At this moment, Li Yan's situation was indeed desperate. In a battle against cultivators from Lingchong Peak and Bilin Peak, he was already at a disadvantage. Now he found himself forced to contend simultaneously with two opponents—one whose cultivation nearly matched his own, and another who was three realms higher. Had it not been for the miraculous power of the Gui Shui Zhen Jing, Li Yan would likely have been defeated by mid‑battle due to exhaustion of his spiritual energy. Moreover, a single realm's difference was not simply about having more total energy; it also meant that the quality of that energy was several times purer. Li Yan's refined spiritual energy lagged several levels behind that of Zhou Guaner, so when it came to the potency of immortal techniques, Li Yan's strikes were proportionally weaker. At this point he was forced to rely on his five internal "spiritual energy reservoirs" to generate power continuously—but even that production proved insufficient. Luckily, the "Fu Gu Zhi Qu" toxin, one component of his inner "Shili Twelve Toxins," had not let him down: when he gave every ounce of his might, neither Zhou Guaner nor his accompanying ghost‑faced horse could break through his defense for a time.
Yet now his spiritual energy was nearly spent. He could see that Zhou Guaner was increasing his barrage. Although the toxin embedded within Li Yan's rain curtain delayed the ghost‑flame skulls hurled by the horse, three or four of those skulls still managed to breach his protective aura, coming within four to five inches. And then there was the flying dagger—a sharp spirit instrument that, although launched later, had rapidly pierced the rain curtain to within one or two inches from his shield. A number of thin, poisonous tendrils also slowly crept forward. Moreover, the very appearance of the ghost‑flame skulls and the flying dagger itself had changed dramatically. The skulls now appeared swollen in several concentric layers, growing ever more deformed the closer they approached Li Yan; through layers of gray water droplets only faint pulses of green light could be seen. The flying dagger had transformed into a gray "flying rod," and the once‑slender tendrils had become thick vines.
Inside, Zhou Guaner was growing increasingly frustrated. He could not believe that a man who was four realms beneath him could have such an invincible "turtle shell" defense. The toxin in Li Yan's rain curtain was simply inexplicable. In fact, Zhou Guaner was already convinced that once his flying dagger managed to penetrate Li Yan's protective aura, it would have to self-detonate; such a spirit instrument, if forced to explode, would unleash devastating force. Even though he was a mid‑tenth‑level cultivator, he knew he would have to keep an enormous distance to avoid being caught in the blast—whether Li Yan would die was of little concern. After all, in the sect's contests both sides were required to put forth their full power, and supervising cultivators were always present to step in if situations became lethal. Zhou Guaner also recalled that previous grand tournaments had sometimes seen casualties—unless the fallen was a core disciple. Even though Li Yan now had a Golden Core master, he was still far from being regarded as one of the core disciples.
Another matter baffled Zhou Guaner. Earlier, Li Yan had been pricked by poisonous tendrils—the same poison that Zhou Guaner had painstakingly refined himself. Once those toxins pierced the body, they would travel along with the blood and disrupt the vital organs: first inducing nausea and vomiting, then causing nerve paralysis and eventual fainting, and even halting the heart until death ensued. So where was Li Yan's antidote? Moreover, although Li Yan had clearly shown signs of the vine's poison earlier—his legs had clearly been affected when he first tried to evade the attack—now, after such a long time, the toxin had not fully manifested. This, too, explained why none of the supervising cultivators had intervened. If Li Yan had exhibited even the slightest sign of bodily distress, they would have immediately stepped in to render treatment and stop the match.
Furious at these conundrums, Zhou Guaner steeled his resolve. He resolved to push his flying dagger with all his might—planning that, once its tip touched Li Yan's protective aura, it would detonate. He knew that an exploding spirit instrument, even at his mid‑tenth level, would force the enemy to keep far away, and regardless of the outcome for Li Yan, it was not his personal concern. After all, the sect's tournaments were fought at full intensity. Furthermore, Zhou Guaner recalled that in many such contests, fatalities occurred unexpectedly; however, unless the victim was a core disciple, the incident would simply be swept aside. Although Li Yan was under the tutelage of a Golden Core master, he was still far from reaching core disciple status.
