She Dominates the Immortal Realm with Her HP Bar-Chapter 101

◎Go, Pikachu!◎

To be honest, the moment Yan Luoyue saw these two distress letters, countless familiar scenarios flashed through her mind.

Things like: 【I am Qin Shi Huang, send money. Once my mission is accomplished, I will reward you with 10,000 coins from each of my 10,000 Terracotta Warriors…】—classic scam messages.

Or something like: 【Dear Dad, it’s your son. I got hit by a car and am now in the hospital, hovering between life and death, paralyzed from head to toe, with all four limbs amputated. I’m even typing this message with my tongue. Please immediately transfer 10,086 yuan to my bank account (1xxxxx), or your son might die!】—ridiculous, low-effort spam.

Because of this, after opening the two letters, Yan Luoyue nearly reflexively downloaded an anti-fraud app.

Clearing her throat, she shook off these mental images and carefully examined the letters.

After all, while their format resembled scam messages, fraud wasn’t so easy to pull off in the cultivation world.

Back when Yan Luoyue crafted a set of "Monster Slayer" character cards, she deliberately avoided using existing heroes from the cultivation world—just in case the real individuals or their descendants came knocking on her door for a "chat."

In other words, if someone dared to commit fraud in the cultivation world, there was a very high chance the scammer would get tracked down via their paper crane (the equivalent of "following the digital trail") and beaten to a pulp.

Besides, paper cranes in the cultivation world couldn’t be mass-sent.

Exchanging messages via paper cranes usually meant two cultivators had already established a connection.

Yan Luoyue pinched the edge of the paper, giving it a slight flick, and immediately sensed the aura imprints of Yin Wangyou and Shen Jingxuan.

"It really is Jingxuan and Wangyou," Yan Luoyue mused. "The online communication style of the cultivation world really has that nostalgic, dial-up-era simplicity…"

Wu Manshuang tilted his head toward her, and Yan Luoyue showed him the two letters in turn.

After a moment, Wu Manshuang pointed out a fact: "The handwriting in these two letters is the same."

"Yeah, it’s Wangyou’s writing. You know Jingxuan’s style isn’t like this."

Yan Luoyue sighed. "I can practically picture the scene—while Jingxuan was holding off pursuers with a barrage of attacks, Wangyou seized the chance to write this letter in both their names."

This was probably the cultivation world’s version of "important things must be said twice."

Wu Manshuang lifted his gaze to meet Yan Luoyue’s, his eyes carrying a hint of assessment. "Are you going?"

Yan Luoyue nodded. "I’m going."

The timing of these letters was too coincidental, too suspicious.

But when it came to the safety of her friends, Yan Luoyue couldn’t possibly ignore it.

Moreover…

"If this is a diversion tactic, then all the better," Yan Luoyue said with a bright smile.

"If the enemy stays hidden, they’re like an iceberg lurking beneath the ocean’s currents. But once they make a move, their fox tail is bound to show."

Yan Luoyue wasn’t afraid of an ambush—she was more worried about an opponent who was too patient.

The only regret was…

"I’ll go meet up with Wangyou and Jingxuan, so we’ll have to split up for now. Manshuang, as for the Silverlight Arena…"

Wu Manshuang responded with absolute certainty and natural ease: "—Leave it to me."

Their eyes met, and they shared a smile before clasping hands.

Over the past six years, Yan Luoyue and Wu Manshuang had been inseparable.

Now, even though they were parting ways to fight their own battles, the trust and faith shining in their starlit gazes remained unwavering.

Yan Luoyue believed Wu Manshuang could handle the situation at the Silverlight Arena.

Wu Manshuang, in turn, was confident that Yan Luoyue would rescue Shen Jingxuan and Yin Wangyou and steer things toward a better outcome.

…

Come to think of it, Wu Manshuang had only met Yin Wangyou once before.

It was impressive that he hadn’t hesitated upon seeing her letter—he’d even remembered who she was.

