Dual Cultivation System: The Villainous Servant’s Rise

The next morning, inside the Vermilion Bird Squad office of the Law Enforcement Hall.

Han Lie, Zhuo Hongyi, and Xiao Qingge gathered around a desk. Laid out before them was a fresh scroll—the official roster for the Individual Competition’s top twenty finalists.

Zhuo Hongyi had secured the list personally.

Sitting at the very top were two names: Zhuo Hongyi and Li Xingji.

Li Xingji was the Head Personal Disciple of the Myriad Pill Hall, a Nascent Soul “Old Monster” who had narrowly lost to Zhuo Hongyi during the team finals.

Han Lie’s name sat comfortably in fifth place.

As for Xiao Qingge… with her Late Golden Core cultivation, she hadn’t managed to elbow her way into the elite circle.

“The Saintess is competing?”

Scanning down the list, Han Lie’s finger paused on a familiar name: Bai Ling.

“Yes. She was in my preliminary venue,” Zhuo Hongyi confirmed with a nod. “She made the cut easily.”

“No wonder…” Han Lie rubbed his chin, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “With her strength, it would be more surprising if she didn’t make the top twenty.”

Bai Ling was a Golden Core Perfection cultivator, but more importantly, she practiced the Ten Thousand Blood Pagoda Art. It was a supreme technique of the Heavenly Void Sect, second only to the Yin Yang Demonic Art. A standard personal disciple from the Eight Halls couldn’t hope to compare with her raw power.

“Wow! Big Brother, Senior Sister Zhuo… you two actually know the Saintess?” Xiao Qingge exclaimed, covering her mouth in feigned shock.

Zhuo Hongyi waved her hand dismissively. “I’m not close with her. But Han Lie? He should be quite familiar with her.”

“You could say that.” Han Lie gave a noncommittal smile.

Familiar? That was an understatement. In the entire Heavenly Void Sect, aside from Ye Qingxuan and Zhuo Hongyi, the person Han Lie knew best was undoubtedly Saintess Bai Ling.

“Big Brother is so amazing~” Xiao Qingge clasped her hands together, her eyes sparkling with exaggerated admiration. “You even know a big shot like the Saintess!”

Han Lie waved it off casually. “Basic operations. No need for applause.”

He turned his attention back to the list. Aside from his younger brother, Han Feng, the other names were largely unfamiliar to him.

However, anyone who could carve their name onto this scroll was no pushover.

With the exception of Han Lie, Zhuo Hongyi, and Li Xingji—who breezed through—the rest had fought tooth and nail, defeating Golden Core Perfection opponents to secure their ticket to the finals.

Some names might be obscure now, but in a tournament like this, hidden dragons and crouching tigers were everywhere. There was always the risk of a “Dark Horse” emerging from the shadows.

Just like Han Lie himself.

Thanks to his Art of Concealing Breath, the world saw him as a Golden Core Perfection cultivator. Only a select few knew the terrifying truth: he was already a Nascent Soul powerhouse.

“Little Hongyi,” Han Lie asked on a sudden whim, tapping the table. “If you and I end up standing on the final stage to fight for the championship… what happens then?”

“Pfft.” Zhuo Hongyi blinked, then her expression turned serious. “You know, don’t jinx it, but the possibility is actually quite high.”

The tournament structure required a single champion to claim the grand prize and the Heavenly River Baptism. From their perspective—two Nascent Soul experts in a sea of Golden Cores—it was almost inevitable they would be the last two standing.

“Then we’ll let our fists do the talking,” Zhuo Hongyi said, a competitive fire igniting in her eyes. “Perfect. I’ve been wanting to see exactly how strong you’ve become since breaking through to the Nascent Soul Stage.”

She still vividly remembered the sight of Han Lie, then only at the Early Golden Core Stage, slaughtering the Yang brothers—two Mid-Golden Core cultivators—in a one-against-two death match.

