Covert schemes first, open stratagems after

The flames within the Array Formation gradually died out, and the vines were reduced to ashes.

Only then could everyone see what had happened inside.

Wu Wen knelt on one knee at the edge of the Array Formation, his right hand gripping his saber hilt and bracing it against the ground like a crutch, struggling to support himself. The upper half of his robe had burned away, leaving only the left sleeve barely hanging from his shoulder.

Mo Chen, meanwhile, held two fingers together in a sword seal, their tips resting steadily against Wu Wen's back, right behind his heart.

Everyone could see that if Mo Chen had held so much as an ordinary blade, it would already have pierced Wu Wen's heart.

"I concede." Wu Wen wiped the blood seeping from the corner of his mouth with his left hand.

His words sent an uproar through the crowd below the platform.

"Has the sky turned upside down?"

"Did that kid take some demonic pill? Not only did he dare fight, he actually won!"

"He's done for. That kid's headed for disaster."

Everyone had seen Wu Wen's saber about to strike Mo Chen, leaving him nowhere to dodge. Yet Mo Chen had vanished in a bizarre fashion that did not resemble a Five Elements escape technique.

Mo Chen, however, knew that what he had just used was the Ghost Shadow Step he had practiced a month earlier.

The secret technique required his own Essence Blood to activate. Wu Wen's punch had made him spit blood, giving him the perfect opportunity.

After all, the technique's instructions never said the blood only counted if he spat it out voluntarily.

Blood spilled from a beating was still blood.

With a thought, Wu Wen summoned his Mystic Pearl and crushed it with a slight squeeze of his fingers.

Sensing the Mystic Pearl shatter, the examiner immediately declared the match over and waved away the protective Array Formation surrounding the platform.

"Did I hear that right? That kid won?"

"Him? He's as skinny as a bamboo pole. How is that possible?"

"If I were up there, one punch at close range would have him on his knees begging for mercy."

The examiner's cultivation was a full major realm above theirs. Since he had raised no suspicion of cheating, those supporting the Wu Household could only swallow the outcome.

"You fought well, but be careful. Someone might come looking for you."

Mo Chen started.

That voice... was Wu Wen's.

Voice transmission?

He looked toward Wu Wen's retreating back, unable to make sense of it.

Why would a member of the Wu Household warn me?

Before he could think further, the examiner handed back his faintly glowing Contest Token, his face expressionless.

Mo Chen gathered his thoughts, bowed solemnly, and accepted it with both hands.

All the day's matches were over.

The sixty-four examiners each cast their techniques and streaked away through the sky in rays of light.

They flew at astonishing speed, trailing long streaks of light that left everyone below gazing after them in longing.

"A senior truly is a senior. That speed is incredible."

"When will I ever attain cultivation like that...?"

Mo Chen watched in a trance as well. For a moment, he almost felt as though he too had reached the Golden Core Realm, roaming the four seas and sweeping freely through heaven and earth.

"Let's go."

The murmur came from nearby, where several cultivators were helping Wu Wen away.

Mo Chen glanced around. Not a single person approached him, much less offered a word of concern.

Yet Wu Wen's loaded warning still seemed inexplicable.

"What happened to Brother Wu today? How did he lose to some nameless kid?"

"Did that kid use some trick?"

"That palm print on Brother Wu's back looks serious. Should I apply some of my wound salve?"

"Let me support you, Master Wu. Take it slowly."

Even in defeat, his flatterers had not diminished in the slightest. They still clustered around him, their concerned remarks rising one after another.

Anyone who did not know better would have thought Wu Wen had won.

What a joke. I thought immortals lived beyond the smoke and fire of the mortal world. Turns out they play the same games of favors and connections.

The crowd gradually thinned. Cultivators left in twos and threes, discussing the day's spectacular matches or exchanging insights on combat.

Within half an incense stick's time, Mo Chen was the only person left in the vast square.

He had won his match, only to become a god of pestilence everyone avoided.

