Chương 81: 1.81 And they say I hold a grudge

Every year in the inner sect, disciples can challenge others to improve their ranking, take the spot of the defeated disciple, and improve their treatment in the sect. In a way, it was quite a barbaric event, as it was essentially just beating the shit out of someone and taking their home. But in this world, where the law of the jungle reigns supreme, such a thing was not rare. Of course, this was just a milder form of raising disciples.

It was not like one of those demonic sects, where young cultivators would have to kill each other, with only the last one standing being given resources. So, that was a silver lining, he supposed. Ning pondered the intricacy of such an event being held yearly, nothing more than the strong getting stronger and the weak getting weaker. That's why, needless to say, the arenas were packed with fights.

"I guess the improved sect subsidy is really enticing." Ning mused. As an inner sect disciple at his ranking, he was given two cultivation pills as a subsidy along with the standard spiritual density in his home. It was said that the high-ranking inner sect disciples were allowed to visit the superior spirit gathering pond every year to swiftly increase their cultivation. As for why he was here, it was simply to support his senior sister, Ling Yinran, in her placement challenge.

Ling Yinran, as a ninth-stage qi condensation cultivator, ranked twentieth at the Hidden Edge Peak. Unlike the simply named Farming Peak, where Ning resided, which was wholly occupied by spiritual farmers, the Hidden Edge Peak was composed of a myriad of cultivators with various spiritual professions like puppet cultivators, spiritual brewers, spiritual paper crafters, painters, medicinal cultivators, and such, each rare and few in number.

Each peak had its own internal ranking, and disciples could challenge those above them to climb. Only after reaching the top ranks of their own peak would they qualify to compete in the wider inner sect rankings. Ling Yinran's opponent was an insect cultivator named Shen Wei, nineteenth rank, one above Ling Yinran, and ninth stage of qi condensation as well. He stood at the far end of the arena with a calm expression and a sealed gourd hanging at his waist.

"Insect cultivators, probably a tough fight." Ning analyzed. It was simple logic, really. While his senior sister's metal puppets were physically immune to things like venom or bites, a swarm of bugs was usually small, agile, and numerous enough to clog up gears and disrupt a construct's pathing. Besides, Ning had a blanket policy of being deeply terrified of anything that lived inside a sealed container. Xenomorph bugs in this world were a completely different breed compared to the harmless beetles back on Earth.

Rumor had it there were things out there called Heaven-Sucking Mosquitoes that grew to the size of office buildings. That was straight, unfiltered nightmare fuel. He could only pray he'd never run into one. The referee called the start, and the match began. Ling Yinran deployed both of her puppets instantly.

The two iron constructs slid into flanking positions with a seamless, fluid precision that only came from thousands of hours of muscle memory, which made sense, considering Ning rarely ever saw her without a wrench or a core-crystal in her hands. Shen Wei didn't hesitate either, snapping the cork out of his gourd. A suffocating, black-purple cloud of Ghost-Faced Locusts poured into the arena.

These weren't mindless, wandering pests; they were trained spiritual beasts moving with a creepy, unified hive-mind intelligence. They took orders perfectly. Bypassing the armored, imposing puppets entirely, the entire swarm locked onto the puppeteer and surged straight for Ling Yinran in a relentless, buzzing tide. They wanted to drown her under sheer numbers before her fingers could even twitch the control threads.

"A swarm blitz. Predictable," Ning muttered from the sidelines. As far as he knew, Shen Wei didn't own any iron-eating insects, the ultimate puppet counter, so he was defaulting to a classic glass-cannon strategy: eliminate the puppeteer, win the match. It was a solid plan, especially since Ghost-Faced Locusts were notoriously resistant to standard five-element spells and could sense incoming magic early enough to dodge it entirely.

