The viewing platform erupted in a wave of commotion.
Returning another's strike with their own technique?
Some of the elders present had once seen the Wushuang Sect's Hunyuan Secret Art. That technique was known for its overwhelming defense—one could even say it pushed the concept of defense to its absolute limit.
But this?
They had never heard of such an application before.
Even if the returned attacks carried only a fraction of the original force, it was still enough. Because the disciples of Wushuang Sect expended no effort at all.
On the arena floor, the disciples of Juling Sect also realized something was wrong. Panic rippled through them.
They had been so sure of Wushuang Sect's loss that they had gone all out earlier, using their most dazzling techniques, unleashing them without restraint against the barrier. They wanted to win with style, to flaunt their might.
But now? With every strike reflected back at them, the ones being mocked were no longer Wushuang Sect.
It was them.
How could there be such a shameless technique? Returning our own attacks back at us!
Weaker though the reflected strikes might be, their own spirit power had already been worn down. Another round of these returns would drive them close to their limits.
The Juling Sect disciples fell into hesitation.
They knew they could not break Wushuang Sect's shield.
They knew any attack they launched would come back at them.
So what now? Should they keep attacking?
"Senior Brothers, Senior Sisters, don't just stand there! A stick of incense without attacking means defeat. We just struck, now it's your turn!"
"Referee, what are you staring at? Light the incense already!"
The disciples of Wushuang Sect urged cheerfully, sounding more concerned about the rules than the fight itself.
After all, rules were rules. They must be followed.
Yun Jin sat with satisfaction on her face. She had even gone so far as to swap seats, deliberately moving next to Juling Sect's Sect Master, Feng Yuan.
"Sect Master Feng, why are your disciples standing around in a daze? Passive fighting is a terrible look. If you let a whole stick of incense pass without attacking, you'll lose outright."
Feng Yuan's face went ashen. He had thought this was a guaranteed victory. Who could have guessed Yun Jin and Wushuang Sect still had such a sly trick up their sleeves?
At last, it struck him. That strange smile on Yun Jin's face earlier, when Lin Xiao had announced the new rule—it had been because of this.
That rule was not a trap for Wushuang Sect. It was a trap for their opponents.
Yun Jin pressed the knife deeper with a smile. "Oh my, Sect Master Feng, your expression doesn't look too good. I know this sudden new rule puts you at a disadvantage. But I'm still just a junior. Of course Pavilion Master Lin would feel sorry for me and favor me and Wushuang Sect a little. Surely you can understand, can't you?"
As she spoke, she turned toward Lin Xiao, eyes full of mock gratitude.
"Pavilion Master Lin, your favoritism embarrasses me greatly. Next time, please don't show us so much mercy."
Lin Xiao almost lost control of his composure on the spot. It took all his strength not to tell her to shut up and get out. With great effort, he forced his tone calm. "There is no favoritism. The rule applies equally to both sides."
Yun Jin nodded earnestly in agreement. She turned back to Feng Yuan, expression full of sympathy.
"Sect Master Feng, don't feel too bad. Your Juling Sect making it to the second round already shows remarkable fortune. Look at Ziyun Sect—they were knocked out in the very first round. Compared to them, surely you feel better now, don't you?"
Feng Yuan's teeth ground audibly as he glared at Yun Jin, his bulging eyes practically ready to leap out of their sockets. In all his years, he had never met anyone who could infuriate him the way Yun Jin did.
Yun Jin, on the other hand, was delighted. Feng Yuan's rising anger was like a treasure chest of Emotional Value spilling open.
"What a fat sheep. I must spend more time "exchanging views" with him in the future."
Just as she was preparing to needle him again, it happened.
Feng Yuan, a Mahayana cultivator no less, suddenly coughed up a mouthful of blood.
Yun Jin froze in shock.
"Wait, what?"
She hadn't even said anything that bad! Why was he spitting blood?
"This has to be fake! He's pretending just to frame me!"
But Feng Yuan's aura was chaotic, as if suppressed flaws in his cultivation had been violently shaken loose.
Yun Jin quickly threw up her hands. "Everyone saw that, right? He did that himself! I didn't do a thing!"
Without hesitation, she scurried back to her original seat, out of arm's reach.
Feng Yuan glared murderously at her.
Truthfully, that mouthful of blood had loosened a block in his cultivation, leaving him feeling a bit more comfortable. But Yun Jin… Yun Jin was utterly insufferable.
Worse, he wasn't even certain he could defeat her if it came to a real fight. That thought alone nearly made him spit more blood.
Down on the arena, Juling Sect's disciples felt the same suffocating urge.
They couldn't stop attacking, or they would lose outright. But every strike they threw came back at them. If they went all out, the backlash was unbearable. If they held back, it made no difference.
Meanwhile, Wushuang Sect played it cool, dragging the fight longer and longer, even pulling out cards to start another round of poker.
The humiliation was unbearable.
Eventually, Juling Sect's disciples collapsed under the pressure, defeated in body and spirit.
They had lost. But no one could accept this kind of loss.
One Juling Sect disciple shouted angrily, "Is this all you Wushuang Sect people can do? Shameless tricks like these? Even if you win, it's a disgrace!"
But the disciples of Wushuang Sect only looked at him with sincere gratitude.
"Thank you, Senior Brother, for acknowledging our victory. We'll keep working hard next time."
To win was good.
To win while leaving others unconvinced—that was even better.
Because the more others hated them, the deeper the impression they left. And with so few matches to play, this was their only real chance to cultivate hatred.
When the Foundation Establishment matches ended, they would still have to return to Wushuang Sect. Staying here might earn a few rewards, but it could never compare to the benefits of their sect's Trial Tower.
After all, other sects had emptied themselves to bring disciples here. Wushuang Sect? Aside from the few competing, every other disciple remained at home, unwilling to step outside for even a day.
The reason was simple. That daily surge of power from cultivating within the Trial Tower was too intoxicating to give up. So yes, this tournament was their one shot at truly making others loathe them. And so, as the Juling Sect disciples glared at them with eyes full of hatred, the disciples of Wushuang Sect felt nothing but moved.
How touching. Such sincerity!
Watching Wushuang Sect's disciples gaze back at them with eyes full of gratitude, the disciples of Juling Sect trembled with fury.
Insane. This entire sect is insane. From top to bottom, all lunatics!
The Sect Master is a lunatic, and the disciples are lunatics. Truly, like master, like followers.
They left the arena in bitter rage.
Feng Yuan stormed off with them.
Yun Jin could not help but sigh in regret. Another spectator gone. Tomorrow, there would be one fewer face watching from the high platform.
"Why were these people so weak? At their age, shouldn't they have stronger hearts than me, a mere child?"
She was just about to run to Lin Xiao to complain when he suddenly stood up first, face cold as stone, clearly determined not to give her the chance.