The leader of the Long Plain Sect hovered in mid-air, robe fluttering—as a mid Core Formation cultivator, his presence overwhelmed like an overcast sky. This person was one Li Su was familiar with. Even Huo Zixun had crossed paths with him before.
The two calmly stepped out from their room, and now stood face to face with the Long Plain Sect head. Li Su was the first to speak, “Shi Tong, it’s been ten years since we last met at Tunqi Pond, hasn’t it?” Shi Tong’s expression tightened slightly.
He didn’t yet realize that Li Su had already broken through to the late Core Formation stage. As he scrutinized him, his gaze landed on Huo Zixun at his side, who too had achieved flight—that meant he'd also stepped into Core Formation.
With a cold laugh, Shi Tong said, “The True Spirit Sect has long lingered in your Secluded Valley, and now so many fortuitous updates come at once. Yet none of them are shared with us outsiders. You had us come empty-handed, with no proper gift prepared.”
In the past, words like these would have caused Li Su to fume inwardly. But today, in such great spirits, he simply brushed it off. He opted to get to the point, stating, “Fellow Daoist Shi, what your sect has delivered is a challenge letter, not a congratulatory token.
Clearly, you haven’t come to celebrate anything. There's no value in exchanging barbs—better to send your fine disciples down, and not leave them standing there idle.” Huo Zixun stood silently beside him, face cold and stern, harboring old resentments between the two sects.
Among the major sects in the Southern Region, the Long Plain Sect was considered bottom-tier. That is, until the last grand duel between Foundation Establishment cultivators, when the weakened True Spirit Sect suffered a shameful defeat.
Out of ten representatives from each side, the True Spirit Sect had three cultivators at the late Foundation stage, but only Huo Zixun claimed victory. Among their seven mid-stage participants, a mere two managed a win.
The only consolation was that Shi Tong’s personal disciple—Geng Tianqin, who was also champion of Long Plain’s last Foundation ranks—was defeated at Huo Zixun’s hands. Ten years later, Huo Zixun had broken through to Core Formation, while Geng Tianqin remained stuck at the Foundation level. So, by all measure, True Spirit now had the upper hand again.
Shi Tong’s face twisted with resentment and unwilling defiance. He replied, “Of course we’re here to fight! It just so happens that we’ve also brought several promising disciples with us who’ve long admired the grandeur of the True Spirit Sect and have come today to engage in a proper Daoist debate!”
With that said, he turned away and walked back toward the glazed vessel they had arrived in. From the cloud bridge connecting both sect ships, streams of youthful disciples crossed over. From the look of it, they were all at the eighth or ninth layer of Qi Refining.
They moved in formation like stars revolving around the moon, centered around a young girl wielding a saber. Previously, the accompanying Qi Refining disciples of the True Spirit Sect had always been handpicked by elders—usually no more than eleven or twelve. But now, the sect had changed its approach, choosing twenty disciples through internal competitions, all hand-selected elites.
Each of them carried an aura of pride and sharp bearing. But this arrogance didn’t stem from their master’s lineage—it came from their own hard-earned strength. From the moment they appeared, they already intimidated the disciples of Long Plain into a moment of pause.
In duels between junior disciples, Core Formation cultivators were expected to simply observe and not interfere. Zheng Chenqing stepped forward, the leader of the twenty Qi Refining disciples, strolling up with clasped hands in greeting.
“Zheng Chenqing, of the True Spirit Sect.”
One of the disciples on the opposing side stepped out and returned the gesture.
“Meng Yuan, from the Long Plain Sect.”
Since the battle was to take place aboard the True Spirit Sect’s vessel, Zheng Chenqing, as host, had the responsibility to take the lead. He asked courteously, “May I ask how your sect proposes to debate the Dao? We of the True Spirit Sect shall comply with whatever method you choose.”
Meng Yuan raised an eyebrow, answering coolly, “It’s very simple. Our Long Plain Sect has twenty disciples just like yours. We propose five rounds of platform duels, four-on-four per round.
Losers step down, winners hold the platform. The one who stands last for each round claims a win for their sect. First to three wins takes the match.
What say you?” The rules were fair enough. Zheng Chenqing nodded in agreement, and the two sects began arranging their teams.
