nearly impossible. But here—where I could perceive everything at a superhuman capacity, where every fluctuation and shift sang a silent warning—I saw more than just movements.

I saw currents.

I saw intent.

I saw the flow of battle before it even unfolded.

In LLO, Divine Sense had been nothing more than a decorative skill, its description filled with flowery phrases about insight and foresight. A passive effect with no real use, except for marking hostiles in the mini map.

But here?

Here, as I refined my perception—tracing the unseen tides of energy, the tremors of power before they erupted—it had become something real.

And what I sensed from Pan Xia made me wary.

I did not confront him. Not yet.

Instead, I focused.

There was a link. A thin, veiled thread of energy connecting him to Jia Yun.

Her technique—this Bloodline Art—either did not entirely belong to her, or it required another's hand to wield.

Could I be mistaken? Perhaps.

But the energy Pan Xia was feeding her was neither Qi nor Mana.

It was something else. Something foreign. Something I did not yet understand.

I knew this was my doing.

My volunteering on the bet, escalated this.

I had used this wager for my own ends, turning it into a test for Fan Shi. And now, because of that, she was being forced into a corner by Jia Yun and Elder Pan Xia's hidden trump card.

Could I call it unfair? Perhaps. But whether Jia Yun's technique was truly against the rules was another matter entirely.

I sighed.

At the very least, I had to own up to my mistake—and make the most of this mess.

In Lost Legends Online, there were Ultimate Skills that players could never use—even if they met the requirements.

Not because they lacked proficiency.

Not because their stats were insufficient.

But because, sometimes, just sometimes, these skills demanded an energy cost beyond a player's natural limits. Unless they completed the right quests and prerequisites, those abilities remained forever out of reach.

Was this one of those cases?

Before I could ponder further, I caught Pan Xia watching me.

An amused smile played on his lips.

"Is there a problem, Senior Da?" he asked smoothly. "If looks could kill, I would have died ten times over."

I rolled my shoulders. "That's an exaggeration."

But my eyes never left him.

"That is a peculiar technique, though."

His expression remained unchanged, but I caught it—a flicker in his gaze.

A brief flinch.

He masked it well.

Don't worry, Pan Xia. I wasn't planning to call you out.

Yet.

Or perhaps never—because, truth be told, I was feeling particularly vindictive today.

He played along, feigning ignorance.

"You must be referring to the battle below," he said, gesturing toward the fight. "Bloodline Arts are rare, after all. The Nine-Tailed Fox Ascendance is a Secret Art—one that allows its wielder to borrow power from an Immortal Beast."

Ah.

So it was akin to a Paladin or Priest summoning a deity into their vessel.

Interesting.

And terribly convenient.

Back in LLO, I had never pledged myself to a god.

No patrons. No divine blessings. No celestial sponsors.

Which meant no Divine Descent—the ultimate ability of a Paladin.

And because of that, my damage potential had always suffered.

For a good season or two, I was stuck at the bottom of the rankings.

Grinding skill points. Watching everyone else skyrocket with their Divine Descent builds.

I could've reset my skills. Rerolled a new character. Taken the easy way out.

But I didn't.

Why?

Because I was waiting.

Patiently.

I had my eyes set on an upcoming class update for Paladins—one that would let me play exactly how I wanted to play.

You see, Lost Legends Online wasn't exactly kind to old players. Resetting skill points was more painful than just deleting your character and starting fresh. Most players did just that. But me? I endured.

And then the update finally arrived.

The Divine Path of the Paladin Legacy.

With it came a skill no one expected to be as utterly broken as it was.

A skill called Divine Possession.

At first, no one cared.

A skill that halved your stats in exchange for possessing another character—whether it was a Player, NPC, or even a random mob?

Yeah. Hard pass.

And then the devs made it worse.

If you learned Divine Possession, you were locked out of Divine Descent forever. No refunds. No take-backs. You were making a deal with the worst kind of devil. It was a bad game design.

And what did you get in return?

A possessed target buffed with half your stats. Shared control.

Which meant the other guy could resist while you were trying to use them.

Most players who tried it rage-quit on the spot.

But me?

I saw potential.

I took it into PvP.

I used it on my opponents.

And then—I attacked myself like a lunatic.

Because guess what?

Friendly fire was real.

And I had three resurrection ultimates.

So even if they self-destructed, I'd just come back.

And the worst part?

I'd spam their skills like a madman—burning all their mana, wasting their cooldowns, making their movements look like a drunk toddler was at the keyboard.

If I could've burned Ultimate Skills, it would've been outright busted. But even without that, it was enough.

It was warped.

It was effective.

And best of all?

No one could adapt.

Eventually, word spread.

More Paladins started copying my strategy.

Possession became the strongest crowd-control skill in the game.

Wasting skills became the ultimate troll move.

For a while, Paladins were meta.

And then—because the universe refuses to let me have nice things—the devs nerfed it into the ground.

Now, whenever a Paladin used Divine Possession, their real body stayed behind.

Vulnerable. Unmoving. Completely defenseless. And what happened next?

