Crow Immortal: I Can Duplicate Infinite Resources

“A mere gesture of concern,” Qin Ting chuckled softly, the sound like silk sliding over stone. “Why the tension?”

His gaze swept over the Wanchun Valley elders. “This Junior Brother Han your disciples speak of… his name has traveled far. Not only has the Little Sky Net Sect heard of him, but even the rogue cultivators of the markets whisper his name. A young genius is something to be admired, is it not?”

Elder Lü kept his face impassive, though he felt a pang of regret.

I should have restrained them, he thought. Allowing the disciples to gossip freely in the market was a mistake.

Yet, he knew it would have been impossible to stop. Han Yu had taken first place in the Laborer Disciple competition at the Second Layer of Qi Refining, and then dominated the Outer Disciple competition at the Fourth Layer. His legend was not just known to the Inner and Outer Sects; every laborer in the valley worshipped him. When they went to the market, they bragged.

Whatever anonymity Han Yu might have desired, it was gone. It was only natural that the Mystic One Sect and Little Sky Net Sect would pick up on the intelligence.

Sect Leader Qi studied Qin Ting, trying to dissect the man’s intentions.

The three allied sects—Wanchun Valley, Spirit Sword, and Mystic One—had conferred yesterday. They agreed that the Little Sky Net Sect’s offer to relocate Wanchun Valley was likely a ruse. If Wanchun Valley gave up their defensive formation and moved, they would be lambs led to the slaughter.

But Qin Ting’s true objective remained elusive. The Little Sky Net Sect thrived on obfuscation, “deliberately mystifying” their actions to keep opponents off balance.

Sect Leader Qi had taken precautions. He had entrusted the Spirit Condensing Golden Pill—Qin Ting’s bribe—to Supreme Elder Yin Hong of the Spirit Sword Sect for safekeeping, just in case it was trapped. Furthermore, Elders Yan and Mou remained hidden within the valley, ready to strike if an ambush occurred.

Wanchun Valley was a coiled spring, ready to snap.

Yet, Qin Ting simply sat there. He watched the disciples spar, applauded politely, and did nothing out of line. It was unnerving.

The Outer Disciple Grand Competition concluded, and the next day, the Inner Disciple Grand Competition began.

Han Yu watched from the crowd, spotting many familiar faces. Thirteenth Senior Sister Li Yunxia, Sixteenth Senior Brother Tian Ziyue, the former Outer Sect champion Sheng Yan, and Senior Brother Jin Qi—the man who had kindly given Han Yu the introductory jade slip when he first arrived. Even Ye Shinian, the Sect Leader’s personal disciple, was in the fray.

The combat here was a tier above. Inner Disciples wielded Magical Artifacts with proficiency, and their spellcasting was sharper. Though there were fewer matches, the intensity was palpable.

The final duel for the top spot came down to Yuan Shengjiao, a female disciple under Elder Wen, and Ye Shinian, the flute-playing disciple of Sect Leader Qi.

It was a clash of elegance and lethality. In the end, Elder Wen’s “Hundred Flowers Poison” proved too insidious. Ye Shinian, despite his melodic sonic attacks, succumbed to the toxin and collapsed, ceding the victory to Yuan Shengjiao.

“When Senior Sister Wen comes out of seclusion, she will be delighted,” Elder Lü whispered to Elder Bai with a smile. “Her disciple has swept both the Outer and Inner Sect championships.”

Elder Bai nodded. “Elder Yan also put in great effort training these disciples.”

The two elders shared a knowing smile, proud of the valley’s growth.

Suddenly, Qin Ting’s voice cut through the celebratory mood.

“I heard so much about the genius Han Yu,” he said, looking at Sect Leader Qi. “Why did he not take the field today?”

“Participation is voluntary,” Sect Leader Qi replied coolly. “We do not force our disciples to fight.”

Qin Ting nodded slowly. “I see. In that case… shall we begin the cross-sect sparring?”

Sect Leader Qi glanced at the arena. “Wait a moment.”

He proceeded to award the prizes to the top ten Inner Disciples, ensuring the ceremony was completed with proper dignity. Only then did he turn back.

“Elder Lü, Elder Bai. You will act as referees. Ensure there are no fatalities.”

The two elders rose and took their positions at the corners of the arena. Sect Leader Qi announced that the stage was open for any disciples from the four sects who wished to exchange pointers.

“Mere sparring without a wager is dreadfully boring,” Qin Ting announced, standing up.

He raised a jade box high in the air.

“I offer a Foundation Establishment Pill.”

The crowd gasped. Even the visiting elders stiffened.

“It increases the probability of a successful breakthrough by twenty percent,” Qin Ting declared, his voice carrying to every corner of the market. “I offer this as a prize. Whoever can defeat my disciple, Lin Lingxiu, takes the pill.”

Sect Leader Qi, Yin Hong, and Daoist Lingxiu narrowed their eyes.

