The speaker was none other than the personal disciple of the Daoyuan Peak Master of the Azure Mystic Sacred Land—Shi Siling’s fourth disciple, Bian Yifei.

As the protégé of the strongest Peak Master, Bian Yifei was a genuine prodigy even within the Sacred Land. He stood at the pinnacle of Foundation Establishment with seven opened Dao Platforms, serving as the leader of the Azure Mystic expedition.

His words sent a shockwave through the gathered cultivators. The representatives of the other four sects and three clans froze, and the faces of the Wanbao Tower delegation darkened.

“Fellow Daoist Bian, what is the meaning of this?”

“Indeed! What do you mean the fixed quotas are going to change?”

“This rule has stood for five centuries without issue. Why break it now?”

The crowd erupted into an uproar. Even the overseeing Elders from the various factions furrowed their brows, their gazes heavy with suspicion.

Bian Yifei remained unmoved. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his expression serene as he waited for the noise to subside. Only when silence returned did he sweep his gaze over the assembly.

“Since ancient times, cultivators have defied the heavens. Opportunities in this world are not given; they are seized through struggle and bloodshed. Competition tempers the self and proves one’s worthiness.”

He paused, letting his words sink in.

“But the Falling Rain Valley has become a stagnant pool. We cultivators have lost our competitive spirit, content to wait for our turn like beggars expecting a handout. This goes against the very Dao of cultivation. If we lose our drive to advance, what right do we have to call ourselves cultivators?”

Frowns deepened across the clearing.

“Wasn’t this agreement proposed by your Azure Mystic Sacred Land five hundred years ago?” a burly man with a thick beard boomed. He carried a massive saber on his shoulder—Fan Yangtai of the Golden Saber Sect. “Are you saying your predecessors were wrong?”

Fan Yangtai was known for his bluntness and formidable strength. He had once fought Bian Yifei to a draw, earning the right to speak without reserve.

Bian Yifei raised an eyebrow but didn’t take offense. Instead, he nodded calmly. “Correct. My predecessors were mistaken.”

“Tsk tsk, Bian Yifei, you have some nerve,” a woman in a flowing gauze dress laughed. “That agreement was established by your own Azure Mystic Sword Immortal. To claim your sect’s Immortal Venerable was wrong… aren’t you afraid of punishment when you return?”

This was Sha Zhaoyu, the prodigy of the Sha Clan.

“The truth is the truth,” Bian Yifei replied, neither humble nor arrogant. “Wrong is wrong, regardless of who established it.”

The crowd shifted uneasily.

“Since Fellow Daoist Bian is so insistent, you must have a plan,” a handsome man in white robes embroidered with a gold-edged qilin said smoothly. Beside him, a stunning woman in blue nodded in agreement.

“If the Azure Mystic Sacred Land wants something, just say it. There is no need for flimsy excuses.”

These were Chi You of the White Qilin Sect and Yu Xueqing of the Azure Wave Sect.

Seeing the skepticism, Bian Yifei dropped the philosophical act.

“Five hundred years ago, the five sects and three clans fought bitter wars over this valley. To prevent mutual destruction, we agreed on fixed quotas. A century ago, we even granted a share to the Ten Thousand Treasures Pavilion.”

“But in the cultivation world, strength is the only currency. Over five centuries, some factions have soared to the heavens, while others have rotted in the mud. To continue this outdated agreement would be a waste of precious resources.”

As he spoke, the expressions of two men in the crowd turned ugly.

‘Soaring to the heavens’ clearly referred to the Azure Mystic Sacred Land. As for ‘rotting in the mud,’ everyone’s eyes drifted to the Zou Clan and the Blazing Flame Sect. Since the death of their Ancestor, the Zou Clan had withered, their strongest member now merely a Golden Core cultivator. The Blazing Flame Sect was in even worse shape, clinging to existence and pinning their hopes on this expedition for a revival.

“Fellow Daoist Bian means to redistribute the quotas?” asked Qi Keping of the Qi Clan.

“Correct,” Bian Yifei nodded. “Currently, each faction sends thirty disciples, with ten extra spots rotated or given to the Wanbao Tower. This is inefficient. We should redistribute based on merit. No one wants to see great opportunities wasted on mediocrity.”

