Pay-to-Win Cultivation: I Get 10,000x Returns

Hu Yanzhi couldn’t even scream.

His vocal cords had fused in the heat. The agony wasn’t merely physical; it was a spiritual flaying, his soul seared as if pressed against a red-hot iron. His body remained paralyzed, a statue of torment.

On the sidelines, the Old Steward from the Baoqing Workshop turned the color of ash. Damn the rules. He shot onto the arena like a streak of lightning, hands blurring through seals. A torrential surge of water-attribute Qi erupted, crashing down to drown the flames.

But it was too late.

The fire hadn’t stopped at the skin; it was a living parasite that had surged through Hu Yanzhi’s meridians, invading his core instantly. While his exterior was charred black, the fatal blow was internal—his heart, lungs, and liver had been utterly incinerated by the Numinous Fire.

The spark of life was gone.

The Old Steward checked for breath, then sent a pulse of Qi to scan the internal damage. His eyes nearly bulged from their sockets. He whipped his head around, pointing a trembling finger at the calm figure across the stage.

“You! This is murder!!” he roared, his voice cracking with grief and fury.

Zhang Xian spread his hands, his expression the picture of innocence.

“Elder, such harsh words. He never surrendered. I assumed the Young Master of the Baoqing Workshop would have some earth-shattering trump card hidden up his sleeve. I was merely… testing the waters.”

Zhang Xian glanced down at the twisted, smoking corpse. “Who knew he wouldn’t even have a decent protective artifact activated? He simply stood there and let himself be burned to death.”

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head with mock sympathy. “Tsk. Perhaps he felt ashamed before his ancestors and lost the will to live? A deliberate suicide to splash a little dirty water on my reputation… truly, you can’t blame me for that.”

“You…!” The Old Steward’s body shook violently, his aura spiking dangerously.

“Enough.”

A cold voice cut through the heat of the arena like a glacial wind. It was Hu Yanqing.

The man rose slowly from the spectator stand. His gaze swept over Zhang Xian, lingering for a heavy heartbeat, before settling on the Old Steward.

“Return. In the martial arena, life and death are governed by fate. To die from a lack of skill is no one’s fault but one’s own.” He paused, his tone dropping to absolute zero. “If there are debts to settle, we will discuss them after.”

Meeting Hu Yanqing’s frigid eyes, the Old Steward’s fury was instantly doused, replaced by a bone-deep chill.

He didn’t dare utter another word. “Yes, Young Master.”

Bowing low, he silently scooped up Hu Yanzhi’s charred remains and retreated from the arena, a picture of dejection.

The entire venue fell into a deathly silence. The crowd was struck dumb by the bloody, brutal efficiency of the outcome.

Only Zhang Xian remained unfazed. Under the weight of countless gazes—filled with fear, wariness, or pure hatred—he calmly straightened his robes, dusted off an imaginary speck of ash, and walked off the stage.

In the spectator stands, within the Yunmiao Sect’s designated section.

Gulp.

Lu Renbing and Lu Rending of Green Wood Peak exchanged a look, both swallowing hard. A simultaneous realization hit them: Zhang Xian had actually been quite kind to them.

The esteemed Young Master of the Baoqing Workshop had been turned into charcoal simply for being Zhang Xian’s love rival. It was utterly deranged.

Renowned novelist Lu Renbing felt a cold sweat break out on his back. He was essentially a walking death flag. He was infatuated with Lin Yinyin, he wrote fanfiction pairing Lin Yinyin with Li Fuxi, and in his latest serialized novel, he had been relentlessly “whipping the corpse” of a villain based on Zhang Xian.

Every single one of those actions was a shortcut to the grave. He was genuinely terrified Zhang Xian would settle accounts once the tournament was over.

I have to go on hiatus, Lu Renbing decided instantly. I’ll stop updating the novel the moment we get back. Royalties are nice, but you need to be alive to spend them.

Beside him, Lu Rending was also wiping sweat from his forehead. Suddenly, his brutal training in the Nine Turns Jade Condensation Sutra—which mostly involved getting beaten up—felt very appropriate.

During the Seventy-Two Peaks Tournament, Zhang Xian had only put him in bed for half a month. That was practically mercy.

“Senior Brothers, w-what should we say?” a younger Yunmiao disciple asked tremulously. They had come hoping to see Li Fuxi dominate and watch Zhang Xian get humbled. Now, the vibe had shifted drastically.

