Lin Xuan pondered in silence, calculating his next move how to deliberately lose to Liu Xin
If I fall too easily, they'll suspect me.
If I resist too fiercely, Liu Xin won't have a chance to shine.
And if Sect Master Xingjin or Ancestor Zhao senses even the slightest inconsistency… everything collapses.
His gaze briefly swept across
Sect Master Xingjin and Ancestor Zhao exchanged a glance, their expressions grim. The sheer power of the False God left no room for hesitation—if they tried to fight recklessly, they would be annihilated in an instant.
"There's only one way"… Sect Master Xingjin thought. "We have to create an opening for Liu Xin. He's the key to winning this battle."
"Liu Xin," Sect Master Xingjin said, his voice low but firm, "we'll handle the False God's attacks. You take the chance to strike—don't hold back."
Ancestor Zhao nodded in agreement, his staff—or was it now a sword?—glinting with immortal light. "We'll force him to reveal a weakness. Focus all your energy, boy. This is your moment."
Liu Xin's grip on his sword tightened. The weight of responsibility settled heavily on his shoulders, but determination burned in his eyes. "Understood. I won't waste this opportunity."
As the three prepared to move, Lin Xuan's lips twitched ever so slightly.
"Exactly what I wanted to hear."
With that, the three of them moved in perfect synchronization. Sect Master Xingjin's aura flared, creating sudden bursts of spiritual pressure to distract and harry the False God. Ancestor Zhao's sword glowed with a blinding radiance, weaving strikes that forced the False God to constantly adjust, testing his defenses.
But Lin Xuan was deliberately controlling the rhythm.
Half a step slower… weaken the barrier here… let that strike graze my shoulder…
He subtly adjusted his defensive formation, creating tiny flaws—imperceptible to ordinary cultivators, yet convincing enough to fool even seasoned experts.
I must look pressured… not panicked. Injured… not defeated.
Amidst the chaos, Liu Xin remained steady, watching, waiting. Every flicker of Lin Xuan's movement, every fluctuation in his barrier, burned itself into his perception.
Good, Lin Xuan thought. He's taking the bait.
The ruins trembled under the combined force of their presence. The air crackled violently, distorted by clashing auras and sword intent. Dust rose in swirling columns as the battlefield became a storm of light and shadow.
Now comes the decisive moment…
Lin Xuan subtly rotated his body, exposing a narrow gap in his defense—just wide enough to appear accidental.
Sect Master Xingjin's eyes sharpened. "Now!"
Liu Xin's killing intent erupted.
Spiritual qi surged through his meridians as he raised his sword, power condensing into a terrifying edge of light.
Lin Xuan's heart remained eerily calm.
Trajectory confirmed.
Impact zone adjusted.
Vital organs protected.
I will fall… but on my own terms.
As Liu Xin prepared to unleash his ultimate strike, Lin Xuan was already calculating how to collapse, where to bleed, and how long to remain unconscious—crafting the perfect illusion of defeat.
The moment had arrived. Liu Xin's sword, glowing with condensed spiritual qi, descended in a blinding streak of light. The air itself screamed under the pressure, rifts forming as if reality itself could not withstand the strike.
The slash tore through the air, carrying an aura so terrifying it could make even seasoned cultivators shiver. Every movement of Liu Xin's body radiated raw power and resolve—the weight of his determination concentrated in that single strike.
Hah… perfect. Lin Xuan's eyes narrowed beneath the dust. The attack… is draining spiritual qi, just as expected.
He gritted his teeth and allowed himself to stagger backward. Each step was slow, heavy, and deliberately labored, as if the Heaven-Piercing Void Slash had nearly sundered him entirely. His hand clutched his chest, trembling slightly, a faint trail of qi smoke curling from his body as if the strike had burned away his essence.
"Ugh…" he groaned, letting out a strained breath. "That… that attack… it's… draining my spiritual qi as well…" His voice carried enough pain and awe to make the words believable, but not so much that it hinted at deception.
Liu Xin's eyes widened in disbelief. "I… I actually hit him? My strike… it's so powerful it's draining even the False God's energy…" Pride and adrenaline surged within him, and for a moment, the weight of responsibility vanished entirely.
Sect Master Xingjin's gaze flickered, admiration mixing with caution. Ancestor Zhao's sword glowed brighter, their auras tightening—but neither showed the faintest hint of suspicion. To them, the strike had been devastating, and the False God had suffered a blow worthy of legend.
Lin Xuan's lips curved in a ghost of a smirk beneath the dust, hidden by the staggered groans and faltering steps he orchestrated. Every flutter of his robes, every tilt of his head, every weakened breath was calculated:
"They'll believe it... they won't suspect a thing."
He let his knees buckle, dropping to one knee at the perfect moment. Dust clung to his hair and shoulders, his robe torn slightly where the strike grazed him. His eyes half-closed, he whispered, "So… strong…" The words carried the weight of defeat, raw and convincing.
The ruins trembled under the overwhelming spiritual pressure, and Liu Xin's heart leapt. Sect Master Xingjin and Ancestor Zhao exchanged glances, awe tempered with measured control—but no one doubted the scene in front of them.
Perfect… Lin Xuan thought, even as the faint trace of drained qi tickled his consciousness. "A loss that looks real… a victory that belongs to him… and yet, I remain in control."
The Heaven-Piercing Void Slash had struck—but beneath the illusion of suffering, Lin Xuan's mind already raced, planning the next move, and savoring the chaos he had orchestrated with perfect precision.
