Chương 294: The Winner?

Yan Zixian watched with mild amusement as chaos erupted across the clearing. The Azure Peak disciple, a rather unremarkable young man with an oddly pale complexion, stood frozen in place, the Moonlit Dew Flower clutched triumphantly in his hand. For a heartbeat, time seemed to suspend itself as every cultivator present fixated on that singular point of silver light.

"Stop," Yan Zixian commanded, directing his scepter toward the young man. The word rippled through the air, carrying the weight of absolute authority. The Azure Peak disciple's body instantly went rigid, his muscles locking in place as the command took hold. Yet something about the reaction stirred a flicker of unease in Yan Zixian's mind.

Despite all outward signs suggesting his technique had worked perfectly, the boy's sudden stillness, the slight widening of his eyes, Yan Zixian's cultivator's intuition whispered that something was... off. A Holy Light disciple, seizing the opportunity, darted forward and snatched the flower from the paralyzed cultivator's grasp.

"Too easy," Yan Zixian thought, studying the Azure Peak disciple more carefully.

"Either he's remarkably weak-willed for someone who managed to claim the flower, or..." He shook the thought away. No, he was overthinking the situation. Why would any cultivator voluntarily relinquish their hold on such a valuable treasure? The technique had worked as intended; that was the only logical explanation. The boy was simply outmatched, like so many others who foolishly believed they could stand against the disciple of Wuqi City's lord.

With that settled, Yan Zixian turned his attention back to the increasingly frantic battle unfolding around the flower. The Holy Light disciple who had claimed it barely managed to take a step before a Green Willow whip wrapped around his ankle, sending him tumbling to the ground. The flower slipped from his grasp, arcing through the air in a glittering parabola before landing in the waiting hands of a Morning Star cultivator. Yan Zixian didn't immediately intervene.

Instead, he observed the chaos, conserving his strength. Each command word extracted a significant toll on his spiritual essence, a limitation of the Divine Authority Scripture that necessitated careful management of resources. For all its power, the Divine Authority Scripture was as demanding as it was formidable. Yan Zixian had been gifted the technique by his master, the City Lord.

Unlike most cultivation methods that required gradual accumulation of energy, the Divine Authority Scripture transformed spiritual essence directly into commands that overrode reality itself. The more fundamental the concept embodied in the command, the greater its effect, and the higher its cost. As he watched the frenzied competition, Yan Zixian's awareness turned inward momentarily, connecting with the vast landscape of his inner world: The Sovereign's Domain.

Within this meticulously constructed spiritual landscape, towering pillars of white jade rose toward a golden sky, each etched with a single command word that Yan Zixian had mastered. At the center of it all stood a magnificent throne upon a stepped dais, representing the seat of absolute authority that Yan Zixian sought to claim. This inner world strengthened his commands, anchoring them in his understanding of true authority. The more he developed the world, the more powerful his words became.

As for the Jade Command Scepter he carried, it served as the perfect conduit for this energy, focusing and amplifying his innate talents. A particularly violent collision of techniques dragged Yan Zixian's attention back to the external world. The flower was once again airborne, tumbling through the clearing as cultivators desperately lunged for it. Lu Fang, the Black Palm disciple, shot his corruption-shrouded right arm further than what seemed physically possible to snatch the bloom from mid-air.

"Mine!" Lu Fang snarled, his fingers closing around the delicate stem before quickly placing it within his storage ring. This time, the flower vanished into the spatial pocket without resistance. The stabilization period had ended. The flower was no longer tethered to the valley's energy matrix. A triumphant grin split Lu Fang's face as he backed away, his Black Palm disciples forming a protective formation around him.

"The prize belongs to the Black Palm Sect," he declared, already turning toward the path that led out of the valley. Before the Black Palm disciples could make their escape, a figure emerged from the shadows near the cliff face, it was the sectless cultivator Lu Fang had humiliated earlier. Despite his previous injuries, he moved with remarkable determination, a crude talisman clutched in his trembling hand as he lunged toward Lu Fang's unprotected back.

"For your crimes!" the young man screamed, activating the talisman which began to emit an unstable, pulsing light. Lu Fang spun around, his oversized right arm already swinging in a devastating arc.

"Pathetic," he growled as his corruption-infused palm struck the sectless cultivator squarely in the chest. The impact was horrific, corruption energy eating through the young man's robes and into the flesh beneath. Blood sprayed from his mouth as his ribcage visibly collapsed inward, the talisman falling uselessly from his limp fingers.

"Next time, be born into a proper sect," Lu Fang sneered, callously tossing the broken body aside like discarded refuse. Yan Zixian watched dispassionately as the sectless cultivator's limp form tumbled through the air, directly into one of the valley's spatial distortions that had opened during the battle. The body seemed to stretch impossibly for a moment before disappearing entirely, consumed by the rift in reality.