Among the True Spirit disciples, six had advanced over the past year and a half, so they now had fourteen ninth-layer Qi Refining disciples and six at the eighth layer. Zhao Chun’s cultivation had caught up swiftly—no longer considered lower end by any measure. As for Long Plain, their participants were also clearly chosen by merit of combat prowess.
They had thirteen ninth-layer disciples, only one fewer than True Spirit. Zheng Chenqing, upright in character and with little scheming nature, arranged his groups accordingly. Four teams were assigned three ninth-layer disciples and one at the eighth.
The final team was composed of two ninth-layer and two eighth-layer disciples. Zhao Chun was placed in this last team. However, no one in the True Spirit Sect considered hers to be the weakest group.
After all, Zhao Chun had defeated eighth-layer enemies when she herself was only at the sixth. Now that she had reached the eighth layer, her fighting strength surely rivaled the ninth! Long Plain did not understand this nuance.
At face value, any team with only two ninth-layer members was deemed weaker. Once grouping was complete and the teams were lined up, several disciples from the True Spirit Sect exchanged scornful looks. Long Plain’s intention had become clear—they had packed all thirteen of their ninth-layer disciples into just three groups.
With only three wins required out of five, their plan was to bulldoze through those first three rounds. The other two groups they arranged each had just one ninth-layer disciple, while the rest were all eighth-layer. Zhao Chun, inwardly, could not help but scoff.
So this is a Tian Ji’s Horse tactic, eh? Then today, I’ll trample you here and now. We’ll see what you’ll do.
Dishonorable as it seemed, for Long Plain, winning the duel mattered far more than preserving dignity. Meng Yuan nodded slightly, signaling readiness.
“Both sides are prepared. Shall we begin at once?”
“Of course,” Zheng Chenqing responded with a nod.
“Since we are hosts and you are guests, our side will initiate the first round.”
With that, he gracefully floated onto the stage, extending one arm forward in an inviting stance. Opposing him was none other than the one who had spoken with him earlier—Meng Yuan. Zheng Chenqing cultivated the finest techniques of the True Spirit Sect, inherited from the Sect Master’s own lineage.
As a water-element spell cultivator, his aura surged, flowing like hidden waves—turbulent and deep! He had clearly made tremendous strides—Zhao Chun noted this quietly, judging his current strength had far surpassed what it was beforehand. The stronger she herself grew, the better her senses during observation of fights.
From where she stood, she could already tell that Meng Yuan was no match for Zheng. Even Meng Yuan knew this. Nonetheless, platform duels had their function—even a loss could serve a greater purpose.
If one could not win, then one must force the opponent to reveal techniques and deplete their Qi reserves. Zheng Chenqing understood this tactic as well. He intended to win quickly and decisively.
But with Meng Yuan dodging at every turn, it took dozens of exchanges before he finally wore himself out and retreated. In theory, a contestant could retain their position by defeating each new challenger. However, no matter how powerful, sustained attrition drained the best of cultivators.
Zheng Chenqing, who had defeated three opponents, finally withdrew at the fourth round, exhausted. Even so, such a record drew astonished gazes from many on the opposing side. In particular, the saber-wielding girl from Long Plain had a flicker of anticipation in her eyes, as though meeting a worthy opponent.
Too bad she wasn’t part of the first group and wouldn't get the chance. With Zheng having taken down three before stepping out, the first match was easily claimed by the True Spirit Sect. However, the tide turned in the next two rounds.
Long Plain’s tactics proved insidious—each time sending four ninth-layer fighters to press their advantage. Though Zhuang Kun and Fang Cairan held their own and defeated two between them, the lone eighth-layer disciple on their team couldn’t stand up to the pressure. Thus, Long Plain took rounds two and three.
By the fourth round, the opponents were all at the eighth Qi Refining stage—no match for the True Spirit team, who handily won, evening out the score. Finally came the fifth and deciding round. Zhao Chun’s team had two ninth-layer cultivators—though not on par with Zheng or Zhuang, their foundations were solid.
They now faced a Long Plain team with just one ninth-layer disciple. By all reasoning, this should’ve been a straightforward win. Yet it was at this crucial moment that the expressions on their opponents’ faces were eerily calm—completely lacking tension.
(End of Chapter)