Usually, a regular spellcaster couldn't wipe them out fast enough and would just get eaten alive. But Ning wasn't worried about his senior sister. She wasn't a regular spellcaster, and she definitely hadn't gone into this blind. Facing a wall of snapping mandibles and venomous wings, Ling Yinran didn't step back. She had spent the entire previous night coating her iron constructs and her own robes in a pungent grease refined from Stink-Root Weevils, the literal apex rival of the locusts.

The moment the vanguard of the swarm hit a five-foot perimeter around her, the invisible, foul stench took effect. The locusts violently recoiled, their sensory organs instantly fried as their hive-mind coordination dissolved into absolute chaos.

"Now," Ling Yinran hissed, her fingers snapping tight. The two flanking puppets leaped into the mess, their specific modifications finally on display. These weren't her usual generic models; she had custom-built these things specifically to defeat Shen Wei. The left puppet, forged from Glow-Phosphor Bronze, suddenly ignited. Its core hissed as a blinding, high-intensity spiritual light blasted from its chest.

The sudden flash hijacked the insects' primal instincts, dragging the scattered swarm toward it like moths to a bonfire. Simultaneously, the right puppet, crafted from hollow Thundering-Core Wood, slapped its massive palms together. A high-frequency sonic vibration rippled across the stage, perfectly tuned to shatter the internal equilibrium of flying pests. Dozens of locusts dropped instantly, spinning blindly to the stone floor with their wing coordination entirely ruined.

Watching his swarm's momentum get systematically dismantled by pure preparation, Shen Wei's eyes narrowed. That was the nightmare of fighting a puppet master who had the resources, the brains, and the time to prep. If you gave them enough data, they wouldn't just fight you, they would build a specific machine designed to make your life miserable. Ling Yinran was a walking lesson in just how versatile a puppeteer could be. And this was not even her final form. Shen Wei didn't have that luxury.

His insect technique was just a stray branch of the grand Gu cultivation practiced down in the Southern Marshlands, and because he was thousands of miles away from the source, his inheritance was full of holes. He didn't have access to a massive catalog of exotic bugs. But Shen Wei wasn't an idiot; he knew exactly where his build fell short. A real beast tamer didn't just curl up and die the moment his horde took a hit.

Pulling a sleek, emerald-tinted Centipede-Hook Sword from his hip, Shen Wei flooded the blade with qi and lunged. He was done playing the attrition game. He was going to handle this personally. Everyone knew puppet masters were notoriously squishy if you could bypass their puppets, and he intended to exploit that gap immediately.

"Combine!" Shen Wei roared. The elite locusts that had survived the sonic blast rallied instantly. Bypassing Ling Yinran entirely, they blanketed his sword, coating the metal in a vibrating, chainsaw-like layer of snapping, toxic mandibles. With a burst of speed, Shen Wei launched a deadly combination attack. The swarm flew ahead to obscure Ling Yinran's vision and mask his approach, while he trailed a fraction of a second behind, executing a lethal, low-angle strike aimed straight at her hip.

It was a flawless execution of master and beast coordination. The swarm blinded; the sword killed. It was a tactic he had plenty of experience with.

"You seem to be concentrating quite hard on this". A hand clapped down on Ning's shoulder, breaking his focus.

"I called out to you from afar, but you didn't hear me". Who else could it be but the resident protagonist among us?

"Um, my senior sister's match is going on, so I got quite absorbed in the fight," Ning answered, shaking off the daze.

"Your senior sister's situation looks quite dangerous," Xiao Fan said, noticing Ning's rather nonchalant expression even as his senior sister seemed on the verge of losing.

"Everything is going exactly how she wants it," Ning said. Then, remembering who he was talking to, he spun around with a look of sudden panic.

"Just promise me you won't say anything that sounds like a victory speech. Don't jinx it."

"Huh?" Xiao Fan blinked, thrown off.

"Just stay quiet for like ten seconds," Ning urged quickly.

"Please."