—Yin Wangyou, an alchemist, had first crossed paths with Yan Luoyue when she crafted a knockoff version of the "Little Turtle Ointment."

She had also once been rescued by Shen Jingxuan while gathering herbs in the wild and repaid the favor by refining a Nine-Cycle Foundation Establishment Pill for her.

Later, Yin Wangyou helped Yan Luoyue dissect a Thousand-Faced Demon, aiding in the creation of the Tracking Net.

This invention, capable of detecting Thousand-Faced Demons, was still generating income for Yan Luoyue through the Star River Auction House.

The last time Yan Luoyue had seen Yin Wangyou was in a small courtyard in Chiyu City.

Yin Wangyou had chosen the Thousand-Faced Demon as her research subject, burying herself in the study for five or six years without pause.

In truth, Yin Wangyou wasn’t the type of girl with a striking personality that left a deep impression.

But like a stubborn weed growing from a cliffside, she had a quiet, tenacious, and unyielding spirit.

And that was why Yan Luoyue admired her.

Following the traces left by the paper crane and with the help of a few auxiliary compass techniques, Yan Luoyue quickly located Shen Jingxuan and Yin Wangyou.

—This was exactly why paper crane fraud never took off in the cultivation world.

Any scammer who dared attempt it would inevitably be nipped in the bud by a powerful cultivator.

After years apart, the three of them couldn’t help but feel a touch of emotion upon reuniting.

To Yan Luoyue’s relief, though Yin Wangyou and Shen Jingxuan were disheveled and bloodstained, their spirits were high, and their injuries were minor—far better than she’d feared.

At the moment, the three of them were seated in a cave in the middle of nowhere.

Yin Wangyou had scattered a handful of insect-repelling powder at the cave entrance to mask their presence.

In the center of their little circle, Yan Luoyue had placed a portable spirit stone-powered nightlight.

As for Shen Jingxuan…

The young nun owned little and lived simply.

So, she merely borrowed a Tranquil Water Talisman from Yan Luoyue and carefully scrubbed the blood and gore—someone else’s—from her spiked gauntlets.

At one point, Yan Luoyue even saw Shen Jingxuan rinse out half of a shattered molar from between the spikes…

Yan Luoyue: "…"

Clearing her throat, she steadied her nerves and broached the subject.

"So… what exactly happened?"

Shen Jingxuan paused her cleaning and set the dark iron gauntlets aside.

"Then, let this humble nun explain first."

Compared to Yan Luoyue’s biannual correspondence with Yin Wangyou, her exchanges with Shen Jingxuan were far more frequent.

Every two weeks to a month, the little nun would send a paper crane, and Yan Luoyue did the same.

So Yan Luoyue knew that, in the second year after she left for the Thousand Refinements Conference, Shen Jingxuan had resigned from her position as the turtle clan’s instructor and set out to visit Yan Luoyue at the Guiyuan Sect.

—In fact, by the time the letter was sent, Shen Jingxuan was already on the road.

Yan Luoyue, reading this: "!!!"

Heavens, someone save Jingxuan!

There was no way she could find her way on her own!

Because at the bottom of that letter, Shen Jingxuan had indicated that she was—"currently beside a tree"!

As it turned out, Shen Jingxuan lived up to expectations by... getting lost.

A month later, Yan Luoyue received a second letter from Shen Jingxuan.

In this letter, Shen Jingxuan described her journey in a somewhat bewildered tone.

She had walked in a straight line, fearlessly heading in the exact opposite direction of the east, and ended up in the territory of the Fan Yin Temple.

At the end of the letter, Shen Jingxuan mused: It was all the guidance of the Dharma. Clearly, she had a connection with the Buddha.

Yan Luoyue: "..."

By the way, at the signature of this letter, Shen Jingxuan noted that she was "currently beside a rock."

Yan Luoyue: "..."

She was starting to feel a bit numb.

