Daoist Competition

Fang Zhenlu’s expression revealed slight surprise as he nodded and said, "This does show some promise." Despite his words, he made no move to evade.

The golden light descended, shattering a streak of water droplets that scattered outward. Without hindrance, it surged straight into the inner circle.

Ren Mingyao couldn’t help but feel a flash of joy on his face. However, in the next moment, his expression stiffened.

The sword light had barely penetrated a few inches before hundreds upon thousands of water droplets began to rise one after another, following closely behind, striking repeatedly against the radiance. It sounded like pearls falling onto a jade plate, producing a crisp and resonant vibration. The sword light was immediately shaken into a chaotic mess, unable to maintain its form, and soon shattered and dissolved completely.

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This time, Ren Mingyao was greatly shocked. Each strand of sword light had cost him significant effort to cultivate, yet it was utterly destroyed here. Gritting his teeth, he summoned his spell, merging the remaining dozen streaks of sword light into a single sword rainbow, about the width of a palm and over a yard long, and once again launched the attack.

Fang Zhenlu’s face grew slightly more serious as he activated his intent, deliberately sending the water droplets forward to meet the sword rainbow head-on.

The crystalline water droplets exploded one after another, but instead of dispersing, they reformed as quickly as they fragmented, endlessly transforming as if countless ice crystals were enveloping the sharp sword light. Over time, they gradually ground it down until it disappeared completely.

Ren Mingyao’s face changed drastically. Before he could lament the loss of his dozen streaks of sword light, the flying kite under his feet suddenly let out a sorrowful cry before being pierced through by ice beads. Soon after, countless ice bead-like hailstones rained down. In panic, he hurriedly summoned his sword plate to defend, drawing a circle of sword light to resist. However, it had no effect, and the defense was effortlessly pierced and scattered, with the ice beads shooting directly toward him.

Seeing he could no longer defend against the attack, Elder Xun—who appeared to have been dozing off nearby—suddenly opened his eyes. Raising a finger, he sent out a streak of clear sword Qi, which in an instant, melted the water droplets away like snow under the blazing sun. Glancing briefly at Fang Zhenlu, he said calmly, "This duel, Fang Nephew won."

Fang Zhenlu silently lamented the missed opportunity.

Ren Mingyao, disheartened and dejected, had no choice but to abandon his sword plate and admit defeat. Years of cultivation effort were erased in an instant, leaving him crestfallen. With a bow, he murmured, "Thank you, Senior Brother Fang, for your guidance."

Fang Zhenlu glanced at him a few times, then suddenly smiled and said, "Having sparred with me even once, there is still some fate between us. I will offer you a few words of advice: Your natural talent is not poor, and though your cultivation time is merely decades, if you could completely abandon the deviant cultivation techniques you have pursued, perhaps one day you might regain the favor of your master."

With that, he flicked his sleeve and stepped onto a cloud of smoke, returning to the peak where he calmly seated himself.

Ren Mingyao, hearing these words, returned to the bottom of the cliff in a state of desolation and sat silently, saying nothing.

Watching from a pavilion on the cliffside, Huang Fuzhou observed Ren Mingyao’s demeanor and seemed to recall his own past. Feeling a deep sense of empathy, he shook his head and said, "What a pity for Ren Mingyao. Both talent and cultivation technique are not lacking, but had he steadied his mind to contend with Fang Zhenlu, he could have exchanged several more moves and avoided such a one-sided defeat."

The female companion beside him turned her head upon hearing this. She spoke softly, "Brother Huang, and what of it? No matter how he struggled, he was destined to lose. Those who fail to grasp the greater force of destiny will face the same fate."

Huang Fuzhou fell silent for a long while before asking, "Why does True Master Qin insist I obstruct Junior Brother Zhang?"

The woman chuckled lightly and replied, "How could a humble servant possibly understand the intentions of a True Master? You need only follow the instructions, for whether you win or lose, there will ultimately be benefits for you."

Huang Fuzhou nodded unconsciously. He too understood the implications. Stepping onto this path meant he would no longer earn the trust of Qi Yuntian. If not for concerns about his fellow disciples on Yangyue Island, he would not have agreed to True Master Qin’s condition.

