The sound was a hammer blow, cracking through Lie’s composure. The blare of ancient brass dragged up a memory, sharp as vinegar and dried bile. He saw flickering candlelight, felt the clammy press of a cold hand against his cheek. His mother, her face gaunt, her lips a faint blue. Her breathing was a ragged tear, each gasp a struggle against an invisible chokehold. The same rot eating through his own meridians had hollowed her marrow. He remembered her final, desperate instruction, a rasp against his ear: *“Live, my son. Live for both of us. Break free.”* Her dying wish had been a command, etched into his very bones. To break free. To transcend the curse that had claimed her. And to do that, he needed power, not sacrifice. He crumpled the parchment detailing his fate into a tight ball, his gaze hardening to obsidian. “Ao Bantian,” he commanded, the name a rasp in his throat. “That technique you spoke of. The one that could tear open the very firmament. I want it. And I’m paying with Young Master Ye’s entire vault.” A guttural chuckle echoed in Lie’s mind, a sound like gravel churning in a stone mill. *“Hah! The ‘Heaven-Swallowing Dragon Maw’ you say? A suicidal path, even for a true bloodline scion. Are you certain your rotting inner pathways can withstand such a torrent? It demands more than just wealth, boy. It demands a will of iron, and a body reforged in suffering.”* “My will holds. My bones broke and reset years ago,” Lie spat. He flung Ye Chang’s spatial ring onto the scorched earth, its jade gleam a stark contrast to the destruction around them. “Inside, you’ll find thirty thousand high-grade aurastones, five vials of Starfall Nectar, and a rare Earth-Heart Bloom. Enough to buy your entire lineage’s obedience for a century. Now, give me the method.” Ao Bantian paused, the ancient entity weighing the worth of the treasures against Lie’s audacious demand. The silence stretched, thick with avarice. *“Hmph. Fine. But know this, fool boy. This technique will rip your flesh and bone apart before it grants you an ounce of its true might. It feeds on all, and gives only to those who can master the abyss within.”* A torrent of complex inscriptions and arcane movements flooded Lie’s mind, a dizzying dance of raw energy manipulation. He absorbed it, his mind already calculating the immense strain, the sheer agony of forcing his failing internal channels to contain such destructive might. *** Far below, nestled within the opulent chambers of the Inner Sanctorum, Bu Jinhuan moved with the deceptive grace of a shadow. The heavy, sweet scent of Kaelenbloom tea hung in the air, masking the subtle, metallic tang of the spirit-dulling compound he had meticulously brewed. His slender fingers, usually stained with talisman ink, expertly poured the steaming liquid into ornate porcelain cups. Around a polished darkwood table sat the very Elders who had condemned Lie to the Gauntlet, their faces flushed with self-importance, their conversations a smug murmur about the impending martial bouts. Elder Renzu, a man whose jowls sagged like overripe fruit, raised his cup. “To the Demonic Patriarch’s grand revival! And to the fool who believes he can defy the heavens.” He took a long, relishable sip. A few moments later, a faint sheen of sweat appeared on his brow. He dismissed it as the room’s warmth. Bu Jinhuan, maintaining an innocent smile, refilled another cup. He had spent the last few days cultivating his network of servants, bribing and intimidating until he had access to the Elders’ daily tea ceremony. The spiritual tea, designed to enhance focus, would instead slowly dull their senses, subtly clouding their judgment and slowing their reaction times. By the time the final match arrived, these supposedly powerful figures would be little more than glorified spectators, their combat senses blunted, their Qi flow sluggish. His betting network, discreetly updated, was already shifting vast sums, quietly preparing for the colossal upset that only he foresaw. *** Gongsun Lie stood at the base of the summit pillar, the Pavilion's central crag. The air thrummed with mountain grit and raw Qi, disciples already choking the lower ascent steps in frantic throngs. He clenched his fists, the instructions for the Heaven-Swallowing Dragon Maw already burning within him. He was ready to ascend, to seize his fate by the throat. A streak of silver cut the air. Steel hissed, the razor-sharp spear tip halting two inches before his throat. Tang Siyue blocked the flagstones, shoulders braced and jaw set. Her dark battle robes seemed to absorb the burgeoning light, her presence a sharp edge against the chaotic background. “Marching into an execution yard alone?” Siyue’s tone was dry, stripped of patience. Her spear, the Azure Serpent, hummed faintly, reflecting the distant peaks. Lie scoffed, a dry, dismissive sound. “This is my fight, Tang Siyue. You’ve seen what they intend. My bloodline, my curse. You’d only get in the way.” “In the way?” She leaned on her spear, closing the distance until the tip was inches from his chest. “You forget, Gongsun Lie. I don’t fight for the Pavilion's glory. I fight to win. And I don’t let anyone else claim a victory that could have been mine. If you think you’re taking on an entire sect of corrupt old men and a demonic ancestor by yourself, you’re either delusional, or you have a death wish.” She paused, a predatory smirk touching her lips. “I’m not letting you go solo. Either you take me as your partner, or I break both your legs and drag you back to your cave. I’m not letting my new favorite rival get himself killed before I can beat him properly.” Lie stared at her, his brow twitching before settling into a cruel smirk. Her ruthlessness, her unyielding pride, it mirrored his own. A slow smirk spread across his face, a genuine, dangerous smile that rarely graced his features. “Fine, spear girl,” he conceded, a hint of respect entering his tone. “But don’t expect me to hold back any punches just because you’re tagging along.” “Wouldn’t dream of it,” Siyue retorted, her own smirk widening. She lowered her spear, stepping aside, but remained close, a silent promise of solidarity. “Now move. We have a grand trial to hijack.” As Gongsun Lie stepped onto the flagged arena grounds, the war horns reached a deafening crescendo. High above, the sky, once a brilliant sapphire, began to curdle and darken. A malevolent, ethereal glow spread from the high pinnacle, bleeding outward, painting the clouds in bruised carmine.

Extortion and Preparation