At the beginning of the third month, Shen Jingxuan sent her third letter.

As it turned out, Shen Jingxuan had gotten lost while getting lost—oh, in the letter, the little nun refused to admit she was lost, insisting she was merely following the guidance of the Dharma—and ended up in a forbidden area under the jurisdiction of Fan Yin Temple.

In this forbidden land, Shen Jingxuan encountered countless illusions.

She traversed mountains of blades, waded through seas of fire, walked through the 108 sufferings of the mortal world, and stepped over layers upon layers of Asura corpses, sinking like quicksand.

Finally, utterly exhausted, Shen Jingxuan collapsed before a lotus throne radiating golden light.

And upon that lotus throne sat the enlightened nun, Master Canhe, who was in secluded meditation.

A directionally challenged nun truly has the best luck.

Just like that, Shen Jingxuan caught the master’s eye and was taken under her wing, becoming her successor.

Yan Luoyue: "..."

Reading this, Yan Luoyue couldn’t help but applaud in admiration.

In any case, from then on, Shen Jingxuan officially became a disciple of Fan Yin Temple.

She went from being a wandering little nun who constantly got lost to a formally employed little nun who still couldn’t find her way.

Shen Jingxuan first lowered her eyes and silently recited a Buddhist chant.

Then, the moment she spoke, she said something perfectly in character. ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com

"Four years ago, Luoyue and I made plans to meet at the Guiyuan Sect, but I was delayed after joining Fan Yin Temple. So, this time, I originally intended to travel east to meet you and fulfill our old promise."

Shen Jingxuan said calmly, "However..."

Yan Luoyue closed her eyes in pain, feeling like she already understood everything: "However..."

How obvious—the little nun must have gotten lost again!

"At least you didn’t get lost to the Hongtong Palace," Yan Luoyue sighed sincerely.

"The Guiyuan Sect is to the east, while the Yunning Great Marsh is northeast. You at least got half the direction right. Jingxuan, you didn’t go south—that’s already a huge improvement!"

Shen Jingxuan: "..."

Shen Jingxuan had been wandering lost the entire time, completely unaware, only feeling that the sights along the way grew more and more familiar...

Until a few days ago, when she happened to stumble upon Yin Wangyou, who was being pursued in the middle of nowhere.

—Don’t ask why things turned out so coincidentally.

The answer is simple: wherever the little nun appears, it’s entirely plausible.

After all, she’s the kind of nun who can get lost all the way to a flower thief’s hideout.

Shen Jingxuan swiftly defeated the pursuers and rescued Yin Wangyou.

After a brief exchange, Shen Jingxuan realized that Yin Wangyou had made a shocking discovery.

So, Shen Jingxuan acted decisively, using a special Buddhist technique to send a message back to Fan Yin Temple.

In addition, both she and Yin Wangyou thought of another person they knew who was connected to the four major sects—Yan Luoyue.

Hearing this, Yan Luoyue mused, "So, the call for help was a pretense, but meeting me was the real goal?"

"No, the call for help was also genuine," Yin Wangyou sighed. "Luoyue, you must have noticed—that paper crane was written by me on Jingxuan’s behalf."

"At the time, we were ambushed by a group of pursuers, and Jingxuan was occupied, so I hastily wrote those two letters."

Despite discussing something serious and urgent, at this moment, a warm smile appeared on Yin Wangyou’s plain but gentle face.

Gazing at Yan Luoyue, she said softly, "When I released the paper crane, I didn’t have much hope... but you came, Luoyue, and so quickly."

Yan Luoyue’s expression softened as well.

She pretended to be angry. "What do you mean, 'didn’t have much hope'? Did you really think I’d ignore a friend’s plea for help?"

"That’s not what I meant," Yin Wangyou quickly waved her hands. "But when I was first pursued, it was because a letter I sent was intercepted and its contents exposed."

"So I thought the enemy might intercept my paper crane this time too..."