One more puzzle troubled Zhou Guaner. Earlier, Li Yan had already been stung by the poisonous tendrils—a poison refined with great care by Zhou Guaner himself. Once that poison entered the body, it would circulate with the blood and disturb the function of the five major organs: initially causing nausea and vomiting, then gradually paralyzing the nerves so that one would eventually faint, or even causing heart failure until death ensued. So, where was Li Yan's antidote? And although Li Yan had shown obvious signs of discomfort in his limbs during his first evasive maneuvers, now, after so much time, the toxin had not erupted. This, too, was why the supervising cultivators had not come forward immediately; if Li Yan's condition were even slightly deteriorated, help would have been dispatched at once.
Determined, Zhou Guaner's heart burned with resolve. He planned to channel his flying dagger with every ounce of his strength so that it would pierce Li Yan's rain curtain and immediately detonate. What he did not notice, however, was that about a dozen meters behind him lay a patch of grass—one that, despite Li Yan's withdrawal of spiritual energy—and which should have vanished by now, still remained in four or five semi‑transparent clusters. They appeared as if they were on the verge of collapsing, flickering in a state of imminent disappearance.
Earlier, Zhou Guaner had already examined that grass using Spiritual Cognition, verifying that it was nothing more than a normal immortal technique formed by wood‑element energy. There was nothing abnormal within it; moreover, once Li Yan's energy was withdrawn, that patch of grass would naturally vanish in segments—a standard effect when a formation loses its sustaining power. Still, he had remained cautious and skirted that area.
At that very moment, those four or five clusters of nearly transparent grass suddenly shimmered into tiny, sparkling points of light, then vanished instantly from the world. Focused entirely on Li Yan ahead, Zhou Guaner now prepared to press his attack with the flying dagger. He had not activated his own protective aura since Li Yan was confined within his rain curtain—and he had previously scanned the area meticulously—so he felt confident as he pressed forward.
Then, suddenly, a warning surged in Zhou Guaner's chest: he sensed a sudden chill around his neck, an omen that sent a jolt of terror through him. He hurriedly withdrew his Spiritual Cognition and peered inward, only to find nothing amiss. Yet a moment's hesitation gripped him. Just as he was about to decide whether to continue his assault or to secure his surroundings, the ghost‑faced horse suddenly let out an even more agonized, piercing cry. Normally such a cry signified an intensification of attack, but in Zhou Guaner's ears it conveyed raw, genuine pain. He quickly turned, only to see that the ghost‑faced horse was violently shaking its head as though trying to free itself from some unseen bond. Then, in one final, desperate shriek, its small eyes—once black-green—suddenly turned pure white. With a tremendous exhalation from its large nostrils, a dozen ghost‑flame skulls shot forth in unison. Zhou Guaner's heart pounded in shock. Clearly, the ghost‑faced horse had been struck by an enemy technique or a deadly toxic agent. Instantly, he threw up one hand in defense while maintaining his relentless attack on Li Yan.
At that moment, a vast cascade of withered, yellow leaves suddenly appeared before Zhou Guaner. Dozens of ghost‑flame skulls were caught within this leafy barrier and held back for several dozen meters. Then Zhou Guaner suddenly felt his heart seize as if gripped tightly by an invisible force. A low groan arose from him as a mysterious pressure stabbed from behind his neck and plunged into his "spiritual sea." In an instant, his once sharply contrasting eyes blurred, both turning pure white.
Enraged and terrified, Zhou Guaner scanned his surroundings. In one sweeping glance he spotted the ghost‑faced horse; then behind him, in the dark of the sky, a mass of arrows materialized en masse. With a single flick of his hand, he knew those arrows could reduce the ghost‑faced horse to mere fragments. Meanwhile, far off, Li Yan remained hidden behind his rain curtain in silence, carefully avoiding any direct confrontation.
Then suddenly the blue light on the battle platform flashed—and like a phantom, a figure appeared directly behind Zhou Guaner. With one swift touch, that figure patted Zhou Guaner, and he collapsed to the ground, his defenses crumbling. The patch of withered, yellow leaves, now unsupported by his fading spiritual energy, could no longer block the ghost‑flame skulls, and a dozen such skulls surged forward. With a single, graceful gesture, the mysterious interloper made them vanish. Simultaneously, he moved swiftly to the front of the ghost‑faced horse. Its wailing abruptly ceased and the beast too fell motionless. Only then did the dark mass of arrows in the sky slowly recede. The interloper quickly checked both Zhou Guaner and the fallen horse. With a frown, he sent two streams of spiritual light—one toward each body—and just as he was about to turn his gaze toward Li Yan, he heard a soft exhalation. In a flash, he hoisted both Zhou Guaner and the ghost‑faced horse and, enveloped in radiant light, whisked them away to the Void Pavilion. As he departed, his gaze fell heavily upon Li Yan, who had by that time retracted both his rain curtain and his protective aura. A single message floated through the air: "33 wins."
