Let the Fighting Begin!

Outside the Bloody Forbidden Area, the ancient valley that had witnessed countless secrets and bloodshed was now filled with unprecedented clamor and solemn killing intent.

The seven-day deadline had arrived.

The two sides of the valley stood clearly divided.

On one side was the allied army of the Yue Country Seven Sects.

Thousands of cultivators packed the hillsides and valley floor in a dark mass. Spiritual light flickered, magic tools appeared and vanished, forming an oppressive, silent tide.

At the very front, more than sixty Core Formation Elders wore grim expressions, their eyes like blades tempered in ice as they stared fixedly at the other side.

Behind them stood thousands of Foundation Establishment disciples. Their faces held a mixture of confusion, fear, and a trace of nearly tragic resolve born from being swept along by the greater tide.

Everyone knew the truth perfectly well.

A "friendly spar"?

Bullshit!

This was a fight to the death disguised as a duel.

The losers would have their bones ground up and swallowed by the winners, along with their sects' foundations and thousand-year legacies, all of which would have to bear the name Chayun.

For the little fish among the outer sect disciples, it would at most mean bowing beneath a different plaque while life went on as usual.

But for these Foundation Establishment and Core Formation cultivators before them—especially those living ancestors on the platform?

The sky truly was about to collapse!

Just imagine it: from now on, the one sitting above you would be a stepmother desperate to squeeze out the last drop of marrow from your bones.

Resources?

Don't even think about it!

Being allowed to live as beasts of burden, like whipped slaves, would probably count as mercy from the lords of the Chayun Sect.

That thought wrapped around the