However, this time, the letter reached Yan Luoyue, proving that Yin Wangyou’s luck wasn’t all bad.

Perhaps it was because the two paper cranes were released together.

Shen Jingxuan’s crane might have masked Yin Wangyou’s aura.

Hearing this, Yan Luoyue grew even more concerned.

"Why are they after you? Wangyou, did you uncover some powerful figure’s secret over the years?"

Yin Wangyou sighed, then turned to retrieve several sealed boxes and a long scroll from her storage pouch, spreading them out on the cave floor.

With a solemn expression, she asked, "You know I’ve been researching the Thousand-Faced Demons all these years, right?"

Yan Luoyue nodded. "Yes."

"Then..." Yin Wangyou opened the first few boxes one by one. "See for yourself."

The first box contained several segments of a Thousand-Faced Demon’s meridians, pinned as specimens from thinnest to thickest.

The second box held a thick, resilient silver thread.

Yan Luoyue narrowed her eyes and confirmed it was the same material that formed the hard shell of the Left-Spiral Snail Demon.

As for the third box...

There was no physical specimen inside, only a charcoal sketch of a spiderweb-like creature drawn by Yin Wangyou.

Yan Luoyue seemed to realize something. "This is..."

"This is the result of my research over the years."

Yin Wangyou’s first words were earth-shattering.

In a firm voice, she declared, "After repeated experiments, I can now confirm—the Thousand-Faced Demon, the Left-Spiral Snail Demon, and even the Puppet Master are all the same kind of demon!"

Yan Luoyue: "!!!"

Startled, Yan Luoyue’s eyes widened as she quickly scanned the three opened boxes again.

At the same time, Shen Jingxuan also turned her gaze in this direction, her expression complex and inscrutable.

Even hearing this claim a second time, the little nun found it hard to remain calm.

Taking a deep breath, Yan Luoyue cautiously asked, "How so?"

Yan Wangyou pointed to the first box, plucking out the thinnest meridian.

"After dissecting hundreds of Thousand-Faced Demon corpses, I found that the meridians of ordinary Thousand-Faced Demons usually look like this."

"But mutated Thousand-Faced Demons often have thicker meridians."

Yin Wangyou spoke while picking up the second box. She then plucked out the thickest strand of a Thousand-Faced Demon’s sinew and compared it to the silver thread of a Left-Spiral Shell Demon.

"Luoyue, look—"

Before she could finish, Yan Luoyue had already taken both threads into her hands.

After carefully examining them, a peculiar expression flickered across Yan Luoyue’s face.

After a long pause, she exhaled deeply. "They are indeed similar."

She had once refined the shell armor of a Left-Spiral Shell Demon and the sinews of a Thousand-Faced Demon.

Thus, Yan Luoyue had the authority to confirm that these two materials shared certain similarities in their properties for artifact refinement.

Moreover, she believed that many other refiners were likely aware of this as well.

But just as no one had thought to piece together the edges of continents on a map before Wegener proposed the theory of continental drift, no one in the cultivation world had ever dared to boldly claim that Thousand-Faced Demons and Left-Spiral Shell Demons were the same creature—until Yin Wangyou.

Yan Luoyue frowned. "So, you’re saying the Thousand-Faced Demon is just a juvenile form, and it matures into a Left-Spiral Shell Demon? Then—what about the Puppet Masters?"

Yin Wangyou waved her hand. "No, the Thousand-Faced Demon isn’t a juvenile form. It’s also an adult form."

According to her speculation, these Thousand-Faced Demons enter the human realm and accumulate energy by preying on living beings.

At the same time, the sinews within their bodies undergo silent transformations.

Those whose sinews grow in number, thicken, and become more resilient eventually have their sinews burst through their gelatinous bodies, twisting into a left-spiraling shell armor.

This is the Left-Spiral Shell Demon.

Those whose sinews multiply but remain fine and dense grow into a web-like creature.

