Chương 404: A Cultivator's Delusion

The world dissolved around me in a flash of azure light, and suddenly I was back in the familiar confines of the tournament arena. The transition from the Eternal Winter Realm to the warm morning air of Azure Peak Sect felt jarring, like stepping from a freezer into a furnace. The roar hit me immediately. Thousands of voices erupted from the spectator sections, a wall of sound that made my ears ring. But it wasn't just polite applause or general excitement.

There were specific cheers with my name in them, voices calling out with the kind of enthusiasm that went beyond simple sect pride.

"Ke Yin! Ke Yin! That's fifty spirit stones right there!"

"I told you he'd win in under a minute! Pay up!"

"Easy money! The kid's a monster!" I blinked, scanning the crowd as understanding dawned. These weren't just supporters cheering for their sect's disciples. These were people who'd bet on me, and apparently bet heavily. The betting pavilion must have been popular than I'd thought. Some of the loudest cheers were coming from disciples I'd never even spoken to, their faces flushed with excitement as they waved betting slips in the air.

One particularly enthusiastic outer disciple was jumping up and down, shouting about "ten-to-one odds on first-round first minute knockout." If this was their reaction to me winning my first match, I couldn't help but wonder what would happen if I actually managed to win the entire tournament. The thought was both thrilling and terrifying. Shaking my head, I looked for my parents in the Core Disciple section and gave them a wave, noting the relief on their faces.

My mother looked like she'd been holding her breath the entire time, while my father was trying to project calm confidence despite the obvious tension in his shoulders. Liu Chen was grinning beside them, probably explaining the finer points of the battle to anyone within earshot. But even as I acknowledged the crowd, my mind kept drifting back to what had just happened in that frozen wasteland. The whole encounter with Tang Shuo felt surreal, like something out of a fever dream.

"Master," Azure said quietly in my mind, "you look troubled. The battle went exactly as expected, didn't it?" I shook my head slightly, careful not to draw attention.

"It's not the outcome that's bothering me. It's... everything else." And it really was everything else. Sure, I'd read plenty of xianxia novels back on Earth, and I knew how arrogant young masters were supposed to behave. But even I hadn't expected an eighth-stage Qi Condensation cultivator to talk down to a Pseudo-Elemental Realm cultivator in a one-on-one match where there wasn't any clan elder to back them up and do the dirty work for them. The sheer audacity was breathtaking.

In what world did someone with that kind of cultivation gap think intimidation tactics would work? It would be like a high school swimmer trying to intimidate a professional heavyweight boxer by talking about their trophy collection. And then things had gotten even stranger when Tang Shuo started sharing his life story. Who randomly begins bragging about their entire existence from the moment of birth? It was like he'd memorized every protagonist backstory trope and decided to claim them all at once.

At first, I'd actually believed some of it. After all, a phoenix flying above the family estate at the time of birth wasn't too unbelievable, especially for someone with genuine heavenly destiny. The cultivation world was full of auspicious omens and celestial signs marking the birth of future powerhouses. As for discovering a thousand-year-old spirit herb, that also seemed pretty common, relatively speaking, in a main character backstory.

Most protagonists stumbled across rare treasures through luck, destiny, or some combination of both. And when Tang Shuo started talking about being trained in a pocket dimension by some ancient sword saint, that's when I'd begun to worry. Maybe he really was a protagonist-like character. Where else did that dense sword aura suddenly come from? The story had all the classic elements: mysterious master, hidden training, lost techniques.

But the moment he mentioned the previous Azure Peak Sect Master begging him to join the sect, my skepticism had kicked in hard. Not because it wasn't possible, if there really was godly talent involved, sects would do anything to recruit the right disciple. But because if that was true, then what the hell was Tang Shuo doing years later as an outer disciple participating in this tournament?

If the sect master had personally recruited him, he'd be a core disciple by now, or at least an inner disciple with special privileges. He wouldn't be fighting in the outer sect tournament like some common aspirant. And then when he'd started talking about being the reincarnation of the Jade Emperor...

"That's when you knew for certain you had to act," Azure observed.

