The battle on the stage had reached a fever pitch, but the scales of victory were undeniably tipping toward Nangong Yao.

Zhang Xian’s performance was nothing short of miraculous. He single-handedly manipulated two Golden Core-level puppets—one of metal, one of water—while weaving through Nangong Yao’s relentless assault.

However, the strain was showing. The spiritual barrier enveloping him, once bright and resilient, now flickered ominously like a candle in a gale.

His breath came in ragged gasps. His face was sickly pale, and cold sweat beaded on his brow.

Nangong Yao moved with fluid arrogance, suppressing him with dense, ranged sword energy. A sneer of disdain curled her lips.

“No matter how many treasures you burn or how bizarre your puppets are, it cannot change the fact that you are merely a third-level False Core cultivator!”

Her voice dripped with mockery. “Trash remains trash! You’re running on fumes, aren’t you? Let’s see how much longer you can delay the inevitable!”

Below the stage, Lin Yinyin’s heart was in her throat. She clutched her skirt so tightly her knuckles turned white, her teeth sinking into her lip until she tasted iron.

Beside her, Li Fuxi was a statue of suppressed anxiety. Her spiritual pressure was condensed, ready to explode. If Zhang Xian fell into true peril, she would tear the arena apart to save him.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

Three cunning streaks of sword light struck Zhang Xian’s dimming barrier. The shield shuddered violently, and a stray beam of golden energy pierced through, slicing a gash across his left arm.

Blood sprayed into the air.

“Brother—!!” Lin Yinyin couldn’t hold back a cry of anguish.

Nangong Yao’s pupils contracted.

He’s reached his limit. He can’t even sustain his defensive treasures. Now!

Ecstasy flooded her veins. Her killing intent, once masked, erupted in full force. The Golden Core within her dantian spun frantically, channeling every ounce of her remaining power.

She widened the distance from the pursuing puppets, pouring everything she had into her long sword.

The blade’s light swelled like a collapsing star, descending straight toward the crown of Zhang Xian’s head.

This was a killing blow. She intended to obliterate this junior who had brought her nothing but humiliation.

Clang!

Her sword collided with the last, paper-thin layer of Zhang Xian’s barrier. The screech of grinding metal tore through the arena.

Li Fuxi’s muscles coiled, ready to launch herself onto the stage the moment the shield shattered.

Everyone believed it was over. Nangong Yao was already visualizing the spray of her opponent’s blood.

But then, from the corner of her eye, she saw Zhang Xian’s arm lift.

An inconspicuous talisman flared in his palm.

A desperate last stand? You think a mere talisman can block my Golden Core sword intent? Nangong Yao scoffed internally.

But as the talisman burned to ash, the energy that erupted was not a standard Profound-grade shield.

Hum!

A massive spiritual barrier, thick as a city wall and swirling with the heavy pressure of earth and water, slammed into existence in front of Zhang Xian.

The density of the spiritual power was suffocating. It radiated a tenacity that far surpassed anything in the Profound realm.

An Earth-grade shield talisman?! And a rare dual-attribute variant?!

The triumphant smile on Nangong Yao’s face froze. A bone-deep chill swept through her marrow.

Something is wrong.

Suddenly, the dim protective light floating three feet in front of Zhang Xian—the one she thought was failing—erupted with blinding radiance.

He’s going to self-destruct a magical treasure?

Wait… that’s not a magical treasure.

BOOM!!!

A deafening, world-shaking explosion rocked Heavenly Palace Peak.

This was no ordinary detonation. Self-destructing a Spirit Treasure released energy comparable to a supernova on the stage, far exceeding the full-strength strike of a late Golden Core cultivator.

A chaotic shockwave expanded in a terrifying ring, pulverizing everything in its path. Even the presiding elder maintaining the barrier was caught off guard, coughing up blood as he was knocked backward.

Disciples near the front rows were sent tumbling like ragdolls by the blast wind, screams of alarm rising from the crowd.

