Chapter Eighty-Seven: The Arena Opens

A man in his forties appeared, his face marked by the passage of years, yet unable to conceal the murderous aura that surrounded him. He looked at Guihai Xin with contempt and laughed, “Old Guihai, you may be getting on in years, but you remain utterly foolish. This little Guihai City dares to compete with Yihua Sect for glory? How absurd. Today, there is no need for the maidens of Yihua Sect to dirty their hands; let me, Li San Shui, the Torrent that Washes Away Sand, teach you a lesson, you clueless fool!”

Guihai Xin smiled lightly. “You are an unknown whelp, whose name I’ve never even heard. To think you hope to challenge me—it is utter nonsense.”

Li San Shui was clearly a man of passionate temperament. Yihua Sect had stood for nearly a century on Linglong Continent as a spiritual order; it was impossible that it had no supporters beyond its own ranks. Furthermore, Yihua Sect was divided into inner and outer sects, with the outer sect allowing marriage. Thus, there were many male cultivators on Linglong Continent who practiced dual cultivation of spiritual power with Yihua Sect members, and Li San Shui was one of them. Hearing Guihai Xin dismiss him so utterly, Li San Shui was enraged, howling and shouting. With a swift motion, he drew a fish-scale blade from his back, shouting, “Old thief, you court death!” As he spoke, the blade, shimmering with spiritual light, flew toward Guihai Xin.

With Li San Shui’s attack, the Spirit Ascension Arena officially commenced, and the battle between Guihai City and Yihua Sect began.

The fish-scale blade, carrying a chill gleam, struck toward Guihai Xin's chest, but Guihai Xin remained serene. He turned his back to Li San Shui’s blade, and with a casual wave, released a surge of spiritual energy. With a thundering sound, Li San Shui was immediately forced back four or five steps. Seizing the opening, Guihai Xin drifted back to his own side’s grand seat.

Li San Shui’s face was flushed with anger. He shrieked, “Old Guihai, come down and face me!” Yet no amount of shouting could move the steadfast Guihai Xin, as immovable as a mountain.

“Don’t be so arrogant, young man. Let this old man come forth!” A voice rang out, like a dragon’s roar and a tiger’s cry, as a dignified elder flew from the Guihai viewing platform. Clad in green, the old man radiated authority.

Li San Shui snarled, “Who are you, and what right have you to die in place of Old Guihai?”

The old man stroked his beard. “To kill a chicken, one does not need a butcher’s knife. Someone of your insignificant stature dreams of challenging my old brother? You must first pass the trial of Ouyang Zhenghe!” The one who ascended the stage was none other than Ouyang Zhenghe, the master of the Hall of Righteousness—the nominally greatest faction among the nine sects and eighteen clans of Guihai City.

A man’s name, like the shadow of a tree, Ouyang Zhenghe was indeed a figure of note in Guihai City. Officially, Guihai Xin was the city master, but among the myriad classes and trades, everyone knew Ouyang Zhenghe was the true ruler here. The Hall of Righteousness had stood for decades and possessed deep roots in Guihai City.

Li San Shui sized up Ouyang Zhenghe. “Ah, so it’s Elder Ouyang. Very well, you have weight in Guihai City. If I can’t defeat Old Guihai today, I’ll vent my wrath for Yihua Sect’s maidens on you!”

“You impudent child, beware lest the wind cuts your tongue!” To Ouyang Zhenghe, Li San Shui was but a boy.

Li San Shui wasted no words. With a twist of his wrist, the fish-scale blade flashed with a burst of spiritual energy toward Ouyang Zhenghe. Ouyang Zhenghe barely moved; with a thunderous sound, a purple-gold spear shot from beneath his arm, and with a resounding clang, the spear’s tip struck Li San Shui’s blade. Li San Shui felt an immense wave of spiritual power surge against his weapon; he tried to withdraw, but it was too late. The blade buzzed violently, then with a crack, was shattered in two by the purple-gold spear.

The crowd erupted in cheers. Ouyang Zhenghe was indeed the pillar of Guihai City’s cultivators; this single move had already eclipsed all others. “Child, leave now. My old brother seeks to establish his sect and clan, and does not wish to kill or shed blood. Flee for your life.” Ouyang Zhenghe, having broken Li San Shui’s weapon with a single strike, did not pursue him, but stood with his spear, exuding the demeanor of a great master.

Li San Shui’s expression was grim. In desperation, he formed a series of seals with his hands. His robes billowed in the wind as a powerful surge of spiritual energy burst forth. From nowhere, a colossal wave rose and crashed toward Ouyang Zhenghe. “Old thief, I’ll drown you!” Li San Shui shouted.

Ouyang Zhenghe shook his head helplessly. With a flick of his purple-gold spear, he became a whirlwind, carving a path through the monstrous wave. With a splashing sound, the fearsome tide vanished, and the spear’s tip pierced Li San Shui’s throat. With a thud, the Torrent that Washes Away Sand collapsed dead upon the Spirit Ascension Arena.

The crowd was thrown into chaos; some cheered Ouyang Zhenghe, others raged at Li San Shui’s death. Upon the stage, Ouyang Zhenghe wore a look of satisfaction—indeed, among the nine sects and eighteen clans, sometimes one had to act personally. Today, the Hall of Righteousness would restore its prestige.

“Senior Sister, let me go!” A young girl, dressed in pale yellow feathers and braided hair, radiated murderous intent as she drew her treasured sword, preparing to rush onto the stage.

“Not yet, Wan’er. Be patient,” said Hong Lin, dressed in crimson, with a smile. “It’s not time yet, and besides, the old man isn’t a member of the Guihai family. We of Yihua Sect are not permitted to act.”

Before Huang Wan’er could protest, a blue shadow flew onto the stage—a young man, handsome and strong, weaponless. He spoke with calm ease: “Master Ouyang, you are indeed formidable. Allow me, Blue Swallow, to learn from your prowess!”

Ouyang Zhenghe wore an expression of disdain, but he had already resolved to fight fiercely today—if he didn’t kill seven or eight opponents, it would be hard to dispel the gloom of recent days. “Very well. Friends of Yihua Sect are indeed numerous. Let me, for my old brother’s sake, clear out you youngsters!”

Blue Swallow flicked his wrists, unleashing three swords of spiritual energy toward Ouyang Zhenghe. Ouyang Zhenghe spun his spear, and with a sudden shake, shattered the three spiritual blades. Riding this momentum, he thrust toward Blue Swallow with a humming sound. Blue Swallow felt the very air tremble before him; he knew he could not meet the attack head-on. Ouyang Zhenghe practiced an aggressive style of spiritual power—he would have to use his own specialties to face the old master. With this in mind, Blue Swallow pressed down with one foot and soared into the air.

Above the Spirit Ascension Arena, a blue shadow streaked across the sky, instantly sending several more spiritual energy swords flying toward Ouyang Zhenghe.