"Alright then." Xiao Fan could only relent after letting out a snort. Anyway, he was the brooding type anyway. Up on the stage, Ling Yinran's two puppets were caught too far out on the flanks, still tangled up with the remnants of the swarm. She was completely exposed. Shen Wei's hook-sword tore right through the outer edge of her protective scent barrier, the toxic wind of the strike already fraying her robes. But instead of panicking, Ling Yinran's eyes flared with brilliance.

This was the exact information gap she had spent months hiding. As a ninth-stage qi cultivator, she had until now only shown the ability to control two puppets at once, but she had improved. In fact, this was not without the assistance of her junior brother. Her spiritual qi control had been further refined by the innovative methods her junior brother used to refine his own. Her storage pouch flashed. Clang!!! A third construct materialized directly in the path of Shen Wei's blade.

Unlike the bronze and wood puppets, this one was sleek, forged from high-grade Cold-Iron Steel, and shaped like a multi-armed guardian. Its four arms clamped down onto the Centipede-Hook Sword with a vice-like grip, locking the weapon in place. Shen Wei's eyes widened in sheer shock.

"A third puppet?! Your spiritual sense and control-""Is deeper than you calculated," Ling Yinran interrupted, her voice ice-cold. While her first two puppets cleanly decimated the rest of the distracted, leaderless insect horde, Ling Yinran poured the absolute remainder of her concentration into her hidden card. The thick, vibrant spiritual threads connecting her fingers to the third puppet hummed with immense tension.

Before Shen Wei could abandon his trapped sword and retreat, the third puppet's chest chassis slid open, revealing a hidden, spring-loaded iron stake. BOOM! The pneumatic stake shot forward with explosive force, striking Shen Wei squarely in the sternum. The protective qi-shield around his chest shattered instantly, and the sheer kinetic impact lifted him off his feet, sending him crashing hard across the arena floor, his sword clattering away.

The remaining locusts lost formation and instinctively fled back into the gourd as their master's consciousness wavered. Ling Yinran stood firmly in the center of the arena, her three puppets standing in a perfect, impenetrable triangle around her. A triangle was the most stable shape among them all.

"It seems this match is settled." Ning sighed.

"Anyway, sorry for saying that earlier. I was in a bad headspace."

"You called me a jinx-" Xiao Fan said.

"Let's leave the past in the past. Here, eat this." Ning tossed a small wooden vial at him.

"Mid-tier healing pill. It should fix up those bruises." Xiao Fan looked thoroughly battered, clearly having just crawled out of a brutal match of his own before coming over to watch Ling Yinran's duel. He caught the vial, eyeing it suspiciously.

"Don't think you can bribe me with a bit of medicine," he muttered, though he still popped the pill into his mouth.

"Hey, credit where it's due. Knocking over two seventh-stage Qi Condensation cultivators back-to-back is a solid day's work. You did great," Ning praised. At the mere mention of the fights, Xiao Fan's eyes flared with pure irritation.

"Why the hell is everyone picking fights with me? Seriously, it makes zero sense. What do they even stand to gain?" Ning couldn't help but chuckle. In the inner sect, rookies like Ning were usually left entirely alone. Their rankings were so low that beating them offered no real rewards, and older disciples risked destroying their own reputations by bullying juniors with weaker cultivation. Xiao Fan, however, was the glorious exception to the rule. He was a walking lightning rod for trouble.

"Look at the bright side, you're getting prime combat experience, and every win bumps up the spiritual qi density of your courtyard," Ning offered, trying to sound comforting. Xiao Fan glared at him.

"You're thoroughly enjoying this, aren't you?"

"I won't deny it. But seriously, to get targeted this heavily, who did you piss off?" Ning asked. He had originally wanted to ask how many people he had pissed off, but he decided to spare his friend's feelings. He was kind like that. Xiao Fan paused, thinking back.

"I've been turning down invitations from the local cliques. One of them didn't take it well. Gu Zheng, one of the top ten inner sect disciples, runs a group called Rising Dragon. They claimed they wanted to 'sponsor' me despite my garbage talent, but they were actually just eyeballing my Earth-ranked cultivation technique. They wouldn't take no for an answer, even when I told them I'm physically restricted from sharing it."