Everyone who had ever been salty about Paladins finally got their revenge.

For weeks, Paladins got deleted the moment they tried to possess someone.

Spam every ultimate on them? Yes.

Blow them up with overkill damage? Absolutely.

Make their existence a living hell? Without question.

So why was I rambling about all this?

Well…

Because I was about to screw someone over with Divine Possession.

In this situation, what was the best part about my signature move?

It had zero tells.

No glowing sigils. No flashy effects. No dramatic wind swirling around my feet.

Just a clean, silent transfer.

And right now, I was tempted.

I could use it on Jia Yun and make her lose in the dumbest way possible. The sheer schadenfreude of watching her humiliate herself? Enticing.

Or I could use it on Fan Shi—maximize her skill usage, abuse my stats, and show these cheating bastards who was really in charge.

But I was an adult.

And there was no need for anyone to lose face here.

Maybe—just maybe—this whole thing could be solved with… talking.

I smiled. "As expected of the Cloud Mist Sect. Truly a formidable force."

Pan Xia huffed and turned away.

Divine Possession.

A sharp dip in my mana. A shift in my senses.

Suddenly, I was seeing myself from a third-person perspective—through Pan Xia's eyes.

Then the shift continued, pulling me deeper.

I entered first-person perspective.

I blinked.

I was no longer in my own body.

Pan Xia's mind tried to fight back, but I crushed his will with the sheer gap in our stats. Normally, this wouldn't have been possible in Lost Legends Online—not unless I was vastly stronger.

Which, apparently, I was.

Even with my stats halved, I still outclassed this guy.

I subtly adjusted Pan Xia's fan, angling it to cover my face while stealing a glance at my real body.

And I saw… me.

Standing there.

Looking back.

Smiling.

Huh?

Weird.

Shouldn't my real body be motionless?

Then the other me—my original body—lifted a hand.

And reached out to me through Voice Chat.

'…Greetings, My Lord.'

The voice was mechanical.

'My name is David_69, your Holy Spirit.'

…

What the fuck?!

I almost lost composure right then and there.

I had too many questions.

Too many concerns.

But now wasn't the time.

I shoved the growing pile of what the fucks to the back of my mind and addressed 69 through Voice Chat.

"We will talk another time. Protect us for now, and don't act too suspiciously. More importantly, continue guiding Fan Shi in her fight. If you can't, prioritize keeping her from getting seriously injured."

If this Holy Spirit had my stats, then surely he could compute the optimal battle strategy for her, right?

There was a brief pause.

Then 69 replied—

'I understand, My Lord.'

I exhaled.

I could only pray this dude wouldn't suddenly betray me by throwing himself off the VIP balcony or something.

That would be… ugh.

"You look worried, Daoist Pan."

Long Xieren's voice broke through my thoughts.

I ignored him.

I didn't have much in the way of acting skills, but… well, here goes nothing.

I couldn't exactly summon tears on command, but surely, I could at least pretend to be a brooding sage—lost in contemplation of the vast mysteries of the world, not to be disturbed.

With a slow, measured exhale, I lowered my gaze and angled my fan slightly, casting a shadow over my face.Mysterious. Enigmatic. Tragic.

If anyone looked at me now, they'd think I was contemplating the weight of destiny itself.

But in reality?

I tapped into Voice Chat.

Inside Pan Xia's head.

"What's happening?! What did you do to me?! Who are you?!"

His panic hit me like a flood.

I took my time before responding, speaking with deliberate slowness—measured, patient. Like a celestial master gazing down upon the tribulations of a mere mortal struggling to comprehend the vastness of the heavens.

"Calm yourself, Daoist Pan," I murmured.

"Calm myself?! CALM MYSELF?! I CAN'T MOVE! I CAN'T USE MY QI! I CAN'T—"

"Shhh."

"DON'T 'SHHH' ME—"

"Shhhhhh."

That shut him up.

Good.

I kept my voice as tranquil as a still lake.

"Now, listen well. What you are experiencing… is but a mere glimpse of the immensity of heaven and earth."

"What does that even mean?! Who are you?!"

I let out a soft chuckle. Sage-like. Knowing. Infinitely patient.

"Who am I? Ah… That is a question many have asked. Few have received an answer."

"ANSWER ME, DAMN YOU!"

"Daoist Pan, do you truly believe that the heavens revolve around you? That your struggles are unique? That you are beyond the reach of fate?"

"What are you—"

"Consider the sky above."

I sighed wistfully.

"It does not mourn when a storm is born, nor does it celebrate when the sun shines once more. It simply is—immovable, untouchable, unshaken by mortal concerns. The same is true of the great Dao."

Silence.

A long, stunned silence.

It was eighth-grader syndrome bullshit. Or maybe some dialogue I'd heard in a cutscene somewhere…

But meh.

I could practically hear the gears in his head grinding together, trying to decipher my words.

"What… what do you want from me?"

"Want?"

I exhaled, as though burdened by the weight of existence itself.

"Ah, Daoist Pan… You assume much."

Silence again.

Then, cautiously—

"Then why are you… in my mind?"

