Is It Wrong to Bully the Novice Village for System Rewards?

Chapter 240: Didn’t Your Elders Teach You Manners?

Realizing that his fearsome reputation was already set in stone—and that attempting to clear his name would likely only make him look more like a manipulative sociopath—Qi Yuan abandoned any thoughts of PR damage control. He quietly slipped away from the gossiping crowd.

Despite the sea of people crowding the plateau, there were actually only about 70 or 80 disciples who had qualified for the trial itself. There was no line. Qi Yuan easily located the Internal Affairs Elder handling registration.

After verifying his identity, Qi Yuan was handed a trial number plate engraved with the number ’27’.

The Elder gave Qi Yuan’s outer-sect robes a long, measuring look. “You are rank twenty-seven,” he grunted, his voice low and gravelly. “You will only enter the tower once the disciples ahead of you have concluded their trials. When it is your turn, your name will be called.”

“If you do not respond after three calls, it will be treated as a voluntary forfeit. Your qualification will be instantly revoked. Understand?”

“Understood. Thanks for the heads-up.”

Qi Yuan nodded and walked away without looking back. As he moved through the staging area, he drew a barrage of curious, scrutinizing, and outright fearful gazes.

Holding a trial number plate was proof that he had survived yesterday’s brutal 1v5 assessment. He was no longer just some random face in the crowd. Yet, he was still wearing the drab, cheap robes of an Outer Sect Disciple, and his cultivation aura was pegged firmly at peak Foundation Building. Among a sea of Nascent Soul elites dressed in high-end spiritual silk, he stuck out like a sore thumb.

Ignoring the stares, Qi Yuan strolled back to Ji Chan’er’s side, his expression perfectly composed. With a flick of his wrist, he produced a delicate Storage Bracelet from his robes and discreetly slipped it into her hand.

Fairy Ji, he transmitted via divine sense, his face deadpan. There are ten million High Grade Spirit Stones in there. I don’t care what the odds are. Take all of it and bet it on me taking first place.

Also, you should bet your own stash too. Go all in. Trust me, we are absolutely not losing this!

Qi Yuan was currently nursing a massive headache over his ruined reputation. The only way he could soothe his wounded soul was by committing an act of absolute, unapologetic financial violence against the local bookies.

Unfortunately, the Demonic Sect was a wretched hive of scum and villainy, and he was currently a “low-status” outer disciple. If he placed a ten-million-stone bet himself, the bookies would absolutely try to kill him rather than pay out. But if the demoness Ji placed the bet? Even if the bookies had ten extra sets of balls, they wouldn’t dare default on the Ji Clan’s golden girl.

Hearing the transmission, Ji Chan’er’s beautiful eyes blew wide open. She stared at Qi Yuan in utter shock.

Where in the world did you get so many Spirit Stones?!

She knew Qi Yuan had a decent stash of loot, but she had never imagined he was this absurdly wealthy. He had just casually handed over ten million High Grade Spirit Stones without batting an eye!

For context, as a core Legacy Disciple of The Saint Sect, her monthly stipend was around three to four hundred High Grade Spirit Stones. Even with her massive family allowance, her monthly income capped out at maybe eight hundred.

Ten million High Grade Spirit Stones was enough money to outright purchase a mid-sized Sect.

Qi Yuan coughed lightly, adopting his best mafia-don persona. Men handle the business; women don’t need to ask questions. Just do as I say. Don’t worry about the details.

Ji Chan’er blinked, slightly taken aback by the macho delivery, but she obediently nodded. She didn’t press the issue. In her view, every cultivator had their secrets. Even between the closest of allies, a little privacy was necessary. Trying to dig up every skeleton in a man’s closet was just asking for trouble.

Relax, Qi Yuan transmitted, puffing out his chest. I can’t guarantee I’ll reach the absolute summit, but climbing seven or eight hundred floors will be a walk in the park. Just put the money down!

Since breaking through to the Heavenly Dao Soul Formation, Qi Yuan honestly wasn’t sure what his upper limit was anymore. As such, he felt he was being rather conservative with his estimate.

To Ji Chan’er, however, those words hit like a physical thunderclap, leaving her head spinning.

S-seven or eight hundred floors?! she stammered back, her large, shimmering eyes locked onto his face.

The current Sect Leader, Shen Honglian, held the all-time historical record for the Moluo God-Slaughtering Tower. Back in her prime, as the undisputed genius of her generation, she had managed to climb just past the six-hundredth floor—and she had nearly perished in the attempt!

This guy was casually talking about breezing past floor seven hundred. The sheer, unadulterated arrogance of it was staggering.

Of course, this perfectly matched her impression of him.

He was audacious to the point of madness, daring to think what others couldn’t and act where others wouldn’t. He was the perfect seed for the Demonic Path!