"Exactly. I couldn't afford to let him finish that particular story. If it was actually true, I would have been completely screwed." I paused, watching the arena workers clean up residual energy escaping from the portals.

"But after he went down in one hit without even trying to defend himself, I realized he wasn't a Son of Heaven with a tendency to over-share. He was just..."

"Delusional," Azure finished gently. Before I could share my agreement, I noticed a commotion near one of the exit portals. Tang Shuo was being dragged out by two sect healers, but he wasn't going quietly. His legs were kicking weakly, and his voice carried across the arena despite the ambient noise.

"This doesn't count!" he was shouting, his words slurring slightly.

"The trial was corrupted! I was clearly drugged! No one could survive the killing intent of the Jade Emperor's reincarnated soul!" The healers exchanged glances and tried to move him along more quickly, but Tang Shuo's voice only got louder.

"You think this proves anything? I was holding back out of mercy! The phoenix mark on my soul was sealed to give him a fair chance! I could have ended him with a thought if I'd been serious!" Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. One of the healers muttered something about "severe cultivation deviation" and "emergency soul stabilization," but Tang Shuo was beyond listening.

"The Celestial Hammer Clan will not forget this insult! When my true memories fully awaken, you'll all understand what you've done! The heavens themselves will weep at this injustice!" Even as they carried him toward the medical pavilion, his voice continued echoing off the arena walls, growing more frantic and desperate with each claim.

"The Ancestral Dragon promised me seventeen wives! I'm destined to become the Sword Emperor! This is just a test of my resolve! I haven't lost anything!" I watched him disappear through the exit, feeling genuinely concerned. This wasn't just arrogance or wounded pride. Tang Shuo was having a complete mental breakdown, desperately trying to maintain his constructed reality even as it crumbled around him. I just really hoped that I wouldn't be blamed for causing it.

I hadn't done anything particularly dramatic or humiliating. I'd just... won. Quickly and efficiently, sure, but that was the point of tournament combat. But I knew that logic didn't always matter when xianxia politics were involved. If Tang Shuo really was from a powerful clan, it wouldn't surprise me if some old ancestor saw his descendant go insane and decided to blame me for it. Hunt me down for "humiliating" their family heir or some similar nonsense.

Sure, even a Civilization Realm monster wouldn't dare attack the sect directly. But what about when I left the sect grounds? I really didn't need such a big target on my back, especially an undeserved one.

"You shouldn't worry about the Tang Clan." I spun around to find Wu Kangming standing behind me, looking completely pristine. There wasn't a mark on him, not even a wrinkle in his robes. He must have finished his own opponent just as quickly as I had.

"What do you mean?" I asked, genuinely curious. Wu Kangming rarely volunteered information without being asked directly.

"The Tang Clan," he said simply, his voice carrying that same controlled tone he always used.

"They're a strange bunch. They believe their clan is the number one power in the Eastern Continent, and they find every excuse they can to brag about it. But in reality, they're just a minor clan led by a Stellar Realm cultivator." I blinked in surprise.

"Why is that? What makes them think they're so important?" Wu Kangming's expression remained neutral, but I caught a flicker of something that might have been amusement in his eyes. Without answering, he simply turned and walked away, his footsteps barely making sound on the arena floor. I stared after him for a moment, then shook my head. At least there was some progress in our relationship. Wu Kangming had actually initiated conversation, which was more than he'd done in months.

I thought about the information he'd provided. If Tang Shuo was suffering from some kind of psychosis, it wouldn't surprise me if other members of the clan also suffered from similar issues. Mental health problems could run in families, and from what I'd gathered during my time in this world, cultivation actually made mental health issues worse, not better.

The pressure of constantly striving for advancement, the isolation of long meditation periods, the stress of life-or-death battles, the ego inflation that came with increasing power—it all seemed designed to produce psychological problems. And that wasn't even considering the effects of various dao comprehensions on personality and worldview.

"Master," Azure said quietly, "the cultivation world doesn't really acknowledge mental illness as a legitimate medical concern. They typically classify such issues as 'spiritual imbalances' or 'dao conflicts' rather than treatable conditions." I nodded my head sadly. Tang Shuo needed professional help, but knowing this world, he'd be lucky if they tried to fix his "spiritual alignment" instead of just writing him off as a failed cultivator.