"That's rough, buddy." Ning sighed, silently saluting the protagonist's legendary, trouble-attracting aura. Actually, Ning had also received invitations to various cliques. Not counting the Mutual Aid Association, which was getting quite irrelevant since most of its members were still in the outer sect, with Zhang Feng and the others busy with their own inner sect work. He had also joined Sui Feng's Farm Help group.

Not only that, he had gotten invitations from several other cliques, not only because he had placed third in the outer sect competition, but also because of his master. It was a pity that he'd never received invites from alchemy groups, but that was a given. In the sect, one was only considered a true alchemist when able to refine a usable qi-gathering pill.

In fact, the reason he'd never visited the alchemy hall was that exploring its library and tasks were only accessible to those who held the alchemy badge, not to be confused with the alchemical certificate. The alchemy badge was the identification jade given when one successfully demonstrated their alchemy in the hall, notably refining a low-grade pill with good quality and consistency. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Anyway, I need to quickly heal myself before another one of those bastards starts a challenge against me. Since they dare challenge me, I will show them the height of Mount Tai." Xiao Fan spoke, his grin quite savage.

"Sounds fun, sounds fun. Go kick some ass." It was a pity there wasn't any proper gambling taking place; otherwise, this would have been quite the money-making event.

"Are you just going to sit on the sidelines?" Xiao Fan asked, genuinely curious.

"The guys challenging me are seventh-stage, sure, but their fundamentals are sloppy. You could easily take a few of them down."

"If someone forces my hand, sure, but I'm not going out of my way to hunt for rank," Ning replied smoothly.

"The guys I can comfortably beat right now are only a few spots ahead of me, so the payout isn't worth the sweat. I'd rather watch the matches, analyze different fighting styles, and build up my database. Besides, since I'm not you, the odds of someone randomly targeting me are practically zero."

"What is that supposed to mean? You make it sound like I go looking for trouble!" Ning just stared at him, deadpan. Right on cue, a loud, self-righteous roar shattered the peace of the plaza.

"Xiao Fan! Step forward and face me! How dare you humiliate Junior Sister Miaomiao in the arena! I am here to restore her honor!" Miaomiao was the challenger Xiao Fan had just beaten. You could say anything about Xiao Fan, but his fist was truly rated E for everyone. Xiao Fan looked like he wanted to facepalm into the sun. His expression only worsened when he turned to see Ning wearing a massive, insufferable grin.

"So," Ning smirked.

"As you were saying." Smug Ning was a bad Ning.

"You know," Xiao Fan turned towards this sudden intruder, his eye twitching, "punching your face is sounding incredibly therapeutic right now. Fine, let's fight-" Before he could even complete the sentence, another loud voice cut through the noise, dropping right in front of them.

"You! Face me. Don't think you're scurrying away this time." Xiao Fan threw his hands up in exasperation.

"Can't you see I've already got a guy lined up?" The newcomer blinked, looking confused.

"Who are you? I'm talking to Ji Ning."

"Me?" Ning was surprised. He looked at the man carefully.

"You're Lao San?" Lao San was the guy who had opposed Ning during the farming gathering with Sui Feng and the others, something about him being an alchemist and pretending to be a farmer, or something along those lines.

"Did you not even remember me?" Lao San gritted his teeth. After losing face, he had kept to himself, especially since this guy had integrated so well with the farming group.

"Pfft. Look at that. Karma comes for us all," Xiao Fan chuckled, instantly reversing roles. Ning shot him a venomous glare before turning back to Lao San.

"Are you sure you want to waste a challenge on me? There's literally no profit in it. My courtyard has a lower spiritual density than yours. So, even if you win and take it over, you'll basically get nothing."

"Not everything is about benefits!" Lao San shouted angrily.

"I just want to smash your pretty boy face!"