It was laughable when he thought about it.

The sun sank behind the mountains, and the sky turned gray.

He had intended to return straight to his cave abode and meditate through the night, but suddenly decided to find a restaurant at the foot of the mountain and treat himself to a proper meal.

Winning a match was worth celebrating, at least.

Although Mo Chen had carefully noted at the Welcoming Hall that sect rules forbade anyone below Foundation Establishment from flying, the Divine Movement Technique still carried him downhill swiftly. Before long, he reached the foot of the mountain.

Lights blazed wherever he looked, and the place bustled with life.

Every one of the Immortal Alliance's Seventeen Sects was a colossal power. This mountain alone had over thirty thousand people competing on sixty-four platforms. Who knew how many disciples lived throughout the headquarters, which spanned dozens of miles?

Thus, along the streets beneath the peaks of Emerging Cloud Peak, restaurants, inns, and shops for Artifact Refining and talisman making stood packed together like scales on a fish and teeth on a comb. It was practically a thriving market town, a self-contained world within the sect.

At the foot of the mountain, Mo Chen ordered half a chicken and a plate of peanuts, then took them away with a jug of wine.

After a night's rest, at precisely eight the next morning, the eagerly awaited Recruitment Tournament was announced to resume.

To avoid missing his match, Mo Chen arrived early at the square to wait.

The moment he entered, he noticed the strange looks directed at him from every side.

"Look, isn't that the one from yesterday...?"

"The Wu Household hasn't made trouble for him?"

"Could someone have possessed him?"

The surrounding cultivators exchanged meaningful glances. The bolder ones muttered among themselves, while the more timid used voice transmission to gossip.

Mo Chen understood perfectly, but showed nothing on his face. Pretending not to notice, he sat cross-legged below the platform to meditate.

His turn probably would not come today, so he could sit closer and watch the others fight.

Fortunately, the matches soon began in earnest, forcing everyone to turn their attention to the platform.

"Today's first match: number four hundred seventy-two against number two hundred fifty-three."

Infused with Dharma Power, the examiner's voice carried clearly across the entire square.

As soon as he finished speaking, a middle-aged cultivator in dark robes and a scholar's cap stepped onto the platform.

With narrow eyes and a drooping mustache, he looked every inch a marketplace merchant, rather out of place on this platform with its immortal grandeur.

Yet after a short while, the other contestant still had not appeared.

The examiner's expression darkened. When he spoke again, his tone carried unmistakable displeasure. "Number four hundred seventy-two, come up at once."

Everyone below held their breath, not daring to make a sound.

Into that suffocating silence, someone suddenly came running from the north, parting the crowd with both hands and calling repeatedly, "I'm here, I'm here! I went to bed a little late yesterday. Please forgive me, Senior."

A white-clad figure then leaped onto the platform.

The newcomer also appeared to be sixteen or seventeen, and was slightly shorter than Mo Chen. Once on the platform, he respectfully cupped his hands toward the examiner and presented his Contest Token.

The examiner pulled it over from a distance, glanced at it, and snorted. "Do not let it happen again. Take your place on the yin side."

After taking his position, the white-robed cultivator gave his opponent an apologetic smile. Then his gaze passed over the crowd and landed squarely on Mo Chen.

His divine sense swept over Mo Chen as well!

Mo Chen's heart tightened, but he could not understand why.

He sent his own divine sense back over the youth, but just then, the examiner casually pointed a finger. Light flowed along the platform's edges, and the protective curtain slowly closed.

"Begin!"

After the examiner announced the start of the match, Mo Chen pondered what had happened.

He would not have swept his divine sense over me for no reason.

Was he an assassin sent by the Wu Household?

Or... was something else behind this?

Whatever the case, I need to watch how he fights.

On the platform, the two exchanged bows.

The rat-eyed cultivator on the yang side struck first, deftly summoning a short sword curved like a wave, its blade gleaming with a cold, dark-blue light.

