At this moment, Li Yan was indeed in dire straits. In battles against cultivators from both Lingchong Peak and Bilin Peak it was always a losing proposition, and now he was forced to contend with two opponents at once—one whose cultivation nearly matched his own, and another whose level outclassed him by three realms. Had it not been for the miraculous power of the Gui Shui Zhen Jing technique, Li Yan would have been defeated by mid‑battle from spiritual energy exhaustion. Moreover, a one‑realm advantage was not simply a matter of greater total energy; its quality was several times superior. Li Yan's refined spiritual energy lagged several levels behind that of Zhou Guaner, meaning that his immortal techniques hit with only a fraction of the force. At present, Li Yan was forced to rely on the five "spiritual energy reservoirs" within his body to sustain his power—but even then, it was not enough. Fortunately, the "Fu Gu Zhi Qu" toxin—a component of his internal "Shili Twelve Toxins"—had not disappointed him. By applying every last ounce of his strength, he managed to prevent Zhou Guaner and the ghost‑faced horse from breaking his defenses—for a time.
Yet now, his spiritual energy was nearly drained. He could see that Zhou Guaner was increasing the intensity of his attack. Although the toxin hidden in Li Yan's rain curtain could slow the advance of the ghost‑flame skulls spewed by the horse, three or four of those skulls still managed to breach his protective aura, coming as near as four or five inches from his body. Worse still, the sharp flying dagger—a spirit instrument with formidable cutting edge—had, despite being launched later, rapidly pierced through the rain curtain to within one or two inches of his shield. A number of slender poisonous tendrils were also steadily creeping forward. In addition, the very appearance of these ghost‑flame skulls and the flying dagger had altered dramatically. The skulls now looked swollen several layers thick, growing ever more deformed the closer they got to Li Yan; beneath layers of grayish water droplets, only faint green luminescence could be seen pulsing. The flying dagger, too, had changed—morphing into a gray "flying rod" while the tendrils transformed into coarse, vine‑like structures.
Zhou Guaner was inwardly frustrated. He could hardly believe that someone four realms below him could possess such an impenetrable "turtle shell" defense. The poison in Li Yan's rain curtain was extraordinarily baffling. In fact, Zhou Guaner suspected that once his flying dagger was used in this round, it would likely be rendered useless. After all, a spirit instrument that self-destructs carries such explosive potential that—even at his mid‑tenth level—it would require tremendous distance to evade its blast. Whether Li Yan would die or not was of no concern to him; in the sect's tournaments, both sides were expected to go all out, and a supervising cultivator was always on hand to intervene if necessary. Zhou Guaner knew that in these grand contests unexpected fatalities were not unknown (unless the victim was a core disciple), and though Li Yan was under the guidance of a Golden Core master, he was still far from being considered a core disciple.
Yet another mystery vexed Zhou Guaner. Previously, Li Yan had been pricked by poisonous tendrils—poisons that Zhou Guaner himself had refined painstakingly. Once these toxins entered the body, they would travel along with the blood and disrupt the function of the internal organs. First came bouts of nausea and vomiting, then the slow paralysis of the nerves resulting in fainting, and eventually the heart would fail until death ensued. So where was Li Yan's antidote? Moreover, although Li Yan had clearly shown signs of weakness in his limbs during his earlier evasive maneuvers, he had not yet displayed a full-blown toxin reaction—even after all this time. This in turn explained why no supervising cultivator had stepped forward for emergency assistance. Had Li Yan's condition deteriorated even slightly, a rapid intervention would have been made to administer treatment and halt the match.
That thought ignited a fierce resolve in Zhou Guaner. He decided then to push his flying dagger with everything he had—intending that, once its tip reached Li Yan's protective aura, it would self-destruct. He was aware that such an explosion, no matter how powerful, would require his foe to keep an enormous distance; whether Li Yan would die was secondary. After all, the sect's rules mandated that both sides fight without holding anything back, and the supervisors were prepared to intervene if a fatality occurred. Still, Zhou Guaner also recalled that in past tournaments, catastrophic accidents had sometimes led to deaths—even if the aftermath was later casually dismissed by the sect if the victim was not a core disciple. Li Yan, although having a Golden Core master, was far from the echelon of core disciples.
Another matter further troubled Zhou Guaner. Li Yan had already been affected by the poisonous tendrils earlier—that poison being one which Zhou Guaner had meticulously refined. Once that poison entered the body, it would circulate with the blood and cause disruptions in the viscera: intense nausea followed by paralysis of nerves, eventual fainting, and even cessation of the heart leading to death. So where was Li Yan's antidote? And why, after such obvious early signs (his legs had been noticeably affected during his initial evasive maneuvers), had the poison not taken full effect even after so much time? This anomaly was also why none of the supervising cultivators had yet come forward—if Li Yan showed even the slightest sign of internal collapse, they would have intervened immediately and called an end to the match.