"…That sounded way more personal than I expected." Ning muttered. Then he thoughtfully added, "You know, instead of wasting your challenge chance on me, you could probably profit more by selling the opportunity to challenge others." Lao San blinked. Ning immediately continued in a serious tone.

"Think about it. Every disciple only gets two challenge opportunities during this ranking cycle. Meanwhile, each ranked disciple can only be challenged ten times total, and only by people within their ranking range." He folded his arms wisely.

"That means challenge slots themselves have value." Xiao Fan slowly turned toward Ning with a strange expression. Ning ignored him completely and continued speaking like a businessman pitching a revolutionary idea.

"You could cooperate with someone trying to climb the rankings. Or arrange favorable matches. Or exchange challenge rights for spirit stones." Ning nodded thoughtfully.

"Technically speaking, there's an entire market opportunity here."

"T-That…" Lao San hesitated visibly. Clearly, the logic was working. As a farming disciple with limited income, the possibility of earning spirit stones naturally tempted him. Ning nodded to himself, thoroughly pleased. Rational discourse truly was an art form. Of course, the scheme was a logistical nightmare; it violated sect rules against match-fixing, risked infuriating the enforcers, and would likely get monopolized by major factions within a week, but that wasn't his problem.

The important thing was that Lao San hadn't read the fine print of the sect handbook, and Ning just wanted him to leave.

"Damn," Xiao Fan whispered, genuinely impressed.

"I didn't even know you could do something like that." He was still treating his injuries. Fortunately, the rules protected Xiao Fan from a back-to-back ambush; the sect mandated a strict half-hour rest period for any challenged party, which his current opponent had already grudgingly accepted.

"Don't worry about it, it's not really your skillset," Ning told him. If it were Undertale, Xiao Fan, being the very definition of a xianxia protagonist, would be forced to go the genocide route, by his sheer hatred attracting halo. He did not have the skill set to divert the hatred. His diplomatic stat was F tier frfr.

"What do you mean by that? Seriously-""You know…" Ning tried carefully, "your style is more…" He made a vague punching gesture.

"…direct." Xiao Fan's eyelid twitched.

"That sounds insulting."

"Well, that's a you problem then," Ning said honestly. Xiao Fan realized his eloquence was worse than Ning's, so he gave up on that front. Instead, he glanced toward Lao San, who looked troubled, and added thoughtfully, "Still, your earlier idea really wasn't bad. Selling challenge opportunities for spirit stones actually sounds smarter than wasting them over personal grudges." Lao San's face stiffened slightly. Xiao Fan, completely unaware, continued speaking.

"I mean, if someone challenged me over something from months ago instead of using the opportunity properly, I'd honestly think they were an idi-""Wait-" Ning tried to stop the protagonist from going off the deep end, but it was already too late. Lao San's face instantly turned red.

"You-" He pointed furiously toward Xiao Fan before turning back toward Ning.

"Forget it! I'm still challenging you!"

"He was the one who said it, not me," Ning quickly said.

"No matter! First I'll beat you, then I'll beat this guy. You brats have been having far too much fun running your mouths in front of me." Lao San's voice rang out. Hearing that, Ning glared at Xiao Fan.

"You just had to do it, didn't you?"

"Well, it's not my fault. Don't worry, if you can't beat him, I'll avenge you," Xiao Fan said considerately. Ning just sighed.

"There's no need. I just didn't want to fight, but since it's come to this, let's get this over with."...

"First to pass out or surrender loses," the referee announced, a senior disciple clearly just here to clear a sect mission.

"Begin." The moment the words fell, Lao San moved first. He had no intention of giving Ning even a breath to prepare. Several green seeds shot out from his sleeves and scattered across the stone battlefield. [Wild Growth] The instant they touched the ground, spiritual qi surged violently beneath the earth. Crack. Crack. Crack. The ground split apart. Thick, dark-green vines broke through the stone slabs like awakening pythons, whipping through the air toward Ning from every angle.

