Chapter 11#

The standout competitors who had advanced to the second round came from all corners of the land, and naturally they were less bound by the conventions of dueling against cultivators of common elemental affinities.

The rankings were calculated separately according to the elemental affinity of the final selected cultivators, and the Floating Water Sword was the third-place prize for water-attribute spirit cultivators at the Sword Tournament.

In terms of talent and strength, he was no slouch among the water-attribute spirit cultivators. Comparing himself against Yu Ling, who had claimed the Floating Water Sword in his past life, he knew the sword was as good as his.

But he would not underestimate his opponent.

He looked down at the lottery slip in his hand and slowly closed his five fingers around it.

By the time Yu Lin came back to his senses, his opponent had already stepped onto the stage.

The opponent had a head of red hair cascading loosely down his back. He tapped his fingers lightly against the blade of the sword in his grip and looked at Yu Lin with undisguised contempt.

With each tap of his fingers, red flames licked up from the sword, reflected in his eyes as twin sparks of crimson light.

A sect badge was fastened to his chest. Yu Lin’s gaze sharpened when he saw it.

The Shanhai Sect was composed entirely of spirit cultivators — yet it was one of the rare, reclusive sects shrouded in mystery, its location virtually unknown to the outside world.

So Yu Lin had no way of gauging this person’s true strength.

He turned the thought over in his mind and tightened his grip on his sword, readying himself for the fight.

He settled into his stance, then swept out his arm, channeling his spiritual power into the blade and sending it surging forth in the shape of a dragon to entangle his opponent. But to the red-haired man, it seemed no more than a parlor trick.

The red-haired man let out a derisive chuckle and made no move to dodge. He simply extended his right hand, and a cluster of flames erupted in his palm, burning brighter and brighter.

The water dragon formed from Yu Lin’s spiritual power dissolved the instant it reached him, scattering into wisps of water that were drawn into the fire and consumed.

His attack had been snuffed out without a sound.

Yu Lin’s eyes flew wide open. In his past life, no such figure had ever appeared — if they had, Yu Ling, that half-baked cultivator, would never have walked away with third place.

He pulled back half a step, then leaned forward, intending to close the distance and search for an opening.

In the next instant, Yu Lin lunged forward, his movements light and swift as a cat’s, weaving left and right until he left afterimages in the air.

Seeing him charge, the man showed not a trace of fear. He wore the same half-amused expression as before and unhurriedly traced a lazy arc with his sword — then, the moment Yu Lin drew near, he thrust forward without warning!

He had read Yu Lin’s position from among the afterimages and aimed the thrust straight for his heart.

Yu Lin reined in his expression and instinctively retreated, ducking to the side to narrowly evade the blow, then unleashed a palm strike aimed at the man’s waist with everything he had.

The man extended his arm to block, driving down against his attack. The two clashed hand to hand, trading blow after blow.

The man’s strength was formidable. After several exchanges, Yu Lin knew he could not match him in a straight contest of force. He launched himself into the air to put distance between them.

But just as he was about to pull away, the man’s hand shot out with startling speed and seized him by the wrist!

Yu Lin was airborne, and he tried to use the momentum of his leap to wrench himself free — but the man pressed two fingers together and placed them on his pulse point, channeling a stream of spiritual power into him.

The spiritual power was cloaked on the outside in a disguise of fiery red, but within it pulsed a mass of dark violet-black light.

It carried strange, ever-shifting markings that crept and writhed, deeply unsettling.

This was not fire-attribute spiritual power.

That sliver of power transformed into a blade, carving a thin, shallow cut at his pulse point.

Then, as if possessed of its own will, it followed the line of that tiny wound and burrowed into his body.

Waves of piercing pain radiated from his pulse. Yu Lin’s head swam, and his thoughts grew muddy and slow:

…Is this… spiritual power?

The texture of it was viscous and thick, nothing like the light, clean feel of ordinary spiritual power — so cloying and foul it made his stomach turn.

He turned his head mechanically to look at the red-haired man, and saw a smile playing at the corner of his lips, unreadable and opaque.

His head was buzzing, yet a suspicion had already taken shape in his mind. Before he could even fully sound the alarm within himself, his body reacted first.

His wrist went limp, strength draining away — he could no longer hold on to his sword. A sense of helplessness spread through every inch of him.

The mass of violet-black spiritual power traveled deeper through his channels, igniting his entire body from within, even the places he had bandaged aching with a dull, creeping pain.

Yu Lin tried to step away and leave — but his legs buckled, and he sank to his knees on the stage.

