Chapter Sixty-Seven: The Grand Tournament Begins

Yingxue took the jade slip, and as soon as her consciousness entered it, her face bloomed with delight. She thought to herself, What a marvelous spell! If I can master it, I might be able to contend with Bai Ruyu on equal footing. Why would he give me such a precious gift? Could it be that he has feelings for me? It must be so—why else would he go to such lengths? But I, beautiful, generous, and of outstanding talent, would never be swayed by such things. To win my heart, he has a long way to go! He isn’t even handsome, and his aptitude is average—so why do I keep thinking about him?

Her cheeks glowed like ripe apples. Ge Qian, noticing her expression, frowned with concern and asked, "Senior Sister, what's wrong? Is there something odd about this spell?"

He thought Yingxue had become enraptured in comprehending the spell and was unable to extricate herself, so he spoke up to remind her.

Yingxue, a little flustered, replied, "Junior Brother, this 'Flame Drill' is exquisitely subtle. If I can comprehend it thoroughly, it will surely make me shine in tomorrow's competition. There's not much time left, so I must take my leave for now. After the competition, let us catch up properly!"

With a graceful smile, she mounted her sword and soared away, heading straight for Fire Wave Peak.

Ge Qian watched her departing figure, a satisfied smile on his face, feeling as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. The reason he had done this was to resolve a debt of karma. Owing Yingxue a favor had sown the seeds, and by gifting her the supreme magical weapon, the "Flame Lance," he had now repaid the fruit.

Good deeds are rewarded, evil deeds punished. The cycle of the six realms, the endless turning of fate—there is a destiny ordained in the unseen. Even if a debt remains unpaid in this life, it must be settled in the next. Though a good cause does not always bring a good reward, and an evil fruit does not always bring punishment, there are many uncertainties and mysteries in the laws of fate—rules that Ge Qian could not yet comprehend. Still, he had touched upon the threshold of karmic reincarnation, though he had not yet found the way to enter.

Ge Qian wished to avoid entangling himself in too many karmic debts. The tender shoot in his dantian was itself a cause; how he would one day repay this fruit remained a complete mystery. Such a defiant existence surely would not have appeared in his dantian for no reason. Thus, he knew he must strengthen himself and, in the end, cast off the tender shoot—only then would his destiny be truly his own, and not Heaven's.

Suddenly, he gained a new insight into karma. Sitting cross-legged once more, he closed his eyes in silent meditation, hoping to open the door that blocked his way.

At dawn the next day, the deep, sonorous sound of the bell rang out—"Dang…"—and Ge Qian opened his eyes. Regretfully, the door still would not open. At that moment, streaks of sword-light flashed overhead—the gathering bell. It seemed the competition was about to begin.

Ge Qian mounted his sword and flew straight to the plaza.

The vast plaza, spanning several acres, was now filling as disciples landed one after another, each quietly finding their place. At the front, on towering stands, row after row of seats were occupied by the elders of the Star Sect—cultivators at the Foundation Establishment stage. Behind them, five even higher stands stood, occupied by the judges for this event: five grand elders at the Core Formation stage.

The five Core Formation grand elders presided over the competition, lending it unprecedented grandeur. This year, the host was Dai Yue, master of Fire Wave Peak.

She was dressed in a golden ceremonial robe, elegant and dignified, exuding poise and confidence as she looked down upon the assembled disciples, her manner fulfilled and resolute. With a gentle movement, she rose gracefully into the air, her late Core Formation aura surging in waves, coalescing into a mighty presence. Those with less composure immediately lowered their heads, not daring to meet her gaze.

Dai Yue's smile was enchanting, her aura commanding, as she spoke: "I am this year's host, Dai Yue, master of Fire Wave Peak. In the spirit of fairness and impartiality, we shall select the outstanding talents of our sect. The rules remain unchanged: any Qi-Gathering stage disciple who enters the top ten will receive a Foundation Establishment Pill, and a month of instruction from the Elder of Transmission. The top three will also be awarded supreme spiritual artifacts. Any disciple over thirty years of age may not compete. All others will compete in an elimination format, dueling on stage. No killing of fellow disciples is allowed; bouts must cease when victory is clear. When one yields, the other must not attack. The ten arenas before you are your stage. I hereby declare the competition open!"

