After half an hour of chaos, the first stage finally drew to a close.
The arena floor was littered with groaning figures. Many disciples lay sprawled like corpses, their robes torn, faces bloodied, Qi exhausted. Yet among the sea of defeated, there was a peculiar group that drew particular attention.
Their bodies bore no serious injuries. No broken bones, no gaping wounds. Instead—each one clutched their cheeks, which were swollen like steamed buns, their expressions dark as if they had swallowed dung.
The crowd in the stands erupted into laughter.
"There's no need to guess who did that."
"Hahaha! Slapped clean off the stage one after another!"
"What humiliation. Better to be cut by a sword than to be defeated by a single palm…"
Those swollen-cheeked victims groaned in humiliation, wishing they could bury themselves in the ground. For cultivators, defeat by force was acceptable, even admirable. But to be publicly slapped down like children… it was a humiliation etched into the marrow.
From the initial one hundred and sixty contestants, only fifteen figures still stood upon the arena platform.
Five more than intended had been eliminated in the chaos.
After all, if there had been more than twenty remaining, that would have been a problem. Less was never an issue in the cultivation world. The path of the Dao was always merciless—those unable to stand simply had no right to remain.
Hu Feng slowly rose from his seat.
"The first round is finished. For the second stage, each of you shall fight in one-on-one duels. This will no longer be chaos, but a pure test of strength. Only the top 3 will be accepted into the Inner Court."
Lin Chen swept his gaze over the fourteen remaining. The strongest one had already stepped into the Second Stage of Essence Forging, while the weakest stood at the Ninth Stage of Root Vein. They were, without a doubt, the true elites of the outer sect.
'The first position is within my grasp,' Lin Chen thought, his eyes steady. He had already set his sights on the first prize—the Red Lotus Fruit.
Since fifteen remained. One lucky participant would gain a free pass for the next round, spared from the first round of duels. Fortune had smiled upon him this day. With nothing pressing, he rose from the platform and returned to the audience seats.
No sooner had he sat than a hand landed on his shoulder.
"Brother Lin! Truly remarkable!" The voice slithered into his ear, dripping with oily warmth. "To defeat every opponent with but a single strike—invincible, invincible! One could almost call you a dragon among men!"
Lin Chen's eyes narrowed. He didn't need to turn his head; that greasy tone belonged to none other than Yan Shou—the very swindler who had tricked him days before.
"Don't call me brother," Lin Chen said flatly "You're a swindler, I'm the victim. Were it not for my generous nature, your face would already resemble a pig's head. Don't test me—I'm not afraid to add another swollen cheek to today's collection."
Yan Shou chuckled lightly, entirely unperturbed. "Ai, Brother Lin, you wound me! A mere mid-grade spirit stone… why hold a grudge over sesame seeds and melon rinds? Business is business. Gains for some, losses for others—this is the way of heaven! Are we not all fellow disciples beneath the same sky?"
Lin Chen sneered. "Spoken like every petty thief beneath the heavens. When the sheep complains, the wolf says it's just the law of the jungle. Always the same story: one man's 'business,' another man's blood."
Of course, you might wonder why Lin Chen was so petty over one mid-grade spirit stone. The truth was simple—the so-called "precious intelligence" Yan Shou sold him turned out to be common gossip, information you could hear by standing in the mission hall for five breaths.
With a mid-grade spirit stone, one could buy two low-grade healing pills. To Lin Chen, it wasn't money lost—it was being played for a fool that stung the most.
Yan Shou, however, was thick-skinned as city walls. His eyes glinted like a fox spotting an unattended chicken coop. He leaned in close, lowering his voice conspiratorially.
"Brother Lin… what if I told you there was an opportunity? No bloodshed, no risk, no unspeakable deeds. Just pure profit. A chance to fatten up your purse. Interested?"
Lin Chen glanced at Yan Shou, uncertain about what this fellow was plotting. But listening cost nothing—better to see what scheme this fox was spinning.