"Ah."

I sighed, wistful and distant.

"Why does the wind blow? Why do the stars shine? Why does the river flow ceaselessly toward the sea?"

"THAT DOESN'T ANSWER ANYTHING!"

"Doesn't it?"

Another silence.

I could feel it now—the frustration. The despair. The helplessness.

Pan Xia was grasping for understanding—trying to ground himself in reality… only to realize the ground had been ripped out from under him.

Good.

Let him stew. Let him question. Let him doubt.

I smiled faintly, outwardly maintaining my brooding sage act as I continued my silent monologue inside his mind.

This was getting fun.

Too fun.

Meanwhile, Fan Shi was barely hanging on.

Jia Yun's rampage had reached its peak—her movements were sharp, her attacks relentless, her power overwhelming.

Every time Fan Shi dodged, it was by a hair's breadth. Every counterattack was met with force several times greater.

Yet, despite all that, Fan Shi endured.

Because 69 was far more capable than I'd given him credit for.

I had fought opponents twenty levels above me before—barely managing to eke out a victory.

But that was with items. With buffs, with potions, with some ridiculous game-breaking exploits that let me cheat the numbers.

This?

This was just raw skill.

And it was awesome.

I let out a quiet breath, keeping my posture still and composed—or rather, keeping Pan Xia's posture still and composed.

My mind, however, was racing.

This was the first time I had seen Divine Possession work like this in real life.

If I had known it would be this effective, I would have used it sooner.

I had wanted to test it on Jiang Zhen, but he had forfeited too quickly.

No matter.

I turned Pan Xia's head, making sure his gaze locked onto my real body, sitting across the way.

Inside his mind, Pan Xia—or rather, the part of him still aware that something was wrong—was losing his mind.

"RELEASE ME! I AM A GRAND ELDER OF THE CLOUD MIST—"

"Shh."

I silenced him through Voice Chat, my voice calm.

"Pan Xia," I continued, "I don't like cheaters. I don't like bullies. And I especially don't like people who think they are above being fair."

Quite ironic, considering where I was sanding.

Pan Xia's panic sharpened into pure terror.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" he tried to lie.

"You're not stupid. You know exactly what I'm talking about."

He couldn't respond.

I let the silence drag. Let him stew in it.

"This will be my only warning to you. While your reputation remains intact, I suggest you no longer stray from the righteous path."

And with a thought—

Snap.

I severed the energy connection he had tied to Jia Yun.

Immediately, the transformation below unraveled.

Jia Yun's body convulsed mid-attack. Her nine-tailed fox form flickered, the blue flames and icy mist dissipating in an instant.

Her expression twisted—first in confusion, then horror.

Then, her body gave out.

With a dull thud, Jia Yun collapsed onto the arena floor, unconscious.

Fan Shi stood over her, victorious—but barely.

Her body swayed slightly, her breathing ragged… but she remained on her feet.

And then—

I left Pan Xia's body.

I blinked.

Suddenly, I was back in my own first-person perspective, my hands resting where I had left them.

Across from me, Pan Xia sat frozen.

His face had gone pale.

His lips were slightly parted, as if he wanted to say something—but no words came out.

Instead, he turned his head ever so slightly, glancing around, as if searching for something.

Good.

I had gone to great lengths to save him face.

Hopefully, he heard my warning loud and clear.

But knowing the xianxia genre…

I really couldn't let my guard down.

Chances were, he didn't even know it was me.

If he suspected, he'd never dare try to confirm it or confront me.

If he did, it would probably be with the backing of his Sect— which I doubted he would have.

After all, I basically had the backing of the Isolation Path Sect.

…In name only.

That said, Pan Xia would also need solid evidence of what I just did.

And there was no premise for him making trouble.

No excuse.

Because everything that happened…

Happened in his mind.

028 Healing Hand

It was a mess.

I had not expected it to turn out like this.

Elder Pan Xia did not linger. The instant Jia Yun collapsed, he bolted from his seat—rushing from the VIP section to the arena floor below. His reaction was almost comical in its delay, as if he had only just remembered his duty as an Elder at the last possible moment, panic overriding his initial shock.

I couldn't fault him.

The weight of realization must have struck him like a hammer.

Being hit by Divine Possession probably left him disoriented.

The crowd stirred as he descended, murmurs rippling through the stands like wind over water.

"The Elder of the Cloud Mist Sect is moving!"

"Elder Pan Xia himself has stepped in—"

The whispers swelled as Pan Xia crouched beside Jia Yun, his hands suffused with a faint spiritual radiance as he examined her injuries. His expression twisted—whether from genuine concern or lingering disbelief, I could not tell.

I let my gaze sweep across the audience. Awe, curiosity, unease—all mixed together at the sight of an Elder of one of the Three Major Sects taking personal action.

Strange.

In LLO, healers were never given such reverence.

I turned to Chang Fan. "How are healers regarded in this land?"

Chang Fan blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "Master? Uuh… They are highly respected. But the degree of reverence differs from one cultivation lineage to another."

Interesting.