But he was not like Ren Mingyao, whose resolve was fragile. Having made a choice, he saw no reason to dwell on it further, as that would only disturb his own heart realm and spirit.

At this moment, Ning Chongxuan gazed towards Ren Mingyao from amidst the clouds and sighed, "Junior Brother Ren once had a sharp edge, but now, a few words from Fang Zhenlu have shaken his spirit. Falling out of Master Meng’s favor, he may be of little use going forward."

Zhang Yan nodded in agreement. Within their lineage, the character and mindset of a disciple held the utmost importance, surpassing even their aptitude for cultivation.

This was the very reason Ning Chongxuan had once sought to bring Zhang Yan under the tutelage of Qi Yuntian.

Ren Mingyao’s eagerness for quick success and his loss of resolve after encountering setbacks made it little wonder that True Master Meng had only accepted him as a registered disciple and then ceased to care for him.

After Ren Mingyao and Fang Zhenlu stepped down, another figure descended into the arena amidst flying clouds. His hair was disheveled, his beard unkempt, and his robe stained with grease—an appearance of utter disarray. Taking a swig from his wine jug, he tore open his collar and shouted towards the Eighth Peak, "Luo Qingyu! Junior Luo! Come face me!"

Zhang Yan noticed he did not arrive from within the valley nor descend from Ten Peaks Mountain, yet stood boldly and called out for a duel. Slightly perplexed, he asked, "Brother Ning, who is this man?"

Ning Chongxuan replied coldly, "His name is Zhou Yong. Junior Brother, you must have heard of him."

Zhang Yan realized who it was and gave Zhou Yong a closer look.

Zhou Yong had once been a member of the Chen Family through marriage. However, he was rumored to have entangled himself with a female demon and even bore a child with her, which infuriated the Chen Family. They ordered him to execute both the female demon and the child himself. Forced with no alternative, Zhou Yong carried out the deed, but since then, he had abandoned himself to despair. He later relinquished his position as one of the Top Ten Disciples, paving the way for Fang Zhenlu to rise in prominence.

Upon hearing the challenge, Luo Qingyu’s gaze sharpened as he stood up from his peak and summoned a streak of green light, descending into the arena.

Zhou Yong smiled faintly at his arrival. Tossing aside his wine jug, he summoned his entire reserve of Elixir Evil in one motion, unleashing a viscous yellow light that expanded to a radius of over a hundred yards. Before Luo Qingyu could settle into position, Zhou Yong charged forward aggressively.

Luo Qingyu snorted at the sight and immediately magnified his green light, covering the skies with verdant hues. In an instant, the two forces collided with brute intensity. The impact produced a deafening explosion, creating a tempest that pressed grass blades flat across the mountainside. Tens of thousands of disciples outside the mountain felt their chests tighten, their breathing falter, and their heads spin.

Two figures separated amidst the chaos. Zhou Yong staggered back, blood trickling from his lips. Gasping for breath, he said, "Junior Luo, it seems Senior Brother has lost."

Elder Xun’s expression remained indifferent as he declared, "This duel belongs to Nephew Luo."

No one expected the outcome to be decided so swiftly.

One of Luo Qingyu’s sleeves was shredded, leaving his arm exposed. Frowning, he remarked, "Senior Brother Zhou, you knew I possess Divine Skills for protection, yet you resorted to such brute methods. Clearly, you sought to lose."

Zhou Yong spat out a mouthful of blood and then, tilting his head upward, shouted toward a few hazy shadows in the sky, "In terms of cultivation, I am not lacking. But my Divine Skills were unequal, and thus I admit defeat wholeheartedly."

After speaking, he let out a hearty laugh before departing on a cloud.

Luo Qingyu’s expression shifted slightly, as if realizing something troubling. He inwardly muttered, "Not good."

Zhang Yan watched Zhou Yong’s retreating silhouette and fell into contemplation.

At that moment, Ning Chongxuan’s eyes suddenly flared with cold light. With a flick of his sleeve, he descended into the arena and looked toward the Ninth Peak. He called out sharply, "Su Wentian, come face me."

...

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