He then took out two blue ruler-shaped swords, each about a foot long. With a flick of his wrist, the three Spirit Artifacts shot through the air from three directions, aiming straight for the white-robed cultivator's vital points.

The white-robed cultivator's expression did not change. A faint, languid smile remained on his face.

When the three Spirit Artifacts came within three feet of him, they suddenly stopped as one.

Everyone was startled.

A thin layer of frost rapidly formed over the Spirit Artifacts, followed by dozens of icy spikes. Each spike then branched into several petals of frost.

In the blink of an eye, three enormous frost blossoms bloomed above the platform, trapping the three Spirit Artifacts within them.

They hummed mournfully, unable to advance another inch.

The attack had failed.

The rat-eyed man sighed softly and withdrew his Divine Sense from them. Then he swept his broad sleeve, unleashing another three flying swords.

The maneuver flowed like drifting clouds and running water, clearly revealing his considerable mastery of artifact control.

Low exclamations rose from below.

"How does he have so many Spirit Artifacts? Is he an Artifact Refining master?"

Yet something even more shocking followed.

The three newly summoned flying swords likewise froze in midair, wrapped in layer upon layer of ice, sharing the fate of their predecessors.

Six frost blossoms hung in the air, a magnificent spectacle.

The white-robed cultivator scratched his head, looking utterly at ease. Yet he gave his opponent no further chance to catch his breath. Raising his right hand at an angle, he curled his fingers and seized a mass of cold vapor visible to the naked eye.

He abruptly slammed it down before him. An ice wall two feet thick rose from the ground, dividing the platform in two. Then he pressed forward against it, and the wall began sliding toward his opponent with terrifying cracks and creaks.

Thrown into disarray, the rat-eyed man hastily summoned a fire-aspected flying sword and sent it slashing at the ice wall.

Its blade was crimson, clearly prepared specifically to break through ice.

Yet his fire-aspected flying sword penetrated less than a foot into the wall before it could go no farther.

The ice wall kept advancing, pressing closer and closer, threatening to crush him to death.

It was already within three feet of him!

At last, the rat-eyed man let out a long sigh, took out his Mystic Pearl, and crushed it.

The examiner cast a spell downward. The protective barrier dispersed at once, and the ice wall shattered into ice crystals along with it.

Seven Spirit Artifacts flew out of the icy debris and returned neatly to the rat-eyed cultivator's side.

"Thank you, Senior."

The rat-eyed man bowed, then shot the white-robed cultivator a vicious glare before sweeping his sleeve and leaving.

The white-robed cultivator accepted his Contest Token from the examiner, still wearing that languid smile, as though everything that had just happened had been nothing more than a game.

Exclamations of amazement filled the crowd.

"His mastery of ice techniques is that profound?"

"Not only does he have a rare ice spiritual root, his cultivation method is first-rate too."

"With talent like that, an elder will surely take him as a personal disciple."

As everyone discussed him, the white-robed cultivator turned his head again, directing his gaze precisely toward Mo Chen.

This time, Mo Chen did not avoid him, sending his divine sense back to meet the sweep.

Huh?

There's something about his aura... it feels familiar.

Their eyes briefly met across the crowd, but the white-robed cultivator was immediately hidden by the people gathering around to congratulate him.

He looked at me twice. That was no coincidence.

Mo Chen recalled the ice techniques the white-robed cultivator had just used. They differed from every cultivation method he knew.

How strange.

Where exactly does this sense of familiarity come from?

While Mo Chen was deep in thought, the examiner's transmitted voice sounded from overhead.

"Fellow Daoists, the Darkening of the Light Group's first round is now complete. The second round will begin immediately. As the number of contestants halves with each round, proceedings will accelerate. Those whose turn has not yet come, please do not stray far from the competition area."

The examiner paused, then abruptly raised his voice.

"The first match of the second round begins now. Number one hundred eighty-one, Mo Chen, against number three hundred nine, Wu Xing."

The instant he finished speaking, a commotion broke out below the platform.