Page 27

The secret realm here was exceedingly fragile. It could only bear the entry of cultivators at the Golden Core Realm or below, and the number it could accommodate was very limited. Over time, it had become an ideal place for outstanding Golden Core disciples from the various sects to test their mettle against one another.

The Xuanxu Sword Sect was now holding a competition to select those who would enter the secret realm.

Most of the participants were at the Golden Core Realm, though Foundation Establishment disciples who had reached the Great Perfection stage occasionally appeared as well. Ning Ning's opponent in the first round wasn't particularly troublesome, and she won without much effort. Pei Ji, by contrast, had drawn a rather unfortunate opponent.

After a recent period of cultivation, he had already reached the Golden Core Third Layer. His progress was practically flying, but in a wish-fulfillment story, the weak were supposed to triumph over the strong and turn the tables in desperate straits. Unfortunately, his opponent this time was at the Golden Core Fourth Layer.

The stages of cultivation were strictly ranked. Even a difference of just one minor layer meant a world of difference in strength. It was easy to imagine how hard-won Pei Ji's victory would be.

The fierce swordlight that had filled Lanyue Peak just moments ago abruptly vanished, slipping away with the wind into the silent glow of the setting sun.

The slanting sunlight stretched the youth's slender figure into a straight line. On the thick, ink-black shadow beneath him, drops of horrifying scarlet blood fell.

"To have such a thorough grasp of the Guiyi Sword Technique at so young an age—impressive, impressive."

A boy of twelve or thirteen stood on the viewing platform, his features delicate as a carved figurine. His dark eyes were as still as an ancient well, but now a faint smile rippled across them. "The other one lost, but the power coursing through his Sword Qi was nothing to scoff at, either. He deserves praise as well."

Tian Xianzi, dressed in white with a sword on his back, leaned against a stone pillar and laughed without restraint. "Of course. How could my disciple be anything less than excellent?"

"The disciple's excellent, but the master? That's another question."

The beautiful woman standing nearby casually plucked a strand of hair and twirled it around her finger.

She looked no older than twenty, her every movement brimming with allure. Her mesmerizing peach-blossom eyes shimmered as she smiled mockingly. "Ah, but that young disciple really is blessed with a handsome face. If I'd met him sooner, he wouldn't have been snatched up by a pauper."

Tian Xianzi widened his eyes in feigned hurt and glanced at Zhen Xiao beside him. "Senior Brother, she's making fun of me!"

Zhen Xiao: ...

Zhen Xiao's face was stern, like a school principal making his rounds. "Jing Yi, you're an elder of the Xuanxu Sword Sect, not a female cultivator of the Joyous Union Sect. When you see a handsome disciple, you must maintain the dignity befitting an elder."

The woman let out a cold snort and moved closer to the boy. "Mind your own business!"

After a pause, she gave a languid, coquettish laugh. "Tell me, Sect Leader, did our Sword Venerable Zhenxiao hear me mention another man and get jealous?"

The boy smiled calmly. "Is that so?"

Zhen Xiao's sword-shaped brows shot up. Whether from anger or embarrassment, his ears turned a little red. "Shi Jingyi, cross swords with me!"

Sword Venerable Zhenxiao was hopeless at socializing. When he met a friend or kindred spirit, he wanted to cross swords to deepen their bond. When someone angered him, he wanted to cross swords and beat up the little troublemaker. And when he had nothing to do, he still spent money every day to spar with Tian Xianzi.

Anyone who didn't know the truth and took one glance would never guess that the alluring, breathtakingly beautiful woman with her silken, flirtatious eyes was Shi Jingyi, the foremost elder of the Xuanxu Sword Sect.

And the boy, barely bigger than a bean, standing beside her was the sect leader, Ji Yunkai.

--Ji Yunkai had suffered severe damage to his cultivation during the Immortal-Devil War, and his body had reverted to the form of a twelve-year-old child. As for Shi Jingyi, her love of handsome faces was a heartfelt trait she'd had from birth.

"There was also a little girl called Ning Ning earlier who was quite beauti—impressive."

Shi Jingyi smiled. "She won cleanly, without the slightest hesitation, and had the same bearing I did in my youth. If she could cultivate under me—"

Please, no.

Remembering how this female fiend had once toyed with nearly half the disciples of the sword sect, Tian Xianzi's face twisted into a bitter gourd. She absolutely couldn't be allowed to torment his adorable Ning Ning. The girl hadn't even held a boy's hand.

"Talented young people are emerging one after another these days. I hear Wanjian Sect, Fanyin Temple, and Liuming Mountain have all produced some rather interesting young disciples."

Ji Yunkai narrowed his eyes. His dark, deep gaze held a calm serenity utterly at odds with his tender young body. "It seems Xiaochong Mountain won't be dull this time."

"Never mind that for now."

Shi Jingyi's lips curved slightly, her voice clear as spring water beneath peach blossoms. "One of my disciples has just returned from down the mountain with lots of treats. Custard buns, candy figurines, candied hawthorns. Would the Sect Leader care for some?"

The little bean sprout cheered. "I want candied hawthorns!"

Pei Ji, the very subject of their conversation, naturally knew nothing of the elders' discussion.

He refused the medical cultivator's offer to treat him and returned to his room as soon as the competition ended. There was only one reason: the demonic energy was running rampant, on the verge of breaking through its restraints.

As the son of a demonic cultivator, Pei Ji had inevitably inherited a great deal of demonic energy. This force was entwined with his blood and flesh, and the two constantly clashed, making it difficult to control or restrain.

As a result, his demonic energy would surge outward from time to time, like a roaring tide eroding his body and reason. Each time it happened, unbearable pain seized him, and he wanted to ease it through killing.

By the time the black-clad youth stumbled through the door and shut it behind him, he no longer had the strength to take another step.

The defiance and savagery sleeping in his blood tore at his nerves again and again, urging him to slaughter without restraint. Pei Ji leaned against the wooden door, closed his eyes, and drew a deep breath.

He hadn't fallen so far that he would give in to it.

Even less did he want to become a Demonic Beast that knew nothing but slaughter.

The places wounded by Sword Qi were still bleeding. In an act of self-torment, he pressed his hand against one of the wounds.

Then he bore down hard.

Under the pressure, the split in his skin gaped wider, and blood came spilling out, each drop racing the next.

Pei Ji seemed accustomed to this tearing, heart-wrenching pain. He stood rooted in place, his back trembling slightly. Only his tightly bitten lower lip and the cold sweat at his temple quietly betrayed his suffering.

He didn't want to kill anyone. So whenever the demonic energy ran wild, he would use a small knife to carve one wound after another into his own body, using pain to stop pain—and to quell that desire so fierce it felt ready to burst through his skull.