Chapter Eighty-Four

Stepping into the grand hall, passing through the corridor and emerging from another door, the view suddenly opened up before him.

It was a technique similar to the illusion spells used by the Eastern Mountain Sect. Though it appeared to be a mere hall, within it lay a hidden world.

Before him stretched an expanse of pristine white tiles, forming a vast, immaculate plain. Hundreds of disciples already stood within, and several circles of spectators surrounded the outer edge.

Most of these were stewards and disciples from various mountain sects.

Lin Ze immediately spotted Su Bailu among the crowd. The young girl stood there with proper decorum, yet she still drew the gaze of many.

Of course, the most eye-catching figure was the old man seated at the square wooden chair at the very front.

Though it was his first time seeing him, Lin Ze recognized him instantly.

He could even imagine the scene: the old man stroking his beard, smiling kindly.

"From tomorrow onward, you'll enter the inner sect for your cultivation."

Lin Ze had heard these words in the simulator at least a hundred times, to the point his ears were nearly calloused. Incidentally, it had also earned him nearly a hundred Foundation Establishment Pills.

The True Immortal Huanglong slowly turned to glance at the green-robed Daoist.

For some reason, he felt as if the man was very familiar with him…

After pondering for a moment, Huanglong confirmed he had never met this person, then withdrew his gaze and nodded to the steward with cloud patterns from the Southern Hall.

As the steward stepped forward, the disciples scattered.

Upon hearing her name called, Su Bailu carried her Dao sword and stepped out. Opposite her stood a nervous youth.

...

The first round of competition ended at an unimaginable speed.

With merely a single exchange, the gap between ordinary disciples and those from the mountain sects became instantly evident.

Those who managed to last three rounds were already rare.

They clutched incomplete techniques learned from the classroom, summoned their courage to rush forward, and then collapsed—all within the span of a few breaths.

The expressions of the many spectators revealed their lack of interest in such low-level duels.

Of course, those younger disciples who could hold out for a few more moves occasionally caught the attention of the mountain sect members. Winning wasn't always necessary.

This situation only improved slightly by the third round.

Most ordinary disciples had already been defeated; the few who remained were truly capable, unafraid even when facing mountain sect disciples.

He Lin and Pan Yang immediately perked up.

Like gold sifted from sand, these were the ones who shone.

"Hey, that boy is using our Cloud Residence Peak's sword technique!"

"Don't get your hopes up too soon," He Lin poured cold water on his excitement, motioning with his mouth toward the side, where several stewards from top-ranked mountain sects were already eyeing the youth.

"Damn it!" Pan Yang knew he couldn't compete with them and could only wave his sleeve helplessly.

Lin Ze, meanwhile, silently watched a petite figure outside the field.

She looked like a boy at first glance, but a closer look revealed a tomboy with short hair.

She had already been defeated in the first round, her body bruised and battered, yet she squatted outside, refusing to leave.

The reason Lin Ze noticed her was simple.

She was fierce.

In combat, she fought like a madwoman—rolling into a ball, punching, kicking, even biting. She nearly tore off her opponent's ear.

Her abdomen took three direct strikes, yet she refused to let go, ultimately being tossed out with blood in her mouth.

Sadly, her cultivation was too low, and her street-fighting style wasn't appreciated among cultivators. Other than Lin Ze, no one cared to spare her a glance.

"So familiar."

Lin Ze calmly withdrew his gaze, a trace of complexity in his eyes.

He saw a familiar expression on the tomboy's face.

It was identical to what he had seen in the simulator, the look the green-robed Daoist wore when swallowing the Foundation Establishment Pill—a ferocity that would do anything to survive.

As he pondered this, the Southern Hall steward called out two more names.

"Su Bailu of Little Green Mountain, Zhang Kun of Cloud Residence Peak."

There were now only about a hundred left in the field, each with extraordinary bearing. These mountain sect disciples were the true focus of the grand competition.

Upon hearing this, Pan Yang winked at Lin Ze. "Don't worry, the old man has already arranged everything."

"..."

Lin Ze didn't know what to say.

"At the peak of Qi Refinement, you'll be spending again," He Lin teased.

Though the elders could easily instruct their disciples to hold back, it was clear neither of them was shameless enough to do so—they would compensate accordingly.

"Top hundred only earns a single sword pellet. I'll give him three," Pan Yang said carelessly. Compared to those spirit stones, ensuring Little Green Mountain's ranking was more important, since it concerned the future of their sect.

Even if the other major sects had further tricks up their sleeves, those were worries for another day.

Meanwhile, Zhang Kun leisurely drew his Dao sword, casting a sidelong glance toward his own elder to signal: Rest assured, I'll make sure my performance is flawless.

He then shifted sideways, looking askance at the girl opposite him.

"Junior Sister, have you ever heard my name?"

Su Bailu shook her head honestly.

"Oh-ho-ho-ho," Zhang Kun threw his head back in exaggerated laughter, lifting his sword with a flourish, his gaze domineering, his voice chilling:

"Interesting."

Seeing this, Pan Yang nodded in satisfaction.

First, they pretended not to know each other to allay the Southern Hall steward's suspicion, then, out of overconfidence, he would be "defeated" by her hand.

Unnoticed and silent.

Perfect!

"Come at me!" Zhang Kun raised his head disdainfully, inwardly calculating how much strength to use—first, three rounds of entanglement, then, once he gained a slight advantage, he would "accidentally" be disarmed.

"Alright."

Su Bailu thought this senior was a bit strange, but still charged forward with her sword.

With a single thrust—

A sharp clang rang out. Zhang Kun blinked, watching his Dao sword fly several yards and land on the ground, stunned.

I... lost?

Pan Yang frowned, glaring at him.

Three sword pellets, and this is how you repay me?

Zhang Kun looked embarrassed, wanting to explain that he'd prepared many moves to lose gracefully and make the match look good.

However, the Southern Hall steward was already watching. He could only walk out in silence.

"Elder Lin, rest assured, my disciple from Little Pill Peak would never be so foolish," He Lin coughed dryly, casting a dissatisfied glance at Pan Yang. Was he afraid people wouldn't notice? Couldn't he have made the fight last a few more exchanges?

Lin Ze wanted to explain, but Pan Yang cut him off, "An accident, definitely an accident. I'll make sure to teach that boy a lesson when we get back."

Compared to before, the fourth round lasted much longer. All were mountain sect disciples of similar realm, and their duels often dragged on for hours.

Su Bailu stood quietly among them, her presence more conspicuous than ever.

Many turned to look at her.

Finally, the fifth round arrived, with only fifty or sixty participants remaining.

The Southern Hall steward stepped out once more:

"Xu Chen of Little Pill Peak, Su Bailu of Little Green Mountain."

The youth glanced reassuringly at He Lin, then turned back to stare quietly at the woman before him.

He would not be careless—at least he would...

In an instant, he found himself shivering as her long sword pressed against his neck.

He Lin and Pan Yang exchanged glances.

Lin Ze rubbed his brow helplessly.