Core Formation cultivators could stand suspended in the air unaided, flying without the aid of any treasure—testament to their great power. Dai Yue hovered above, speaking with poise and flair. Her voice, though not loud, rang in every disciple's ears like thunder, stirring their blood—Foundation Establishment Pills, supreme artifacts—who would not covet such treasures? The disciples' spirits soared, and the air rang with their excited cheers.

Dai Yue nodded in satisfaction, waved her hand to signal the opening of the tournament, and returned to the main stand in a flash.

Impatient disciples were already flying onto the arenas, issuing their challenges.

The arenas stood ten zhang high and spanned a hundred zhang in diameter, each shrouded in a protective array so that the spells cast during the duels would not spill outside.

Ge Qian stood quietly in an inconspicuous spot among the crowd, observing the grand elders and elders on the stands, his thoughts inscrutable.

Just then, a burly man approached—his face pale, but his stride steady. It was none other than Ye Feng, young master of the Ye family.

He smiled faintly at Ge Qian and said, "Junior Brother Ge, I trust you have been well? You fell back to the sixth layer of Qi-Gathering, yet you refined my 'Earth Spirit Pearl' so quickly—are you concealing your cultivation?"

"Senior Brother Ye, what do you mean? The 'Earth Spirit Pearl' is mine now, after all," Ge Qian replied ambiguously.

Ye Feng laughed. "Well said. I'll be honest with you—Junior Brother, I think you have a good chance of making the top three this time, but first place will surely go to Senior Sister Bai. If you see her, you’d best surrender immediately, lest you embarrass yourself. As a friend, I’m warning you—she has a devastating weapon. Take care of yourself."

Ge Qian smiled and nodded, thinking to himself, This Ye Feng is truly infatuated with Bai Ruyu. He’s trying to undermine my confidence so I’ll slip up in the competition—how considerate of him. Out loud, he said, "Don’t worry, Senior Brother. There are so many hidden talents in the sect, I might not even make the top ten. Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to the arena."

With that, he mounted his sword and flew onto one of the arenas. The current arena master was a tall, thin man at the peak of the Qi-Gathering stage, wielding a top-grade magical golden flying blade that circled around him, forming rings of golden light.

The tall man glanced at Ge Qian—an ordinary face, merely at the sixth layer of Qi-Gathering—and said, "I am Zhang Jiu of Clear Water Peak. Junior Brother, are you here to register?"

Ge Qian smiled slightly. "So it’s Senior Brother Zhang. I am Ge Qian from the Medicine Garden, here to learn from you."

"Please," Zhang Jiu replied, already having won one bout, his momentum fierce and unyielding.

Ge Qian said no more and unleashed a mid-grade flying sword, slashing forward.

Zhang Jiu had been prepared for a fierce contest, but upon seeing the mid-grade weapon, his heart settled. His opponent was a whole stage lower, and his weapon was inferior by a grade—this match was already decided. He directed his golden blade to entwine with the flying sword.

What excited him further was that, with such a low-stage opponent, and one so clumsy in combat, he was undoubtedly facing someone who had never truly been tested in life and death. His supreme-grade flying blade was snatched from an enemy at great risk—its might tremendous. Facing such a novice, there was no rush to win; instead, he toyed with Ge Qian like a cat with a mouse.

Ge Qian appeared completely outmatched, sweating profusely as he struggled, danger looming at every turn. Anyone with sense could see his defeat was only a matter of time. Cries of support for Zhang Jiu rose one after another, not ceasing, and he was enjoying his moment in the spotlight.

Ye Feng frowned, astounded. What on earth is Ge Qian up to? He could defeat his opponent instantly, yet he’s pretending to be weak—what a disgrace.