Putting those depressing thoughts aside, I focused on the floating screens around the arena that were displaying results from other battles. The favorites were all winning easily and convincingly, which made sense considering this was merely the first round. Yuan Zhen had dispatched his opponent so casually it looked like he was swatting a fly. Chen Feng had ended his match with a single shadow technique that left his opponent unconscious before they even realized they were under attack.

Wei Lin's battle had been entertaining to watch. His opponent had been a fire specialist who'd tried to overwhelm him with raw power, only to discover that Wei Lin's Merchant's Path could absorb and convert fire qi faster than it could be produced. The poor guy had basically fueled his own defeat. Earth Fist Liu had done exactly what his name suggested - punched his opponent once. The resulting crater in the arena floor had been impressive even by Elemental Realm standards.

About twenty minutes later, the last portal flashed with returning light as the final pair of competitors emerged. The arena floor now held exactly sixty-four disciples; the winners who would advance to the second round. The other sixty-four were being escorted to various exits, some looking disappointed but accepting their elimination gracefully. Others were less gracious about their defeats.

"This is outrageous!" one eliminated disciple was shouting at a sect official.

"I demand a rematch! The formation array in that world was clearly malfunctioning!"

"The elemental conditions were completely unfair!" another complained.

"How was I supposed to fight effectively in that environment?"

"My opponent was using forbidden techniques!" a third insisted.

"I want an investigation!" The sect servants handled these protests with practiced patience, firmly but politely escorting the complainers toward the exits. It was clear this kind of sore losing was common enough that they had standard procedures for dealing with it. Some of the advancing competitors were receiving medical attention from the healing specialists. A few had suffered injuries during particularly intense battles and needed spiritual energy restoration or wound treatment.

The healers worked efficiently, their techniques flowing like gentle streams of light as they mended torn robes and closed cuts. After about thirty minutes, when everyone had been properly healed and the arena floor was clear of eliminated participants, Elder Wan stepped forward to address us again. His spiritual pressure radiated outward, instantly silencing the various conversations taking place among spectators and competitors alike.

"Congratulations to the sixty-four disciples who have advanced to the second round," Elder Wan announced.

"You have proven your basic competency and earned the right to continue in this tournament." He gestured, and the massive formation array above us began glowing again, new names and matchups appearing in organized pairs.

"The second round will now commence," Elder Wan continued.

"As before, each battle will take place in a randomly selected inner world environment. Competitors should prepare for any conditions." I searched for my name, hoping for a favorable matchup.

"Ke Yin versus Ming Yue - Infinite Ocean Realm" I blinked, then read it again. Ming Yue. I definitely recognized that name from the original rankings; she was the eighth-stage water cultivator who supposedly never lost a fight. But when I looked at her spiritual pressure signature across the arena, something was different. She'd broken through to the ninth stage. Ming Yue caught me looking and laughed.

She then winked playfully and performed a small demonstration with water qi, creating a miniature whirlpool in the palm of her hand.

"Looks like I'll have the home field advantage," she called out cheerfully, her voice carrying that particular confidence of someone who knew they'd been handed a significant tactical edge. My eyes narrowed as the reality sank in. I was a plant-based cultivator fighting in a water-based inner world, and I'd been paired against a newly broken-through ninth-stage cultivator who just happened to specialise in water techniques. This definitely didn't feel random. This felt calculated.

"Master," Azure said quietly, "the odds of such a specific pairing occurring by pure chance are... remarkably low." No kidding. Either I had the worst luck in the multiverse, or someone was pulling strings behind the scenes. The question was whether they wanted to see me fail, or if this was some kind of test designed to push me to my limits. I looked up at the elder viewing section, where several figures in flowing robes observed the proceedings with carefully neutral expressions.

Sect Master Yuan wasn't visible, but that didn't mean much. Someone of his power could observe without being detected if he chose to. Regardless, the message was clear: the tournament organizers wanted to see how I'd handle fighting at a severe environmental disadvantage. Well, I guess it's time to find out.