He braced both hands on his sword, pressing his full weight down onto it, and strained to stand.

He tried again and again, and each time he failed.

“Already defeated? Step down!”

“So this is the inner disciple of Fusheng Gate… such a far cry from his senior brother…”

The spectators in the stands simply assumed he had lost the fight. None of them paid close attention; they only pelted him with boos and jeers.

There is… a demonic cultivator…

Yu Lin parted his lips, but found his voice had gone hoarse — he could not make a sound.

Then a shadow fell over him from above. Yu Lin slowly raised his head, and his gaze met a pair of mocking eyes.

The man sauntered forward, bent down, and reached out to tip his chin up with his fingers. Then he leaned in close to Yu Lin’s ear and murmured: “And who do you expect to save you now?”

He let out a quiet laugh at that, pressed two fingers together, and slid his hand down to Yu Lin’s throat.

He lowered his gaze, running his fingers back and forth across Yu Lin’s neck twice, and was just about to press down — when a fierce gust of wind erupted from beside him.

Chongwu Immortal Lord sent a palm strike that drove him back, shielding Yu Lin behind him. “Since when has the Sword Tournament allowed demonic cultivators to slip inside?”

The demonic cultivator cast a swift, meaningful glance toward the high platform, then curved his lips in a smile that gave nothing away and offered no reply.

He looked out at the rising commotion in the stands and listened to the waves of shock and fear sweeping through the crowd, then quietly stepped back twice, preparing to take his leave — but Chongwu Immortal Lord had already seen through his intent.

Chongwu Immortal Lord formed a hand seal and unleashed it at him, and a pale golden, semi-transparent cage snapped into place around the demonic cultivator. Hard on its heels came a crushing pressure that forced the demonic cultivator to bow his spine!

The demonic cultivator clenched his jaw tight. The taste of blood spread through the gaps of his teeth, and then he coughed up a mouthful of it.

He threw back his head and burst into laughter, fixing his gaze on Chongwu Immortal Lord. “Why bother blocking me?”

Chongwu Immortal Lord withdrew the cage, and the people of Feijian Sect moved swiftly to subdue him. The demonic cultivator was shoved forward hard, and his body lurched.

“Who sent you?”

The demonic cultivator’s scarlet hair rippled in the wind. He only smiled lightly at Chongwu Immortal Lord and said nothing in reply.

Then, without another word, he closed his eyes and submitted himself to whatever fate had in store.

……

Chongwu Immortal Lord gathered Yu Lin into his arms and carried him horizontally, his gaze dropping downward.

By now Yu Lin was terribly weak. The delay had allowed the demonic energy to sink deeper and deeper into him. He lay with his lips faintly pressed together, his face drained of color, brow tightly knit, eyes closed as though drifting toward sleep.

Chongwu Immortal Lord carried him away and released a long sigh. “I’m only gone for a moment — how do you manage to get yourself into this state?”

Through the haze, Yu Lin opened his eyes slightly and stared blankly at the face before him — and met with the sight of Chongwu Immortal Lord’s displeased expression.

Chongwu Immortal Lord worked to purge the demonic energy from him, brow furrowed throughout. That frown hadn’t eased for the past several days.

Yu Lin said, his voice rough and low: “This is nothing.”

He looked haggard, eyes downcast, not meeting Chongwu Immortal Lord’s gaze. His slender shoulders gave sharp definition to the sheer, gauze-thin fabric of his robe.

Chongwu Immortal Lord was bewildered, and at the same time angered by Yu Lin’s careless disregard for himself. He was on the verge of speaking up to demand an explanation.

But Yu Lin offered none. He laughed softly at himself and turned his head away — then abruptly grimaced, and coughed up a mouthful of blood.

The blood that came out was black at first, then shifted to a vivid, startling red.

He pressed his lips together, yet more and more blood ran from the corner of his mouth, and then his nose began to bleed as well — drip, drip — spattering in dark drops across the snow-white bedding.

“Yu Lin? Yu Lin!”

Yu Lin turned his eyes mechanically, searching for the source of the voice. He saw Chongwu Immortal Lord, eyes faintly reddened, gripping his sleeve in both hands, expression rigid with alarm.

Yu Lin parted his lips, just about to say something, when he found he could not breathe properly.

The sounds in his ears grew more and more distant, more and more indistinct. He drew a sharp, desperate breath in an attempt to steady himself, but his breathing only grew more and more labored.

Within the span of a few breaths, he felt his consciousness grow cloudy, and his vision blurred along with it. Not long after, he lost consciousness entirely.