Furious at these observations, Zhou Guaner mentally steeled himself and prepared to fully drive his flying dagger through the rain curtain so it could reach Li Yan's protective aura and detonate. What he did not notice, however, was that about a dozen meters behind him lay a patch of grass—a patch that, although it should have withered away once Li Yan's spiritual energy had retreated, still lingered in four or five clusters in a semi-transparent state, swaying as though on the brink of vanishing.
Earlier, Zhou Guaner had used his Spiritual Cognition to examine that grass. It appeared to be a normal immortal formation generated by wood‑element energy, with nothing unusual detectable in its interior. Furthermore, after Li Yan withdrew his energy, the grassy area would normally disappear in patches—a standard phenomenon once the sustaining power was removed. Still, Zhou Guaner had cautiously skirted around that area.
At that moment, the four or five clusters of nearly transparent grass suddenly shuddered, transforming into tiny specks of light before vanishing altogether. Zhou Guaner, fully focused on Li Yan ahead, prepared his entire being to drive forward the flying dagger. He had not activated any protective aura on himself; after all, Li Yan was contained within his rain curtain—and this area he had previously scanned meticulously with his Spiritual Cognition, so he was confident in his forward attack.
Then suddenly, a warning surged in Zhou Guaner's heart. He sensed an inexplicable chill around his neck—a foreboding that made him recoil in terror. He hurriedly withdrew his Spiritual Cognition and inspected his internal condition. After a rapid scan, he found nothing amiss, yet hesitancy took root. Just as he was deliberating whether to continue the offensive or to secure his surroundings first, the ghost‑faced horse emitted an even more agonized, piercing cry. Normally such a cry would signal that the attack was increasing, but in Zhou Guaner's keen ear it conveyed unmistakable pain. He quickly turned his head—and at that moment the ghost‑faced horse shook its head violently, as though trying to shake off a threat. Then, in one final, harrowing shriek, its small eyes, which had until now been black-green, suddenly turned completely white. With a sudden, deep exhalation from its enormous nostrils, a dozen ghost‑flame skulls erupted all at once. Zhou Guaner's heart pounded with shock. Clearly, the ghost‑faced horse had been afflicted by an enemy technique or potent toxin. Desperately, he withdrew one hand in defense, while still channeling his attack on Li Yan with the other.
In that same moment, a vast cluster of withered, yellow leaves materialized before Zhou Guaner. Dozens of ghost‑flame skulls were caught within this leafy barrier and forced to hesitate for several dozen meters. Then, all at once, Zhou Guaner felt his heart seize up, as if gripped tightly by an unseen force. He couldn't help but emit a stifled groan in pain. No sooner had he begun to recover when that crushing pressure around his heart intensified still further, eliciting a loud cry as he broke into a cold sweat. A mysterious force then stabbed at his "spiritual sea" from the back of his neck, and in an instant, his mind went blank. The once sharply contrasting black and white of his eyes slowly washed out until they both became pure white.
Furious and terrified, Zhou Guaner scanned his surroundings. In a single glance, he saw the ghost‑faced horse. Then, from behind him in the sky, a dark mass of countless arrows appeared. With but a single flick of his hand, it was possible that those arrows would reduce the ghost‑faced horse to nothing more than a spiked, helpless heap. Meanwhile, far away, Li Yan continued to hide behind his rain curtain, carefully avoiding any direct confrontation with his opponents.
At that very moment, the blue light on the battle platform flashed—and, like a ghost, a figure appeared directly behind Zhou Guaner. With a light tap, Zhou Guaner crumpled to the ground. With his defensive spiritual energy now failing, that patch of withered, yellow leaves lost its resistance; soon, a dozen ghost‑flame skulls launched themselves unimpeded. The mysterious newcomer only needed a single graceful gesture to cause those skulls to vanish without a trace. Simultaneously, he moved swiftly in front of the ghost‑faced horse. The beast's wail fell silent as it too collapsed onto the ground. Only then did the dark mass of arrows gradually fade from the sky. The interloper rapidly checked both Zhou Guaner and the fallen ghost‑faced horse. With a furrowed brow, he directed two streams of spiritual light—one toward each body—and was just about to turn his attention to Li Yan when he suddenly heard a soft exhalation. In a flash, he hoisted both the unconscious Zhou Guaner and the collapsed beast under his arm, and without delay, he surged out of the formation. As he departed, his gaze fell heavily upon Li Yan, who had by now retracted both his rain curtain and his protective aura. Floating in the air was a single, chilling message: "33 wins."
Leichangtian stared in astonishment. Some aspects of that battle defied comprehension. "How can this be a victory? How did those toxins on the grass get triggered without Brother Zhou having prepared for it?" she wondered aloud. As a Foundation Establishment cultivator herself, she eventually noticed the final scene of the grass clusters disintegrating. It was clear that those nearly transparent patches had been deliberately maintained by Li Yan with spiritual energy—even if she had earlier suspected that the grass might be a trap laden with poison, when she then saw Zhou Guaner himself carefully scanning the area before each attack, her suspicions quieted. Later, when the battle had reached a stalemate lasting for only seven or eight breaths, she finally took note of those nearly transparent clusters as they slowly dissolved into tiny, flickering points of light. That was when she began to appreciate the intricacy of Li Yan's layered setup. Yet what puzzled her most was how Li Yan managed to control the poison in that grass so that it would remain undispersed, only to erupt at a precise moment. After all, virtually anyone could sustain ordinary grass—but to control the poison within it so stealthily that it remained hidden and then activated on cue was truly beyond expectation.
