When Lu Hanshan was carried back to the servant quarters, he was already unconscious.
Wang Duobao and Zheng Xiaoqi laid him gently onto the wooden bed while Zhou Xiaohuan frantically emptied every pouch of medicine she had—trauma powder, blood-staunching paste, and even the Warm Jade Dust Jiang Muchen had brought back from the Refinement Hall. Everything was mixed together and pressed thickly into his wounds.
The bleeding slowed.
But Lu Hanshan's face was pale as soaked paper, his breathing thin as a thread about to snap.
Three claw marks raked across his chest, deep enough to bare bone. His left shoulder was a mess of torn flesh and white splinters of exposed skeleton.
"Jiang—this won't do!" Wang Duobao shouted, veins bulging at his temples.
"We need a physician! This is beyond herbs!"
Jiang Muchen stood by the bedside, two fingers resting on Lu Hanshan's wrist.
His spiritual sense slid inward like silk.
The damage was severe—especially in the arms.
That final move, Twin Dragons Break the Mountain, had exacted a brutal price.
His dantian was nearly dry, and remnants of the Golden-Rending Claw's razor-sharp Qi still crawled through his meridians like needles, gnawing at the channels from within.
But—
The foundation is intact.
"That won't be necessary," Jiang Muchen said calmly.
From his robes, he produced a small mutton-fat jade bottle.
A Rejuvenation Pill—sent yesterday by Lin Yueyao through her maid. One of Pill Peak's finest healing medicines. Not resurrection-grade, but more than enough for wounds like these.
He placed a pale green pill into Lu Hanshan's mouth and fed him warm water.
The pill dissolved instantly.
Lu Hanshan's breathing steadied. A trace of color returned to his face.
"Let him sleep," Jiang Muchen said, standing.
"Duobao, stay with him. Xiaoqi, Xiaohuan—come with me."
They stepped outside, stopping beside the old well in the courtyard.
Night had fallen. A crescent moon hung low, cold light spilling over moss-covered stone.
"Senior Brother Jiang," Zheng Xiaoqi whispered, "I saw Lin Bao go looking for Lin Tianying earlier. They spoke for a long time in the woods east of the arena."
"And?"
"I couldn't hear clearly. But Lin Bao left furious."
He hesitated. "I think Lin Tianying ordered him… to kill you on the platform tomorrow."
Jiang Muchen nodded.
That much was expected.
Lin Tianying had lost—publicly, humiliatingly. Broken ribs. A fourth-layer servant had crushed his pride.
Revenge was inevitable.
And Lin Bao was his blade.
"Tomorrow's match…" Zhou Xiaohuan asked softly.
"Are you still fighting?"
"Yes."
"And not just fighting," Jiang Muchen said.
"I'll win."
"But Lin Bao is fifth-layer Qi Condensation," Wang Duobao said anxiously.
"His Gale Blade Art is vicious. And Lin Tianying will definitely arm him—with artifacts, talismans, maybe even forbidden pills!"
Jiang Muchen laughed.
"If he wants to give me gifts, who am I to refuse?"
They stared at him.
"You think I let Lu Hanshan beat Lin Tianying just for pride?" Jiang Muchen said, rinsing his hands at the well.
"Lin Bao is hot-headed. Proud. Impatient. Anger makes him reckless. Pride makes him underestimate opponents. Impatience makes him slip."
He dried his hands and looked at them.
"I want that slip."
"The flaw?" Zheng Xiaoqi asked.
"In the Gale Blade Art," Jiang Muchen replied.
"It relies on uninterrupted momentum. Like a song sung in one breath. Break the rhythm—and everything collapses."
He lifted the jade flute.
"My music specializes in breaking rhythm."
Zhou Xiaohuan's eyes lit up.
"Like how you helped Brother Lu today?"
"Similar," Jiang Muchen said. "But tomorrow… he'll hear what demonic resonance truly means."
"But what if Lin Bao just charges through it?" Wang Duobao pressed.
"He won't," Jiang Muchen said flatly.
"Momentum is his strength. Once it breaks, his blade slows. And I know exactly how to break it."
He paused.
"Three months ago, Lin Bao was injured escorting a caravan near Mistwood Forest. A Steelback Wolf tore his left leg. He recovered—but the weakness remains. When he pushes his Qi too hard, his knee trembles."
Zheng Xiaoqi's eyes widened.
"You'll target his leg?"
"No," Jiang Muchen smiled.
"I'll make him target it."
The Next Day — Platform C
Twice as many spectators gathered.
News of Lu Hanshan's upset victory had swept the Outer Sect.
Today's match: Jiang Muchen vs. Lin Bao.
No one favored Jiang Muchen.
Third layer against fifth. A chasm.
Lin Bao waited impatiently on the platform, dressed in black, his massive blade resting on his shoulder like a predator's fang.
Jiang Muchen stepped up—gray robes, jade flute at his waist, empty hands.
"Want to play a tune for your own funeral?" Lin Bao sneered.
The gong rang.
The gale came.
The flute sang.
And the rhythm broke.
When Lin Bao fell to one knee, blade clattering to stone—
The arena fell silent.
Victory had never looked so quiet.