Hu Yanqing’s face was a mask of perfectly measured remorse and concern.

“On the martial stage, steel has no mercy,” he announced smoothly, his voice projecting clearly across the silent arena. “It is inevitable that control slips in the heat of battle.”

He gestured magnanimously toward the fallen woman. “However, now that Junior Brother Yang is a disciple of our Guiyuan Sect, we naturally bear the responsibility for his… overzealousness. To express our deepest regrets, our sect is willing to take Immortal Li back to the Central Continent. We will treat her injuries with the finest spiritual medicines and the personal attention of a Nascent Soul Elder. I guarantee not only her full recovery but perhaps even a blessing in disguise.”

His tone was gentle, yet it carried the undeniable, crushing weight of a command. It wasn’t an offer; it was a confiscation.

Zhang Xian acted as if the man didn’t exist.

His entire world had narrowed to the woman in his arms. He carefully wiped a smudge of blood from the corner of her lips, his voice trembling with barely suppressed heartache.

“You stubborn fool… how did you end up like this again? Didn’t you promise me you wouldn’t act recklessly?”

Li Fuxi struggled to open her eyes. Through the haze of pain, she focused on Zhang Xian’s face, so close to hers. She managed a weak, blood-stained smile.

“I was ready to concede…” she whispered, her voice faint as a dying breath. “But… he sent me a voice transmission. He said… he said he would kill you in the next match.”

The words exploded like a thunderclap in Zhang Xian’s mind.

So that was it.

He suppressed the murderous fury rising in his chest, refusing to even glance at Yang Poxiao or Hu Yanqing. Instead, he carefully scooped Li Fuxi up in his arms, turned his back on the Central Continent emissary, and began to walk off the stage.

The benevolent smile on Hu Yanqing’s face instantly froze. He hadn’t expected a mere junior to treat him with such utter contempt.

He took a step forward, his voice laced with urgent concern. “Young friend! Immortal Li’s injuries are catastrophic. Only the resources of the Guiyuan Sect can possibly save her! It would be best if—”

“Get lost.”

Zhang Xian didn’t pause. He didn’t look back. The words were spat out like chips of ice.

Hu Yanqing froze. In all his years as a high-ranking Elder, when had he ever been publicly humiliated like this? An indescribable mix of shame and rage flushed his face.

“How dare you!”

Hu Yanqing’s expression darkened, the terrifying pressure of the Nascent Soul stage beginning to stir like a waking dragon.

Zhang Xian ignored the pressure. He crushed a Wind Talisman, enveloping himself and his master in a gale that carried them straight back to the Yunmiao Sect’s rest area.

As he moved, four puppets—each glowing with a different elemental attribute—slammed down onto the stage, blocking Hu Yanqing’s path.

Simultaneously, the air temperature plummeted. Zhiyin materialized beside the puppets. Her own Nascent Soul aura erupted without restraint, rising like an insurmountable glacier to crash against Hu Yanqing’s pressure.

“A few trash puppets and a single early-stage Nascent Soul… you think you can stop me?” Hu Yanqing laughed, his eyes flashing with cold malice.

“Fellow Daoist Hu!”

A commanding voice boomed across the plaza.

Emperor Xia Xuanyin appeared on the stage, his golden robes fluttering. The heavy weight of Imperial Authority merged with his Nascent Soul cultivation, pressing down on the confrontation.

“We respect you as a guest from afar,” the Emperor said, his voice hard. “But We hope you will not act recklessly within the borders of the Southern Region.”

Hu Yanqing looked at Zhiyin and Xia Xuanyin blocking his path, then at the retreating back of Zhang Xian. His face twisted into a sneer.

“What a fine Southern Region! What excellent hospitality! I offer help in good faith, only to be insulted by an ungrateful junior!”

He swept his sleeve, turning away. “I will remember today’s events. One day, the Guiyuan Sect will come knocking to demand a proper explanation for this insult!!”

Xia Xuanyin didn’t yield an inch. “If the Guiyuan Sect comes, We shall be ready to receive you. Also, you might as well take this newly accepted ‘Junior Brother’ of yours with you. The Southern Region has no place for those who betray their masters and abandon their sects.”

Yang Poxiao, who was still reeling from the shock of being disowned by Long Zhi, heard the Emperor’s decree. He looked around, seeing the disdainful sneers of the crowd, hearing the chants of “traitor” and “ingrate” rising like a tide.