I turned to Ren Jin. "Lord Ren, what would Elder Pan think if I were to offer my assistance?"

Before he could answer, Long Xieren scoffed. "You would offer a treasure for free to an outsider? What? Heal the lass with an elixir? I never though my fellow Daoist is such a magnanimous man."

I rolled my eyes. "I am a somewhat capable healer. I may know a technique or two."

Ren Jin studied me for a moment before nodding. "Elder Pan would not refuse."

I glanced at Pan Xia again. From the way his fingers pressed down on Jia Yun's meridians with careful precision, I half expected him to start a long-winded explanation about how he had sealed certain pathways, suppressed her internal injuries, and applied some profound first-aid technique.

"What made you think Pan Xia's a healer?" Long Xieren snorted. "The Cloud Mist disciple simply overreached. Had she known her limits, she would not have ended up like this."

So that was a no, then.

A misconception on my part.

Long Xieren, of course, did not have the full picture.

Regardless, I should offer my aid. I bore some responsibility for this outcome, though the fault did not ultimately lie with me.

Down in the arena, medics hurried onto the stage, carefully lifting Jia Yun onto a stretcher while Pan Xia followed in silence. His expression was unreadable—likely still trying to process what had just transpired.

I turned to Ren Jin. "Before I go and offer my aid, surely none of you have forgotten about the bet?"

Ren Jin smiled knowingly and raised a hand. "I accept my defeat with grace." At his signal, an attendant stepped forward, presenting a small container. Inside, carefully separated into compartments, lay three distinct treasures.

Long Xieren smirked. "Congratulations on your victory, fellow Daoist."

I took my time inspecting the spoils—one could never be too cautious with cultivators.

Nether Ghost Flames? Check. A swirling mass of eerie blue fire, flickering ominously within a jade vial.

Molten Black Steel? Check. A dense lump of jet-black metal, radiating faint waves of heat.

True Royal Divine? …Check. A pristine flower sealed in an ornate bottle, its petals shifting in hypnotic patterns.

Satisfied, I pocketed my winnings into my Item Box.

Just as the last of the medics carried Jia Yun away, Enforcer Liang Na's voice rang across the arena.

"The victor—Fan Shi!"

I didn't look back.

Xianxia medbays were nothing like the sterile halls of LLO.

There were no beeping monitors, no antiseptic odors, no harsh fluorescent lights. Instead, the air was thick with the scent of medicinal incense, while glowing talismans fluttered gently on the walls, casting a warm illumination. The room itself was a fusion of wood and jade, the beds carved from spirit-enhancing materials designed to accelerate healing.

Finding Jia Yun took no effort—I simply extended my Divine Sense.

The skill was evolving faster than I had expected, becoming something far more potent than a simple awareness technique. I was beginning to rely on it more than I should.

Jia Yun was the only patient in the facility, lying unconscious in a bed encircled by a formation pulsing with healing energy.

Pan Xia stood at her bedside.

"If it isn't Senior Da," he said without turning. "Have you come to gloat?"

I raised an eyebrow. "I am not so crass."

At last, he turned to face me, his gaze sharp and piercing. "Was it you?"

Ah. No way in hell I was admitting to that.

But he seemed convinced.

I kept my expression unreadable, already mapping out an escape route in my mind. Gu Jie's counsel had been thorough—I knew exactly where to go if things turned ugly.

Then, just as suddenly, Pan Xia's hostility drained away. He sighed, rubbing his temples.

"Never mind," he muttered. "In the end, the Riverfall Continent is just a small world for experts like you."

So he had fully acknowledged my strength now.

I changed the subject. "How is she?"

Pan Xia let out a sharp breath. "Terrible. Her meridians are ruptured, her foundation damaged. She may never recover fully." His fingers curled into a fist. "All because of my greed. When I return, the Sect Master will likely cripple my cultivation."

I blinked.

No way. He suddenly became this subservient?

Yeah. This guy was done for.

It was surprising how calm he was, though. My impression of cultivators—shaped by tropes—was rather one-sided and, frankly, unflattering. I had expected Pan Xia to be raging right about now, venting his frustration on the nearest unfortunate mortal.

But instead, he just stood there, resigned.

I turned to Jia Yun.

She looked… vulnerable.

The raging force of a three-tailed berserker was nowhere to be seen. Now, she was just a girl, unconscious on a bed, her face pale, her body unnervingly still. Her breathing was shallow, and despite the healing formation enveloping her, her qi flow remained chaotic.

I studied Pan Xia again.

I had a principle—or maybe just a habit—of trying to see the good in people. Pan Xia was no exception. Perhaps it was naïve, but it was also human nature. No one saw themselves as the villain of their own story, right?

The same went for me.

And yet, as I reflected on how careless I had been, I resolved to do better. Next time, I wouldn't be so hasty. Next time, I would exercise forethought.

I sighed.

It was strange, really. I had been in this xianxia world for over half a week, and I had yet to kill a single person.

I had expected bloodshed at every corner. Murder hoboes running rampant. Unfathomable experts slaughtering mortals with a flick of their sleeves. But perhaps I had been looking in the wrong place.

