Before dawn had fully broken, the summit of Sword Peak was already crowded.

Dozens of iron sword pillars stood erected on the mountaintop platform. Dark golden runes entwined their surfaces, flickering uncertainly within the thin morning mist.

At the center, the Ancient Bronze Mirror hung suspended in the air. Its surface reflected distorted cloud shadows, a window into another realm.

Inner sect disciples stood rigid as pine trees, their robes flapping loudly in the fierce wind. Some gripped their sword hilts until their knuckles turned white. Others closed their eyes, regulating their breathing while sweat beaded at their temples.

At the edge of the platform, over a dozen elders stood with hands clasped behind their backs, their collective pressure weighing down like a mountain. Behind them stood several core disciples, silent and profound as deep abysses.

This time, there were only seventy slots to enter the Ancient Ruins. After excluding the Golden Core cultivators who automatically qualified, only eighteen slots remained for the Foundation Establishment disciples.

Yet, over five hundred had registered. The competition would be brutal.

Shen Xian and Wang Yu stood together, drawing glances from the crowd. Those glances held contempt, scrutiny, and undisguised hostility.

The thickest killing intent came from Zhou Ziling.

Surrounded by a group of sycophants, Zhou Ziling stood at the forefront, his eyes filled with disdain.

“A waste like you thinks he’s worthy of an entry qualification?” he hissed through gritted teeth.

Shen Xian didn’t even look at him. He yawned, looking bored.

Suddenly, a majestic aura descended from the heavens.

“Welcome the Sect Master!”

The elders chorused in unison, their voices rolling like thunder. The clouds and mist on the mountaintop churned violently.

A figure clad in cyan robes stepped through the air. His sleeves fluttered gracefully, like an immortal banished from heaven. His face was lean and refined, his eyes sharp as lightning.

This was the Divine Wood Sect’s Sect Master—Venerable Qingxiao, a Divine Transformation powerhouse.

“The rules for this qualification battle are simple,” Venerable Qingxiao’s voice wasn’t loud, but it reached every ear with crystal clarity.

“The secret realm is modeled after the Ancient Ruins and contains many rare treasures. These treasures can be collected using tokens and converted into points. The eighteen individuals with the highest points will earn the qualification to enter the Godfiend Battlefield.”

Everyone straightened their posture.

Venerable Qingxiao’s gaze swept over the crowd, his tone sharpening. “Killing is not forbidden within the secret realm. Life and death are matters of fate. The sect elders will absolutely not hold grudges!”

An uproar erupted across the field.

Killing is not forbidden.

Everyone knew what this meant. Those from prominent lineages had protective treasures, high-level techniques, and countless pills. Ordinary disciples were just fodder.

Zhou Ziling clenched his fists, staring at Shen Xian with predatory glee. He wished he could tear him apart right there.

“The privileges of aristocratic disciples are utterly disgusting,” someone muttered in the crowd.

Venerable Qingxiao seemed to hear the thought. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. “The path of cultivation is inherently one of defying heaven. Between life and death lies great peril, but also great opportunity. If you lack even this much courage, you might as well descend the mountain early and farm!”

The crowd buzzed.

Fortunately, the sect left a sliver of hope—teleportation talismans. If faced with mortal danger, one could crush the item to escape.

“Tsk tsk, it seems a bloody battle is imminent,” Wang Yu sighed softly. He turned to Shen Xian. “Young Master, take this. Once inside, I’ll come find you.”

He handed a token to Shen Xian. It was a tracking device. Everyone would be randomly transported to different locations, and Shen Xian had just reached Foundation Establishment. Wang Yu was worried.

“Unnecessary,” Shen Xian refused.

He had already declined Wei Zhaoli’s offer of a backdoor entry that morning; he wouldn’t accept Wang Yu’s help either.

The outside world couldn’t see inside this secret realm. He intended to do some cleaning. Bringing someone along would only tie his hands.

Wang Yu paused, then nodded, understanding dawning on him.

On the platform, Venerable Qingxiao waved his sleeve.

The Ancient Bronze Mirror erupted with piercing cyan light. The surface rippled like water, revealing a vast phantom image of an ancient battlefield.

“The qualification battle begins!”

With the command, the crowd surged forward. Some rode swords, others clouds, all transforming into streams of light that vanished into the mirror.

“Let’s go!” Zhou Ziling sneered, soaring into the air with over ten followers in tow. Before entering, he cast a final, murderous glance at Shen Xian.

Once inside, no one can protect you.

Shen Xian stood with his hands clasped behind his back, ignoring the hostility. Only after most disciples had entered did he leisurely step into the air.

“Young Master, take care!” Wang Yu called out.

Shen Xian waved without looking back. His figure vanished into the cyan light.

…

After a dizzying spin, Shen Xian landed on a desolate, ancient battlefield.

The sky was an eerie dark red. Distant ruined city walls bristled with rusted weapons. The air carried the faint scent of blood, as if the echoes of a great war from five hundred years ago still lingered.

“This is the simulated Godfiend Battlefield?” Shen Xian surveyed his surroundings, a slight smile curling his lips. “Rather interesting.”

He strolled forward, his divine sense already enveloping a ten-mile radius.

Soon, three sneaky figures appeared within his perception.

“Come out,” Shen Xian said lightly, halting his steps.

“Hahaha! The Third Young Master of the Shen Family is indeed sharp!”

Three disciples wearing gray robes leaped from behind a ruined wall, forming a triangular encirclement around Shen Xian.

The leader grinned viciously. “Senior Brother Zhou said killing you is worth a thousand spirit stones!”

On this battlefield, the outside world was blind. The Sect Master had declared life and death irrelevant. These disciples felt emboldened, fearless. They had been tailing Shen Xian since he teleported in, waiting for a chance to ambush him.

Shen Xian didn’t even bother to lift his eyelids. “Clowns.”

“Seeking death!”

The three erupted simultaneously, their sword lights flashing like rainbows.

Zheng!

A single flash of snow-bright sword light appeared and vanished in the same instant.

The three disciples froze mid-charge.

A thin line of blood appeared on each of their throats simultaneously.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Three corpses collapsed to the ground. Their eyes were still frozen in disbelief.

Shen Xian retracted his sword finger. He didn’t even glance at the ants he had just crushed. He flicked his sleeve, and three storage pouches flew into his hand.

“Paupers.”

Scanning the meager contents, Shen Xian curled his lip in disdain.

Within the sect, under the watchful eyes of countless mighty beings, he had to conceal his true strength to prevent being dissected by the elders.

But here? Shielded from heaven’s gaze?

Isn’t this the perfect chance to act wantonly?

Those pesky flies had been buzzing around him for too long. It was time to clean them up.

But first, he had to let them know where he was.

Shen Xian stepped forward. His whole body glowed with spiritual light as he stepped onto his sword and soared into the air, making his movements deliberately, arrogantly conspicuous.