A few lashed out openly from the front, but Ning could hear the scraping sound beneath his boots; the real threat was the roots burrowing under the floorboards, aiming to snap around his ankles. Once caught within their rhythm, an opponent could easily find themselves exhausted to death beneath endless waves of spirit plants. Lao San grinned, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

"Let's see you dodge this, brat! I spent three years nurturing these spirit-devouring vines. Once they lock you down, it's over!" Farming cultivators were rarely explosive fighters; their techniques specialized in battlefield control and attrition. After all, what they were most concerned with were spells related to farming. And since most were not 'geniuses' like Ning, they had a hard time grasping all the basic farming spells, let alone practice other spells.

That's why someone like Lao San, who, beyond the five basic farming spells, had also achieved mastery in Wild Growth, one of the offensive farming spells, had the right to be proud. Ning calmly watched the incoming attacks. Then he raised one hand. A sphere of blazing flame rapidly condensed above his palm. The heat surrounding it caused the nearby air to distort faintly.

[Fireball] After reaching great accomplishment, Ning's fireball could be unleashed within seconds with only a brief incantation without any need for the theatrics. The fireball exploded directly into the mass of incoming vines. Flames erupted violently across the battlefield as the wood-attributed plants ignited almost instantly. Burning vines writhed wildly through the air while black smoke spread outward in waves. The sharp scent of charred wood filled the arena.

After all, while Wild Growth may be a rare offensive farming spell, Fireball was a purely attacking spell, so the result was expected. Moreover, within the five elements, wood is restrained by fire. So yeah, type matchup was also a thing here. Lao San's smile stiffened slightly, but he quickly snorted coldly.

"Hmph! Cheap tricks!" He slapped another handful of seeds directly onto the cracked stone. This time, thick, fleshy stalks shot up, bursting into giant, ugly carnivorous blooms. As the petals uncurled, they revealed rows of jagged black thorns. Then the battlefield exploded with shrill, piercing sounds. Hundreds of thorn needles shot toward Ning. The attacks were fast, far faster than the earlier vines.

Some aimed directly for vital points while others curved strangely through the air under spiritual control, clearly attempting to predict Ning's dodge path. Yet Ning's expression remained calm. Shadow Steps circulated beneath his feet. His body moved lightly across the battlefield like drifting smoke as he slipped through the storm of thorns with terrifying precision. Several needles narrowly passed his sleeves while others struck only afterimages left behind by his movement.

At the same time, another fireball condensed within his palm. Boom. The carnivorous blooms didn't even get to fire a second round before they were swallowed by a fresh blast of fire. Burning petals and blackened thorns rained down onto the stage, the remaining stalks curling into crisp, smoking stumps.

"When in doubt, fire," Ning muttered, tossing another smaller burst toward the lingering roots just to be thorough. If nothing else, this match was doing wonders for his inner pyromaniac. Lao San's face twisted, turning a mottled, furious red. His fighting style was very expensive, and seeing Ning burn off his hard-grown plants certainly didn't help his anger.

He dug his hands into his pouches and hurled a massive wave of seeds, unleashing a thick cloud of pale yellow pollen that rolled across the stage like heavy fog. The moment it touched the ground, the stone floor began to hiss and bubble, dissolving under the corrosive mist. Before the dust could even settle, the ground groaned. Massive thorn-vines burst upward, weaving together in mid-air to form a snapping, wooden maw that came crashing down on Ning from above.

It was a textbook combo: blind the enemy with acid, then crush them while they're panicking. Lao San definitely knew his stuff when it came to layering his spells. Unfortunately for Lao San, Ning had already started seeing the pattern. Pure Eyes stirred in his pupils, and the chaos of the arena sharpened into lines of movement: qi beneath the stone, Lao San's twitching fingers, the roots shifting underfoot, the slight delay between pollen and vine. Everything reflected within Ning's vision with frightening clarity.

