The next day, Zhang Xian was matched against Contestant Jia-29, an Earth Spiritual Root cultivator named Wang. Known for his stubbornness, Wang didn’t waste a heartbeat. The moment the match began, he summoned a massive earthen shield, creating a flawless, impenetrable fortress of stone.

“Junior Brother Wang’s defense is absolute!” someone roared from the crowd. “Let’s see how that old scoundrel Zhang Xian tries to break through this!”

Wang watched Zhang Xian with narrowed, cautious eyes. The night before, the Demon Exorcism Association had held an emergency strategy session that lasted until dawn. Their conclusion was simple: they would beat Zhang Xian at his own game. They were going to force him into a grueling battle of endurance.

As a second-level Golden Core expert, Wang was a human mountain. He was a self-made man who had clawed his way into the inner sect through sheer grit. His obsession had begun the moment he saw a recording of Li Fuxi; since then, he had spent his meager savings on every illustrated album and piece of merchandise featuring her.

When he heard that Li Fuxi was being “kept” by Zhang Xian on a flying vessel, Wang nearly suffered a mental collapse. Devastated, he found solace in the Demon Exorcism Association. He hadn’t even planned on entering the tournament until he saw Zhang Xian’s name on the roster. He had signed up out of pure, unadulterated spite.

Fortune favored the vengeful. He had drawn the “Old Scoundrel” in the very second round. Even as the higher-level cultivator, Wang felt no shame in hiding behind a shield. A true man knew when to turtle up.

Wang was brimming with confidence. He had the backing of the Association, the support of the crowd, and secret intel provided by Zhen Hai and Chen Tiexin. Even the sect’s intelligence chief, Old Deng, was helping them. With the world on his side, losing felt mathematically impossible.

Zhang Xian, unbothered by the spectacle, traced a lazy flourish with his sword and closed the distance. Wang smirked behind his shield. This played right into his hands. He knew Zhang Xian practiced the Azure Emperor’s Rejuvenation Art, but in a war of attrition, his own Wutu Longevity Sutra was the undisputed king.

Half an hour passed. The spiritual energy in Zhang Xian’s body began to visibly flag.

“Ha! The old scoundrel is running dry!”

“Is that it? He’s not very ‘enduring,’ is he?”

The disciples below grew giddy with anticipation. Zhang Xian merely retracted his sword and calmly pulled out a top-grade Spirit Recovery Pill, popping it like candy.

“Holy crap! He’s taking pills!”

“Shameless! Disqualify the cheater!”

The referee ignored the shouting. In professional tournaments, pills and talismans were fair game—otherwise, alchemists and talisman masters would never win a fight. A cultivator’s wealth was simply another form of power.

While the disciples grumbled, the referee’s eyes twitched. That wasn’t just any pill; it was a top-grade Spirit Recovery Pill worth nearly a thousand mid-grade spirit stones. Using such a life-saving treasure for a tournament match was the definition of “burning money.”

Zhang Xian ignored the noise and went back to work. Another thirty minutes passed. Wang was now drenched in sweat, his legs starting to buckle under the constant pressure. Zhang Xian, meanwhile, looked refreshed. He was actually enjoying the target practice. He swallowed a second pill.

The crowd went dead silent for a heartbeat.

“He’s cheating again!”

“Impossible! No pill is that potent. I demand an investigation!”

The referee, seeing the mob starting to turn, finally spoke up: “The pill is a genuine top-grade Spirit Recovery Pill. It is within the rules.”

“Curse these rich people!”

“Junior Brother Wang, hold on! Be a man!”

Another half-hour passed. Zhang Xian took his third pill. Wang’s faith finally shattered. His vision went dark, and he collapsed in a heap, unconscious from sheer mental and physical exhaustion.

“Contestant Jia-32 wins!”

Zhang Xian clasped his fists with a mock-polite smile. “Apologies for the disappointment, senior brothers. But when it comes to endurance, I never lose.”