Their bodies can stretch hundreds of meters long, lurking beneath layers of fallen leaves and decaying matter. The moment prey steps onto them, they are ensnared and captured.

This is the Heaven-and-Earth Net Demon.

Then there is a third type, whose sinews grow neither too thick nor too thin but gain significantly enhanced abilities.

These transformed demons can pierce their sinews into living beings, controlling them like puppets and even reading their memories. They are known as—

"Puppet Masters," Yin Wangyou murmured.

At the same time, she crouched down and unfurled a scroll on the ground with a swift motion.

What appeared before Yan Luoyue was a tree-shaped diagram.

At the roots was the grotesque image of the Heterogeneous Mother Demon, fangs bared and visage ferocious.

One of the branches bore the name "Thousand-Faced Demon."

At the tips of this branch hung three fruits: "Left-Spiral Shell Demon," "Heaven-and-Earth Net Demon," and "Puppet Master."

Yin Wangyou whispered, "I’ve given this phenomenon a name. I believe there’s a specific term to describe it, and that is—"

"Advancement!"

"Evolution!"

At that moment, Yan Luoyue and Yin Wangyou’s voices overlapped, uttering two homophonous words in unison.

Yan Luoyue clenched her right fist and smacked it into her left palm.

Even if she hadn’t studied the transformation mechanism of Thousand-Faced Demons, she’d at least watched animations like Digimon, Pokémon, and Legendary Armor Academy!

This was basically the same trope as Pichu evolving into Pikachu and Pikachu evolving into Raichu!

"I call this process 'Advancement'—the 'advance' of progression," Yin Wangyou said solemnly. "So far, I’ve only discovered three distinct paths for the Advancement of Thousand-Faced Demons."

"Once Advancement occurs, it is irreversible, difficult to halt, and cannot shift to another path."

The tree diagram Yin Wangyou presented to Yan Luoyue was the culmination of her research into all demon traits, after countless rounds of conjecture and deduction—the Advancement Tree Spectrum.

"There’s one more thing," Yin Wangyou added with a bitter smile. "Back when Chiyu City faced the Thousand-Faced Demon calamity… thankfully, Luoyue, you invented the Tracking Net in time to turn the tide."

Though nearly six or seven years had passed, Yan Luoyue still remembered it vividly. "What about it?"

Yin Wangyou shook her head slightly. "Everyone in the cultivation world knows that Puppet Masters are elusive. Often, entire cities fall under their control without anyone realizing it."

"But what if the ones who first entered the city weren’t Puppet Masters at all?"

Yin Wangyou took a deep breath. "I’m now increasingly certain—what happened back then wasn’t just a Thousand-Faced Demon calamity."

"If it hadn’t been interrupted, among those Thousand-Faced Demons, at least one would have Advanced into a Puppet Master."

And then, Chiyu City would have become one of those infamous cities where, "somehow, overnight, everyone was controlled by Puppet Masters."

Yin Wangyou stared intently at Yan Luoyue, her gaze filled with both excitement and lingering fear.

She enunciated each word clearly: "Back then, neither you, nor I, nor even City Lord Meng Zhun realized that what we stopped wasn’t just a demon disaster—it was the birth of a Puppet Master catastrophe!"

"!!!"

Hearing this, Yan Luoyue couldn’t help but draw a sharp breath.

She murmured, "Listening to you, Wangyou, I suddenly recall something."

"...What?"

The Star River Auction House recently requested another five hundred licensing agreements for the Tracking Net's recipe.

A trace of relief flashed in Yan Luoyue’s eyes. "They said that in recent years, Thousand-Faced Demons have been repeatedly spotted near the demonic seal in various cities."

So, city lords and clan leaders have been preparing for the worst. They've been purchasing the recipe to refine Tracking Nets and deploying them along key routes.

Looking back, Yan Luoyue's decision to invent the Tracking Net and patent its formula might have averted several potential disasters.

