The next morning,
three days remained before the life‑and‑death duel
between Xuán Chén and Cáo Jiànyú.
In a dim stone hut somewhere in the outer courtyard,
the air hung thick and stale.
The heavy wooden shutters were half‑closed,
letting in only thin slivers of morning light—
most of which were swallowed
by the murky atmosphere inside.
Half‑dried wine jars and piles of medicinal residue
cluttered the desk.
Several unopened letters lay scattered across the floor.
The room reeked faintly of mold
from the damp corner walls.
Cáo Jiànyú sat cross‑legged on his cot,
his face alternating between pale and livid.
The humiliation from last night—
being publicly shamed by Xuán Chén—
still churned violently in his mind,
feeding the venom in his eyes.
Suddenly,
a faint rustle sounded outside the window.
Two pitch‑black insects
slipped through the narrow gap in the shutters,
crawling several steps into the room—
unhindered by the defensive array.
Already simmering with rage,
Cáo Jiànyú's temper snapped.
"Hmph.
Courting death!"
He raised his palm to crush them.
PA!
The strike landed—
but instead of splattering,
the insects shuddered violently
and burst apart.
One transformed into a slip of talisman paper.
The other condensed into a small,
purple‑black pill
that rolled quietly onto the table.
The room fell silent.
Only the talisman's faint, cold glow
remained.
Cáo Jiànyú's brows lifted.
He stepped forward
and unfolded the talisman.
The Silver Mirror insignia
was stamped boldly at the top.
Below it, only a few words:
"For the arena—
Three‑Turn Soul‑Forcing Pill."
His gaze sharpened
and shifted to the pill.
Its surface was dark like obsidian,
veined with faint purple light.
A heavy, oppressive aura
seeped from it—
carrying a hint of decay,
like a dying flame
struggling for one last flare.
He picked it up,
turning it in his palm.
A faint, acrid burnt smell
reached his nose.
"Three‑Turn… Soul‑Forcing Pill?"
he muttered.
Then—
a vicious gleam burst in his eyes.
A twisted laugh crawled up his throat,
growing more frenzied by the second.
"Heh…
Three times my strength!
Xuán Chén—
no matter how clever you are,
you won't escape this.
Even if this pill damages my foundation…
if I win the duel,
my status will soar.
Who would dare look down on me then?
As long as I can kill you on the stage—
the price…
is worth it!"
He stared at the pill,
a cold, serpentine smile spreading across his face.
The thought festered,
and his laughter grew,
shoulders trembling uncontrollably.
At last,
he threw his head back
and roared with manic laughter—
a sound like a cracked bronze bell
echoing through the dark, filthy room.
——
Àotiān Academy — Sword‑Star Tower.
Afternoon sunlight spilled outside the tower,
but the thick stone walls allowed only thin slivers of light
to slip through the narrow windows.
Inside, silence reigned.
Only the steady rhythm of three cultivators breathing
and the faint circulation of qi
moved through the stillness—
like hidden currents beneath a calm sea.
Suddenly, Xuán Chén's brows tightened.
He opened his eyes,
gazing into the distance
as though catching a flash of lightning
deep within a star‑filled void.
A moment later,
the sensation vanished.
Xiǎo Chén immediately noticed the shift.
"Brother…
did you sense something?"
Xuán Chén's voice was low.
——
"I don't know why,
but a sudden heaviness rose in my chest.
As if…
we've overlooked something."
Xiǎo Chén's expression darkened.
"Your intuition is never wrong.
Could it be related to the duel?
That senior sister warned us—
some people aren't as simple as they appear."
Xuán Chén nodded slowly.
"Perhaps.
Cáo Jiànyú wouldn't dare provoke us publicly
with nothing but brute force."
Footsteps sounded from below.
Shī Tóngbǎi climbed up to the second floor,
sword in hand.
Seeing their solemn expressions,
he blinked in confusion.
"Senior brothers,
what's going on?"
Xiǎo Chén explained the strange intuition.
Shī Tóngbǎi's brows rose.
He sat down cross‑legged,
digging into the small pouch he always carried.
After rummaging for a while,
he pulled out a worn, yellowed booklet.
A smug grin tugged at his lips.