At that point, cultivators from several regions who had been watching the match erupted into a flurry of discussion. Many did not understand what had transpired; some with clearer sight speculated on how Li Yan managed to control the timing of his poison. Amid the buzz of opinions, a faint, satisfied smile tugged at Zhao Min's lips. Li Yan had not disappointed her. Layer after layer of cunning strategy had eventually overcome the combined assault of that man and his beast. Still, she could not help but wonder how the young man's method of toxin control was achieved.
Back at the headquarters, Wang Tian and Zuo Shengyan wore grim expressions, their auras radiating a chilling cold that caused nearby Lingchong Peak cultivators to shrink away in silence.
"小 Zhu Peak! To think that you could not even overcome a low‑level Qi Condensation disciple—Zhou Guaner is utterly useless," spat Zuo Shengyan, his face enshrouded in ice. His exposed stomach, marked with trembling scorpion sigils, and his pale, snow‑white legs only intensified his anger. Wang Tian's aura grew equally somber and dark.
Li Yan eventually returned to his designated area. Lin Daqiao scrutinized him from head to toe, murmuring, "Little brother, remarkable, remarkable," his voice a mixture of awe and secret approval.
Wei Chituo grinned broadly. "There's progress—you've still kept one hidden move. Your devious tactics are on par with Senior Brother's." Realizing that his praise might be overheard, he quickly glanced around.
Yun Chunqu, in a rare show of approval, nodded at Li Yan.
Gong Chenying looked at him curiously as if about to speak, but in the end, she remained silent.
Inside the Void Pavilion, the supervising cultivator who had been monitoring the Ninth Battle Platform glanced at the group of senior masters and the headmaster gathered nearby, who were now engaged in loud discussion. Soon, they hurriedly departed. As they went, one of them recalled what the headmaster had said after checking Zhou Guaner's condition: "It appears that the virus can be remotely activated via Spiritual Cognition." That revelation sent shivers through him. Such a toxin was legendary—in truth, the Wangliang Sect had been researching the remote activation of toxins through Spiritual Cognition for nearly ten thousand years. In theory, they could all achieve remote stimulus of a toxin, but the long‑standing obstacle had always been to keep the toxin dormant. Otherwise, once deployed, the toxin would either evaporate before Spiritual Cognition was applied or would continuously volatilize, making it easily detectable by an enemy's spiritual sense. Many methods had been attempted to keep a toxin in stasis—using spiritual energy encasement, or suppressing it with Spiritual Cognition—but in every case, the opposing side could feel the lingering aura of energy. The ideal method would be to use a medicinal substance to suppress the toxin's volatility—a substance that was colorless, odorless, and formless. Yet even if such a substance met all those criteria, it must also be compatible with the toxin and subject to control by Spiritual Cognition without hindering the release of the toxin when required. These conditions had long proven impossible to achieve—until now. Who could say how Li Yan refined such a poison?
This new toxin was entirely different from the Spiritual Cognition Poison. The latter is known to cause paralysis, corrosion, and even to attack the body along the spiritual sense. In contrast, a toxin controlled by Spiritual Cognition is itself invisible and formless—and can be remotely activated by one's spiritual sense.
Yan Longzi had chosen not to hide these facts from the supervising cultivator, reasoning that there was no need. Once Li Yan deployed this toxin in future matches—even if once or twice it escaped detection—someone with sufficient insight might eventually deduce its method. But what difference would that make? Even if someone guessed its nature, could they truly defend against it? Besides, he was not overly worried that someone within the sect might attempt to extract the formula from Li Yan. First, because Li Yan did not actually possess a "formula" in a fixed form, and second, because it was only a matter of time before many people began to know about his condition. In Yan Longzi's eyes, the main reason was that Li Yan's innate talent was far from impressive—he was, at best, another Foundation Establishment disciple. Even if Li Yan were born with an Earth Spirit Root, he would have sealed that information tightly until he was strong enough to protect himself, without worrying that members of the other three sects would be watching his every move.
In truth, the supervising Foundation Establishment cultivator still had one troubling thought. Earlier, when he had attempted to dispel that toxin—after examining Zhou Guaner and the ghost‑faced horse—he had been forced to merely use his spiritual energy to protect their consciousness and heart channels. He had assumed that the new toxin was one that Li Yan had refined himself, and he had been about to demand that Li Yan produce an antidote when, all of a sudden, he was summoned by a senior elder along with Zhou Guaner to the Void Pavilion.