Taking a deep breath, Yan Luoyue said decisively:

"This discovery is of immense importance. I’ll immediately send word to my sect… and as for who’s hunting you, I’ll have the sect investigate as well."

The area near Yunning Great Marsh was, after all, under the jurisdiction of the Guiyuan Sect. Though remote, the sect had outposts there.

No wonder Yin Wangyou and Shen Jingxuan, though temporarily safe, had immediately sought Yan Luoyue’s help.

After all, Yin Wangyou came from humble origins, and the Distant Temple was too far to offer timely aid.

If they needed protection, it made more sense to rely on the local power.

Ever ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‍since her paper crane was intercepted by Chu Tiankuo during the Camellia Town incident, Yan Luoyue had specially crafted a batch of enhanced paper cranes.

These cranes were stealthy, untraceable, and nearly impossible to intercept.

Yan Luoyue released eighteen of these cranes in one go to deliver her messages, finally allowing herself to relax slightly.

She took over the night watch, letting the young nun and Yin Wangyou rest and recuperate.

At this moment, Yan Luoyue’s gaze pierced through the vast darkness, as if it could traverse the layers of distant mountains and reach the direction of Tianyuan City.

Unconsciously, she wondered—what was happening with Wu Manshuang at this very moment?

...

While one flower blooms, another withers elsewhere.

As Yan Luoyue obtained crucial information about the evolution of demonic creatures, Wu Manshuang was also examining a new invitation from the Silver Light Arena.

Not long ago, Dui Choumian’s persistent hints directed at the Silver Light Arena had finally yielded a response.

After a routine arena match concluded, a silent attendant entered the rest area and placed a new invitation beside Dui Choumian, who appeared to be resting with his eyes closed.

Only after the attendant left did Wu Manshuang open his eyes.

The invitation was a heavy black, its edges adorned with raised, blood-like patterns.

Had Yan Luoyue been present, she would surely have made some sarcastic remark about "cheap special effects"—one of those strange, barely comprehensible yet oddly fitting phrases she often used.

At the thought of Yan Luoyue, Wu Manshuang’s lips curled into a gentle smile.

He opened the invitation and, unsurprisingly, found a time set for nearly midnight.

—Was this the arena’s way of extending a friendly gesture?

Or… a trap?

At some point, the tender smile on Dui Choumian’s lips twisted into something cold and serpentine.

—Whatever the case, even if it were a mountain of blades or a sea of flames, nothing could make him hesitate.

On this deep, night-shrouded midnight, Dui Choumian gladly accepted the invitation.

The location was still the Silver Light Arena. The attendant at the entrance bowed silently upon seeing him and led him inside without a word.

At first, the attendant seemed to be guiding him toward the backstage rest area. But after a certain turn, they descended a flight of stairs, delving deeper underground.

Throughout the journey, Dui Choumian maintained an air of languid indifference, asking no questions.

From time to time, he would raise his long-stemmed pipe to his lips, as if out of boredom, then swiftly survey his surroundings under the cover of thick smoke.

Soon, the tangled "human presence" reached him from a certain direction, and Wu Manshuang could hear the clamor of excited shouts.

Compared to the proper matches held during the day at the Silver Light Arena, this secret underground venue, active only at night, seemed to stir far more fervor in its audience.

Dui Choumian paused at the entrance of the hidden arena, his tall figure casting a long, sinuous shadow on the steps.

The hall before him was structured like an ancient colosseum, descending in layers toward the center.

At the very bottom lay the circular battleground, where all eyes were currently fixed.

—Demonic creatures.

Dui Choumian narrowed his eyes, clearly seeing a cultivator wielding a golden-backed mountain cleaver, locked in fierce combat with a horde of demonic beasts.

Generally, the cultivation world adhered to an unspoken rule: mid-level demonic creatures were not to be taken alive beyond the demonic seals.

Yet here, every single creature on the field fell squarely within that category.