Leichangtian stood, utterly dumbfounded. Some aspects of the battle defied explanation. "Could this be a win? How did those toxins on the grass manage to be triggered with such precision when Brother Zhou hadn't even prepared for it?" she wondered aloud. Being a Foundation Establishment expert, she soon witnessed the final scene in which those clusters of nearly transparent grass melted away. It was clear that those patches had been deliberately maintained by Li Yan with spiritual energy so that they would remain intact until the precise moment of activation. Although she had earlier suspected that the grass might have been part of a poisonous trap set by Li Yan, when she saw that Zhou Guaner himself had cautiously scanned the area before each attack, she had dismissed her doubts. Only later, when the battle reached a brief stalemate lasting barely seven or eight breaths, did she notice those nearly transparent clusters slowly dissolve into tiny specks of light. At that moment, she was forced to acknowledge the meticulous nature 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 remained dormant until a specific moment, then erupted into attack. Controlling ordinary grass was trivial—but to keep its inherent toxin hidden and then trigger it precisely was truly astounding.
At this point, cultivators from several regions watching the match erupted into a flurry of discussion. Many were baffled by what had transpired; those with sharper eyes speculated on how Li Yan had managed to control the timing of his poison. Amid the murmurs, a faint, satisfied smile tugged at Zhao Min's lips. Li Yan had, as always, not disappointed—his layered preparations had ultimately overcome the joint assault of his foe and his beast. And yet, the mystery of his toxin-control methods continued to intrigue her deeply.
Back at the headquarters, Wang Tian and Zuo Shengyan wore imposing expressions, their cold auras sending a chill through the surrounding Lingchong Peak cultivators, who instinctively avoided speaking.
"Little Zhu Peak! To think you can't even defeat a low-level Qi Condensation disciple—Zhou Guaner is utterly useless," spat Zuo Shengyan, his face as cold as ice. His exposed stomach, adorned with trembling scorpion markings, and his snow-white legs only added to his fury, while Wang Tian's aura grew even darker.
Li Yan eventually returned to his designated area. Lin Daqiao scrutinized him from head to toe, murmuring, "Little brother, remarkable, truly impressive," while secret nods and quiet exclamations of approval passed among them.
Wei Chituo broke into a broad grin. "There's progress—you've still managed to keep a hidden move up your sleeve. Your devious tactics rival those of our senior brother," he said, though he quickly glanced around to ensure none overheard.
Yun Chunqu, in a rare gesture of approval, merely nodded at Li Yan.
Gong Chenying regarded him with curious eyes as if to speak, but in the end, she remained silent.
Within the Void Pavilion, the supervising cultivator who had been monitoring the Ninth Battle Platform glanced around at the senior masters and the headmaster gathered nearby. They soon departed in a hurry. As they left, one of them recalled the words the headmaster had spoken after checking Zhou Guaner's condition—"It appears that this virus can be remotely activated via Spiritual Cognition." That revelation sent ripples of shock through him. Such a toxin was legendary—indeed, it was said that the Wangliang Sect had researched remote activation of toxins via Spiritual Cognition for nearly ten thousand years. In theory, they might all trigger a toxin using Spiritual Cognition; however, a long-established problem had always been how to keep the toxin dormant. Otherwise, once deployed, it would either dissipate before one could activate it, or it would continuously volatilize, making it detectable by an enemy's spiritual sense. Many methods had been tried to keep a toxin in stasis—using spiritual energy enclosures or suppressing it with Spiritual Cognition—but these invariably left traces that an opponent could sense. The ideal method would involve a medicinal substance that was colorless, odorless, and even formless, and that could suppress the toxin's volatility while remaining compatible with it and controllable via Spiritual Cognition without hindering its eventual release. This had long been an unsolved problem—until now. Who could say how Li Yan refined such a poison?
This toxin was entirely different from the Spiritual Cognition Poison. The latter paralyzes, corrodes, and even launches attacks through the spiritual sense. By contrast, a toxin controlled by Spiritual Cognition was itself invisible and formless, capable of being remotely activated at will.