What is his game?

Bribing the leaders with a Spirit Condensing Golden Pill was one thing—that was politics. But offering a Foundation Establishment Pill to the disciples? That was enticing the younger generation into a frenzy.

Why was he so desperate to see them fight? Was he gathering intelligence? Or was this another order from the Central Heaven Domain?

Unable to find a logical trap, they concluded it was just more of the Little Sky Net Sect’s arrogance.

“I don’t need the pill to want a piece of him,” a cold voice rang out.

Li Tonghai of the Spirit Sword Sect leaped onto the stage. He didn’t land; he hovered on his flying sword, then kicked it into his hand, the blade humming with aggressive energy.

“Even without the prize, I wouldn’t let him off,” Li Tonghai snarled, pointing his blade at the Little Sky Net Sect’s seating area. “Lin Lingxiu! Get down here. Let’s see who is stronger!”

His sword tip wavered in the direction of the young man in the purple star-patterned robe—the one with the veil and the uncanny, glowing eyes.

Lin Lingxiu didn’t stand up immediately. He spoke from his seat, his voice flat and detached.

“If I say you are weak, it is because you are weak.”

He stood, stepping onto a silver-white spindle that hovered a few inches off the ground.

“Refusing to accept it does not change the fact.”

He floated down toward the arena, his movement eerie and frictionless. “The difference between us was determined before we even met. What is the point of words?”

“Good!” Li Tonghai’s eyes blazed with fury. “Let’s see if your skill is as sharp as your tongue!”

He looked to Elder Lü.

“Begin,” Elder Lü commanded.

Li Tonghai exploded into motion. He thrust his sword forward, unleashing a wave of sword qi that screamed through the air.

Lin Lingxiu’s eyes flashed with physical starlight. He didn’t step on the arena floor. Instead, he remained balanced on his spindle, soaring straight up into the sky.

“Running?” Li Tonghai sneered.

He slapped his Storage Bag, releasing a second flying sword. Stepping onto it, he rocketed upward to meet his opponent in the air.

Whoosh!

Sword light swept across the sky, tearing at the clouds. Li Tonghai unleashed a barrage of slashes, the energy blades cutting off all angles of escape.

“Aren’t you strong?” Li Tonghai roared, his attacks growing more ferocious. “Show me!”

Lin Lingxiu remained silent. He stood on his silver spindle, drifting through the storm of sword qi like a phantom. He moved vertically, horizontally, weaving through the deadly net with impossibly minimal movements.

Below, the crowd watched with mouths agape.

Sword qi rained down, blocked only by Elder Bai’s hasty barriers to protect the buildings. For the rogue cultivators and mortals, this was a battle of immortals—a spectacle they might never witness again.

But in the sky, Li Tonghai’s expression had turned grave.

He is strong. Possibly stronger than Han Yu.

Li Tonghai felt like he was fighting a ghost. His sword techniques were perfect, his power at its peak, yet he hadn’t even touched the corner of Lin Lingxiu’s robe. The veil on the boy’s face hadn’t even fluttered.

It wasn’t just dodging. It was anticipation.

Can those eyes see through my attacks before I launch them? Li Tonghai thought, a bead of cold sweat rolling down his back. He is handling me with ease and grace… if this continues, I will lose.

“Is that all your skill?” Lin Lingxiu asked, his voice cutting through the wind.

The dismissal shattered Li Tonghai’s calm.

“Try this!”

Li Tonghai gripped his sword hilt with both hands. He closed his eyes, shutting out the visual distractions.

He reached inward, seeking the resonance between his soul and his weapon.

Union of Heart and Sword.

A terrifyingly sharp aura erupted from his body. He became the blade.

Without opening his eyes, Li Tonghai moved. Guided purely by his Sword Heart, he became a streak of light, merging with his weapon in a desperate, unstoppable thrust.

Man and Sword as One!

The speed was blinding. It was a kill-strike that ignored defense for absolute offense.

“What a fine sword!” Qin Ting laughed from the stands, clapping his hands. “Sect Leader Ye has an eye for talent.”

He leaned forward, his smile widening. “But to defeat my disciple… it is still lacking.”

Before the sentence finished, the outcome was decided.

As Li Tonghai’s streak of light approached, the silver spindle beneath Lin Lingxiu’s feet exploded into motion. Countless silver-white threads erupted, expanding instantly into a dense web.

Thwip-thwip-thwip.

In the blink of an eye, the threads wrapped around Li Tonghai and his sword, binding them tight. The momentum was absorbed, the sharpness smothered.

He hung in the air, encased in a silver cocoon. Only his head was left exposed.

A thin, razor-sharp star disc hovered millimeters from Li Tonghai’s throat.

The silence was deafening.

Lin Lingxiu floated closer, his glowing star-eyes looking down at the defeated swordsman with zero emotion.

“You are indeed very weak.”