“N-naturally, we must sing the praises of Old Devil Zha—I mean, Senior Brother Zhang!” Lu Renbing stammered, correcting himself. “Think about it. He killed the Young Master of the Baoqing Workshop and conquered the Southern Region’s number one beauty. As fellow Yunmiao disciples, we share in the glory!”

“Ah! Right, right! Junior Brother Zhang is a god!!”

“Exactly!” another disciple chimed in, desperate to get on the right side of history. “If he tries to poach our sect’s goddess, we firmly oppose it. But if he chooses to ‘import’ a beauty from the outside? We must encourage it with all our hearts!”

By the time Zhang Xian returned to the preparation area, the other matches in his block had concluded.

Tomorrow would bring the even more brutal battles of the Western Strong block. Zhang Xian was scheduled to fight a cultivator from the Spirit Ruins Sword Sect. Little did he know, his opponent was already trying to find a way to withdraw from the tournament out of sheer terror.

Zhang Xian, however, was focused on his master’s upcoming match. Li Fuxi was set to fight Yang Poxiao—a Golden Core Peak cultivator with a top-grade Fire Spiritual Root.

As soon as Li Fuxi saw Zhang Xian return, her beautiful face twisted with undisguised anger.

“For the sake of one Yun Wanqing, you’re truly willing to burn the world down?”

She stepped forward, her voice low and furious. “Do you know the Baoqing Workshop’s main headquarters are in the Central Continent? You just killed the Young Master of their Southern Region branch! And right in front of his cousin, Hu Yanqing!”

Her tone held reproach, but beneath the anger was a layer of frantic anxiety.

“Hu Yanqing is an Executive Elder of the Guiyuan Sect! Do you understand the weight of those three words? Guiyuan Sect?”

She took a breath, her chest heaving. “You… you’ve placed yourself squarely in the eye of the storm! Do you think you don’t have enough enemies already?!”

Zhang Xian looked at her. He noted the agitation in her breathing and the faint, almost imperceptible trace of concern buried deep in her eyes.

“We already offended them at the banquet yesterday,” he said calmly.

“You! You are blinded by lust!” Li Fuxi looked like she might faint from sheer exasperation.

She glared at him, her eyes swirling with complex emotions she couldn’t articulate. Without another word, she spun on her heel and strode swiftly out of the preparation area.

Once Li Fuxi was gone, Lin Yinyin timely popped up at his elbow.

“Big Brother~ Don’t mind Master scolding you,” she said sweetly, though her eyes were calculating. “She was so nervous while you were on stage! I saw her gripping her sword hilt the entire time, her knuckles were white. I feel like if anything happened to you, Master would have rushed onto the stage to save you without a second thought.”

Zhang Xian’s gaze followed Li Fuxi’s retreating figure until she disappeared through the doorway.

“I know,” he murmured, his eyes softening for a fleeting moment.

After giving Lin Yinyin a quick reassurance, he walked in the direction Li Fuxi had gone.

Outside the Yunmiao Sect’s private meditation chamber, Zhang Xian gently knocked on the door.

There was no answer.

After waiting a moment, Zhang Xian pushed the door open and entered.

Li Fuxi was sitting at a low table by the window. Sensing his approach, her posture stiffened. The intimacy of the quiet room seemed to make her uneasy.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice carrying a deliberate, forced aloofness.

Zhang Xian looked at the glowing [Favorability: 67] floating above her head. He almost laughed but kept his expression serious.

“I came to see my Master,” he said, his voice low and gentle.

“Why see me?” Li Fuxi retorted irritably, though her gaze darted toward the window, refusing to meet his eyes. “If you have this much free time, you’d be better off thinking about your opponent tomorrow!”

A faint smile touched Zhang Xian’s lips as he walked to the table. “This disciple has his own plans. I’m actually more worried about you, Master. Yang Poxiao is a ninth-level Golden Core expert. His reputation is currently soaring.”

“So what if he is Golden Core Peak?” Li Fuxi snapped, her competitive spirit flaring instantly. “I am nearly at the eighth level myself! Facing him, I am not destined to lose!”

She gripped the sword hilt at her waist, that stubborn, unyielding defiance returning to her posture.

Zhang Xian’s expression turned solemn.

“It’s not just his cultivation realm. There is a peculiar aura about him—something dangerous. He definitely holds hidden cards we haven’t seen. Master, promise me you will be extremely careful tomorrow.”