Yan Longzi chose not to conceal these facts from the supervising cultivator, reasoning that there was no need. Once Li Yan deployed such toxins in future matches—even if once or twice their method escaped immediate detection—those with insight might eventually deduce its nature. But even if someone guessed it, what use would that be? Could anyone truly defend against it? Furthermore, he was not concerned that someone in the sect might attempt to extract Li Yan's "formula." First, because Li Yan did not possess a fixed formula; and second, because it was only a matter of time before more and more people began to learn of his condition. Ultimately, in Yan Longzi's eyes, Li Yan's innate talent was mediocre at best, and he was nothing more than another Foundation Establishment disciple. Even if Li Yan had been born with an Earth Spirit Root, he would have sealed away that information until he was strong enough to protect himself, without worrying that members of the other three sects would scheme to seize him.
In truth, the supervising Foundation Establishment cultivator still harbored one unresolved thought. Earlier, after checking Zhou Guaner and the ghost‑faced horse, he had only managed to use his spiritual energy to shield their consciousness and heart channels from the toxin. He had assumed that the new toxin was one Li Yan had refined himself—and had prepared to demand that Li Yan produce an antidote—when suddenly, he was summoned by a senior elder, along with Zhou Guaner, to the Void Pavilion.
Just then, as the Wanling Sect's Qi Condensation tournament continued, at a small courtyard outside the Shibu Institute a young cultivator bearing a massive sword case conversed in hushed tones with two other cultivators standing by the gate. After exchanging a few quiet words, he pushed open the door into the courtyard. Inside, beneath lush green trees and a vast blue sky, the courtyard exuded cool, refreshing shade. It was a traditional four-sided compound, empty of people, with neatly planted spirit herbs arranged in orderly sections; their fresh green vibrancy and delicate fragrance in the mild breeze created an atmosphere of tranquility and elegance. The young cultivator had no intention of lingering. Glancing briefly in the direction of the courtyard, he strode toward one of the adjacent chambers. Pushing open the chamber door, he entered an exquisitely antique room with carved, latticed windows and heavy, dark-colored tables surrounded by simple, timeworn chairs. An elegant, understated folding screen set the tone, its graceful design and exquisite craftsmanship imbued with the deep cultural and aesthetic spirit of the East.
After entering, the sword-case-bearer walked directly toward the back of the folding screen. Behind it was a bookshelf, crammed with classic texts. Reaching it, he took out a single ancient tome and began to peruse it thoroughly. When he reached a particular page, he gathered spiritual energy in his hand and concentrated on a specific character. That character rippled as if disturbed by a small circle of water, then vanished from the line, breaking the sequence of text. Methodically, he continued turning pages and clicking on isolated characters; with each precise touch, certain characters would vanish in the same manner. After thirteen consecutive clicks, the ancient tome in his hand burst into purple radiance and disappeared without a trace. Simultaneously, the bookshelf twisted, revealing a slowly rotating purple‑glowing black hole that resembled a vortex into endless void. The sword‑case-bearer stepped forward and vanished into it. After a few disorienting moments of swirling distortion, the black hole dissipated, and the bookshelf returned to normal, with rows upon rows of ancient texts standing as before.
Elsewhere, under a gray sky with barren, gray mountains stretching in endless sequences, atop one such gray peak the fabric of space rippled and a sword‑case-bearer emerged. In front of him, on a cliff's edge, a young man with a noble bearing stood, his arms folded as he gazed into the distance.
"Senior Brother, Elder Xing asked me to inform you—Wanling Sect has now selected a candidate through their life‑and‑death wheel using Qi Condensation cultivators. The selection is already underway," the sword‑case-bearer said respectfully as he approached the young man, who appeared unsurprised by his presence.
"Oh? The candidate has been chosen?" the young man replied nonchalantly without turning his head, his tone even and void of excitement.
"Then, should we go and notify our senior brothers from the Taixuan and Jingtu sects?" the sword‑case-bearer cautiously inquired.
"They—they are still in their respective places, not having come out yet. I will inform them when the time comes," the young man answered evenly, but his gaze shifted toward the distant horizon.
The sword‑case-bearer followed that gaze. In the distant, undulating mass of gray mountains, occasional roars could be heard, and various currents of spirit qi flickered across the sky.
Back on a nearby platform, Li Yan observed from some tens of meters away a low‑level cultivator from Bilin Peak looking toward his direction with a slightly pale face. Above that cultivator, an insect cloud buzzed relentlessly—but it did not attack Li Yan.
Li Yan maintained an impassive expression, making no move. Suddenly, the ground beneath that Bilin Peak cultivator gave way. Clearly expecting such an occurrence, the cultivator took flight as the earth sank, and the insect cloud suddenly soared toward Li Yan. At that very moment, a vast expanse of yellow sand descended like a veil over the insect cloud. Amidst this yellow barrier, the insect cloud emitted sharp, piercing screeches as it darted desperately toward Li Yan. Yet many of its elements fell away during the rapid attack.