"Another life wasted in pursuit of power without proper foundation," Yan Zixian thought, unmoved by the young man's fate. In the cultivation world, sentiment was a luxury that few could afford, especially when confronted with the harsh realities of the strong dominating the weak. It was simply the natural order of things. Now was the moment to act.

With the flower secured in Lu Fang's storage ring and most of the cultivators temporarily distracted by the sectless youth's fate, Yan Zixian made his move, closing the distance to Lu Fang with three steps, each carrying him further than should have been physically possible. The demonic cultivator sensed the approach and whirled to face him, corruption energy gathering around his enlarged right hand.

"Come to die, city dog?" he snarled. Yan Zixian didn't bother with a verbal response. Instead, he tapped his jade scepter lightly against Lu Fang's chest and uttered a single word:"Return." He channeled every drop of authority he could muster into that command, drawing deeply from his inner world. Within his Sovereign's Domain, the pillar inscribed with "Return" pulsed with brilliant light, spiritual essence flowing from it into the physical world through the conduit of his scepter.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Lu Fang's face contorted in a mixture of rage and confusion as his hand moved against his will toward his storage ring. His muscles bulged with the effort of resistance, veins standing out prominently on his forehead as he fought the compulsion with every fiber of his being.

"What... are you... doing to me?" he growled through clenched teeth, his oversized right arm trembling violently as internal conflict played out in his body.

"Merely ensuring that resources flow to their proper place," Yan Zixian replied calmly, maintaining unwavering focus on his command.

"The flower belongs to Wuqi City, as do all treasures from the valley." With a sound like a strangled scream, Lu Fang's resistance finally shattered. His hand plunged into his storage ring and emerged clutching the silver bloom, which he thrust toward Yan Zixian with such force that it seemed he hoped to impale the City Lord's disciple with the delicate stem.

"Take it then," Lu Fang spat, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth where he had bitten through his own cheek in his struggle to resist.

"But know this, the Black Palm Sect does not forget such humiliations." Yan Zixian accepted the flower with a slight inclination of his head, a gesture that managed to be both polite and dismissive simultaneously.

"Your sect's memory is of little concern to me," he replied before the remaining sect disciples, having realized what had transpired, launched a coordinated assault.

"He has the flower!"

"Don't let him escape!"

"Attack together!" A barrage of techniques converged on Yan Zixian's position: a five-colored elemental beam from the Five Elements disciples, a volley of jade whips from the Green Willow sect, blinding light spears from the Holy Light cultivators, and probability-warping star motes from the Morning Star team. Yan Zixian raised his scepter.

"Shield," he commanded, drawing once more from his inner world's resources. A dome of translucent energy materialized around him, its surface rippling like water as it absorbed the first wave of attacks. The impact sent vibrations through his spiritual essence, each defensive deflection draining a portion of his power. While formidable, his technique wasn't without limits, and maintaining the shield against such a concentrated assault would rapidly deplete his reserves.

"Now!" he called out, his voice cutting through the chaotic din of battle. From various points around the clearing, five figures in the white and silver robes of the City Lord's disciples emerged from concealment. Each activated talismans of considerable power, launching counter-attacks against the sect teams to divide their attention and disrupt their assault on Yan Zixian's shield.

This had been his strategy from the beginning, allow the sects to exhaust themselves fighting over the flower, then claim it at the optimal moment and rely on his team to cover his retreat. Each member of his small squad had been carefully positioned before the flower ever bloomed, waiting patiently for his signal. A quick glance around the clearing revealed that some of the weaker teams had already abandoned the pursuit. The Azure Peak disciples, in particular, seemed to have given up entirely.

They stood at the edge of the battlefield, expressions downcast as they consoled one another over their failure. The pale young man who had briefly held the flower now leaned heavily on his team leader's shoulder, apparently weakened from the confrontation.

"Such weakness of spirit," Yan Zixian thought with a flicker of contempt.

"How do cultivators without proper ambition ever manage to enter great sects?" He had no time to dwell on it. With his team engaged in holding back the other sects, Yan Zixian seized the opportunity to begin his retreat. The valley's spatial disturbances had notably decreased over the past minutes—a sign that the thinning period was reaching its end and more stable pathways would soon be available.

"Maintain formation!" he called to his team as he moved toward the valley's exit, carefully navigating around the remaining spatial anomalies.

"Draw them away from the main path!" His disciples responded with precise coordination, each engaging a different sect team while gradually shifting the battlefield to create a clear escape route for their leader. They were outnumbered but fought with the discipline expected of the City Lord's chosen forces. Lu Fang, still seething from his humiliation, broke through the defensive line and charged directly at Yan Zixian.