His body moved naturally through the battlefield. He sidestepped a hidden root before it erupted from the ground. He lowered his head slightly as thorn needles passed over his shoulder. Then another fireball smashed directly into the center of the poison mist, igniting the pollen cloud in an explosion of flame. Boom. Heat surged across the arena. Several disciples near the edge hurriedly stepped back from the shockwave. Lao San's expression finally changed completely.

Because from beginning to end, Ning had never once looked pressured.

"You arrogant bastard!" Lao San roared furiously, his voice echoing across the arena like a beast driven to madness.

"I'm a seventh-stage Qi Condensation cultivator while you're only at the sixth stage! How dare you look down on me?! You're courting death!" The moment the words fell, spiritual qi erupted wildly around his body. A violent wave of pressure spread outward from him, causing dust and loose stone across the battlefield to tremble faintly. The vines surrounding the arena twisted even more violently under the influence of his spiritual energy. This time, Lao San completely abandoned restraint.

Several handfuls of seeds scattered wildly from his sleeves as he charged forward simultaneously. [Bronze Body] A metallic bronze sheen rapidly spread across Lao San's skin. His muscles visibly expanded while veins bulged beneath the hardened flesh like twisted roots beneath old bark. Under the sunlight, his body reflected a faint metallic glow, giving him the appearance of a humanoid bronze statue.

Clearly, Lao San had also invested heavily in close combat to compensate for the weaknesses of farming cultivators once enemies breached their spell range. The vines surged forward alongside him like an advancing tide while Lao San himself charged directly toward Ning with astonishing momentum. Each step he took caused the stone beneath his feet to crack faintly. He wanted close combat now. Ning narrowed his eyes slightly.

Then, for the first time since the battle began, he properly raised his spear as his qi flared as well, bringing out a chill that cooled the intensity of the battle. [Cold River Spear Technique: Still Water Stance] The spear held straight, locking directly onto the charging Lao San. Unlike the sharpness that came from the Falling Spear technique, the spear now resembled the surface of a cold river during winter, appearing still and motionless on the surface, yet with currents flowing endlessly beneath.

"Observe and understand the true depth of the enemy," Ning mumbled. In Still Water Stance, one observed the enemy and figured out all their tells. Using Pure Eyes, Ning had done exactly that. Even his own rage-baiting had aided in it, making Lao San sloppy. With proper martial arts, anger can be channeled into strength, but the moment Lao San popped out Bronze Body in the heat of the moment, Ning knew he didn't truly possess such a technique.

The vines surged toward Ning violently, trying to hold him in place for Lao San to land the finishing blow. Ning moved. Shadow Steps circulated beneath his feet as his figure drifted across the battlefield like flowing mist over a frozen river. His movements were light and strangely elusive, slipping through the narrow gaps between the incoming vines with terrifying precision. Not a single thorn touched his robes. Lao San roared and immediately closed the distance himself. Boom!

His bronze-covered fist smashed through the air with explosive force, producing a low sonic boom as it shot directly toward Ning's chest. Ning tilted sideways at the last possible moment. The punch barely grazed past his sleeve before shattering part of the stone arena behind him into fragments. At the same time, Ning's spear moved like flowing water. The spear tip shot toward Lao San's ribs with cold precision. Clang! A metallic sound echoed loudly throughout the battlefield.

The spear struck Bronze Body directly before sliding away across the hardened bronze skin, unable to fully pierce through the defense. Lao San laughed loudly after seeing this.

"Hahaha! You can't pierce my Bronze Body!" His confidence immediately rose again. Bronze Body was not a high-level technique, but it was extremely effective against opponents lacking overwhelming offensive power. Once activated fully, ordinary weapons could barely leave scratches against it. Ning didn't care. He just kept moving. The match devolved into a bizarre game of tag. Lao San pursued aggressively, throwing heavy, earth-shattering punches, while Ning circled him like water flowing around a rock.

Vines kept snapping up to seal his escape routes, and roots tried to catch him from his blind spots, but Ning's body always shifted just before impact.