After dodging successfully from the "flowing sand technique" that had swallowed his feet, the Bilin Peak cultivator drifted several dozen meters aside. The moment he touched the ground, a sudden alarm flashed in his mind—but before he could react, a puff of smoke had already invaded the hem of his trousers. He cried out, "No good!" and hastily swallowed a pill, only to experience a convulsion of his heart within two breaths. In agony he hurled the pill bottle aside; soon his eyes lost all color, turning as white as snow.
At that moment, a blue light suddenly flashed over the platform—then, as if in a ghostly apparition, a figure materialized. It was the supervising Foundation Establishment cultivator. With a single palm strike, he rendered the fallen Bilin Peak cultivator unconscious. Then, with a sweeping movement of his broad sleeves, the remaining insect cloud and the worm-like swarm on the ground vanished. He glanced briefly toward Li Yan and then hurled the unconscious cultivator toward the Void Pavilion. The supervising cultivator was visibly frustrated; whenever Li Yan appeared in the match, regardless of which platform he was on, if his opponent's toxin took hold then—more often than not—the antidote required intervention from a Golden Core elder. In many cases, some toxins could be dispelled by deploying spiritual energy or using antidotal pills, but some other toxins were so complex that even a Foundation Establishment cultivator could not hope to remove them in a short period. And this young fellow, Li Yan, only dispersed toxins rather than actively detoxifying.
Soon the voices spread in the arena. More and more cultivators gathered to watch Li Yan's match. In fact, after Li Yan had repeatedly deployed his "Shili Twelve Toxins," many eyes had become fixed upon him.
One cultivator mused, "This young Master-uncle has won once more. Even those with higher realms cannot seem to overcome him?" Another, older cultivator remarked, "Look at him—he has lost a few rounds too. It seems that below the late tenth level in Qi Condensation, victory is very hard to obtain." A third said bluntly, "Most of his losses came when facing those masters of the perfect tenth level. In those fights he was forced to concede after a fierce struggle." "Still, he is truly uncanny," another commented. "He wields a toxin controlled by his Spiritual Cognition so invisibly that he's managed to fool over a dozen senior brothers—even those at the ninth or tenth layer hardly have a chance against him." "Primarily, his spiritual energy is extraordinarily weird. Though he appears to be at mid‑sixth level in Qi Condensation, the quality of his qi is such that he can hold off opponents of the early tenth level. That level of refinement must be deep indeed," another speculated. "I've even heard from one Foundation Establishment elder that he is actually at the later part of Qi Condensation's seventh level," someone else added. "There's an art of concealing hidden techniques. Even so, to hold off someone approaching the middle or late eighth level is remarkable."
…
Li Yan, his expression calm, returned to the Little Zhu Peak area. His friends Wei Chituo and others greeted him with familiar smiles. Li Yan returned the smiles, then quickly sat cross-legged to meditate and recover. In recent days, with fewer competitors and increasingly intense battles, he had to seize every moment to restore his strength.
What he did not notice was a pair of beautiful eyes watching him with growing curiosity.
Over these days, Li Yan had become thoroughly immersed in battle. His mastery of the Gui Shui Zhen Jing combined with his "Shili Twelve Toxins" grew increasingly refined. Yet he deliberately concealed his diverse spirit root pattern—displaying only the properties of his Earth Spirit Root, so that many assumed he possessed the water, wood, and earth trinity. In truth, Li Yan began to continuously employ his "Shili Twelve Toxins" in tandem with a three‑element immortal art. His most fearsome method was using his Spiritual Cognition to control toxins. Wherever he walked, he might secretly leave behind traces of a remotely activated toxin—be it triggered underground by his "flowing sand technique," in the air by his "cloud rain technique," or amid the wind by his "wind blade technique." Should an enemy unwittingly venture into the area Li Yan had passed—without carefully scanning for any residual immortal arts—then even a trace amount of toxin, meticulously activated by Spiritual Cognition, could bring calamity in an instant.
Thus Li Yan developed a signature tactic. As soon as he entered a battle platform, he would swiftly glide around in several circuits—so as to force his opponents to curse his shamelessness, unaware of the secret "back doors" he left in his wake. Consequently, his adversaries had no choice but to constantly maintain their protective aura, deploy repeated Spiritual Cognition scans, and stay alert as to whether they had stepped into a zone once traversed by Li Yan. They might also store toxins in other areas, but without remote activation they would dissipate in just a short time unless vast quantities were deployed to cover the platform—and they simply did not possess that kind of mystical power.