"Heh…
Ever since I entered Àotiān,
I've made a habit of recording information
about anyone noteworthy in the academy.
Cáo Jiànyú included.
Though he rarely makes a move
and information is scarce…
his background is interesting."
The three gathered around
as Shī Tóngbǎi began.
His fingers tapped lightly on the page,
and for once,
his usual playful demeanor faded—
replaced by a rare seriousness.
He hesitated,
as if debating whether to continue,
before speaking in a low voice.
"Cáo Jiànyú comes from a small sect
west of the Central Plains.
Strangely…
one night, the entire sect was wiped out.
He was the only survivor.
His records feel…
deliberately hollow."
Xuán Chén's eyes narrowed.
"Annihilated overnight?"
Xiǎo Chén let out a cold laugh.
"And he just happened to survive?"
Shī Tóngbǎi nodded.
"Yes.
Rumor says someone in that sect
offended a mysterious expert
and the entire sect was erased.
No one knows if it's true.
But when Cáo Jiànyú first entered Àotiān,
he was only a Guard‑Mark cultivator—
born with four innate marks.
Mediocre talent at best.
Yet he rarely fights,
and still holds a steady rank
around eightieth on the Hidden Dragon List."
Xiǎo Chén raised a brow.
"Four marks?
And still ranked in the eighties?
If he were truly mediocre,
he'd have died long ago."
Shī Tóngbǎi spread his hands.
"Exactly.
Plenty of people resent him for it.
But with White‑Mirror Hall backing him,
he's remained untouchable."
Xuán Chén's gaze grew colder,
his voice falling like a shard of winter starlight.
"That's the problem.
He rarely fights—
yet this time he challenged me openly.
He clearly has something to rely on.
Either he's been hiding his strength for years…
or someone is pushing him from behind."
Shī Tóngbǎi jerked his head up.
Xiǎo Chén's expression shifted.
And Xuán Chén's eyes finally hardened.
The same name flashed through all three minds.
"Sītú Jìng!"
Xuán Chén spoke first, voice low.
"In all of Àotiān,
only Sītú Jìng has the scheming mind for this."
Shī Tóngbǎi sucked in a breath.
"So that's it…
No wonder the White Lion hinted at Cáo Jiànyú's strange behavior.
It wasn't a false alarm.
Cáo Jiànyú dares defy the White Lion
and keeps making moves…
If Sītú Jìng is behind him,
everything makes sense."
Xuán Chén nodded slowly,
dark currents swirling beneath his calm exterior.
"Sītú Jìng wants our minds unsettled,
our cultivation disrupted.
He's using the outer courtyard
to force us into distraction.
As for why he pushed Cáo Jiànyú to challenge me—
because during the inner‑courtyard assessment,
Xiǎo Chén's strength was already exposed.
He knows he can't beat you,
so he chose me instead."
Xiǎo Chén let out a cold laugh.
"Then let him keep thinking that way.
Anyone who underestimates my brother
hasn't lived long enough to regret it."
Xuán Chén's tone deepened.
"If I used my true origin power,
Cáo Jiànyú would fall in an instant.
But right now,
I can only fight using Central Plains cultivation methods.
If my origin is exposed,
it will cause unnecessary trouble."
Shī Tóngbǎi forced a smile,
though worry creased his brow.
"Senior brother…
if you can't use your real power,
how confident are you?"
Xuán Chén fell silent.
A deep, unreadable light flickered in his eyes.
He understood perfectly—
this duel might look like an outer‑courtyard squabble,
but beneath it lay the struggle
between Sītú Jìng and White‑Mirror Hall.
Every step had to be precise.
Even with all his calculations,
he could not guarantee victory.
Xiǎo Chén lowered his voice,
a rare weight in his tone.
"Brother…
is there any way to temporarily boost your strength?
Just in case."
Xuán Chén exhaled slowly.
"I do have a way."
Xuán Chén took up brush and ink,
his strokes swift and decisive.
Within moments,
he tore the sheet into two slips—
one handed to Xiǎo Chén,
the other to Shī Tóngbǎi.
Both leaned in to read—
and both froze.
Xiǎo Chén raised a brow.
"…A spirit beast core?
