Dawn hadn't fully broken yet, but the martial grounds were already packed wall to wall.
The Outer Trial was Red Dust Pavilion's biggest annual spectacle. It wasn't just outer disciples crowding the stands—inner disciples showed up, senior brothers and sisters lingered, and even elders from the various halls made appearances. Everyone knew why.
Anyone who clawed their way out of hundreds of outer disciples today had a real chance of becoming the sect's backbone tomorrow.
When Jiang Muchen arrived, the edges of the arena were already overflowing. He wore a wide bamboo hat and a faded gray robe, the kind only menial disciples still bothered with. In the sea of people, he looked completely forgettable.
Except for the sword at his waist.
The dark, lusterless blade—like polished black jade—drew more than a few curious glances.
"That's him. Jiang Muchen."
"Qi Refining Fourth Layer, right? What's he doing here—delivering himself?"
"I heard he stood his ground in the Punishment Hall. Wonder if he can fight."
The murmurs buzzed like gnats. Jiang Muchen ignored them all.
His gaze swept across the field.
The viewing platform to the north was already occupied. An elder with white hair from the Punishment Hall. Elder Liu from Pill Cauldron Peak. And Elder Shi from the Body Refinement Hall.
Firecloud Senior Uncle wasn't there—Artifact Hall had never cared much for this kind of spectacle.
To the east stood the competitors' zone.
Over a hundred disciples.
Familiar faces jumped out immediately.
Lin Tianying, laughing with his lackeys.
Lin Pojun, arms crossed, eyes closed, sword resting against his shoulder.
Liu Ruyan checking the needles in her pouch.
Shi Gang rolling his wrists, joints popping.
Zhou Ming drawing strange symbols on the ground.
Chen Song leaning against a pillar, yawning.
And Liu Zhen.
Their eyes met. Liu Zhen gave him a subtle nod.
Jiang Muchen walked over and stopped beside him.
"Nervous?" Liu Zhen whispered.
"A little."
"Normal," Liu Zhen said, clapping his shoulder. "My first time, I almost pissed myself. You're already better than I was—I was only Third Layer back then."
Before Jiang Muchen could respond, a bronze gong rang out.
Clang—
The noise died instantly.
An officiant stepped onto the platform, voice booming.
"The Outer Trial begins now! Same rules as always—no intentional killing, no forbidden drugs, no outside interference. Violators will have their cultivation crippled and be expelled from the sect!"
A pause.
"One hundred twenty-eight participants this year. Divided into four groups—A, B, C, and D. Thirty-two per group. Single-elimination preliminaries. Eight advance from each group to the top thirty-two. Then arena matches until the top ten are decided."
"Now—draw lots!"
A massive wooden box was carried out, filled with jade plaques.
One by one, disciples stepped forward.
Jiang Muchen drew his lot.
Group C, Number Seven.
His eyes flicked to the Group C roster.
His heart sank.
Lin Tianying—Group C, Number Three.
Lin Pojun—Group A, Number One.
Shi Gang—Group B, Number Nine.
Liu Ruyan—Group D, Number Twelve.
Zhou Ming—Group A, Fifteen.
Chen Song—Group D, Five.
He and Lin Tianying.
Same group.
If both advanced, they'd meet in the Group C finals—assuming either of them made it that far.
"Fuck," Liu Zhen muttered. "That draw's way too perfect."
"Not perfect," Jiang Muchen said calmly. "Rigged."
His eyes lifted to the viewing platform—specifically Elder Shi.
Fixing a draw like this was child's play.
"What now?"
"If we meet," Jiang Muchen said, pocketing his jade plaque, "we fight."
The First Match
The Group C arena was a square platform about sixty feet across, surrounded by barrier formations. The referee—a thin, dried-up old man—sat at the edge, eyes half-closed.
"Group C, Match One! Number One versus Thirty-Two!"
The fight began.
Jiang Muchen didn't watch.
He closed his eyes and circulated The Myriad Resonance Art, letting spiritual energy flow slowly through his meridians. His senses expanded outward.
Across the arena, Lin Tianying chatted lazily with his followers, occasionally glancing over—his eyes cold, predatory.
Second match. Third.
Then—
"Group C, Match Seven! Number Seven versus Number Twenty-Six!"
Jiang Muchen opened his eyes and stepped onto the platform.
His opponent was a short, stocky boy wielding twin axes—also Fourth Layer. He grinned when he saw Jiang Muchen.
"A menial disciple? Lucky me—starting off with soft meat."
Jiang Muchen drew his sword without a word.
The gong sounded.
The boy charged, axes spinning wildly. Loud. Aggressive. Full of openings.
Jiang Muchen didn't meet force with force.