With the power I wielded, I could do more than just kill.

I met Pan Xia's gaze. "How about a deal, Elder Pan?"

He hummed, looking weary. "Hmmm…? Unfortunately, I no longer hold any influence in my Sect. The only way to redeem myself was to win the auction. But now, that is impossible, for the Nether Ghost Flames I had prepared are already in your hands."

"Frankly, you have nothing that I want," I admitted. "This 'deal' is more of a… social experiment. Let's call it that."

Pan Xia's eyes narrowed. "What kind of deal?"

I gestured toward Jia Yun. "I will heal this girl—though I make no promises of success. However, if I do succeed, you must swear never to cheat again."

He blinked, confusion flickering across his face. He was probably wondering how I intended to enforce such a thing.

I continued before he could object. "I possess a skill that allows me to detect falsehoods with near certainty." I smiled. "Who knows? We may cross paths again."

Pan Xia's expression was unreadable. He hesitated. "That is of no benefit to you…"

"True," I admitted, shrugging. "That's why I'm also willing to accept payment—preferably a cultivation technique for reference. I've grown curious about the methods of this continent."

Pan Xia studied me carefully. He likely didn't fully believe my claim about lie detection, but he seemed to think there was no harm in humoring me.

Sadly for him, I did have the means.

All hail Divine Sense. It had served me well in PvE, sniffing out hostile NPCs and hidden monsters. Now, it was proving useful in ways I had never imagined.

Still, Pan Xia was wary.

Good. He'd better be…

In truth, this wasn't really about Pan Xia.

Establishing a pretense of friendship was just a convenient excuse.

The person I was truly befriending here—if anyone—was Jia Yun.

After all, she was the one receiving my healing.

And, if I was being honest with myself, guilt played no small part in this decision. I had enabled the betting, nudged things toward this outcome. Now, I was cleaning up my own mess.

Elder Pan gave me a small nod.

That was all the permission I needed.

I raised a hand, golden light gathering on my palm before slowly suffusing into Jia Yun. The glow pulsed gently, sinking into her broken body like the first rays of dawn piercing the darkness.

With our level difference, this much should be easy.

"Cure."

No health bars to check. No floating numbers ticking down. No UI indicator flashing success.

But I didn't need them.

Jia Yun's complexion brightened ever so slightly. Her ragged breathing evened out.

I spammed Cure a few more times, watching the glow ripple from my palm with each cast, until I felt satisfied.

"This is… incredible." Pan Xia's eyes widened. "I've met healers from the main continent who could mend wounds with a wave of their hand, but never with such speed."

"I humbly accept your praise." I smirked, then added, "It's a healing spell that draws upon the natural vitality of the recipient and the belief of the caster to empower the restoration."

In other words, magic.

And magic had no rhyme or reason.

Pan Xia bent down, pressing two fingers against Jia Yun's wrist to check her pulse. His brows furrowed, then slowly relaxed.

"Her meridians are still in a terrible state, but she will heal." He exhaled, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. "Senior Da, you have my gratitude."

The old man cupped his fists and bowed.

I didn't return the gesture.

He still pissed me off.

But deep down, I knew the truth.

I shared a good portion of the blame for what happened.

029 Wrong Phrasing 

Jia Yun dreamt of soaring palaces.

Of jade spires wreathed in mist, polished floors gleaming under moonlight, and silken halls brimming with laughter. She dreamt of gentle hands brushing through her hair, of murmured words promising that she was special. That she was cherished.

She dreamt of love.

And then, she dreamt of its ruin.

The gazes that once held pride turned distant. The hands that once comforted her grew cold. The halls that once echoed with laughter fell silent.

She had no talent, they said. Unworthy, they whispered.

She was cast aside.

Not in name, of course. Officially, she had been sent to the Riverfall Continent as an ambassador, a chance to 'temper herself in the lower realms.' But Jia Yun knew the truth. Exile. A severed path.

So she clawed her way back. She honed her cultivation with reckless abandon, forced her meridians beyond their limits, gathered allies, forged a name anew. Step by step, she ascended the mountain from which she had been cast down.

Starting with the Cloud Mist Sect.

She would rise again.

And then—

She was betrayed.

The moment her spiritual link was severed, the first thought that struck her wasn't that she had been outplayed, nor that she had been weak.

It was that Pan Xia had betrayed her.

Her eyes snapped open, and there he stood.

"Elder Pan," she rasped, her throat raw. Her hands clenched into feeble fists. "Why did you betray this seat?"

Pan Xia stiffened. "It is a misunderstanding—"

"A MISUNDERSTANDING?!" Her voice shook with fury. "THIS ONE NEARLY DIED!"

A cough interrupted them.

"Ahem."

Jia Yun's head jerked toward the door. A young man in verdant robes leaned lazily against the lacquered frame, his posture unhurried, his presence an uninvited shadow.

"It seems I am not needed here anymore…" he murmured. "What a pity."

Then, he looked at her with an almost apologetic look.

Also… Pity. Resignation.

As if she had already been written off.

