The air above the dueling grounds felt heavy—
as if storm clouds made of lead were pressing down on everyone below.
This was the final match of the Bronze Division.
More than three hundred outer disciples had gathered, forming a dense black ring around the arena—nearly half the entire outer sect. Every single one of them had come for the same reason:
They wanted to see whether the lowly menial who had clawed his way here with unorthodox tactics could take even one more step forward—
—or finally be crushed by a true prodigy of Pill Cauldron Peak.
When Jiang Muchen stepped onto the stage, the bandages on his left shoulder were gone.
His gray robe was freshly washed and neatly pressed, but dark red stains still bled through the cuff—silent proof that the wound beneath hadn't fully healed.
Across from him stood Liu Ruyan, dressed in a flowing teal skirt.
Three silver needles hovered between her fingers, glowing faintly with a cold blue sheen.
"Junior Brother Jiang," she said calmly, inclining her head.
"You shattered Shi Gang's Iron Body yesterday. That was impressive."
Her eyes sharpened slightly.
"But my Hundred Blossom Needles don't break flesh. They invade the meridians directly."
She paused. "Do you still have a counter?"
Jiang Muchen rested a hand on the iron staff at his waist.
"We'll find out."
—CLANG!
The gong split the air.
Liu Ruyan moved first.
She didn't charge. Instead, she flicked her wrist and released a delicate pink flower from her sleeve. She leaned forward and gently blew—
The petals scattered into a rosy mist.
A sweet, cloying scent flooded the arena.
"Drunken Immortal Bloom!" someone shouted from the crowd.
"Breathing it slows spiritual circulation by thirty percent!"
Too late.
Jiang Muchen felt it immediately—his meridians thickening, spiritual energy sinking into mud. Without hesitation, he swallowed a Clear Mind Pill.
At the same time, the jade flute rose to his lips.
The music erupted—
But not the mournful dragon-summoning tune from before.
This time, it was War Music.
Steel-on-steel rhythm.
Marching drums.
A melody like armies colliding.
Soundwaves punched through his clogged meridians, forcibly tearing open stagnant currents. Pain exploded like sparks inside his body.
Liu Ruyan's eyes lit up.
"Excellent!"
Her hands blurred.
Dozens of silver streaks screamed through the air—
The Hundred Blossom Needle Rain.
Each needle carried a different compound:
paralysis venom, hallucinogenic powder, volatile flame toxin…
They twisted and curved like living serpents, sealing every escape route.
Jiang Muchen pushed Flowing Dragon Steps to its limit.
Seven flashes of gray.
—Thunk.
A needle grazed his right arm.
Agony detonated—not poison, but alchemical ignition. Spiritual energy flared violently inside his blood, like oil set ablaze.
Then—
Three more needles struck his thigh.
Numbness. Weakness. Rigid lock.
All at once.
His knee slammed into the stone platform.
"Yield," Liu Ruyan said, stopping her attack.
"Four needles have entered your system. The agents are already spreading through your main channels."
Her voice was steady, almost gentle.
"Another half-incense stick, and your foundation will suffer permanent damage."
Silence swept the arena.
Wang Duobao's fists trembled.
Lu Hanshan's face went pale.
Then—
Jiang Muchen laughed.
He pushed himself up with the iron staff. Blood seeped from his reopened shoulder wound, blooming across his robe like a crimson plum blossom.
"Senior Sister Liu," he said between breaths, pulling a metal case from his robes,
"you calculated every formula."
He opened the case.
"Twelve iron beads."
They clattered onto the stage—rolling, bouncing, shifting—
forming a crude but unmistakable formation.
"A disruption bead array?" Liu Ruyan frowned.
Before she could react—
Jiang hurled a pouch of white powder.
Lime mixed with ground chili exploded outward.
She raised her shield instantly—but in that split second of obscured vision—
Jiang moved.
Three zhang vanished in a blink.
The jade flute sang again.
This time—
A lullaby.
Soft.
Warm.
Like a mother's hand brushing across the brow.
Fatigue surged from deep within Liu Ruyan's bones. Her grip slackened.
"No—this is sonic soul intrusion!"
She bit down hard, blood filling her mouth—
—but it was already too late.
Jiang bit his finger.
A drop of essence blood smeared into the cracks of the flute.
Golden light erupted.
He was burning his Dragon Soul.
The lullaby's power multiplied explosively.
Liu Ruyan's vision went dark.
She collapsed.
The silver needles scattered across the stone like rain.
The music stopped.
Jiang staggered.
Black blood sprayed from his mouth as backlash tore through his meridians. His left shoulder split open completely, blood soaking half his body—
But he was still standing.
Under three hundred stunned gazes, he walked to Liu Ruyan's side, placed a Mind-Waking Pill between her lips, and rasped:
"My apologies."
Three breaths later, her eyes fluttered open.
Confusion.
Then clarity.
Then complexity.
"…You win," she said quietly, sitting up.
"Burning your Dragon Soul for an outer sect victory—was it worth it?"
"Not today," Jiang wiped the blood from his mouth.
"But tomorrow… and the day after?"
He met her gaze.
"I can't afford to lose."
Elder Li raised his arm.
"The Bronze Division Final—Jiang Muchen wins!"
The arena exploded.
He stepped down from the stage, every movement slicing through him like knives. Dragon Soul backlash churned violently inside his body, darkness creeping into his vision.
At the edge of the grounds, Liu Ruyan caught up to him.
She pressed a warm jade token into his bloodstained palm.
"Guest Alchemist Token. Pill Cauldron Peak.
With this, you may access the lower three levels of the medicinal vault."
"Senior Sister—this is too much—"
"Take it," she cut in quietly.
"You walk a dangerous path. Smithing. Sound. Mechanisms. Alchemy."
She glanced at his shattered shoulder.
"In the secret realm, sometimes knowing a little of everything is what keeps you alive."
She turned and left without hesitation.
This wasn't just a token.
It was protection.
That night, Jiang Muchen collapsed.
When he woke, the candle was burning low.
His shoulder had been treated. The Dragon Soul backlash suppressed—no cultivation for three days.
"Top ten," Wang Duobao said shakily.
"But tomorrow… Zhao Wuji arrives."
Jiang closed his eyes.
The board was set.
Five days later—Green Nether Valley.
And there—
would be blood.
Lick Dao Maxim · Forty-Ninth
Victory isn't decided on the stage—
but in what your enemies are willing to hand you after you've won.