The intent was naked aggression. Aside from the Zou Clan and Blazing Flame Sect, the other factions fell into thoughtful silence.

“How do you propose we distribute them?” Sha Zhaoyu asked first.

“Simple,” Bian Yifei smiled. “The biggest fist eats the most meat.”

Before anyone could object, he continued. “It will take three days for the Elders to fully open the valley. We can use this time to re-determine the qualifications. We will set up an arena.”

“An arena?”

“Yes. There are 250 spots total. Excluding the Wanbao Tower’s share, each sect and clan currently holds thirty. We will value each ‘head’ at ten spots. Each faction will send forth three champions. One will defend the arena, and the others will challenge. A single victory steals ten spots from the loser. The winner holds the ring until defeated.”

The proposal sent shockwaves through the gathering. The strong factions like the Sha Clan and Golden Saber Sect lit up with greed; they had plenty of talent and stood to gain massive profits.

But the Blazing Flame Sect and Zou Clan representatives looked like they had swallowed dead flies. Their leaders were merely average Foundation Establishment cultivators. In a contest of elites, they would be slaughtered, potentially losing their entire quota.

“Fellow Daoist Bian, this is inappropriate!”

“Yes, this agreement has stood for centuries! How can you change it on a whim?”

Their protests were drowned out.

“I think it’s an excellent idea!”

“Agreed. Tradition is boring. Let’s see some blood.”

“No objections here.”

The consensus was clear. The weak would be devoured.

Bian Yifei watched the despair of the weaker factions with a cold smirk. The other sects only cared about cannibalizing the Blazing Flame Sect, but they didn’t realize Azure Mystic’s appetite was far larger.

They wanted all 250 spots.

“Who will defend first?” Yu Xueqing asked calmly.

This was the tricky part. The first defender had a distinct disadvantage.

Bian Yifei turned his gaze toward the Wanbao Tower delegation, who had been excluded from the discussion entirely.

“A century ago, we graciously gave ten spots to the Wanbao Tower. Since there is one extra spot in this new arrangement, I propose we grant it to them as well… on the condition that they defend the arena first.”

He smiled at the crowd. “What do you all think?”

Eyes narrowed, but heads nodded. Giving the Wanbao Tower a token chance was better than risking their own disciples in the first round.

“Agreed.”

The decision was made.

For the Wanbao Tower, this seemed like a gift, but the reality was grim. They were merchants, not warriors. Their guards were strong, but their ‘talents’ couldn’t compare to the elite disciples of the great sects.

Wan Xiaobei bit her lip. She was a ‘talent’ on paper, bolstered by endless resources, but she was a flower raised in a greenhouse. Against battle-hardened killers like Bian Yifei or Fan Yangtai, she wouldn’t last ten moves.

And the other Foundation Establishment cultivators with her? They were even worse—mercenaries and opportunists here for an easy payday.

Her gaze drifted through her team, landing on a figure leaning casually against the railing. He was playing with a small segment of finger bone, his eyes scanning the Azure Mystic delegation as if looking for prey.

Remembering Su Rumei’s words, she hesitated, then walked over.

“Wind Enshrinee, can I ask you a question?”

“Hmm?” Gu Xiu withdrew his gaze, a hint of regret in his eyes that he hadn’t spotted his target yet. “Speak.”

“Your strength… can you fight against the Foundation Establishment talents of the great sects?”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Wan Xiaobei regretted it. Feng Bugui was only at the Initial Stage of Foundation Establishment. Asking him to fight the Great Perfection prodigies was practically sending him to his death.

Gu Xiu glanced at Bian Yifei’s group, his expression unreadable.

“The ‘talents’ you speak of… are these people?”

“Uh…” Wan Xiaobei laughed awkwardly. “I was just curious. No offense meant. They are elites cultivated by major sects, very different from rogue cultivators. So if you can’t defeat them, it’s perfectly nor—”

“One sword.”

Wan Xiaobei froze mid-sentence. “What?”

Gu Xiu turned to her, his voice flat and devoid of arrogance, stating a simple fact.

“Below Golden Core… one sword is enough.”