A chorus of curses followed him off the stage. Just as the vitriol reached a fever pitch, a commotion broke out. Lin Yinyin had finished her own match and arrived to greet him.

“Brother, you were amazing!” Without a hint of shame, Lin Yinyin threw herself into his arms, snuggling against him. They shared a sickeningly sweet moment before walking away together.

“Filthy beast!”

“Junior Sister Yinyin, look at me! I’m more handsome! I’m more loyal! Why him?!”

The disciples were forced to swallow a massive serving of public affection, stamping their feet in despair.

Over the next few days, Zhang Xian cruised through the brackets. In one match, he used two consecutive Profound-grade talismans—effectively throwing a small fortune at his opponent—to blast them off the stage. In the next, he lured his opponent into a melee before summoning a puppet to deliver a blindside hit.

Meanwhile, Li Fuxi maintained her “one sword” streak. Even a fifth-level Golden Core Inspector couldn’t survive more than a single strike from her. Lin Yinyin was equally dominant, crushing a third-level sword cultivator and leaving the man questioning his entire life.

Unfortunately, both Zhen Hai and Chen Tiexin were knocked out in the later rounds.

Finally, the day of the group finals arrived. Zhang Xian stood on the platform, facing Lu Rending of Green Wood Peak. Lu wore dark green robes, a jade flute at his waist, and an expression of pure, righteous fury.

Green Wood Peak hated Zhang Xian more than anyone. Their beloved Inspector Liu had been “defiled” by his despicable tricks, her Nine Turns Jade Condensation Sutra shattered. She was still in seclusion, trying to piece her cultivation back together.

Lu Rending stepped forward and bowed stiffly. “Junior Brother Zhang.”

Zhang Xian returned the gesture with casual grace.

“Actually, I should thank you,” Lu Rending said with a cold, calm smile. “If not for you, I might never have broken my emotional shackles and switched to the Nine Turns Jade Condensation Sutra.”

“To seek the Great Dao, one must sever all ties,” Lu continued, his voice rising with dramatic flair. “Women only slow the speed of my blade!”

“Then congratulations are in order, Senior Brother Lu.”

“However! For the honor of Green Wood Peak, and to avenge my brothers, this ends today!” Lu Rending’s aura exploded as he pointed his finger at Zhang Xian.

He was brimming with confidence. He had achieved minor mastery in the Nine Turns Jade Condensation Sutra and reached the fourth level of the Golden Core stage. He felt like the protagonist of a heroic epic—specifically, the kind of “hero overcomes the villain” story his brother, Lu Renbing, liked to write.

“Group A Finals: Contestant Jia-7 versus Contestant Jia-32!”

The crowd roared. Lu Rending attacked instantly. With a wave of his sleeve, two emerald, tree-like phantoms materialized, their branches lashing out like venomous snakes.

Simultaneously, he brought the jade flute to his lips. The melody transformed into invisible sonic blades, forming a lethal net of sound and wood.

“The Green Tide Life and Death Art!” someone screamed in delight.

Zhang Xian hurriedly slapped down several Earth Spirit Talismans. Thick walls erupted from the stage, but the sonic blades sliced through them like paper. He had to burn Wind Talismans next, his body swaying like a willow leaf as he dodged the relentless onslaught.

“Look at him! He can only run!”

“External items can’t bridge a three-level gap in cultivation!”

Zhang Xian summoned a puppet, its giant sword barely holding the phantom trees at bay. Seeing a gap, he popped another top-grade Spirit Recovery Pill.

Lu Rending sneered. A brilliant green light erupted from his body, pulsing with raw vitality. “You want to play the endurance game? I’ll bury you! I also know the Azure Emperor’s Rejuvenation Art, and my mastery dwarfs yours!”

Lu’s spiritual energy seemed bottomless, triggering another wave of cheers.

“Senior Brother Lu is invincible!”

“His Rejuvenation Art is so powerful he’s recovering faster than he’s spending! He’s a perpetual motion machine!”