Her blood burned. Without thinking, she moved. Even weakened, her instincts screamed at her to strike—to wipe that gaze from his eyes.

The moment her qi flared, agony consumed her.

Pain lanced through her body like a thousand blades. Her meridians groaned, the fractures within them widening as her vision blurred.

The young man tilted his head, as if only now recognizing her intent. He sighed.

"I am going to regret this," he muttered.

Slowly, green veins traced with gold began to glow along her arms.

"Divine Word: Life," he intoned.

A warmth like the first breath of spring after a harsh winter flowed through her body.

Jia Yun's frayed nerves wove themselves whole. The cracks in her meridians mended—no, they were reforged, stronger, as though they had never been broken at all. She clenched her fingers, feeling the renewed circulation of qi surge through her limbs. It was… miraculous. The kind of healing that even the finest physicians of the Imperial Capital would struggle to achieve—save for the Divine Physician himself.

Her gaze sharpened, shifting to the man who had performed it.

Verdant robes, fine in make yet unmarked by any sect insignia—either a rogue cultivator or one who preferred to remain unnoticed. His face was youthful, his posture careless, yet his eyes… Those eyes were keen, amused, utterly unfazed by her earlier fury. And his breathing? Steady. Unstrained.

A true expert.

Regret flickered through her. She had lashed out in a moment of weakness, assuming the worst. Emotions—rage, betrayal, helplessness—were not shameful. But acting on them without thought? That was a mistake.

Mistakes had to be corrected.

Without hesitation, Jia Yun clasped her hands and bowed deeply.

"This one asks for Senior's forgiveness for her prior folly."

She felt no shame in her abrupt shift. The strong were to be respected, even revered. And if there was a chance to establish rapport with such a person, she would seize it.

The man blinked at her. Then, with exasperation, he muttered, "Oh, come on. Do you actually talk like that? Seriously? Is that why you barely spoke during the arena match?"

Jia Yun stiffened.

The arena.

Who had won?

Her stomach clenched, but her expression remained still. It didn't matter. There was always tomorrow. She would rise again.

More importantly… what was wrong with speaking in the third person? That had been the height of refinement in the Imperial Capital the last time she was there.

Despite the turmoil in her heart, Jia Yun's expression remained serene.

As expected of an ice-hearted beauty.

She held her bow, waiting. The mysterious cultivator's gaze was unreadable—assessing, yet not unkind.

Before she could speak, Elder Pan Xia finally cleared his throat.

"Jia Yun," he said cautiously, "allow me to formally introduce Senior Da Wei."

Her brow furrowed.

Da Wei?

She turned the name over in her mind, but it rang hollow. No such master had ever graced the Riverfall Continent's ranks. A high-level expert without renown? Unlikely.

"Senior Da Wei was the one who healed you," Pan Xia continued, his tone oddly restrained. "You owe him your life."

Jia Yun swallowed back the urge to ask his cultivation level outright. Among lesser circles, such a question was common. Among the Imperial elites, it was uncouth. The strong did not ask—they observed, inferred, and understood.

Yet the urge remained.

Before she could speak, Pan Xia's voice slipped into her mind, his words carried by Qi Speech.

'Tread lightly, Jia Yun. This master follows the extremely righteous path.'

Her breath hitched.

That meant no tolerance for evil—none, no matter how small.

She darted a glance at Pan Xia, catching the faintest flicker of unease in his gaze. His lips barely moved as he continued the silent transmission.

'Do not antagonize him. Do not question him. Do not test him.'

What?

She nearly scoffed but stopped herself. Was Pan Xia serious?

His next words turned her blood to ice.

'If you must know, Jia Yun, this man is likely the reason we lost the arena match.'

Her fingers curled.

'We dared to cheat,' Pan Xia admitted. 'Using immortal qi, activating your bloodline art… A mere Second Realm tournament was beneath you, yet we pushed the limits. This was our punishment.'

A mere Second Realm tournament?

Not quite. That was merely the average cultivation level of the participants. Jia Yun's trump card allowed her to borrow external force, elevating her strength far beyond her realm.

Her breath came short.

'More importantly,' Pan Xia pressed, 'this Da Wei is a peer of the Isolation Path Sect Master.'

Silence.

A peer of a… Sect Master?

The color drained from her face.

Pan Xia coughed into his fist, regaining composure. Then, carefully, he turned to Da Wei and spoke in a measured tone.

"Senior Da Wei, would you be so gracious as to grant us a moment? There are matters I must discuss with my disciple."

Da Wei arched a brow but seemed unbothered. Instead, he crossed his arms, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Sure. But I have a few things to discuss with you two as well." He waved a hand dismissively. "No rush. I'll wait outside."

Jia Yun narrowed her eyes. "Jia Yun offers her thanks fir Senior's generosity," she said, voice calm yet laced with a hint of sharpness. Then, after a measured breath, she added, "Senior wouldn't happen to be eavesdropping on Jia Yun and Elder Pan Xia, would he?"

Da Wei frowned. "Eavesdropping? That's a bit much, don't you think?"

She met his gaze, unimpressed. Still, tension coiled in her chest.

