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

Chapter 239: If I’m the Only One Shocked, It Makes Me Look Incompetent

The creeping sensation of dread was familiar. It was the same visceral warning sign Zhang Xian had felt standing before the [Stone Gate of Fate].

However, he couldn’t pinpoint the source. Was it the dark metal construct itself, or something lurking in the shadows of this legacy realm?

Zhang Xian leaned toward the tiger demon, his voice low. “Brother Tiger, are you absolutely certain this trial is non-lethal? There have been zero accidents in the past?”

Wang Meng scoffed, shaking his head. “Never. Brother Zhang, lay off the fictional novels. This is a legacy trial left by our demon ancestors to select a successor, not an execution chamber.”

“At most, the challenger gets beaten up and the formation teleports them out. When Elder Lu failed the second stage years ago, he walked away with nothing but bruises.”

Wang Meng paused, then added, “If a real emergency happens, we can forcibly breach the barrier to save her. But external intervention triggers the grand formation beneath the board, instantly terminating the trial. It counts as a failure.”

Zhang Xian nodded, falling silent.

Internally, however, he raised his guard to the maximum. His Qi circulated silently, coiled and ready to strike. His Divine Sense locked onto the puppet and Lin Liuli like a radar lock, prepared to intervene at a split-second notice.

The Half-Demon King’s phantom caught Zhang Xian’s subtle preparation. A knowing, amused smile curled her lips, though she said nothing.

She raised a translucent hand, tracing complex, arcane runes in the air before flicking them into the back of the dark metal construct.

Hum!

The dormant machine shuddered. A sound like grinding gears echoed from within its chest. Suddenly, two crimson optical sensors flared to life in its eye sockets, locking onto Lin Liuli with cold, mechanical precision.

“This puppet is also set to the energy level of a Level 3 Golden Core,” the Half-Demon King said softly. “Defeat it, and you pass. Begin.”

The word had barely left her lips.

Whoosh!

There was no wind-up. No telegraphing of intent. The [Metal Puppet] blurred, vanishing from its spot and reappearing instantly in front of Lin Liuli as if it had used [Teleportation].

“Fast!”

Lin Liuli’s pupils constricted to pinpoints.

Instinct took over. She pushed her [Shadow Flame] to the red line. Roaring black fire erupted from her pores as she twisted her body in a desperate, perilous dodge.

BOOM!

A heavy metal fist punched through the space she had occupied a fraction of a second ago. It struck nothing but air, yet the shockwave hammered the chessboard floor with a terrifying, dull thud.

The puppet didn’t pause. It didn’t breathe. It pivoted at the waist, its other arm transforming into a blur of motion as it swept toward her. The fist tore through the air with a high-pitched shriek, generating a vacuum blade.

Unable to dodge a second time, Lin Liuli crossed her arms, reinforcing them with every ounce of Qi she had.

BANG!

An irresistible kinetic force slammed into her. Lin Liuli grunted as agony shot through her forearms. She was launched backward like a ragdoll, smashing into the white light barrier at the edge of the arena. The impact caused the entire energy field to ripple violently.

She hadn’t even recovered from the vertigo of the crash when a shadow fell over her.

The puppet was already there.

Its cold, crimson eyes stared down at her exposed head. It raised a fist—a hammer of judgment—and brought it down with zero hesitation.

This wasn’t a spar. This punch was fast, ruthless, and carried naked, destructive intent.

An icy shadow of death enveloped Lin Liuli. The hairs on her neck stood up. In that frozen moment between life and death, her survival instinct squeezed every drop of potential from her soul.

Her [Heavenly Fire Spirit Root] burned like a supernova.

The black flames of [Shadow Flame] doubled in volume, turning a deep, abyssal color.

Liuli dropped her head, narrowly letting the fist graze her hair. At the same time, she channeled all her strength into her legs and drove a vicious stomp kick directly into the puppet’s knee joint.

BOOM!

Black fire clashed with dark gold metal. An explosion rocked the arena.

The puppet swayed. The kinetic force of the kick threw it off balance, sending it stumbling back toward the center of the board.

But the moment its feet touched the ground, it stabilized with a defiance of physics that looked unnatural. It swiveled its head. The crimson eyes locked onto Liuli again.

It was undamaged.

The entire exchange had happened in the spark of a flint.

Outside the barrier, Wang Meng shot to his feet. His tiger eyes were wide, and cold sweat matted the fur on his forehead.

He had no doubt—if Liuli hadn’t dodged that follow-up punch, her head would have exploded like a watermelon. This was completely different from the “stop at the point of contact” martial etiquette he had described.

“This…”

Wang Meng looked nervously at Zhang Xian.

To his surprise, Zhang Xian was sitting there, exceptionally calm.

He looked at the Half-Demon King. She was leaning back on her throne, chin resting on her palm, watching the fight with the expression of someone enjoying a good opera.

Seeing both of them so composed, Wang Meng forced himself to swallow his panic. He awkwardly sat back down.

Calm down, Wang Meng, he told himself frantically. Maybe the puppet is programmed to pull its punch at the last millimeter? Yes, that must be it. The Half-Demon King wouldn’t set up a murder trap.

Look at Brother Zhang. He isn’t even blinking. If I’m the only one shocked, I’ll look like an incompetent country bumpkin.

However, Wang Meng was wrong.

Zhang Xian was calm for two very simple reasons. First, he was confident his speed was faster than the puppet’s killing blow. Second, he had secretly gifted Liuli a [Nine Nether Tribulation Puppet]. Even if she took a direct hit, she had a literal extra life in her pocket.

And Lin Liuli… she did not disappoint him.

Under the crushing pressure of a deathmatch, her combat talent bloomed.

Her control over the [Shadow Flame] became fluid, almost liquid. Her timing, her spacing, her reading of the opponent—everything was leveling up in real-time. That brief, terrifying exchange was worth 6 months of meditation.

Inside the arena, Liuli’s back was soaked with sweat. She gasped for air, but her amber eyes burned with a ferocious, feral light.

She understood now.

This cold machine might have the same energy level as the shadow clone from the first round, but its combat specs were in a different galaxy. It was a tireless, merciless killing machine designed for war.

She took a deep breath. Instead of fear, a wildfire of defiance roared in her chest.

She wouldn’t lose. Not for the legacy. And definitely not in front of her Benefactor. She had to prove she was worth saving!

The battle resumed, turning into a gritty war of attrition.

Liuli adapted to the strain of the [Shadow Flame], her attacks becoming more methodical. But the Dark Golden Puppet was a nightmare. It had no pain receptors, no fatigue, and no mercy. Its attacks were a relentless storm of heavy artillery.

Bang!

Another clash. Liuli staggered back, a new gash opening on her arm. Blood soaked her sleeve.

Her Qi was draining rapidly. Pain flared from a dozen bruises and cuts. Several times, she thought her knees would buckle, that the relentless iron fists would finally crush her.

But just as she narrowly evaded another lethal strike, her blood churning in turmoil, something shifted.

A gentle, pure current of energy quietly surged from the depths of her dantian.