When fighting against Li Yan, these cultivators had to, while sustaining their defensive auras and employing Spiritual Cognition at full tilt, attempt to defeat him as quickly as possible—otherwise, after a few hours, their own spiritual energy would be exhausted. Yet Li Yan's strategy of evasive fighting combined with robust defense meant that his troublesome rain curtain prevented any enemy attack from penetrating for a time. Meanwhile, Li Yan's own spiritual power and cultivation level were clearly not on par with his opponents. Several mid‑tenth‑level cultivators with deep reservoirs of energy launched a barrage of potent spirit treasures and immortal techniques in hopes of knocking Li Yan down in a few exchanges. But aside from his impenetrable rain curtain, Li Yan seemed nimbly elusive—alternating his use of Earth Vanishing and flowing sand techniques in a constantly shifting, unpredictable style that forced his foes to keep their distance.
Earlier, a Bilin Peak cultivator—also at mid‑tenth level—had launched a devastating immortal technique only to be forced to withdraw in disarray as Li Yan's earth‑based, sprawling yellow sand barely held back the invading insect cloud. Although dozens of poisonous insects had managed to slip by, they were eventually paralyzed and fell to the ground as a mass of gray matter. In the end, it was not that this fighter chose to withhold his protective aura or deploy more insect clouds, but rather that Li Yan had walked through every region of the platform earlier, leaving him with essentially no more spiritual energy or Spiritual Cognition available. Consequently, though he sensed a warning at the last moment, he had fallen prey to Li Yan's remotely activated toxin.
And those supervising Foundation Establishment cultivators had long known that once a fighter was poisoned, the match could be declared over. They would be the first to intervene and render the attacker unconscious.
Now, when cultivators from various peaks saw Li Yan in battle, aside from paying even more attention, many began to curse him for his shamelessness. Yet no one felt confident they could take him down in just a few exchanges—unless they were a Foundation Establishment cultivator, perhaps.
What they did not know was that within his "Shili Twelve Toxins," only two toxin types were controllable by Spiritual Cognition. One was designed for use against Zhou Guaner, which plunged an enemy into disarray—leaving their eyes pure white and rendering every living creature within sight vulnerable. Li Yan had named this toxin "Eyes Speak Tenderly." Its name only added to the low opinion many held of him. The other toxin, called "Singing All the Way," was one Li Yan had experimented with early on at a platform behind Little Zhu Peak. It could seep along the stems and leaves of vegetation, or along human hair, permeating the body from within and liquefying the tissues until they became a puddle of black water. But this toxin was far too domineering, and Li Yan dared not use it during the grand tournament out of fear that his opponent might die even before a Golden Core master could arrive to intervene—and since Li Yan himself did not know how to counteract it.
Meanwhile, Li Yan's old friend Leichangtian tapped his foot on the ground, and occasionally his smooth, white, rounded calves were visible beneath the robes. "This fellow is interesting," he remarked. "Even defeating a mid‑tenth‑level disciple costs him dearly. Miss Min, I feel that in time he might catch up to my own Master Wu Yi."
Zhao Min shuddered inwardly. "You're just like your aunt—always speaking without reservation. Especially when she looks at Wei Chongran," she murmured.
Turning her gaze to Leichangtian, she added, "Senior Sister Li, that fellow cannot compare with Li Wu Yi; his mind is not ruthless enough. When Li Wu Yi first joined the Qi Condensation tournament, he had several opponents who weren't even seriously injured. But I truly hope that fellow gets into the life‑and‑death round—then perhaps he'll finally let himself fight freely." Zhao Min always sensed that Li Yan held many undisclosed methods; if he fully unleashed them, even those masters at the tenth layer might not be able to overcome him.
Leichangtian laughed, "Yes, yes, my Master Wu Yi is a man—and I love his feigned rudeness the most."
Zhao Min could only feel exasperated, her entire being trembling with indescribable emotion.
Time passed. As the moon set and the sun rose—and then the sun set and the moon rose again—two more days went by. When the enormous moon reached the zenith of the sky, the tournament entered its final stage, with 140 cultivators remaining. Many of them had already fought in two or three rounds, with wins and losses marking their records.
Li Yan gazed at the crystal screen, where blue light slowly coalesced into two lines of characters: "33" versus "405." A voice then resounded by his ear: "The lot has been drawn. On the Seventeenth Battle Platform, it is 33 versus 405."