Do You Admit Defeat?

Chu Zeming: "..."

After glancing at Yue Lian, Chu Zeming gave a cold, mocking chuckle and slammed the door behind him as he left.

Behind him, Yue Lian watched the black-robed youth stride away without looking back, feeling somewhat innocent.

Was he going to be so cold even when Yue Lian told the truth...

With a sigh, Yue Lian idly pulled a yellowed little booklet from his robes. Leaving the secret chamber, he headed toward the back mountain while reading.

Chu Zeming left the secret chamber with an ugly expression, inwardly cursing Yue Lian all the way.

That idiot was not an idiot at all. He was a natural-born black-hearted bastard wearing an idiot's shell. There was no use talking to him; something was wrong with his brain. He could not understand a normal person's world or comprehend normal human speech.

The following days passed peacefully.

Ling Yunzi seemed occupied with sect affairs. The uproar over falling into the cesspit had yet to die down, and because he cared so much about his reputation, he rarely appeared before the sect disciples.

Every morning, Chu Zeming cultivated, then returned to his little bamboo hut to read and study. Occasionally, when it was his turn to be on duty at the main hall, he swept the floors and cleaned up. Time passed quickly. Aside from Chang Wei occasionally bringing Yue Lian before him to make their presence known, which gave Chu Zeming quite a headache, the rest of his days were exceedingly comfortable.

That day, after finishing the books Xuan Mo had prepared for him before entering seclusion, Chu Zeming was browsing high-level sword techniques in the Scripture Pavilion. Suddenly, a disciple hurried over, shouting, "Senior Brother, this is bad! Fu Hongchen, the genius of the Kongtong Sect, has brought a group of disciples here to challenge our sect!"

Chu Zeming stopped turning the pages of the ancient tome and looked at his sweat-soaked junior brother. "Fu Hongchen? Challenging our sect?"

The disciple nodded, panting heavily. "So... so many people are gathered around the martial arena's platform. So many senior and junior brothers... have been seriously injured."

Chu Zeming closed the sword technique manual in his hand and frowned. "Fu Hongchen is in the Nascent Soul Realm. Did the elders and Sect Master not stop him from attacking cultivators of lower realms?"

Sparring between disciples of different sects was one way for disciples of the major sects to test each other's strength. One could issue a challenge to someone of the same realm, and lower-level cultivators could also challenge higher-level cultivators. However, it was expressly forbidden for higher-level cultivators to attack disciples of lower realms.

The disciple shook his head, embarrassed and awkward. "Fu Hongchen did not attack. It was the other Kongtong Sect disciples he brought... they beat all our senior and junior brothers down. Second Senior Brother, Sixth Senior Brother, and Senior Brother Wu Qi have all entered seclusion. Now Fu Hongchen is mocking the disciples of our Nine-Clear Haoran Sect, saying we are all... all trash, and that we only won four spots in the Joint Grand Tournament because we stepped in dog shit..."

Chu Zeming pondered for a moment, returned the book to the shelf, and raised his brow. "Come on. Your senior brother will help you win it back."

When he arrived at the martial arena, a Kongtong Sect cultivator dressed like a scholar and wearing a forehead band stood atop the platform. He held a folding fan in his hand, a smile on his face. His bearing was exceptional, refined and elegant.

Yet utterly at odds with that temperament, his foot was planted on the face of a Nine-Clear Haoran Sect disciple in black robes.

He was saying, "My apologies, I accept your concession," while grinding his foot even harder into the face of the Nine-Clear Haoran Sect disciple lying on the ground.

Below the platform, the disciples of the two sects stood in clearly divided camps.

One side was made up of Kongtong Sect disciples, relaxed as though they were a sightseeing tour group. The other side, the Nine-Clear Haoran Sect disciples, was not nearly so relaxed. Many among them were bruised black and blue, their faces and bodies clearly bearing the marks of a severe beating.