"Black Palm Technique: Devouring Abyss!" he roared, corruption energy swirling around his enormous right arm and forming what appeared to be a miniature black hole at his palm's center. Yan Zixian pivoted smoothly, raising his scepter to meet the attack.

"Deflect," he commanded, though with noticeably less power than his previous words, his reserves were running lower with each command used. The corruption energy veered off course, missing Yan Zixian by mere inches and striking a nearby rock formation instead. The stone blackened instantly, collapsing into dust as the corruption ate through its substance.

Taking advantage of the momentary opening, Yan Zixian struck Lu Fang's shoulder with the butt of his scepter, a precise blow to a vital meridian that sent the larger cultivator staggering backward.

"Your techniques are as crude as your manners," Yan Zixian observed coolly, already moving again toward the exit path.

"Power without precision is merely wasted energy." Lu Fang's roar of rage followed him as he increased his pace, the flower now safely secured within his own storage ring. The path ahead twisted through jagged rock formations and patches of strange, luminescent fungi that grew only in the valley's unique environment. Spatial distortions appeared less frequently here, making navigation somewhat safer, though "safe" was always a relative term in Black Mist Valley.

Behind him, the sounds of battle continued as his disciples fought to delay the pursuing sect members. They wouldn't be able to hold them off indefinitely, but they didn't need to, just long enough for him to reach the valley entrance where enforcement of the city's laws would begin in earnest. Two Morning Star disciples managed to break through, darting along a parallel path that would intersect with his own just ahead.

Yan Zixian recognized one as Min Xiulan's teammate, the tall young man with the curious spatial compass who had been mapping probability pathways throughout the battle.

"He's running for the valley entrance!" the Morning Star disciple called out, apparently communicating with others beyond Yan Zixian's immediate sight.

"Cut him off at the Whispering Stones junction!" Yan Zixian calculated his options rapidly. A direct confrontation would only delay him, potentially allowing more pursuers to catch up. Instead, he veered off the main path, following a narrower, more treacherous route that few would risk under normal circumstances. The decision proved both fortunate and dangerous almost immediately. A spatial fluctuation rippled across the path before him, distorting the very fabric of reality.

Without breaking stride, Yan Zixian traced a complex pattern in the air with his scepter, creating a temporary stabilization field that allowed him to pass through unharmed. Behind him, one of the Morning Star disciples attempted to follow, only to scream in agony as the fluctuation caught him mid-step, twisting his left leg at an impossible angle. His companion dragged him back, abandoning the pursuit rather than risk a similar fate. Another problem solved by superior knowledge of the terrain.

Growing up in Wuqi City had provided Yan Zixian with extensive familiarity with the valley's peculiarities, an advantage most visiting sect disciples lacked. The narrow path eventually rejoined the main route, now much closer to the valley entrance. Yan Zixian could see the warning markers ahead, red flags fluttering in the night breeze, signaling the boundary between the valley's domain and the territory of Wuqi City proper. Freedom was tantalizingly close, but the final stretch proved to be the most challenging.

A coordinated attack struck from three directions simultaneously: a barrage of light spears from Yun Feng and his Holy Light disciples positioned on a ridge to the right; corruption mist bombs lobbed by Lu Fang's team from the left; and directly ahead, the Five Elements Sect maintained their pentagram formation, preparing another convergence beam. Yan Zixian halted, assessing the situation with the calm clarity that had earned him his master's favor.

His spiritual essence was significantly depleted from the numerous commands he had issued throughout the battle. Another shield would leave him dangerously weak, and attempting to outrun all three groups simultaneously would be foolhardy at best. Instead, he planted his scepter firmly in the ground before him and drew upon his deepest reserves.

"Expand," he commanded, his voice reverberating with authority despite his diminished strength. The air between him and his attackers shimmered, then stretched, as the very space separating them extended. What had been merely twenty paces suddenly became a hundred, then two hundred, buying him precious seconds as his pursuers found themselves much further away than they had anticipated. Spatial manipulation was extraordinarily taxing, especially in an environment already prone to distortions like Black Mist Valley.

Yan Zixian felt blood trickling from his nose, but he pressed onward, seizing the opportunity he had created. Three steps from the threshold, a probability arrow from Min Xiulan streaked toward him, its trajectory impossibly curved to bypass his defenses. Yan Zixian twisted, the arrow grazing his shoulder rather than striking his heart as intended. Pain flared across his upper body, but he pushed through it, taking the final steps across the boundary.

And then he was out, standing once more under the clear night sky, beyond the churning mists of the valley. Yan Zixian had done it, he was the winner of this cycle.