If he was that terrifying back then, what kind of monster was he now? She was itching to find out if he could still punch above his weight class.

“Sure,” Han Lie agreed with a faint smile. “If it comes to that, we’ll stop when appropriate. No need to fight to the death.”

Zhuo Hongyi nodded. “Agreed.”

Ten days slipped by in the blink of an eye.

For the past nine days, Han Lie and Zhuo Hongyi had been gathering intelligence on their potential opponents. The results confirmed their suspicions.

Only three contestants were confirmed Nascent Soul experts: Han Lie, Zhuo Hongyi, and Li Xingji.

The other seventeen were all at the Golden Core Perfection stage, with the sole exception of Han Feng, who had squeezed in using his sacrificial amplification technique.

Of course, there were gaps in power even among those at the Perfection stage, but for the current Han Lie, those details were irrelevant.

On the morning of the tenth day, just as the first light of dawn broke over the horizon, the Martial Arts Square was already bustling with noise and excitement.

Han Lie arrived early, flanked by Zhuo Hongyi and Xiao Qingge.

At the four corners of the massive square, temporary stalls had been erected by the Sect. Crowds of disciples were swarming around them, waving spirit stones and shouting.

Han Lie asked around and quickly learned the purpose: Official Betting Stations.

The Sect was acting as the house, offering odds on the top twenty finalists based on their preliminary performances and estimated strength. It was a chance for the 100,000 inner disciples to gamble their savings on the outcome.

“Let’s go take a look.” Han Lie’s interest was piqued.

They pushed their way toward the nearest stall. The boards displayed the odds for each contestant to advance to the Top Ten.

Zhuo Hongyi’s odds were abysmal—a terrifying 100 to 1.

In gambling terms, this didn’t mean “Bet 1, Win 100.” It meant the opposite. If you bet 100 Spirit Stones on Zhuo Hongyi, and she won, you would get a total of 101 Spirit Stones back. A 1% profit. It was practically free money for the bettor, but the return was so low it was hardly worth the effort.

Li Xingji’s odds were only slightly better at 95 to 1.

“Big Brother, look! Your odds are pretty low too,” Xiao Qingge chirped, pointing a slender finger at the board.

Han Lie followed her gaze. His odds were indeed tragic: 10 to 1.

Bet 10, get 11 back. A 10% return.

This was likely because he had crushed every opponent in the preliminaries with overwhelming force. The oddsmakers saw him as a safe bet, but not quite as locked-in as the two famous Nascent Soul experts.

“Chicken ribs,” Han Lie muttered. “Tasteless to eat, yet a pity to discard.”

Even if he dumped a million Spirit Stones on himself, he’d only make a hundred thousand in profit. After the Sect took their “handling fee” and taxes, he’d be left with peanuts—maybe seventy or eighty thousand.

“So? Want to play?” Zhuo Hongyi asked, amused by his expression.

“Might as well. Let’s throw a few tens of thousands in for fun.”

Han Lie squeezed through the crowd to the counter.

Contrary to what Zhuo Hongyi and Xiao Qingge expected, he didn’t place a bet on himself.

“Fifty thousand Spirit Stones,” Han Lie said, slamming the bag down. “On Han Feng to advance.”

He pointed at the name at the bottom of the list.

Among the top twenty, Han Feng had the highest payout odds: 1 to 5.

Bet 1, Win 5. A 500% return.

Betting on a sure thing with microscopic returns was boring. If you were going to gamble, you had to hunt for the high-risk, high-reward plays!

“I thought you’d bet on yourself,” Zhuo Hongyi said, raising an eyebrow in surprise. “But you put it all on your little brother?”

Han Lie grinned, looking at the board.

“These odds? We’re playing for the thrill! You guys want to buy in too?”

With payout rates that pathetic, anyone who wanted to bet on Han Lie was welcome to do so—but he certainly wasn’t going to waste his own money on it.