At the epicenter, Nangong Yao took the full brunt of the cataclysm.

“Ah—!!”

Her scream was instantly swallowed by the roar. Blood mist exploded from her body, her magnificent Daoist robes reduced to tatters. Her aura plummeted, flickering out like a dying ember as she fell into critical condition.

Pain and terror blanked her mind.

But the nightmare wasn’t over. Through the smoke, a puppet lunged at her exposed back, its long sword glowing with a blinding, unstable crimson light.

Self-destruct?! He’s going to self-destruct ANOTHER Spirit Treasure?!

Nangong Yao was terrified out of her wits. The scent of death had never been so pungent.

Summoning the last dregs of her strength, she let out a distorted, shrill shriek.

“I concede!!”

But the cry came too late. By the time the words left her lips, the puppet’s glowing sword was mere inches from her heart.

It’s over.

Just as the sword was about to detonate and erase her from existence, a pale, flawless hand materialized from the void and clamped down on the unstable blade.

Time seemed to freeze.

The dust settled. The violent winds died down. The glow of the Earth-grade shield faded.

Amidst the clearing smoke, Zhang Xian stood unharmed, his expression calm. Deep in his eyes, a flicker of regret passed.

The Sect Master had intervened.

His fingertips twitched, and the violent energy within the puppet’s sword obediently receded.

Sect Master Xing Jie stood between them, an immovable boundary between life and death.

“You have won.”

Her voice was flat, devoid of emotion, yet it carried the weight of absolute authority.

She flicked her wrist, and the Spirit Treasure sword floated back to hover obediently before Zhang Xian.

“A Spirit Treasure… to destroy it is a waste.”

Nangong Yao felt like a drowning woman finding a driftlog. She crawled toward the Sect Master, her trembling hand pointing accusingly at Zhang Xian. Her face was twisted with venomous resentment and fear.

“Master! Sect Master!! He tried to murder me! He wasn’t competing! He intended to kill me from the start!! This was a trap!”

The Sect Master remained silent.

Zhang Xian slowly exhaled a breath of turbid air. He cupped his hands toward Nangong Yao, his face a mask of innocent shock.

“Elder Nangong, your accusations are too severe. This disciple is truly terrified. Weren’t we simply competing?”

He shook his head earnestly. “Your earth-shattering sword strike just now frightened me out of my wits. I had no choice but to self-destruct a Spirit Treasure to save my own life. If I hadn’t, I would be the corpse right now.”

Nangong Yao, battered and bleeding, stared at him. Pierced by his calm words, the realization finally hit her.

She had been played from the very first move.

His weakness was feigned. The exhaustion was an act. His true goal was to bait her into a fatal opening and obliterate her with the most extreme method possible—openly and honorably, right on the competition stage!

“Who… who exactly are you?” she rasped, her voice trembling with despair.

“This disciple is Zhang Xian,” he replied smoothly. “This match determines the final spot in the Demon Sweeping Assembly, so naturally, I gave it my all. If I have offended you in my desperation to survive, I beg your forgiveness!”

“I— Pfft! Ugh!”

Nangong Yao couldn’t take it anymore. A mouthful of blood gushed from her lips, her vision went black, and she collapsed into unconsciousness.

[Ding! Nangong Yao’s Luck Value has dropped to 0. Current Favorability: -99.]

Huh? Another notification.

Zhang Xian’s expression remained humble, but his internal monologue was cold as ice.

Nangong Yao is temporarily crippled, but she’s still breathing. That’s not safe enough. I must find an opportunity to grind her bones to ashes and be done with it completely.

The Sect Master’s inscrutable gaze lingered on Zhang Xian’s face for several long seconds.

Then, she looked away.

“The next match. Continue.”

Her figure flickered and vanished, reappearing instantly on the main seat of the high platform.

From beginning to end, she never once glanced at the unconscious, broken body of her nominal disciple, Nangong Yao.