Shock!
Silence!
Even those who favored Jin couldn’t cheer.
Because everyone had seen it—
The truth behind the “victory.”
Jin Yuanzhan had barely won.
He had to burn his core, cripple himself, and expend a legendary artifact’s power… just to defeat a man one entire realm lower than him.
A man once considered a nobody.
Lin Xuan, lying there, bloodied and broken, had still struck the deepest blow of the match—
To Jin Yuanzhan’s pride.
Moreover, everyone knew that after this match, Jin Yuanzhan’s chance of winning the Dragon and Phoenix Competition was almost zero.
Gasps still lingered in the air like the fading embers on the stage.
“…He lost?”
“No… he won,” an elder muttered, eyes narrowed as he gazed at the scorched platform. “Even in defeat… he stole the spotlight.”
Lin Xuan’s body was carefully lifted off the stage by the medical team.
As they began preparing Grade-2 healing pills to stabilize him, a sharp voice cut through the air.
“Wait!”
Kong Zhanghong stepped forward.
With a flick of his wrist, a jade bottle flew through the air and landed gently in one of the medic’s hands.
“Use this instead,” he said. “Young Master Bai has given them. Feed it to Lin Xuan.”
The medics paused, startled. One of them opened the bottle and gasped.
“Grade-5 Healing Pills…”
There was no room for hesitation.
Bai Zihan’s name carried the weight of a mountain, and to refuse an order from him was unthinkable.
Not to mention, indeed Grade-5 Healing pills was far better than what they want to give to Lin Xuan as emergency treatment.
Without another word, they followed Kong Zhanghong’s instruction.
One of the Grade-5 pills was crushed and its powder dissolved into Lin Xuan’s system through a specialized technique since Lin Xuan can’t take it himself.
Almost instantly, a warm golden glow spread across his battered form.
Cracks in his meridians began to mend, the pallor of his skin lessened, and his chaotic breath gradually evened out.
The medics exchanged quiet glances.
The effect was remarkable. Far beyond what their prepared pills could have achieved.
“Stabilization complete!”
One of them reported softly, reverently.
And just like that, Lin Xuan—though unconscious—was no longer in critical danger.
The flames were gone. Jin Yuanzhan stood in the center of the arena, shoulders heaving, sweat pouring from every pore, his face pale beneath the lingering glow of his sunfire.
And yet all eyes were still on the one who lost.
Did he win or did he lose?
He questioned this for a long time, until he too collapsed from the exhaustion of his Qi and the overexertion of his strength.
Another medical team immedaitely rushed to help him as well.
***
Elder Qinglan’s eyes burned with quiet intensity as she watched Lin Xuan’s unconscious form being taken away from the arena.
“…That slash,” she finally said, her voice soft but razor-sharp, laced with Sword Intent. “The Ten Thousand Sword Nirvana Slash.”
She didn’t think that Tian Yuheng would have already taught this technique to Lin Xuan.
That practically meant that Tian Yuheng considered him as heir and was willing to pass down the position to Lin Xuan.
(That might be a problem!)
It wasn’t that she personally had a problem with Lin Xuan—neither with his character nor his talent.
Rather, it was his continued loyalty to Bai Zihan, still regarding him as his master, that troubled her.
If that remained unchanged in the future, the Heaven Sword Sect might well end up as nothing more than a lackey of the Bai Clan.
Still, recalling Yue Wushuang’s words and thinking deeper on the matter, she understood something else—the Desolate Heaven Empire might be far too small to contain someone like Bai Zihan forever.
In any case, there was still time before such worries became urgent.
For now, she could focus on guiding Lin Xuan, nurturing him carefully… and ensuring that, when the time came, he would prioritize the Heaven Sword Sect above all else—especially if he were to inherit the mantle of Sect Leader.
The disciples around her stiffened. Some had doubted their eyes; others simply didn’t recognize the technique for what it truly was.
Around her, shock and awe stirred the sect’s young disciples.
Many had sneered at Lin Xuan not long ago—a mere handyman, someone barely qualified to serve tea, let alone stand in the same arena as the rising stars of the empire.
And now?
He had become so strong that they might not be even in the same league.