A flush of genuine excitement crept up Ji Chan’er’s porcelain neck. She began frantically calculating how many Spirit Stones she could liquidate from her own accounts to go all-in with the madman standing beside her.

Just then, a commotion rippled through the nearby crowd. The dense pack of Demonic Cultivators parted like the Red Sea, shoved aside by an invisible force.

A man and a woman strolled down the newly cleared path. The woman was dressed in a stunning, form-fitting crimson gown, her figure tall and breathtakingly graceful. It was Situ Yan.

Half a step behind her stalked a young male cultivator. He wore a simple black robe and woven straw sandals, his handsome face set in an expression of haughty, icy arrogance. His gaze was glued to Situ Yan’s back; it was as if nothing else in the world existed to him but her.

Ji Chan’er’s delicate brows immediately knit together. She shot Situ Yan a look of absolute zero.

“What are you doing here?” Ji Chan’er demanded coldly. “This trial has nothing to do with you.”

Situ Yan offered a soft, impossibly sweet smile. Her voice dripped with honey. “Junior Sister Ji, you’re mistaken. The tower trial concerns the future of The Saint Sect’s legacy.”

“As a proud member of The Saint Sect, naturally I had to come and witness the… glory… of our rising stars.”

Ignoring Ji Chan’er, Situ Yan bypassed her entirely and walked straight up to Qi Yuan. She leaned in close, her voice dropping to a cloyingly sweet, submissive purr.

“Junior Brother Qi~ Your Senior Sister came all this way specifically to cheer for you. A silly old tower is nothing to you. I just know you’re going to win first place.”

Qi Yuan nearly jumped out of his skin. She was standing so close he could smell her perfume. He frantically backpedaled three steps, a cold sweat breaking out on his back.

“T-thank you for the auspicious words, Senior Sister Situ!” Qi Yuan stammered, bowing stiffly. “I will definitely try my best not to disappoint you.”

“Then your Senior Sister will be waiting right here, counting the seconds.” Situ Yan covered her mouth, her laugh soft, breathy, and terrifyingly devoted. “When you get promoted to Legacy Disciple, I’ve prepared a massive surprise for you. And you aren’t allowed to refuse it…”

The surrounding crowd stared in baffled silence. Even Ji Chan’er looked completely thrown off. Why was the notoriously proud and vicious eldest daughter of the Situ Clan acting like a lovesick puppy toward a random Outer Sect Disciple? Was this some elaborate, convoluted assassination plot?

The man standing behind Situ Yan, however, wasn’t confused. He was furious.

His eyes widened in disbelief, and then a tidal wave of Killing Intent exploded from his body. His handsome face twisted into a mask of pure ice as he glared at Qi Yuan.

“So. You’re the arrogant, domineering Outer Sect trash they call Big Qi?” The man’s voice was a bone-chilling rasp, thick with undisguised murder.

Qi Yuan raised a single eyebrow, his own irritation flaring. “And what rock did you crawl out from under?”

“Calling someone ‘arrogant and domineering’ the second you meet them? Didn’t your elders teach you any basic damn manners?”

“Impudent!”

Hearing a mere Foundation Building disciple insult him so casually, the man flew into a blinding rage. Violent Spiritual Energy surged around his body, instantly condensing into the terrifying, pitch-black phantom of a massive longblade hovering above his head.

“Disrespecting your betters! Death is too good for you!”

“Stop!” Ji Chan’er shouted.

“Shen Junting, what are you doing?!” Situ Yan screamed, both women lunging forward to intervene.

But Qi Yuan didn’t move. He didn’t raise his hands, didn’t summon his aura, didn’t even shift his stance. Locked in the crosshairs of a Nascent Soul elite’s killing blow, Qi Yuan simply looked Shen Junting in the eye, his expression completely deadpan, and uttered a single word.

“Scram.”

WUMMMMM.

The moment the word left Qi Yuan’s lips, the air around Shen Junting warped.

It was as if an invisible, localized earthquake had struck him directly in the chest. A crushing, phantom mountain of karmic weight slammed down onto his shoulders. The man’s essence, energy, and spirit were violently, inexplicably severed.

Crack!

The massive, terrifying black blade phantom shattered into mist.

Shen Junting let out a wet gasp. “Pfft—!” A massive spray of blood erupted from his mouth. His eyes rolled back into his head, and he collapsed into a crumpled, broken heap on the stone floor.

What just happened?

Shen Junting lay in a puddle of his own blood, his handsome face twisted into a mask of total, uncomprehending terror. He couldn’t even process what had just hit him.

The surrounding crowd recoiled in absolute horror, gasping and looking around wildly.

To the onlookers, the scene was entirely incomprehensible. Qi Yuan hadn’t moved a muscle. He hadn’t gathered a single ounce of Spiritual Energy. He had just casually said the word “Scram,” and a top-tier, late-stage Nascent Soul Legacy Disciple had instantly vomited blood and collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.