Seeing their own senior brother being humiliated on the platform, the other sect disciples below were furious.

"You've gone too far! How can you bully people like this!"

"A spar is a spar. Why are you humiliating him?"

"Senior Brother Cheng, hurry and admit defeat! Stop fighting and come down!"

Yet the black-robed cultivator being stepped on seemed not to hear the cries of his fellow disciples below. Even as his face was being viciously trampled, he clenched his teeth and refused to open his mouth.

Fu Hongchen, dressed in snowy white and surrounded by Kongtong Sect disciples as though the stars clustered around the moon, asked in surprise, "What do you mean by bullying? My Junior Brother Wei is at the ninth level of the Heart-Movement Stage. This fellow cultivator from your sect should be a Golden Core cultivator, should he not? Challenging above one's level, defeating the strong with the weak—how is that bullying? Did your sect not achieve remarkable results in this Joint Grand Tournament? Why are you so incapable of withstanding even a single blow, all empty fame and no substance?"

Fu Hongchen's voice was not loud, yet it rang clearly throughout the entire martial arena.

It was like a slap across the face of every Nine-Clear Haoran Sect disciple present. They were merely a small sect, yet their senior brothers' dazzling achievements had made them a dark horse among cultivation sects. As members of the sect, every disciple had come to feel a sense of pride in sharing that glory.

Yet today's sparring with the Kongtong Sect disciples made them clearly recognize the gap between themselves and disciples of truly first-rate sects.

In the martial arena, the Nine-Clear Haoran Sect disciples clutched their wounds and supported one another, their expressions ugly. Then, with a muffled bang, the black-robed cultivator who had been desperately holding on was kicked off the platform. He spat out a mouthful of blood and fainted.

"Senior Brother Cheng!"

"Quick, take Junior Brother Cheng to the Healing Hall and find Elder Ziche!"

The cultivator surnamed Wei, having won the match, leaped down from the platform and came to Fu Hongchen's side. "Senior Brother Fu, I won."

Fu Hongchen looked at the flustered Nine-Clear Haoran Sect disciples over there and smiled faintly. "Well done. I hate people who wear black the most."

Just then, a crisp, slightly cold voice sounded from afar—

"Is that so?"

Everyone in the martial arena followed the sound. A handsome, flamboyant youth dressed in black robes was walking over from the distance, his gaze like ice shards as he looked toward the Kongtong Sect cultivators in the arena.

"Senior Brother."

"Senior Brother is here!"

"Senior Brother, they've gone too far! Not only did they spar with us, they deliberately humiliated us!"

Chu Zeming said nothing more and flew directly onto the platform.

His gaze swept over his fellow disciples, beaten black and blue and covered in wounds, before he slowly closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, he looked toward the group of Kongtong Sect cultivators. Finally, his gaze settled on the white-robed cultivator surrounded by everyone like the moon among stars—

"Chu Zeming of the Nine-Clear Haoran Sect, cultivation: Nascent Soul Early Stage. I request a battle with Fu Hongchen, the Kongtong Sect's chief disciple."

His crisp voice was like an icy cellar in the third month, freezing everyone to the bone.

Below the platform, the sect disciples first heard that their senior brother intended to challenge the strongest opponent and anxiously wanted to dissuade him. Then they suddenly registered the realm Chu Zeming had announced.

Cultivation: Nascent Soul Early Stage...

Everyone froze in stunned disbelief.

Their senior brother was in the Nascent Soul Realm?!

After returning from the Joint Grand Tournament, their senior brother had silently broken through to the Nascent Soul Realm?!

Ah!

Their senior brother truly was the strongest!

The Nine-Clear Haoran Sect disciples became excited and exhilarated, like children bullied outside who had finally waited for their own adult to arrive. Crying yet fierce, they shouted—

"Senior Brother, go!"

"Senior Brother, smash their faces in! They bullied us!"

"I really hurt, Senior Brother! They've gone too far!"