Among the disciples frozen in disbelief, a few wore pale faces and trembled not from excitement but fear.
Those were the ones who had once mocked Lin Xuan openly—shoving him aside, stealing his resources, and ordering him around as they pleased, all out of jealousy over his appearance and how the girls fawned over him despite him being just a handyman.
They had spat on his robes, laughed at his humble origins, and made his days in the sect a quiet misery.
Now, they could barely breathe.
“…That technique…”
One muttered, his voice hoarse.
“How… How did he use it?”
Another disciple swallowed hard, his hand clutching at the front of his robe to hide the way it trembled.
“That’s a Heaven-grade technique. Even the Grand Elders never showed it in public.”
They all remembered how Lin Xuan used to bow his head and silently endure.
And they all remembered how they thought he would amount to nothing.
Now, he had stood toe-to-toe with the best prodigy of the Azure Sun Sect—and almost won.
A bead of cold sweat rolled down a senior outer disciple’s brow.
He had once kicked Lin Xuan for walking “too slowly” in the sect grounds. He had even broken the boy’s arm, calling it “discipline.”
(Please don’t remember me!)
That thought echoed in more than one mind.
(Please forget everything. I’ll never lay hands on anyone again. Please, please, let him never come for me.)
One even quietly clasped his hands in prayer toward the sky.
(I swear, I’ll never bully another soul again! Not even if they’re a spirit root cripple! I’ll even clean the sword pavilion voluntarily, just don’t let him come back looking for revenge.)
They didn’t know whether Lin Xuan would remember them—or whether he even cared.
But one thing was clear:
The boy they once looked down on had become someone terrifying.
Someone they could no longer reach… and never dared provoke again.
***
Elsewhere, cultivators from all walks of life debated fiercely.
“Did you see how he moved? Like he was the sword!”
“His footwork was insane… no wasted effort, no panic. I thought he was Soul Formation at first!”
“To think a Nascent Soul junior forced Jin Yuanzhan to burn his core and nearly cripple himself…”
“Forget the fight—that slash! It was like the sky tore open!”
“Lin Xuan. That’s his name, right? That’s not a name I’ll forget anytime soon. Pity that he lost so soon.”
…
“Master, that person… I have a sense famillarity with him.”
“…”
Du Changsheng didn’t reply immediately but indeed he also could sense an overwhelming talent from Lin Xuan.
“He is a very talent person perhaps he could also rise to become one of the Top Cutlviator.”
Du Changsheng complimented.
He didn’t expect that apart from Nie Fengzhuo and Bai Zihan, there was still so many people in such a remote place that they could be considered a Top genius of his time as well.
(Is this truly the Golden Generation of Cultivation?)
He thought to himself.
Seeing such Heavenly given talents, he couldn’t help but suspect this.
***
On the stage, the overseer had already moved on with the next match—but as expected, compared to the fierce and breathtaking duel between Lin Xuan and Jin Yuanzhan, it barely stirred a ripple in the crowd’s attention.
The matches continued in routine fashion. Most of the winners were exactly who people predicted—disciples from powerful sects or great clans easily overwhelming their lesser-known opponents.
And when it was two unfamiliar names facing off, the crowd simply chatted, dozed off, or left for refreshments.
The excitement had died down, and it showed.
Then finally came the turn of Nie Fengzhuo.
His opponent? A young cultivator from the Zhao Clan.
The Zhao cultivator stepped forward with a sneer, arms folded across his chest.
“Save yourself the humiliation. Surrender now and don’t waste everyone’s time.”
He, like everyone else, assumed this match would go just like the previous fifty-two—predictable, one-sided, with victory going exactly as expected.
Even the earlier match between Lin Xuan and Jin Yuanzhan, though thrilling and tense, had ended in the expected outcome.
And now, once again, no one expected anything different.
Nie Fengzhuo, however, said nothing. He simply drew his sword.
That silent confidence clearly irked the Zhao Clan cultivator—it implied that Nie Fengzhuo actually believed he could win.
“You’re just inviting humiliation!” he snapped.
The crowd watched, but without much interest. No one was holding out hope for a miracle.
However…
This time was different.
An upset!
Nie Fengzhuo won!