Da Wei clicked his tongue. "Alright, alright. I'll excuse myself properly. Spying on you two isn't worth the effort." He flicked his sleeves and turned toward the door. "I'll be in the VIP area if you need me. Try not to take too long."

With that, he strolled out.

Jia Yun and Elder Pan Xia remained motionless, waiting. Only when Da Wei's presence fully faded from their senses did Pan Xia move. Without a word, he reached into his robes and retrieved several talismans.

One by one, he activated them, each vanishing into the walls in a shimmer of light, forming a layered barrier of protection.

Jia Yun watched in silence, her mind already racing through possibilities.

Pan Xia let out a deep sigh, then clasped his hands together. "It is truly my utmost pleasure that you still live, My Lady."

Jia Yun, still propped against the bedding, crossed her arms and gave him an unimpressed look. "Yes, I imagine you'd be quite relieved. After all, you'd likely be beheaded if the noble daughter directly descended from the main sect were to perish so miserably."

Her tone was sharp, but there was no true anger behind it—only cold pragmatism.

"This Jia Yun warns you," she added.

Pan Xia swallowed. He did not need the reminder.

Jia Yun exhaled, allowing herself to relax against the cushions. "That aside, how is the Immortal Qi?"

Without hesitation, Pan Xia reached into his robes and withdrew a small jade vial. Inside, near-invisible wisps of translucent energy swirled, so faint that one might mistake the container for being empty.

Jia Yun's gaze darkened.

Immortal Qi—the essence of those who had set foot upon the Eleventh Realm, the threshold of true divinity.

For something as volatile and powerful as this, she had needed Pan Xia, whose cultivation was higher, to facilitate its use.

She studied the vial in his palm, her fingers twitching, but she did not immediately take it. Instead, her voice dropped to something nearly imperceptible.

"How much did we lose?"

Pan Xia hesitated.

Jia Yun's expression remained impassive, but inwardly, her thoughts turned sharp.

She had entrusted him with managing their funds. When he first proposed the gambling opportunity, she had given him full consent to wager everything. It had been a calculated risk, a means to secure vital resources for the future.

But now…

She feared the answer.

Pan Xia hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering.

"…The Nether Ghost Flames."

Jia Yun's jaw tightened. She had expected losses—but not this.

Unlike ordinary treasures, the Nether Ghost Flames weren't just a rare auction item. They were the Cloud Mist Sect's own property, a resource carefully allocated to amass funds for ths one auction. The plan had been simple: leverage its value to acquire rare materials and techniques for the sect's top disciples. And use the rest of the funds… to acquire a certain item.

Losing the Nether Ghost Flames wasn't just a financial setback. It was a humiliation.

Her fingers curled beneath the covers, nails pressing into her palm. A part of her seethed, but another part knew there was no use dwelling on it. What was lost was lost.

The only thing left was to plan her next move.

Jia Yun sat up, her thoughts racing. She had come too close to death—far closer than she had ever expected in this forsaken continent. But failure itself wasn't what burned her. It was the fact that she had been completely outmaneuvered.

How?

She exhaled slowly, forcing down the turmoil within her.

"This Jia Yun shall continue to trust Elder Pan in light of recent events," she said at last, her tone measured. "However, the Elder must do better. Incompetence shall not be tolerated."

Pan Xia lowered his head, hands clasped in gratitude. "I shall not betray your trust, My Lady. However…" His voice turned grave. "I fear we are outmatched. We cannot scheme our way into this auction."

The reason was clear—Da Wei.

If Pan Xia's assessment was correct, then this Da Wei was not just a cultivator of an unfathomable realm. He was an extremely righteous cultivator.

Jia Yun frowned. Extreme righteousness was not a compliment. In higher imperial circles, it was a term of derision—used to describe those fanatics who held an absurdly rigid sense of justice. The kind who pursued their ideals with reckless abandon, often to the point of self-destruction.

More than once, such figures had risen in history, leaving chaos in their wake. To them, virtue was a blade, and they swung it indiscriminately, unmoved by politics, power, or consequence.

If Da Wei truly embodied this extreme righteousness…

Then it was no surprise he had acted the moment he discovered their use of Immortal Qi.

Jia Yun clenched her fist beneath the covers. But that wasn't what unsettled her most.

"Jia Yun is curious how Da Wei found out about the Immortal Qi." Her voice was calm, but her eyes were cold and piercing.

Immortal Qi wasn't something just anyone could perceive. It was a formless, pervasive essence—visible only to those with highly specialized means. Even among the main sect's most learned elders, only a handful could directly detect it.

And yet, in this backwater continent, Da Wei had not only sensed it.

He had sabotaged it.

That was the true mystery.

Pan Xia sighed. "I suppose we may never know." He shook his head. "If nothing else, we were fortunate that he was a healer and not one of those zealots who would have struck us down without hesitation. And if he is a foreigner, as I suspect, then it is likely he possesses esoteric knowledge about Immortal Qi."

A foreigner?

Jia Yun's gaze darkened.

An unknown variable. A loose thread in the grand weave.