"You slippery bastard!" Lao San roared furiously. He tried using his spiritual sense to predict Ning's movements, but every attack somehow missed by the smallest margin possible. Ning was predicting the attack with his pure eyes. He already knew exactly where the strikes were landing as Lao San threw them. And every time Ning dodged, his spear flicked out. He jabbed the ribs. He tapped the elbow joints. He poked the specific qi nodes holding the defensive spell together.

The spear wasn't piercing, but every single impact jarred Lao San's internal energy, forcing him to expend more qi to keep the armor intact. To the crowd, it looked like a dead even, high-intensity stalemate. But Ning knew better. Lao San's cultivation realm was higher, but his spiritual qi quality was far inferior to the maxed-out Pure Qi Sutra. Maintaining Wild Growth, Bronze Body, poison pollen, and continuous offensive pressure simultaneously consumed enormous amounts of energy.

Meanwhile, Ning conserved every movement carefully. He only dodged when necessary and attacked when useful.

"You slippery bastard. Face me like a man if you dare." Lao San could only shout as Ning dodged yet another attack.

"I guess it's time then." Ning smiled at that. Normally, he was not the type to talk during battle, but at this moment he had ascertained the full depth of his opponent.

"I'll launch my attack now. Be ready." Ning backflipped, landing far away from Lao San. Was backflipping necessary? No. But Ning just wanted to do it for the flair. At this point, Lao San didn't immediately chase. Instead, he reinforced his technique. His spiritual energy was running low, so after talking the talk, he knew he had to stand ready to face the attack.

"Bring it on. I will not lose." If nothing else, Ning could admit that this guy at least followed through on what he said. Ning took a deep breath, felt the ice in his veins, and settled into a familiar position. After reaching unity, Ning had made a habit of thrusting the spear at least a hundred times a day. It was the most fundamental aspect of attacking with a spear. The stance came to him like breathing. He leveled the tip and lunged.

His speed exploded, far eclipsing anything he had shown earlier in the match. He cut through the final wave of intercepting vines so fast that Lao San's eyes couldn't even track the movement. [Cold River Spear Art: Still Water Pierces Stone] The spear shot forward with terrifying, unblinking accuracy, slipping straight through the gap in Lao San's guard like water finding a crack in a dam. There was no wasted movement in the entire sequence, just a single point of absolute, concentrated force.

Lao San's pupils shrank. The spear was traveling directly toward the literal anchor point of his qi flow. It was the perfect trifecta of failure: the exact instant his Bronze Body destabilized, the exact angle where his overextended punch left his centerline wide open, and the fatal flaw born from his own exhaustion.

"No!" Lao San roared, trying to force his arms up for a desperate, mutual-destruction strike. He was fast, but Ning's spear was faster. The cold metal tip stopped a mere fraction of an inch from Lao San's exposed throat, the biting wind of the strike cutting off his breath.

"Surrender?" Ning tilted his head, his expression utterly calm for someone one step away from ending a man. Lao San gulped, feeling death hovering uncomfortably close.

"I-I give up."

"That's it then." Ning put his spear away.

"It was a good fight. Stand proud, you are strong." Ning patted the still-frozen man and moved toward the referee, ignoring him as he simply collapsed to the ground panting. He walked toward the referee, who nodded.

"Disciple Ji Ning has defeated Disciple Lao San. You may either move into his courtyard, or the sect will adjust the spiritual gathering formation to improve the spiritual density of your courtyard to be equivalent to that of your defeated foe." Not everybody wanted to move into another's courtyard after winning, especially spiritual farmers, since, due to the nature of their profession, they rarely changed courtyards.

"That's a no-brainer. Please increase the spiritual density of my courtyard." Ning answered with a smile.

"Hm. Okay." The referee nodded, then spoke.

"Congratulations, Disciple Ji Ning. Your new courtyard number is now 66." Ning paused. Among all things, he had forgotten that his courtyard number would also change.

"That means no number 69 courtyard. Damn, did I just fumble the perfect courtyard number?" Alas, Ning had won the battle but lost the war.... Thanks for reading~