“Li Fuxi?”

A cold, cruel smile tugged at the corner of Yang Poxiao’s mouth. “A mere seventh-stage Golden Core is no match for me. Breaking her will be trivial.”

He paused, his eyes glinting with icy malice. “Besides, her relationship with that Zhang Xian seems… rather ambiguous. It’s perfect. I have old debts to settle with him anyway.”

“Oh?” Hu Yanqing’s interest peaked. “Old debts?”

Yang Poxiao snorted, a flash of genuine anger crossing his face. “Firstly, avenging Brother Yanzhi is my duty. Secondly…”

He gritted his teeth. “I only learned today that it was him who, back then, swindled me out of two Immortal Ascension Pills in exchange for a single stalk of Immortal Ascension Herb! That’s how he curried favor with the Cloud Raiment Pavilion.”

Of course, he didn’t voice the deepest, darkest reason: any man who dared to show closeness or desire toward his master, Long Zhi, deserved nothing less than death.

A look of approval appeared on Hu Yanqing’s face. “Excellent! A personal vendetta makes the wine taste sweeter.”

A glint of triumphant scheming flashed deep in his eyes, as if he could already see Li Fuxi lying broken and bloody on the arena floor.

If Yang Poxiao can seriously injure Li Fuxi, shattering her foundation and leaving her powerless to resist… then I, representing the Guiyuan Sect, can step in at the perfect moment.

I will magnanimously offer aid, inviting her back to the sect for ‘careful treatment.’ At that point, this woman will be entirely in my hands. To heal, to indebt, to own… it will all be up to me.

The next day, the Martial Arts Plaza.

The crowd was even more massive and turbulent than the day before. The excitement in the air was thick enough to choke on.

Zhang Xian’s opponent was Xu Mo, an eighth-stage Golden Core cultivator from the Spirit Ruins Sword Sect. Having witnessed Zhang Xian’s pay-to-win massacre of Hu Yanzhi yesterday, Xu Mo now stood on the arena platform with a face the color of old parchment.

There was very little fighting spirit left in his eyes.

“Fellow Daoist Zhang, I seek your guidance,” Xu Mo forced out a cupped-fist salute. He thought for a moment and decided to adopt a purely defensive stance. What if my opponent exhausted his stockpile of nukes yesterday? I just need to survive.

Zhang Xian, however, was preoccupied. His mind was entirely focused on his master Li Fuxi’s upcoming match on the adjacent stage. He had zero desire to prolong this farce.

Without a word, he flicked his sleeve. Two battle puppets shot out, instantly engulfing Xu Mo in a storm of relentless attacks.

Though Xu Mo’s heart was filled with trepidation, he was still an elite disciple of the Spirit Ruins Sword Sect. His swordsmanship was exquisite, and for a time, he managed to defend himself flawlessly against the mechanical onslaught.

However, Zhang Xian’s puppets were empowered by spirit treasures. They unleashed wave after wave of increasingly ferocious assaults, gradually suffocating Xu Mo’s defenses.

After just a few exchanges, Xu Mo was sweating profusely, inwardly cursing his misfortune. He noticed Zhang Xian’s gaze frequently drifting toward the neighboring arena, clearly indicating his mind wasn’t on this fight at all.

This won’t do! I’m bound to lose if this continues!

Gritting his teeth, Xu Mo prepared to unleash his trump card—a secret sword formation technique—for a desperate, all-out gamble.

Just then, Zhang Xian frowned slightly. He seemed annoyed by the delay.

With a flip of his fingers, two talismans instantly appeared between them.

Lightning coiled around the paper, radiating a heart-palpitating aura of destruction. They were, unmistakably, two more Earth-grade Thunder Talismans.

Holy shit!!

Xu Mo’s scalp instantly went numb. The horrific memory of Hu Yanzhi being blasted by those very same talismans yesterday was still vivid in his mind. He dared not even think about tanking that.

“I concede!!!”

Xu Mo practically shrieked the words. He leaped backward, throwing himself off the arena platform before the talismans could even ignite.

The referee was momentarily stunned before announcing, “Yunmiao Sect, Zhang Xian wins!”

Without even a glance at the fleeing Xu Mo, Zhang Xian’s figure blurred as he flashed to the edge of the neighboring arena where Li Fuxi and Yang Poxiao were fighting.

The moment he arrived, the deafening sound of clashing energies assaulted his senses.

On the platform, Li Fuxi moved with the grace of a celestial maiden. Twin swords danced in her hands—one azure as ice, the other gleaming with brilliant golden light.