Fu Hongchen had not expected Chu Zeming to step onto the platform without a word and challenge him directly. He had even less expected that in only a few short months, Chu Zeming had broken through to the Nascent Soul Realm. A trace of surprise appeared on his face.

But it was only surprise.

This bastard.

He had to beat him viciously to the ground, then stomp hard on his face a few times to vent the resentment of having been locked in a cage!

Leaping onto the platform, Fu Hongchen said grimly, "Though this is merely normal sparring between sects, blades and swords have no eyes. Do not blame me for showing no mercy later."

Chu Zeming sneered. "Whether blades and swords have eyes depends on their master. Only those with no real ability and poor skill cannot precisely control the harm and distance of their magical artifacts. So do not spout nonsense like blades and swords having no eyes."

Fu Hongchen was instantly enraged.

This bastard was calling him unskilled!

They already had a grudge, and Chu Zeming's provocation pushed Fu Hongchen over the edge. He attacked at once—his natal artifact, the Soul-Piercing Cone, slowly emerged above his head, growing larger and larger. Terrifying lightning coiled around the entire cone.

With an angry roar, the Soul-Piercing Cone smashed heavily toward Chu Zeming.

A force capable of withering the rotten and pulling up the decayed erupted from the Soul-Piercing Cone, and terrifying spiritual power fluctuations swept across the entire martial arena.

Chu Zeming shot into the air, evading the Soul-Piercing Cone's suppression. He pressed his palms together, and then a gigantic spiritual sword appeared behind him. Its blade was dark red, like dark amber saturated with blood, while brilliant and dreadful crimson radiance curled around it.

The Luminous Glaze Sword's sword spirit hummed without pause.

Chu Zeming formed a hand seal, and the Luminous Glaze Sword began to transform with his movements.

The next instant, twelve identical swords appeared behind him like a peacock spreading its tail. Then an endless, ancient, far-reaching sword intent blanketed the entire martial arena, hiding a biting killing intent within—this was the change in his Autumn Water Sword Intent after he absorbed the golden light of the twelve lingering remnants within the Forbidden Pavilion.

"Go!"

He gave a low shout.

The twelve sword shadows attacked Fu Hongchen at a speed that seemed exceedingly slow, yet was astonishingly swift.

Fu Hongchen leaped up, rapidly dodging the Luminous Glaze Sword. A white figure and crimson sword shadows danced through the air, both the spiritual sword and the man moving so quickly that afterimages appeared.

Below the platform, all the disciples consciously retreated a hundred meters and hurriedly set down layer after layer of barriers around themselves.

As the battle grew more intense, the spiritual energy within a hundred li surged madly toward the center of the platform. The earth shook, kicking up endless clouds of dust.

The black and white figures fought in the air, and the terrifying pressure of the Nascent Soul Realm swept through the entire martial arena.

Had this enormous martial arena not been protected by an array, the battle would have already spread across the whole Nine-Clear Haoran Sect.

This was no longer merely a simple spar between disciples of two sects.

It was clear that neither of them was holding anything back. As though fighting for their lives, they battled until heaven and earth darkened, locked in a fight to the death.

Several hundred meters from the platform, the disciples watching had long since lacked the energy to observe the flow of battle. Without pause, they kept throwing barriers around themselves, layer upon layer, until a thunderous CRACK rang out. The entire platform finally shattered under the unbearable strain. Immediately afterward, the turbulent spiritual currents around them abruptly calmed, and only then did everyone stop what they were doing.

The battle... was over.

They raised their heads to look toward the center of the platform. As the dust dispersed, two figures emerged—one standing, one lying down.

His clothes torn and his face stained with blood, the black-robed youth held a sword in one hand, his black hair flying wildly. His foot was planted viciously on the face of the white-robed cultivator lying flat on his back, and his slightly hoarse voice echoed through the entire martial arena.

"Well? Do you admit defeat?"