She did not believe in luck.

Folding her arms, she fixed Pan Xia with an unreadable expression. "We need to decide how to handle Da Wei."

Pan Xia sighed, rubbing his temples. "My Lady, there is no handling someone like him. He is beyond our means."

Jia Yun's frown deepened. "Are you suggesting we cower? That we bow our heads like lowly servants? Da Wei may be stronger, but I refuse to believe we are completely without options."

Pan Xia gave a wry smile. "This is not a matter of strength alone. He follows extreme righteousness. People like him are unpredictable. If we antagonize him further, we may bring ruin not just upon ourselves but upon the sect as well." His voice lowered. "Do you not understand? If he truly wished it, he could have erased you from existence in the arena, and no one would have even known it was him. Trust me on this one, My Lady."

Jia Yun clenched her jaw, unable to refute his words.

The humiliation of her defeat still burned. But the reality was undeniable.

Had Da Wei been the type to eradicate all he deemed unjust, she would not be standing here now.

"…Then what do you propose?" she asked, voice tightly controlled.

"We keep our distance." Pan Xia's tone was firm. "Or, should an opportunity arise, we accost him." He met her gaze evenly. "Someone like him does not weave schemes in the shadows—he acts openly, without hesitation. If we can earn his favor, we may turn a potential calamity into an unexpected ally."

Jia Yun scoffed. "You want me to befriend him?"

"I want you to survive." Pan Xia's expression was solemn. "For now, that means ensuring Da Wei does not come to view us as enemies. He has already crippled our greatest advantage in the upcoming auction, but we still have other paths to recovery. Let us not invite unnecessary conflict."

Jia Yun inhaled deeply, quelling the frustration rising in her chest.

"Fine," she said at last. "I will leave him be—for now."

Pan Xia nodded. "That is for the best."

Later that day, Jia Yun stepped onto the dueling stage once more for the rest of the quarter-finals.

Her second opponent was a contestant from the Lu Clan, a well-built young man wielding a spear. The fight had been grueling, a clash of precision and endurance. Despite her injuries from the previous day, she had managed to push him into a draw, their battle ending when the time limit was reached with neither side able to decisively claim victory.

Her third match was against a Sword Canopy disciple, a cultivator whose style relied heavily on overwhelming sword formations. It had been a test of patience, waiting for the right moment to strike amidst the sea of blades. When she finally found an opening, she capitalized on it, securing a hard-earned victory.

With one win, one draw, and one loss, her record was now balanced.

But balance was not what she wanted.

As she left the stage, she clenched her fists.

Tomorrow, she would fight again. And she would win.

Jia Yun moved with measured steps, her exhaustion settling deep into her bones. She wanted nothing more than to return to her quarters, meditate, and recover her strength. The battles had taken their toll, and her mind reeled from the weight of everything that had transpired. Yet, the world of cultivation was unkind to those who sought rest too soon.

A shadow loomed before her.

Her muscles tensed.

The cultivation world had always been a cruel place, where the strong ruled over the weak. And sometimes… once in a while… unreasonable powers would descend upon you, stepping all over you without warning.

Jia Yun exhaled slowly, suppressing her unease as she cupped her fists and bowed. "This Jia Yun greets Senior."

Da Wei regarded her with an unreadable expression, arms crossed behind his back.

The light of the moon illuminated his features, and for a moment, he appeared almost ethereal, as if the heavens themselves had sculpted him.

"I believe you still owe me that conversation," he said.

Jia Yun hesitated. Her heart beat just a little faster, though she would never admit it. "Jia Yun shall accompany Senior."

It was already night. Elder Pan Xia had left earlier, intent on topping off their funds for the auction. She was alone. Vulnerable. She disliked the feeling immensely.

Da Wei smiled. It was the kind of smile that had undoubtedly made countless young ladies weak in the knees, the kind that could disarm even the most cautious of hearts.

But Jia Yun was an ice-cold beauty.

She had trained herself to remain unmoved.

Then Da Wei spoke.

"How about we spend the night together?"

Jia Yun's fingers twitched, her breath catching ever so slightly.

Had she misheard?

Her instincts screamed caution, but her expression remained unreadable.

"…Senior Da Wei speaks boldly," she said coolly, lifting her gaze to meet his. Her tone was steady, though her mind raced through a hundred possibilities in an instant.

Da Wei blinked, then let out a low chuckle. "Ah, that came out wrong, didn't it?" He shook his head, amused. "I meant, let's talk over drinks. There's a person I want you to meet, and I happen to be craving street food. No hidden meanings, I promise."

Jia Yun studied him, searching for deception.

None.

That, in itself, was unsettling.

Cultivators of the higher ranks rarely said what they truly meant. Every sentence was a layered battlefield, every word a weapon. But Da Wei… he had the audacity to be straightforward.

And that made him dangerous in an entirely different way.

"…Very well," she said at last, adjusting her sleeves. "Jia Yun shall accompany Senior."

Da Wei smiled again—unfazed, unburdened. "I'm glad. I promise, it'll be worth your time."

Jia Yun doubted that.