"You see, Brother Lin, all the disciples are certain that Xu Feng will claim victory in this tournament."
Lin Chen raised an eyebrow. "Xu Feng?"
"The one who has already stepped into the Second Stage of Essence Forging," Yan Shou explained, eyes gleaming. "His strength is unmatched in the outer court. Everyone believes he is the destined victor."
"Oh… that guy," Lin Chen thought casually. If Xu Feng possessed no hidden tricks, no strange techniques, then Lin Chen was confident. Victory was not beyond his grasp.
"So, Brother Lin, are you interested in gambling? You wish to bet on Xu Feng?"
Around the arena, the wagers had already been decided—organized, naturally, by Yan Shou himself. Disciples had gone mad, hurling spirit stones, pills, talismans, even family heirlooms into the pot, all staking their hopes on one name: Xu Feng.
Yan Shou's storage ring was so full it jingled whenever he walked. Ninety percent of the outer sect had staked their fortunes on Xu Feng's so-called "inevitable victory."
'Such confidence,' Yan Shou mused, nearly choking on his own laughter. 'Such glorious, money-making ignorance! Like moths rushing into the flame.'
But here lay the catch: if Xu Feng truly won, Yan Shou's profits would vanish into smoke—his role as bookmaker reduced to nothing but wasted effort and a hollow reputation.
Yet if Xu Feng were to fall, if some unexpected dark horse seized victory, then the mountain of stakes would collapse into his hands.
That was when his eyes fell upon Lin Chen—calm, unshaken, sending disciples flying with a single effortless strike.
The sight made his merchant's instincts stir so violently that he almost laughed aloud. Four days ago, when he first met this guy, he had a faint gut feeling—like the itch of a coin hidden at the bottom of a pouch—that this one might be useful for the thing he desired most.
'Yes,' Yan Shou thought, lips curling. 'This is the one. The lunatic who can turn dust into gold. He is the key to my dream.'
"No. I will not bet on Xu Feng. I will bet… on myself."
Yan Shou froze for half a breath, then forced a look of concern, his voice dripping with false pity.
"Brother Lin, don't overestimate yourself. You are only at the First Stage. Xu Feng has already reached the Second. The difference is as clear as the moon and the firefly. Heaven and earth are not so easily bridged."
But inside, Yan Shou was grinning.
'He's serious! This lunatic is actually serious! The heavens bless me—such people only appear once in a century!'
"Lin Chen versus Lu Xie."
The announcer's voice rang out.
"It seems… it's my time," Lin Chen With a fluid leap, he vaulted from the audience's seat into the arena.
As he landed, his gaze fell upon his opponent. A young woman—average in appearance, seemingly unremarkable—stood across from him.
Her cultivation level was the same as his: 1st stage of Essence Forging.
Lin Chen's gaze lingered for a moment. A girl…? The thought slipped into his mind, and hesitation stirred within him.
Despite having crossed into this world, the habits of his previous life had not disappeared. On Earth, striking a woman was shameful, dishonorable-something was ingrained deep in him. Perhaps… I shouldn't go too hard…
Before his thoughts could settle, Lu Xie's cold voice broke the silence.
"Hmph! Don't think you're above me simply because you're a man!"
Her tone was sharp, her eyes filled with disdain, as if she looked down on him entirely.
Lin Chen's eyes narrowed slightly. That brief hesitation in his heart instantly vanished. Instead, amusement flickered within him, soon mixing with irritation.
She was no longer merely a girl in his mind. She had just elevated herself to a new category altogether: the bitch category. Her words demanded correction, a lesson in humility.
So be it, Lin Chen thought, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. If she insists on proving herself, then I'll teach her a lesson. Equality works both ways, after all.
Flexing his fingers, Lin Chen tilted his head slightly, his smile deepening.
"Ultimate move…" he muttered under his breath, almost playfully.
"…Bitch Slap."
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Also, if you have any ideas or suggestions for the story, feel free to share them in the comments — I'd love to hear your thoughts.
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