Daoist Competition

He must have thought that I might borrow this Dharma Treasure to my disciple. It seems that he held onto a sliver of hope in his heart—if I refused to lend the treasure, it would allow his disciple to vie for the top spot. Should Liu Yan Yi possess this Dharma Treasure, he would simply bow his head in surrender.

Although Zhang Yan had limited interactions with Elder Zhu, he could see that this was no man devoid of cunning. With such a temperament, Elder Zhu would undoubtedly plan ahead and never act on a mere whim.

The display outside the valley earlier was, in all likelihood, staged deliberately to foster a trace of guilt in Zhang Yan’s heart, making him feel as though he owed Elder Zhu a favor.

These twists and turns of thought swirled in Zhang Yan’s mind, and in mere moments, he had unraveled them with crystal clarity.

He gave a cold sneer. This old fox was clearly playing mind games once more, his intentions anything but righteous. Zhang Yan thought silently to himself, "I originally intended to make you suffer a little. However, considering your nearing end of days, I won’t bother seeking reckoning with you. Lest the uninformed say that I bully the weak, I’ll instead leave this score to be settled with your disciple."

Yet with the sect’s grand competition approaching in just a couple of days, such matters would have to wait. Zhang Yan offered Liu Yan Yi a few words of encouragement before heading up to the pavilion to sit cross-legged. He took a deep breath, steadied his mind, and within moments, eradicated all fleeting thoughts, entering a meditative state.

Pan Chi Island, in Yugui Palace.

Mo Daoist paced back and forth before the hall. Glancing at the tinted clouds in the sky, he addressed a young Daoist beside him, "Junior Feng, is it true that he will emerge from seclusion in the coming days?"

The young Daoist bowed deeply and replied, "Reporting to Uncle Mo, that is what Master has stated."

Taking a glance at Mo Daoist, he added, "Uncle, rest assured. Master has guardian incense and candles safeguarding him while taking medicine; nothing untoward will happen."

Mo Daoist shook his head. Ever since Feng Zhen had obtained that Minor Divine Power from their master, he had been relentlessly practicing day and night. Over the past year or two, he frequently went into seclusion, yet when sparring with him in private, Mo Daoist noticed little improvement.

Then, three months ago, Feng Zhen suddenly declared he would enter life-or-death confined seclusion. Despite Mo Daoist’s efforts to dissuade him, there was no stopping him.

Such life-or-death seclusion indicates that a cultivator has reached a deadlock in their cultivation path. In sheer desperation, they ingest **Ning Miao Powder**, hoping to grasp a trace of the elusive Xuanji amidst their induced hallucinations.

However, once the powder is consumed, they lose connection to the outside world, unaware of the passage of time. They might even lose themselves entirely, succumbing to illusions and sinking into delusion—unspeakable dangers abound.

Thɪs chapter is updated by novel⚑fire.net

Now, with three months gone by in the blink of an eye, only two days remained before the sect’s grand competition. Du De could summon the disciples at any moment to gather and proceed to Honglie Continent. Should Feng Zhen fail to appear, being expelled from the sect would be the least of his concerns—his very life might be in jeopardy.

Mo Daoist and Feng Zhen had always shared a deep bond, rare among their fellow sect members, and the worry etched across Mo Daoist’s face was impossible to hide.

He sighed and said, "Junior Feng began Seeking Dao decades before Zhang Yan. In terms of comparison, his foundation is nothing short of profound. Even if he fails to master this Divine Skill fully, it doesn’t mean he cannot triumph over Zhang Yan. Why, then, resort to absolute seclusion?"

The young Daoist immediately lowered his head to avoid commenting, knowing this matter concerned his master. While Mo Daoist could speak freely, the junior would never dare speak out of turn.

Mo Daoist speculated inwardly. Such reckless cultivation on Feng Zhen’s part was likely driven by fear of Zhang Yan’s **Five Spirit White Carp Shuttle**. However, Mo Daoist himself possessed a family-inherited strange treasure. While this treasure was admittedly inferior to the Mystic Shuttle, it sufficed for protection. He thought: if necessary, he could lend it to Junior Feng. Why was there such a need for desperation?

While he was still sighing, a sudden rumble echoed from within the hall. The ground beneath his feet trembled faintly, and a wave of heat surged outwards. Even with his profound Mysterious Skill cultivation, he felt an intense scorching heat engulf him. Then came a burst of maniacal laughter. Ecstatic, he stomped his foot and transformed into a wisp of crimson smoke, darting into the grand hall.

Inside the hall, he landed and steadied himself, only to see black smoke billowing all around, obscuring the entire scene. A charred, acrid scent stabbed at his nose, searing his lungs and throat as if they were blistering. Alarmed, he retreated a step, activating his Mysterious Skill to shield his seven apertures. In a clear voice, he called out, "Junior Feng, have you emerged from seclusion?"

At the sound of his voice, the smoke and flames within the hall seemed to shift, then coalesced toward a single point. As most of it dispersed, Mo Daoist fixed his gaze and saw Feng Zhen standing in the center of the hall, his back to him. Feng Zhen’s sleeves rippled, absorbing the remaining smoke and fire.

Mo Daoist stepped closer, only to realize that Feng Zhen’s hair had turned entirely crimson. He was instantly startled: "Junior, what... has happened to you?"

Feng Zhen turned around to face him and, upon seeing Mo Daoist, burst into hearty laughter: "Senior Brother, heaven has blessed me! I have fully grasped the Divine Skill bestowed by our master. If I now cross paths with Zhang Yan, even if he’s mastered some superior cultivation method, I will surely bring him down!"

Mo Daoist scrutinized Feng Zhen closely. There was an unmistakable ruthlessness in his eyes, and rings of flame-like patterns encircled them, subtly manifesting with every breath he took—a sight both eerie and unsettling.

Within the Mingcang Sect, all cultivated Mysterious Skills and Divine Skills adhered strictly to the True Sect principles. They required systematic and gradual training over time. To achieve even moderate mastery within three years was extremely rare; failure was the norm. Yet Feng Zhen, in his haste to cultivate, insisted it was by their master’s order, leaving Mo Daoist powerless to intervene.

But now, looking at him in this state, it seemed as if the ingestion of **Ning Miao Powder** had taken a toll on his mind. Mo Daoist stepped closer, carefully observing Feng Zhen, and asked gravely: "Junior, do you feel anything unusual?"

Feng Zhen’s face flashed with slight irritation. "Unusual? What could be unusual? Hmph! I am perfectly fine."

Mo Daoist furrowed his brows and pressed on, "The Divine Skill bestowed by our master—what is it exactly? You refused to tell me back then. Surely, you can share it with your senior brother now."

Hearing the question, Feng Zhen laughed heartily and replied, "The method our master imparted is of immense power. Mere words cannot describe it. Come, Senior Brother, let’s spar! Then you will witness the might of this Minor Divine Power firsthand."

Just as Mo Daoist was about to respond, a distant chime resounded, reverberating from afar. His heart tightened involuntarily, and a similar tension flickered on Feng Zhen’s face.

Turning toward the west, Mo Daoist said solemnly, "This is master summoning the disciples to gather for the grand competition. Junior, quickly prepare yourself and come with me without delay."

...

...(To be continued. If you enjoy this work, please visit Qidian (qidian.com) to cast recommendation tickets or monthly votes. Your support is my greatest motivation.)