The two blades transformed into streams of liquid light in her grasp, the softness of Water and the hardness of Metal merging perfectly. The sword intents of the Yunmiao Sect’s Yunmiao Sword Scripture and the Heavenly Palace Azure Cloud Sword were displayed to their absolute limit.

Her opponent, Yang Poxiao, was like a fiery god of war.

He wielded a massive crimson greatsword. His Supreme Fire Spirit Root granted him savage, unmatched power. Every slash carried the might to scorch mountains and boil seas.

Their battle was intensely fierce. Sword energy crisscrossed, flames shot toward the sky, and the spectators below cheered with exhilaration.

“Now this is a true peak showdown!”

“Brilliant! Far better to watch than those two pay-to-win tycoons fighting yesterday!”

The audience watched, enthralled. This was the kind of contest they had been waiting for—skill against skill, power against power. What honor was there in just throwing money around?

However, Zhang Xian noticed something amiss. Other cultivators with keen eyesight saw it too.

The scales of victory were slowly tilting in Yang Poxiao’s favor.

Though Li Fuxi possessed exceptional talent, dual Supreme Spirit Roots, and wielded two spirit treasure-grade flying swords, she was ultimately only at the seventh stage of Golden Core.

Yang Poxiao was a genuine Golden Core Peak cultivator. The chasm in cultivation realm was not something easily bridged. More crucially, Yang Poxiao’s greatsword was also spirit treasure-grade. In terms of weaponry, Li Fuxi held no advantage.

Regarding swordsmanship, Li Fuxi’s techniques were exquisite and endlessly varied. But Yang Poxiao hailed from the Spirit Ruins Sword Sect, where the Sword Dao was their religion. In terms of pure swordsmanship finesse, the Spirit Ruins Sword Sect even surpassed the Yunmiao Sect.

His foundation was incredibly solid. Within his broad, sweeping strokes lay the simplest yet strongest principles of the sword. When defending, he was as immovable as a boulder; when attacking, he erupted like a volcano. Li Fuxi’s intricate sword moves were often dismantled by his force-over-finesse momentum.

Zhang Xian couldn’t help but marvel. He understood his master’s current strength better than anyone. Dual Supreme Spirit Roots, two offensive spirit treasures, the heightened comprehension from daily Qingqiao tea… such a configuration was enough to utterly dominate ordinary peak Golden Core cultivators.

Yet Yang Poxiao still steadily held the upper hand. Though Li Fuxi’s sword intent was peerlessly sharp, it consistently failed to break through Yang Poxiao’s seemingly simple, yet impenetrable, defense.

This Yang Poxiao… fellow transmigrator that he is, really does have some skills.

Time passed minute by minute. Li Fuxi’s offensive remained fierce, but Zhang Xian keenly sensed her breathing rhythm beginning to quicken. Fine beads of sweat appeared at her temples. The spiritual power within her was nearly depleted.

Li Fuxi felt it herself. She took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing her churning Qi and blood. The thought of retreat already sprouted in her mind.

Forget it. This battle is beyond my current strength. I should concede.

Even Zhang Xian could see his master was ready to give up and secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

Suddenly, an abrupt change occurred.

In the midst of the fierce exchange, Li Fuxi shuddered violently, as if struck by an invisible blow. Her face instantly turned deathly pale, and even her sword-gripping hand trembled.

Across from her, Yang Poxiao chose that exact moment to suddenly sheathe his sword and stand still. A faint, mocking smile played on his lips.

Something’s wrong! Zhang Xian’s heart gave a violent lurch.

The next second, Li Fuxi sharply raised her head. Her gaze didn’t land on Yang Poxiao but pierced through the crowd, fixing directly on Zhang Xian.

That look in her eyes was indescribably complex. There was worry, fear, and a trace of desperate resolve.

Then, without the slightest hesitation, Li Fuxi pulled out a pill radiating with immense vitality—precisely the High-Grade Spirit Recovery Pill Zhang Xian had given her earlier—and swallowed it in one gulp.

Master is being stubborn again!?

No!

In that lightning-fast instant, Zhang Xian realized the truth. Master was clearly ready to concede just a moment ago. Why would she suddenly decide to fight desperately now?

Zhang Xian’s gaze instantly locked onto the triumphant smirk curling at the corner of Yang Poxiao’s mouth.

It’s him! Master must have discovered something… or he secretly sent her a voice transmission to trigger her!