“The inner pavilion... they’re all in on it. They’re rigging the tournament. For a blood sacrifice.”
Bu Jinhuan’s voice, raw and ragged, cut through the ringing in Gongsun Lie’s ears. The words, simple yet utterly monstrous, landed with the force of a thousand-ton boulder. Lie’s mind, still reeling from the Qi-draining void and the sudden burst of freedom, snapped into chilling clarity. His rotting meridians, still burning with the residue of Ao Bantian’s reluctant Dragon Qi, throbbed with a cold fury.
He looked from Kuang’s lifeless form to Bu Jinhuan, then to Tang Siyue, who was pushing herself up, her spear still clutched tight, her gaze narrow and dangerous. The air, once thick with ozone and dust, now felt charged with something far more sinister than a simple elder’s treachery.
“A blood sacrifice,” Lie repeated, the words tasting like ash. He knew, with a certainty that reached into his very bones, that the sacrifice was him. The curse in his womb, the demonic Qi, the homing beacon Ao Bantian had warned him about – it all clicked into place. The Grand Arena trials were never a path to glory; they were an execution.
He didn’t just want to cure his meridians anymore. He wanted to rip the heart out of this entire scheme. He would not be a lamb led to slaughter. He would be the wolf devouring the shepherd.
“Explain,” Siyue commanded, her spear point dipping towards Bu Jinhuan’s throat, not a hint of her usual rivalrous fire, replaced by a colder, more predatory glint.
Bu Jinhuan flinched, nearly dropping the bloody talisman. “I… I heard things. Whispers. From the bookie, old Man Zhu. He said the odds for the grand matches were rigged in ways that made no sense. Like the victor was chosen… not to win, but to… vanish.” He swallowed hard, his eyes darting to Kuang’s corpse. “Then I saw Kuang’s men moving supplies. Strange alchemical arrays. And I found this.” He held up the talisman. It wasn’t a protective ward; it was a tracking rune, etched with familiar demonic script. It pulsed against the vile, tainted chill in Lie’s own channels.
“They didn’t just want your blood,” Ao Bantian’s voice hissed within his ribs, thick with greed. “They wanted to refine it, then resurrect their old patriarch. The altar… it isn’t just for draining. It’s an amplifier. You could seize it, boy.”
Lie’s lips curled into a predatory smile. Hijack the altar? Absorb the very power meant to enslave him? A thrill of raw malice surged through his veins. This wasn’t just survival; this was conquest.
Before they could formulate a plan, a sharp, sneering voice cut through the tense quiet. “Well, well, if it isn’t the notorious Gongsun Lie, still clinging to life. And with the Pavilion’s prized rose, no less. How utterly predictable.”
Pei Luyan emerged from behind a shattered pillar, her silken robes immaculate despite the destruction. Her gaze, usually icy, now burned with a venomous triumph. Beside her stood a tall cultivator in silver-stitched silk, radiating sharp pressure. Lie recognized Ye Chang, the top-ranked sword cultivator of the inner grounds—and her new fiancé.
“I should have known you’d crawl back from the dead, Lie,” Pei Luyan continued, lips twisting. “Brother Ye will ensure you pay for your insolence and my stained reputation.”
Lie merely scoffed, ignoring her. His gaze remained on Ye Chang, tracking the spiral of energy through the man's shoulders. The bastard's cultivation ran deep, far outstripping the common rabble. But Lie now understood the true nature of power, not just its outward display.
“Such insolence from a worm who belongs in the dirt,” Ye Chang drawled. He took a step forward, his hand resting casually on the hilt of a sheathed sword at his hip. “I heard you destroyed the training grounds. A crude display of brute force. The mark of a common ruffian.”
Siyue tensed, her spear rising slightly. “Ye, this isn’t your concern. Step aside.”
“Oh, but it is, Spear Prodigy,” Ye said, his gaze flicking to Siyue with a dismissive glance. “This dog insulted the Pei clan, and by extension, my bride. His presence offends the sect grounds. He needs to be put down. Permanently.”
Lie threw back his head and laughed, a harsh, guttural sound that grated on the ears. “Order? You babble about order when the sect elders prepare a slaughter slab? Don’t make me laugh, swordsman. You’re just another puppet, blind to the strings.”
Ye’s relaxed posture stiffened. A flicker of something dark crossed his face. “You dare slander the sect leadership? You truly are beyond saving.” He unsheathed his sword in a fluid, practiced motion, the blade humming with a potent Qi. “I will silence your insolent tongue myself.”
Pei Luyan stepped back, a smug satisfaction on her face. Bu Jinhuan whimpered, already looking for an escape route. Siyue, however, remained rooted, her eyes intently watching Lie, a silent challenge in her stance.
“Come then, pampered dog,” Lie taunted, a savage grin stretching his lips. He didn’t summon Ao Bantian’s full power. He wanted to feel the thrill of this fight, to prove his own growth, to rub his renewed strength in the faces of these arrogant fools.
Young Master Ye lunged, his sword a silver blur, striking with the precision of a seasoned killer. His technique, the ‘Silver Serpent’s Bite’, was famed for its blinding speed and vicious thrusts. The air crackled around the blade as he aimed for Lie’s chest.
Lie met it with a bare fist, Qi swirling around his knuckles like miniature storm. The impact sent a shockwave through the rubble-strewn ground. Ye's sneer cracked into shock as the steel, instead of cleaving bone, bounced off hardened flesh with a ring like struck iron. Lie’s counterattack was immediate and brutal. He stepped inside Ye’s guard, a blurred movement too fast for the eye to track, and drove his elbow into Ye’s ribs, eliciting a choked gasp.
Ye stumbled back, spitting blood, his face contorted in shock and rage. “You… you cheated!”
“Cheating is for the weak,” Lie snarled, closing the distance again. His movements were direct, stripped of wasted motion, each blow hammering down like iron. He ducked under a wild sword swing and slammed his palm into Ye’s sword arm with crushing force. A sickening crack echoed through the courtyard.
Ye screamed, a high-pitched, almost effeminate sound, as his arm bent at an unnatural angle in three distinct places. The sword clattered to the ground.
Pei Luyan gasped, her triumphant expression replaced by horror. “Ye! My love!”
Lie didn’t stop. He grabbed Ye by his pristine robes, lifted him clean off his feet, and then, with a contemptuous roar, spun and flung him across the courtyard. Ye slammed into a stone wall with a sickening thud, slumping to the ground, unconscious and broken.
Lie walked over to the crumpled swordsman, his face blank. He plucked the spatial ring from Ye’s limp finger, ignoring Pei Luyan’s horrified cry. He paid Ao Bantian a handful of spirit stones, a silent agreement for the immediate access to the ring’s contents.
Inside, alongside spirit stones and pills, sat folded vellum. Lie snapped it open. Addressed not to Ye Chang, but to the ‘Unholy Patriarch, Lord of the Crimson Star’, it mapped the upcoming bouts, the altar atop Zenith Peak, and the steps to bleed the chosen vessel dry for the ancestor's revival.
His bloodline. His body. It was all there, laid out like a butcher’s diagram. Lie’s grip tightened on the parchment, his knuckles white. The rage that had been simmering within him now boiled over, cold and absolute.
“I’m not a vessel,” he breathed, his voice low and dangerous, “I’m the storm.”
Just then, a deep, resonant rumble echoed across the Nine-Veined Expanse. A sound that vibrated through the very earth, rising from the highest peaks of the Tiansha Star Pavilion. The gathering horns of the Grand Zenith blared their brazen, brazen call. The trap had officially been sprung.