And a specific attribute?
Brother, what is this—"
Shī Tóngbǎi stared at his own list, baffled.
"Eh?
These are just ordinary herbs.
I buy this stuff every day when running errands.
How is this a secret technique recipe?"
Xuán Chén's lips curved into a cold, subtle smile,
his eyes deep as a hidden abyss.
"Precisely because they're ordinary,
no one will suspect a thing.
Listen carefully—
none of these materials are useful to me.
They exist solely to mislead the eyes watching from the shadows.
The real key
is that I need two full days
of uninterrupted seclusion
to push my Meridian‑Mark Realm
to completion.
To divert attention,
I must make them believe
I'm relying on some secret concoction
to forcefully raise my strength."
Xiǎo Chén's heart jolted.
In that moment,
he realized just how far ahead Xuán Chén's mind already was.
Respect flickered in his eyes.
"So that's it…
Brother, you really think ten steps ahead.
I'll go find the beast core.
Even if it's useless to you,
it might help me refine my own Root‑Mark."
Xuán Chén nodded.
"Good.
You've just stepped into the Root‑Mark Realm—
you need time to harmonize with your chosen catalyst.
A beast core may aid you.
Consider it killing two birds with one stone."
Shī Tóngbǎi's eyes widened.
Then he grinned, giving a thumbs‑up.
"Heh…
Senior brother, this is brilliant!
Those spying on us will be running in circles!"
Xuán Chén rose calmly,
his sleeve brushing lightly through the air.
"Go.
Return in two days.
Even if someone is watching,
as long as we create enough smoke,
they'll believe I truly need time
to refine some secret medicine.
And when the duel begins—
that's when Cáo Jiànyú will learn
what regret truly means."
Xiǎo Chén and Shī Tóngbǎi exchanged a glance—
both nodding heavily,
a strange tremor stirring in their chests.
Without another word,
they rushed out of the tower—
one heading south,
the other north—
their figures swallowed by the night.
Inside the Sword‑Star Tower,
Xuán Chén closed his eyes once more.
His breathing rose and fell like the tide.
Night wind swept over the rooftop,
snuffing out the candle flame—
leaving behind a silence
that felt anything but calm.
Outside the tower,
as Xiǎo Chén and Shī Tóngbǎi departed,
two figures slipped into the darkness after them,
each tailing one of the boys
before vanishing into the night.
——
Cáo Jiànyú sat on his cot,
turning the purple‑black pill in his hand.
His eyes gleamed with cold malice,
a twisted smile tugging at his lips.
"Three‑Turn Soul‑Forcing Pill…
Xuán Chén, enjoy your arrogance for three more days.
On the arena,
I'll show you what a true death trap looks like."
He tucked the pill carefully into his robe.
This wasn't a tool for venting anger—
it was his hidden trump card,
to be revealed only at the decisive moment.
——
Far away,
in a dim chamber of the Silver Mirror branch,
candlelight flickered against the walls.
Sītú Jìng stood with his hands clasped behind his back,
eyes cold,
a faint smile curling at the corner of his mouth.
"The pill has been delivered?"
"It has,"
his trusted aide replied softly.
Sītú Jìng nodded,
his gaze deep and unreadable.
"Good.
If Cáo Jiànyú manages to kill Xuán Chén,
all the better.
If he fails…
it doesn't matter.
At the very least,
he'll force that boy
to reveal a few of his hidden cards."
He turned,
his figure melting into the wavering shadows,
eyes glinting like frozen stars.
"Xuán Chén…
if you truly have a trump card,
I want to see
how long you can hold out.
This game
has only just begun."
——
Meanwhile,
the Sword‑Star Tower remained quiet.
Xuán Chén meditated,
his aura steady as the sea.
Xiǎo Chén practiced his spear forms,
each strike fierce as a dragon's roar.
Shī Tóngbǎi flipped through his thick notebook,
muttering old rumors under his breath.
Inside the tower,
it looked like peaceful days.
Outside—
the undercurrents had already begun to surge.
On one side,
a desperate gamble fueled by a deadly pill.
On the other,
a calm defense built on unshakable resolve.
Three days from now,
the arena would run red.
There was no escaping it.