Dozens of demonic beasts shrieked horrifically, lunging for the cultivator’s face, neck, and shoulders.

The cultivator fought back valiantly, his blade spinning like a meat-grinding curtain.

But anyone with eyes could see his movements growing slower, clumsier.

At this moment, the blood pooling on the ground was bright red, while the cultivator’s robes were soaked a darker crimson.

And across the entire arena—from the desperate fighter to the shrieking spectators—everyone’s eyes seemed to burn with the same frenzied, maddened scarlet.

After observing the scene for a moment, Dui Choumian suddenly let out a soft laugh.

He flicked his silver-engraved pipe, its tip adorned with a pigeon-blood ruby.

His voice was strange and icy, cold yet smooth, like a venomous serpent slithering intimately down one’s collar.

"Is this… all?"

Dui Choumian sighed, his tone ambiguous. "If this is all there is…"

He left the rest unsaid.

But the man’s dark gaze, the rhythmic sway of his pipe, even the subtly twisted posture of his body—all betrayed his impatience.

The attendant dared only a single glance before lowering his eyes, too afraid to look again.

He bowed deeply, speaking in the most deferential tone possible.

"If the honored guest can prove himself, what lies beyond will not disappoint."

"Is that so? Very well." Dui Choumian’s voice remained a chilling murmur.

He stepped forward, moving with eerie grace toward the arena.

With every slight motion, the silver bells at his ankles, the dangling silver fringe across his abdomen, even the moon-shaped hair ornaments and forehead chain—all chimed in delicate harmony.

Yet the sound was more like a snake charmer’s deadly flute, blending with the colorful smoke rising from his pipe into an aura of spine-tingling danger.

From the highest steps to the demon-fighting pit below, Dui Choumian advanced unimpeded.

A few overexcited spectators, high on adrenaline, stumbled onto the stairs—only to freeze like stone under his sidelong glance before collapsing to the ground.

Dui Choumian paid them no mind, stepping over their motionless bodies without hesitation, his bare feet adorned with silver bells leaving no trace of the filth beneath.

By the time he reached the edge of the lowest arena, the faintly iridescent smoke trailing behind him stretched like a ceremonial carpet.

Now, the entire crowd had taken notice of his presence.

So had the demonic creatures still mauling the blade-wielding cultivator.

Several beasts, catching the scent of fresh prey, turned their drooling maws toward Dui Choumian, eyes alight with greed.

With a cold laugh, Dui Choumian flicked his pipe.

No one saw how he moved, but wherever the smoke touched, the demonic creatures collapsed.

Unhurried, he strode forward.

His bare feet trod upon the grisly remains, yet when he lifted them again, they remained pristine and pale.

Pointing his silver pipe at the besieged cultivator, Dui Choumian frowned slightly.

"Useless trash. Move."

The moment the words left his lips, the half-conscious cultivator—already incapable of resistance—was struck as if by an invisible rod and sent flying backward.

He crashed through several demonic creatures gnawing at him, rolled across the ground, and finally lay still, face drenched in blood.

Dui Choumian didn’t spare him another glance. His silver pipe twirled in a dazzling flourish—though the theatrics were merely the flamboyant habits of a southern demon.

The true weapon was the wispy golden smoke drifting from its end, an invisible killer.

There was no fierce struggle, no bloody battle. In mere moments, every demonic creature in the arena had dropped like flies.

Their eyes glazed over, limbs convulsed, and soon, they were vomiting thick, blackened blood.

If the earlier fight had been a one-sided slaughter by the demonic horde, what Dui Choumian delivered now was a cold, emotionless massacre—one that left the spectators strangely hollow.

Gradually, the crowd’s feverish excitement cooled.

The ubiquitous cheers faded into silence, the entire arena now hushed.

Amidst such a stark shift in atmosphere, Dui Choumian appeared utterly pleased and at ease. Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, he leisurely took a slow drag from his pipe.