He sidestepped the first axe, flicked his blade upward, and tapped the back of the second.
Clang!
Sparks flew.
Before the boy could react, the dark blade was already resting against his throat.
"…Yield," Jiang Muchen said, withdrawing his sword.
Silence.
Then—
An uproar.
"One move?!"
"What sword art was that?"
"I didn't even see it!"
The stocky boy stood frozen, face flushing crimson, then bowed stiffly and stumbled off the stage.
"Group C, Match Seven—Jiang Muchen wins!"
As Jiang Muchen stepped down, he felt eyes drilling into his back.
Surprise. Curiosity.
And naked killing intent.
From Lin Tianying.
He drew a finger across his throat in mockery.
Jiang Muchen ignored him and returned to meditate.
Second Round
Sixteen advanced. Then eight.
Jiang Muchen's next opponent was a Fifth Layer female cultivator wielding a long whip.
"Group C, Match Two! Number Seven versus Number Eleven!"
She smiled lazily at him.
"Little brother, my whip doesn't know mercy. You still have time to surrender."
"Please enlighten me, Senior Sister," Jiang Muchen replied with a faint smile.
The gong rang.
The whip snapped forward like a viper.
Jiang Muchen didn't dodge.
He raised the jade flute to his lips.
The sound that burst forth was sharp and dissonant—designed to assault the senses.
Her movement stuttered.
Just half an inch off.
That was enough.
Jiang Muchen surged forward, footwork twisting unnaturally. A flick of his sleeve—
Thk!
A steel needle struck her wrist.
Poison seeped in instantly.
Her fingers went numb. The whip fell.
His sword was at her throat.
"Thank you for your guidance."
Her face pale, she stepped down.
"Group C, Match Two—Jiang Muchen wins!"
Now the murmurs changed tone.
That wasn't luck.
That was calculation.
Jiang Muchen vs. Lin Tianying
Eight finalists.
When the third-round draw was announced, the entire arena exploded.
Jiang Muchen vs. Lin Tianying.
First match.
"Bullshit!" Liu Zhen cursed. "This is blatant!"
Even Elder Liu frowned toward Elder Shi.
Elder Shi didn't react.
"Listen," Liu Zhen grabbed Jiang Muchen. "If it gets bad—yield. Lin Tianying will kill you."
"Do me a favor," Jiang Muchen said quietly.
"…What?"
"If I'm about to die," he said calmly, "shout that he used forbidden drugs. Loud. Make sure everyone hears."
Liu Zhen froze.
"He didn't—"
"Doesn't matter," Jiang Muchen said, eyes on the platform. "Once it's said, they can't pretend they didn't hear."
Liu Zhen understood.
"…Got it."
Jiang Muchen stepped onto the stage.
Lin Tianying was already there, arms crossed, sneering.
"You didn't think we'd meet this soon, did you?"
"Didn't," Jiang Muchen replied, drawing his sword. "Your luck's incredible."
"Luck?" Lin Tianying laughed. "This is power."
He swallowed a pill.
His aura exploded.
Fifth Layer surged to Seventh in seconds. Veins bulged. His eyes turned bloodshot.
"Referee," Jiang Muchen said calmly, "is drug use allowed?"
The referee glanced toward the platform.
Elder Shi opened his eyes. "Burst Pills are not forbidden. Continue."
The crowd erupted.
Lin Tianying drew his sword—a green-glowing blade etched with armor-breaking runes.
"This time," he snarled, "no one saves you."
Jiang Muchen exhaled—
—and sheathed his sword.
"I yield."
Dead silence.
Lin Tianying stared. "…What?"
"Referee," Jiang Muchen said evenly. "Is surrender permitted?"
Elder Shi hesitated—
But Elder Liu spoke first. "If he yields, let him step down. There's no need for bloodshed."
Elder Shi clenched his jaw. "…Approved."
Jiang Muchen turned to leave.
"STOP!" Lin Tianying roared.
He lunged.
A killing strike.
The crowd screamed.
Jiang Muchen turned—
Flute raised.
The sound that followed was chaotic, layered, impossible to grasp.
Lin Tianying froze mid-step.
Steel needles flashed.
Poison bloomed.
A kick sent him flying.
Silence.
Jiang Muchen looked down at him.
"You chased a surrendering opponent," he said softly. "That breaks the rules."
He looked at the referee.
"What's the ruling?"
Elder Shi's face darkened.
"…Lin Tianying is disqualified. Jiang Muchen advances."
The arena erupted.
Jiang Muchen stepped down calmly, as if nothing extraordinary had happened.
From today on—
He could no longer hide.
And that was fine.
Let them all see how far a menial disciple could go.