A sudden, twisted fury erupted in his heart.

Yes. This is how it always is for the protagonist, he thought, his eyes burning with a manic light. Is this not the destiny of all true heroes? To be misunderstood? To be reviled by the ignorant masses? They ascend by stepping over mountains of corpses and seas of blood!

Fine. Since you all hate me, then hate me. The day I return invincible, I will shatter this entire pathetic region with a single fist.

And as for Master Long Zhi… she disowns me? Good. When I reach the Soul Formation stage, she will bow her head and serve me as a slave, just like Zi Xiao.

At that moment, Zhang Xian’s four puppets spoke in unison, their mechanical voices echoing Zhang Xian’s cold command.

“Your Majesty. Don’t let that Yang fellow escape. Save him for me in the next match.”

Xia Xuanyin paused, weighing the situation. He glanced instinctively at Zhiyin, who gave a nearly imperceptible nod.

The Emperor took a deep breath, his resonant voice echoing throughout the arena.

“Very well! The Demon Sweeping Assembly will proceed as scheduled tomorrow. The matchups are as follows:”

“Yunmiao Sect’s Zhang Xian versus Guiyuan Sect’s Yang Poxiao!”

“Spirit Ruins Sword Sect’s Long Zhi versus Mountain Zen Monastery’s Monk Bujian!”

“Good!” Yang Poxiao croaked, his voice hoarse with hatred. He felt slighted once again—they were leaving him to be dealt with by a False Core trash?

“Since you all place your hopes on that waste Zhang Xian, then tomorrow I’ll kill that bastard first! Then I’ll return to the Guiyuan Sect!”

He glared at the crowd, his face contorted. “In ten years—no, within three years—I will return to sweep through the Southern Region! I will make everyone who insulted and slandered me pay the price!!”

The response from the spectator stands was a deafening roar of fury:

“Traitor! Get out of the Southern Region!” “Running dog of the Guiyuan Sect!” “Senior Brother Zhang! Slaughter him! Avenge Immortal Fuxi!”

The entire square seethed with righteous indignation.

In the Yunmiao Sect’s rest area.

Zhang Xian flashed through the door, carrying the barely breathing Li Fuxi. Lin Yinyin, who had been pacing anxiously, rushed forward. Seeing her master’s face—pale as paper, with blood still wet on her chin—her tears broke free.

“Ma-Master!” she sobbed, frantically rummaging through her storage pouch for potions.

Zhang Xian gently placed Li Fuxi on the soft bed, then half-knelt beside her. His expression was grave. He retrieved a crystal-clear jade box that glowed with radiant, multicolored light.

Inside lay several lotus seeds—the precious Earth-grade treasure, Heaven-Seizing Heart-Mending Lotus Seeds.

“Master, open your mouth.” He tried to feed her one.

But Li Fuxi turned her head away slightly. She opened her eyes just a slit, gazing at Zhang Xian’s tense, terrified face. To his shock, she smiled.

“It’s… it’s no use,” she whispered, her voice thin as gossamer. “I’ve eaten several of these seeds before… for my old injuries. My body has built a resistance. Don’t waste them on me.”

Zhang Xian’s hand froze. The memory of the mines at the Wood Ridge Sect flashed through his mind. Back then, she had also burned her life force to protect him, damaging her Destiny Points permanently. Now, with her foundation shattered, even divine medicine might be useless.

“Just try it! I have plenty of these!”

Unable to resist him, Li Fuxi gave a soft murmur of assent. Zhang Xian carefully placed a seed on her tongue. She swallowed it, but as expected, her aura showed no sign of stabilizing.

Lin Yinyin couldn’t hold back anymore. She wailed aloud, throwing herself by the bedside.

“Master! Why?! Why did you use [Jade Shattering]?! That was… that was centuries of your bitter cultivation!”

She knew Li Fuxi valued the Nine Turns Jade Condensation Sutra more than her own life. Now, the Jade Seed was shattered. Even if she survived, her cultivation method was destroyed forever.

Yet, Li Fuxi’s gaze remained fixed on Zhang Xian.

She watched his tightly furrowed brow, the raw panic and heartache he couldn’t hide. The smile at the corner of her lips deepened.

She seemed to enjoy seeing him so flustered on her account. In that weak, bloody smile, there was a hint of indescribable satisfaction… and release.