Frowning, he cast a disdainful glance at the scattered remains of flesh and bone littering the ground before retrieving a mirror from the storage pouch at his waist.

Gazing at his reflection with narcissistic admiration, he tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear and exhaled a long, languid sigh.

"What kind of grotesque monstrosity did they drag onto the stage? It’s an eyesore..."

The audience remained deathly silent.

Though Dui Choumian’s voice was soft, his cold, peculiar murmur reached every ear in the arena.

Paired with his current actions, nearly everyone could infer the unspoken second half of his sentence:

—Thankfully, he could still admire his own bewitchingly beautiful face in the mirror, cleansing his vision with his own allure.

The crowd: "..."

Where did this narcissistic southern demon spawn come from?

Yet, upon closer inspection of his dazzling, flamboyant appearance, many had to concede that the young man’s pride in his looks was not entirely unfounded.

As murmurs of disbelief and amusement rippled through the crowd, no one noticed the faint golden glimmer of spiritual light that flickered deep within Dui Choumian’s eyes.

Had Yan Luoyue been present, she would have recognized it—a delicate technique that harnessed spiritual energy to stabilize a wounded person’s life force.

At this moment, the golden light, concealed by the mirror’s reflection and the haze of smoke, silently settled upon the fallen swordsman from earlier.

Then, beneath Dui Choumian’s haughty, icy gaze, a trace of Wu Manshuang’s silent sorrow surfaced.

...

A servant escorted Wu Manshuang offstage, and the moment they reached the back, he bowed deeply to Dui Choumian.

"Apologies, esteemed guest, but we must request that you refrain from using such instantly lethal poisons."

Hearing his title upgraded from "guest" to "esteemed guest," Wu Manshuang scoffed inwardly.

Outwardly, however, Dui Choumian maintained his languid, indifferent demeanor. "Oh? You’re making demands of me?"

—The emphasis could be placed on "you," "demands," or even the tone itself.

In short, the interpretation of this statement lay entirely in Wu Manshuang’s hands.

And whichever word the servant reacted to first would reveal what the Silverlight Arena valued most.

Sure enough, the servant bowed again and replied politely,

"Esteemed guest, we humbly ask that you not make things difficult for us. You know these demon corpses serve a purpose for us."

"..."

In that instant, countless thoughts raced through Wu Manshuang’s mind.

But Dui Choumian merely drawled,

"How tedious. Fine, next time I’ll use smoke that merely paralyzes them."

"Your understanding and cooperation are greatly appreciated."

Not daring to provoke this unpredictable southern demon any further, the servant quickly plastered on an ingratiating smile and gestured respectfully.

"After such a light warm-up, might you be interested in watching the matches from the stands? As you can see, the night has only just begun."

"Of course." Dui Choumian smiled softly, a gentle mist rising from his pipe. "I’m quite intrigued."

...

That intrigue lasted precisely until the next combatant stepped into the arena.

At the sight of the man, even Wu Manshuang’s ironclad composure faltered—his eyelid twitched almost imperceptibly.

—The fighter who now entered the demonic battleground was none other than the taciturn swordsman who had suffered consecutive defeats at the hands of Yan Luoyue and Wu Manshuang… and lost his entire fortune both times.

Wu Manshuang: "..."

This time, the swordsman hadn’t wagered his entire livelihood.

But with Wu Manshuang’s keen spiritual senses, he could easily overhear the man’s staccato questioning of the attendant who had brought him.

The swordsman asked, "If I win this fight, I get five hundred low-grade spirit stones… plus a full set of clothes, right?"

Wu Manshuang: "..."

Why was the "full set of clothes" being emphasized?

Recalling his past exchanges with this swordsman, Wu Manshuang’s expression grew increasingly peculiar as a certain realization dawned on him.

Surely…

This swordsman…

You didn’t actually lose your last undergarment in a bet, did you?

Under that robe… you’re not actually fighting completely bare, are you?!