Dual Cultivation System: The Villainous Servant’s Rise

With thousands of disciples clamoring for glory, the preliminary rounds dragged on for over a month, even with three arenas running around the clock. It was a grueling marathon to whittle the massive field down to the final twenty elites.

Han Lie fought seven matches in total. Unsurprisingly, he crushed his opposition and secured his spot in the finals without breaking a sweat.

Throughout the process, over a dozen Sect stewards hovered like hawks, meticulously observing every move. They graded the cultivation depth, combat instincts, and potential of every disciple who clawed their way into the top rankings.

Once his spot was secured, Han Lie found himself with time to kill. He wandered leisurely toward the Martial Arts Square, where the final qualifying matches were drawing to a close.

“The final match for this arena: Han Feng of the Myriad Pill Hall versus Gui Tianxiong, also of the Myriad Pill Hall!”

“Hm?”

Standing at the edge of the square, Han Lie raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued.

My little brother actually made it this far?

Han Lie’s own journey through the preliminaries had been a stroll in the park, but he knew better than to underestimate the general competition. The gathered disciples were the cream of the crop. Even the weakest fodder was at the mid-Golden Core Stage.

Based on his observations, Han Lie estimated there were at least fifty disciples at the Golden Core Perfection stage—mostly personal disciples or head disciples of the eight major halls. To break into the top twenty, one typically needed to be at the Perfection stage as a baseline.

Did Han Feng reach Golden Core Perfection while I wasn’t looking?

Curiosity getting the better of him, Han Lie kicked off the ground, soaring dozens of meters into the air for a bird’s-eye view.

In the center of the arena, two figures stood in a tense standoff.

One was a slender youth in white robes—Han Feng.

“Late Golden Core Stage?” Han Lie muttered, his eyes narrowing.

Judging solely by aura, Han Feng was indeed only at the late stage. However, his spiritual pressure was remarkably dense and steady. It lacked the chaotic fluctuation of someone who had just broken through or relied on unstable pills to force their growth.

Given his talent, it shouldn’t be possible for him to jump from early to late Golden Core in just ten years, Han Lie mused. Unless… he stumbled upon a fortuitous encounter while I was busy elsewhere.

On the stage below, the atmosphere was heavy.

“Senior Brother Tianxiong, I ask for your guidance!” Han Feng clasped his fists respectfully. Despite facing a superior opponent, a faint, confident smile played on his lips.

Across from him stood a man built like an iron tower. Gui Tianxiong grinned, his muscles bulging as he summoned a massive, ghost-headed greataxe. The weapon was nearly ten feet long, radiating a heavy, suffocating pressure.

“To make it this far, you have some skill, Junior Brother Han,” Gui Tianxiong boomed, leveling the axe at Han Feng. “Withdraw now and admit defeat. You can save yourself a world of pain and an unwarranted disaster! How about it? Hahahaha!”

Han Feng’s smile didn’t waver. With a flick of his wrist, a cyan treasure sword materialized in his hand. The sharp ring of steel was his only answer.

“Hmph. You don’t know your own limits!” Gui Tianxiong scoffed, his expression darkening. “Your progress is fast, I’ll give you that. But trying to stand against me? You’re still too green!”

Gui Tianxiong wasted no more breath. He stomped the ground, shattering the stone tiles, and launched himself forward like a cannonball.

Boom!

The giant axe cleaved through the air with terrifying momentum.

Han Feng, aware of the gap in raw power, didn’t try to block head-on. He became a leaf in the wind, using movement techniques to drift around the heavy strikes, employing a tactic of evasion and entanglement.

Up in the air, Han Lie crossed his arms, watching with amusement.

Under the “Iron Tower’s” relentless assault, Han Feng was forced into a passive defense. The situation looked perilous, with the heavy axe missing him by inches time and again.

Han Lie could see the truth clearly: Han Feng wasn’t hiding his cultivation level. This was his limit.

Both were personal disciples of the Myriad Pill Hall. Their cultivation techniques, spells, and Dharma Treasures were of similar quality. When equipment and resources were equal, the difference in cultivation realms became the insurmountable wall.

However, Han Lie had to give credit where it was due. For a late Golden Core cultivator to survive over a hundred exchanges against a Perfection stage powerhouse without collapsing was impressive. If they were on the same level, Han Feng’s superior technique would have ended this long ago.

“Is that all you have? Get down!” Gui Tianxiong roared, unleashing a horizontal sweep that forced Han Feng to skid backward, narrowly avoiding decapitation.

“Since that’s the case…”

Han Feng steadied himself, a fierce desire for victory burning in his eyes.

“Senior Brother Tianxiong, allow me to show you my trump card!”

Han Feng’s hands blurred, forming a series of profound, obscure seals.

“Floating Life Art!”

Bang!

His aura exploded outward. It surged violently, skyrocketing past the limits of the late stage and smashing directly into the realm of Golden Core Perfection!

“Whoa—!”

The spectator stands erupted in an uproar.

Secret arts that forcibly elevated cultivation were rare and dangerous. They almost always came with a terrible price—permanent damage to one’s foundation, physical agony, or even a reduction in lifespan. The greater the power boost, the heavier the cost.

Han Lie raised an eyebrow in genuine surprise. When did the kid learn a sacrificial amplification art?

It seems my guess was right. He definitely found a legacy or a manual out there.

While such arts carried risks, the strategic value was undeniable. If used decisively to secure a victory and the resources that came with it, the cost was often worth paying.

Empowered by the Floating Life Art, the tables turned instantly. Han Feng launched a counterattack, his sword movements now backed by the weight of a Perfection stage cultivation. Combined with his richer combat experience and agile tactics, he quickly overwhelmed the hulking Gui Tianxiong.

Minutes later, Han Feng stood victorious, securing his ticket to the top twenty.

“Interesting.”

Han Lie descended back to the ground, a satisfied smirk touching his lips.

His little brother was carving out his own path in the Myriad Pill Hall. He was doing just fine without Han Lie holding his hand.

Good, Han Lie thought. This saves me the trouble of worrying about him.

He finally understood why Ye Qingxuan had refused to help him back when Bai Ling was tormenting him with underhanded schemes. Hardship forged character. If Han Lie constantly intervened, Han Feng would turn into a giant infant, forever reliant on his big brother and unable to stand alone as a man.

With the final preliminary match concluded, Grand Elder Chi Lian appeared once more.

“The preliminaries have ended!” she announced, her voice echoing over the square. “The Battle for the Top Ten will commence in ten days.”

The break was necessary. Many of the top twenty had sustained injuries during their desperate fights to qualify. Forcing them to fight immediately would be unfair and reduce the quality of the matches.

Furthermore, the Sect had business to attend to. The ten-day buffer allowed the elders to evaluate the finalists and, more importantly, allowed the disciples to place their bets in the official gambling pools.