When Lin Tianying was carried off the arena, his right arm had swollen to the size of overfermented dough—purple-black beneath the skin.
The poison from the Corpse-Bone Flower, mixed with the backlash of the Burst Pill, had wrecked it completely. Three months bedridden would be the optimistic estimate.
His treasured Azure Edge Sword had fared no better.
The blade had bent into a hooked curve, the armor-breaking rune shattered into three broken fragments. A total loss.
Below the stage, the crowd erupted like boiling oil splashed with water.
"That flute sound was cursed…"
"I couldn't even catch the tune—felt like my skull was splitting."
"He burned a Burst Pill for nothing. That Jiang Muchen hid himself way too deep…"
Jiang Muchen ignored the stabbing looks.
He returned to the edge of the arena, sat cross-legged, and closed his eyes to regulate his breathing.
The fight had looked easy.
In truth, it had been a dance along a blade's edge.
If Lin Tianying hadn't taken the bait.
If the referee had intervened harder.
If even one of those steel needles had missed by half an inch—
The one being carried off now would've been him.
But a win was a win.
"Junior Brother Jiang," Liu Zhen whispered as he edged closer, voice low. "That move just now… it was dangerous."
"How else was I supposed to win?" Jiang Muchen opened his eyes. "Lin Tianying wanted me dead too badly. That was his mistake."
Liu Zhen glanced toward the Group A arena.
Lin Pojun had just finished his match.
His opponent—a Sixth Layer blade cultivator—had been cut down in three strikes. Four ribs broken. The man had been dragged away groaning.
Lin Pojun wiped blood from his sword.
Then, deliberately, his gaze drifted toward Group C.
Cold. Measuring.
Like he was looking at a corpse that hadn't realized it was dead yet.
"He'll come for you," Liu Zhen said quietly. "Lin Tianying was his cousin."
"I know," Jiang Muchen replied. "But not today. During the Trial, he still needs to care about appearances."
"And after?"
"…After," Jiang Muchen said, "we'll talk about it then."
The Day Ends
Group C continued.
Eight advanced to four. Because Jiang Muchen had defeated Lin Tianying, he was granted a bye—rules were rules.
The remaining matches were brutal.
Blood. Broken bones. Screams cut short.
In the end, three advanced: two at Fifth Layer, one at Sixth.
Along with Jiang Muchen, Group C's top four were set.
The gong rang.
"Today's preliminaries conclude here! Tomorrow at dawn—the next round! Thirty-two advance to sixteen!"
The crowd began to disperse.
Jiang Muchen stood to leave—
—and found his path blocked.
Shi Gang.
The Body Refinement Hall's monster of a disciple stood there like a wall of bronze. Muscles coiled like ancient roots beneath his skin.
"Something you need?" Jiang Muchen asked.
Shi Gang stared at him for a few seconds, then broke into a grin.
"You're interesting."
"…Thanks."
"That Lin Tianying idiot—I never liked him," Shi Gang said. "But you? Fourth Layer, flipping a Seventh Layer with tricks and timing. You've got a sharp head."
Jiang Muchen didn't respond.
"Tomorrow," Shi Gang thumped his chest, "if we meet—no schemes. We fight straight."
Then he turned and left.
Wang Duobao crept over. "Brother Jiang… Shi Gang's reputation is decent. Body Refinement folks are straightforward. He probably means it."
"I know," Jiang Muchen said. "But his uncle is Elder Shi."
Wang Duobao went quiet.
"Tomorrow's problems," Jiang Muchen said, "are for tomorrow."
Fire and Steel
By the time Jiang Muchen returned to the menial quarters, night had fully fallen.
He didn't rest.
He went straight to the Artifact Hall.
Firecloud Senior Uncle was still hammering iron. The rhythmic clang echoed through the darkness. He paused when Jiang Muchen entered.
"You win?"
"Yes."
"I heard you crippled Lin Tianying."
"Not crippled," Jiang Muchen said. "Just three months in bed."
Firecloud took a swig of liquor and laughed. "Good. That brat relied on his father too much. You slapped him hard—loud enough for everyone to hear."
He reached into his robe and tossed over a dark, pitted stone.
"Take this."
It was heavy. Dense.