The ruins fell silent for a heartbeat, broken only by the settling dust and the distant echoes of shattered stone. Lin Xuan knelt amid the debris, his robes torn, his hair matted with dust and sweat. His breaths came uneven, shallow, and ragged.
Sect Master Xingjin's eyes narrowed as he instinctively reached out with his spiritual senses. Ancestor Zhao did the same, and both immediately froze.
…What?
A chill ran down their spines. The False God, whose presence usually radiated boundless spiritual qi, now emanated a faint, dim glow. His aura… it felt fragile. Weak.
"Like a dying man…" Sect Master Xingjin's heart skipped. Even a fraction of the False God's spiritual power was enough to crush entire armies—but now, it seemed to flicker, almost exhausted.
Ancestor Zhao's grip tightened on his blade. "This… the technique he just endured… it must have drained him severely."
Their gazes naturally shifted to Liu Xin, standing at the edge of the dust storm, sword still glowing faintly with residual spiritual qi.
"That boy…" Sect Master Xingjin thought, "he unleashed something that drained even False God essence. That technique… its power… it must have required an enormous amount of spiritual qi just to release."
Ancestor Zhao's eyes widened slightly, admiration and concern mingling in their expressions. "The Heaven-Piercing Void Slash… to wield that with such force against the False God…" He shook his head slowly. "The boy has pushed himself to the limits… and yet… the sheer destructive output…"
The ruins trembled faintly as both Sect Master Xingjin and Ancestor Zhao took in the magnitude of the scene. The False God, their pupil of unparalleled mastery, seemed genuinely weakened, almost at the edge of collapse. And the young cultivator who struck him had clearly poured every ounce of his essence into that single, devastating blow.
Lin Xuan, of course, was aware of every thought racing through their minds. Beneath the dust and groaning breaths, he was already suppressing the excess spiritual qi that the slash had "drained," carefully masking his strength while letting the illusion of near-death play out.
"They believe it…" he thought, lips curving into a faint, imperceptible smirk. "They feel the drain… they see my stagger… and they attribute it entirely to him. Perfect."
He allowed his knees to sag further, letting his head dip slightly as though the world pressed down on him. Each exhalation, each trembling movement, was timed to perfection, ensuring that both Sect Master Xingjin and Ancestor Zhao were utterly convinced that Liu Xin had nearly destroyed the False God.
Meanwhile, Liu Xin stood tall, breathing heavily, eyes bright with pride—but unaware that every falter of the False God before them was part of a meticulously orchestrated plan.
Liu Xin stood motionless, chest rising and falling heavily, sweat dripping down his face. His sword trembled faintly in his grip, the residual power of the Heaven-Piercing Void Slash still echoing through his meridians.
He swallowed and looked at Sect Master Xingjin and Ancestor Zhao.
"Did… did we win?"
For a brief moment, silence reigned.
Ancestor Zhao slowly nodded, his aged eyes filled with complex emotion. "Yes… it seems the False God has been gravely wounded. That strike nearly drained his entire spiritual foundation."
Sect Master Xingjin exhaled deeply, tension finally easing from his shoulders. The terrifying pressure that once dominated the battlefield had faded to a faint, dying flicker.
But at that very moment—
Lin Xuan's lips curved upward beneath the dust.
"Such a pity…"
"If the False God is defeated so soon, where is the grandeur? Where is the fear? Where is the legend?"
"No… this debut must be unforgettable."
Slowly… deliberately… Lin Xuan lifted his head.
A faint pulse rippled outward.
Then another.
Sect Master Xingjin's eyes widened abruptly. "Wait… this aura—"
Ancestor Zhao's expression stiffened. Both elders instantly released their spiritual senses.
What they felt made their blood turn cold.
The False God's spiritual qi… was rising.
No— it wasn't merely recovering.
It was surging.
Like a bottomless abyss suddenly awakening, spiritual energy poured back into Lin Xuan's body, swirling violently around him. The air trembled as invisible waves of pressure swept across the ruins.
Cracks spread across the ground beneath his feet.
Liu Xin's pupils shrank. "H-how…? He was almost dead… how is he standing up?!"
Lin Xuan slowly straightened his back.
Dust slid off his shoulders.
His torn robe fluttered violently as a terrifying aura erupted from his body, suppressing the battlefield once more. His eyes burned with cold divine light as he looked down upon them.
"You think…" he said calmly, his voice echoing unnaturally across the ruins, "this is over?"
Each word felt like a hammer striking their hearts.
"I will end this…" Lin Xuan continued, taking one slow step forward, "…before my time is over."
He raised his hand.
The heavens darkened.
Spiritual qi from all directions rushed toward his palm, forming a rapidly spinning vortex. The pressure became unbearable. Even Sect Master Xingjin and Ancestor Zhao were forced to retreat half a step.
Within Lin Xuan's grasp, a terrifying sphere of condensed energy began to take shape.
Blazing.
Pulsing.
Radiating overwhelming heat and divine pressure.
It looked like a miniature sun.
Golden light illuminated the ruined battlefield, casting massive shadows across the broken ground. The sphere grew larger with each heartbeat, its surface swirling with destructive runes and unstable energy.
Ancestor Zhao's face turned pale. "That… that level of condensation… he's compressing spiritual qi to its absolute limit…"
Sect Master Xingjin clenched his fists. "If he releases that… this entire area will be erased."
Liu Xin's heart pounded violently in his chest as he stared at the False God in horror.
This wasn't the weakened enemy he thought he had defeated.
Lin Xuan looked down at them from within the golden light, his silhouette standing like a god of destruction.
A faint, cruel smile curved his lips.
"Now…" he said softly, "let me show you what true despair looks like."