"Scrap Starsteel," Firecloud said. "Too many impurities for proper forging. Practice piece. Use Listening Hammer—knock the filth out. Clean it properly and it's worth fifty spirit stones."
Jiang Muchen hesitated. "Senior Uncle, this is too valuable."
"Bah." Firecloud waved him off. "That flute technique you used today—Chaotic Spirit Tone, right? From the Azure Nether Sect."
Jiang Muchen's heart skipped.
"Relax," Firecloud said. "I've seen it before. You're still rough—only the surface. At mastery, one note can disorient everyone within thirty feet."
Then his expression hardened.
"But it's eye-catching. Azure Nether may be gone, but their enemies aren't. Be careful."
"I understand."
"And that sword," Firecloud added, glancing at the black blade. "Don't use it tomorrow."
"Why?"
"Dark-pattern Xuan Iron. Too distinctive. Stone Fool used the same material back then. If the wrong old monster recognizes it, you'll regret it."
He dragged a crude iron staff from the corner.
"Use this instead."
Plain. Heavy. Unremarkable.
"Sometimes," Firecloud said, "being forgettable is the best disguise."
A Meeting in the Maple Grove
Jiang Muchen didn't return to his room.
He went to the back mountain.
Moonlight washed the maple grove in silver. Leaves whispered in the wind.
He sat beneath the largest tree, Starsteel before him, hammer raised.
Clang.
Dull. Heavy.
Eyes closed, he listened.
The echo traveled through the stone, revealing flaws, veins, weakness.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
Sweat slid down his temple.
The day replayed in his mind—Lin Tianying's rage. Elder Shi's bias. Lin Pojun's gaze. Shi Gang's interest.
This world was sharper than he'd imagined.
That was fine.
He hammered until the stone smoothed, silver flecks emerging like stars in a night sky.
Eighty spirit stones now.
He wiped his brow—
—and heard footsteps.
Soft. Deliberate.
"Who's there?" He tightened his grip on the iron staff.
A figure stepped from the shadows.
White robes. Long sword. Frosted presence.
Lin Pojun.
"You injured my cousin," Lin Pojun said, voice cold as ice.
"On the arena," Jiang Muchen replied calmly, standing. "Blades don't have eyes."
"Rules?" Lin Pojun smiled without warmth. "I only know this—harm the Lin family, and you pay."
His aura surged.
Sixth Layer peak.
Like a mountain pressing down.
Jiang Muchen knew the truth.
He couldn't win.
Fourth Layer versus Sixth Peak—no amount of tricks gave better than three chances in ten.
Still, he didn't retreat.
"You plan to fight here?" Jiang Muchen asked. "Private duels during the Trial are heavily punished."
"Who said I'm fighting?" Lin Pojun stopped three paces away. "I came to warn you."
"About?"
"Tomorrow, I'll request a group transfer. I'll take my cousin's slot."
His eyes locked onto Jiang Muchen's.
"On the arena, I'll cripple you—fair and square."
"Of course," he added lightly, "you can surrender. But the price will be your right hand."
He turned to leave.
Paused.
"Oh—and Elder Shi will be tomorrow's referee."
Silence returned to the grove.
Jiang Muchen stood beneath the moon, iron staff cold in his hand.
Preparations
At the entrance to the quarters, Chen Song waited.
"He came to see you," Chen Song said.
"Yes."
"He threaten you?"
"Tomorrow."
Chen Song handed him a cloth pouch.
Inside—three violet talismans crackling with lightning.
"Heaven-Thunder Talismans," Chen Song said. "Each one hits like a Seventh Layer strike. Radius—three meters. Use carefully."
"Why help me?" Jiang Muchen asked.
"I hate how the Lin family plays," Chen Song replied. "And I owe you."
He paused.
"If you die tomorrow, don't say I didn't warn you."
Back in his room, Jiang Muchen laid everything out.
Iron staff.
Talismans.
Sleeve arrows.
Fire pellets.
Traps.
The transmission jade.
Not weapons.
A plan.
If strength wasn't enough, he'd use his mind.
If rules weren't fair, he'd play them to the edge.
He lay back down, touching the jade flute at his chest.
"Tomorrow," he whispered, "I'll need you."
The flute trembled faintly.