Chapter Sixty-Five: I Am Here!

In the heart of the valley, the grand competition pressed on.

Sixteen groups, with a total of one hundred and sixty disciples from the Dust Sect, had each fought their first match, and now the second round was underway.

From the first to the eighth group, disciples swapped opponents and had already completed their second bouts. Among these, the most astonishing battle was undoubtedly between Wu Yu, an outer disciple, and Fei Chong, the favored student of the Outer Sect’s Grand Elder.

The two met in their respective second fights, but the victor was not Fei Chong, as many had predicted, but the unassuming Wu Yu.

In that match, Wu Yu revealed a trump card he hadn’t used against Linghu Jinjiu—a mid-grade defensive artifact called the Storm Sand Robe, the origins of which were a mystery. Lacking the necessary offensive power, Fei Chong was ultimately defeated.

As one might imagine, Ning Jiuyi’s expression was far from pleasant.

Linghu Jinjiu, on the other hand, looked on with barely suppressed glee, a wicked grin playing on his lips.

Both Linghu Jinjiu and Yang Xiaoman secured victories in their second matches.

By this point, it was the seventh day, and once again, it was the turn for disciples from groups nine to twelve to take the stage.

...

“The first match, ninth group—Zhang Qiuchi versus Xu Jianyu!”

The steward disciple announced in a clear, ringing voice.

Because Fang Junmei had not arrived, this was Zhang Qiuchi’s first contest. His opponent, Xu Jianyu, was an outer disciple at the late Dust Stage.

This fight immediately drew the attention of nearly every cultivator present.

Like Wu Yu, Xu Jianyu spent most of his time adventuring outside the sect; his fighting style was bold and fierce. But luck was not on his side.

While he wielded three or four lower-grade artifacts with considerable skill, he possessed nothing of higher quality, and his opponent, Zhang Qiuchi, was an even more formidable adversary than Fei Chong.

Within moments, Xu Jianyu was reduced to defending himself, unable to strike back.

“The top spot in this group will almost certainly go to Zhang Qiuchi, and it’s very likely he’ll advance undefeated,” Linghu Jinjiu remarked wistfully, taking a sip of wine.

Yang Xiaoman nodded in agreement. “Fang Junmei has already forfeited one match. Even if he manages to show up today, the only safe path is to win every remaining bout—but that’s impossible.”

As she finished, Yang Xiaoman shook her head with a smile, not quite sure herself why the conversation had turned to Fang Junmei.

Linghu Jinjiu nodded as well, his gaze growing somewhat complex, as if lost in thought.

Van Lanzhou, sitting before them, showed no reaction, his eyes as deep and unreadable as ever; his group’s trials hadn’t yet begun.

Since Long Jinyi’s departure, he had grown rapidly, now possessing the bearing of a true lead senior apprentice—reserved, composed, and rarely smiling.

...

Idle chatter aside, after another half a cup of tea’s time, the fierce duel concluded with Zhang Qiuchi’s victory, as expected.

“Second match, ninth group...”

“Third match, ninth group...”

...

“Fourth match, ninth group...”

The bouts proceeded one after another.

At last, it was time for the final match of the day for the ninth group.

“Fifth match, ninth group—Fang Junmei versus Qiao Zhenhai.”

Again, the steward disciple’s voice rang out.

From the ranks of the outer disciples, an elderly man stood—Qiao Zhenhai. His face was calm, though his eyes gleamed with delight. Fang Junmei still hadn’t arrived, so victory was his by default—who wouldn’t be pleased?

All eyes turned toward Van Lanzhou.

Van Lanzhou frowned slightly and began to speak, “For this match, once again—”

“Second Senior Brother, I’ll trouble you no further. I am here, and I will fight!”

Before Van Lanzhou could finish, a voice cut him off.

It came from above, bold and resonant, brimming with indomitable spirit. Power laced the words, rolling through the sky like thunder.

Everyone was startled, turning toward the sound.

...

Not far off, a figure streaked through the sky, riding a sword.

Clad in snow-white robes, black hair streaming behind him, tall and imposing, with bold, arched eyebrows and eyes alight with excitement and burning intensity—Fang Junmei looked more radiant than ever.

At last, Fang Junmei made his entrance, and in that instant, many cultivators found themselves captivated by his presence.

Among the visiting cultivators from the three affiliated sects, all of whom had once visited the Luofu Sword Sect, the transformation in Fang Junmei was striking—he seemed reborn.

“This young man... Perhaps he truly will be a remarkable cultivator in the future. The three of us failed to recruit him back then—will we come to regret it?” thought Nangong Cheng, sighing inwardly.

Van Lanzhou and his companions were naturally delighted to see Fang Junmei awake, as was Song Shede from the Medicine King Peak.

But the most stunned of all was the elder Chunyu Qian.

Fang Junmei was awake?

He was awake?

What did this mean?

Chunyu Qian stared, dumbfounded, unable to still the trembling in his heart.

...

Fang Junmei clenched his fists, his gaze settling on Qiao Zhenhai, a surge of battle spirit rising within him.

Swish!

...

Just then, a figure tore through space and appeared before Fang Junmei, an overwhelming aura stopping him in his tracks and even pushing him back a step.

“Boy, what have you realized? Did you succeed?”

It was, of course, Chunyu Qian, who barked his questions with a frantic energy, almost seeming unhinged. Realizing something, he then snapped, “Don’t say a word. I’ll see for myself!”

Before he’d even finished speaking, he seized Fang Junmei’s wrist, sending a thread of spiritual sense into his body to investigate.

The other cultivators in the valley paused in surprise at the scene, but quickly recalled that Fang Junmei had fallen unconscious testing medicine for Chunyu Qian. Now that he was awake, the old man’s inquiries must concern that very matter, and their curiosity was piqued.

What sort of pill could so unbalance a master of the Dragon Gate Stage like Chunyu Qian?

At this juncture, the grand competition came to a halt.

...

Fang Junmei allowed himself to be examined.

After only a few breaths, a torrent of emotions flickered in Chunyu Qian’s eyes—shock, wild joy, confusion, an oddness, even disappointment. Clearly, what he found within Fang Junmei left his feelings tangled and complex.

“Senior brother, there’s something I must discuss with you. Let’s pause the competition here,” Chunyu Qian said, his gaze flashing as he suddenly turned to Tianhe Daoist, his expression calm yet grave.

All present were taken aback.

“Why?” Tianhe Daoist asked coolly.

Chunyu Qian said no more aloud, instead conveying his message via spiritual transmission, his face growing ever more severe.

Tianhe Daoist’s expression gradually hardened, his aged features tightening, a sharp light flickering in his eyes.

No one knew what was said, but after dozens of heartbeats, neither moved.

...

Finally, Tianhe Daoist withdrew his gaze, pondered a moment, then swept his eyes over the assembly.

“Due to certain matters, the competition will pause here. Once I return, I will render a decision. Fellow disciples, I leave things in your care,” he announced.

With that, he rose, apologized to Nangong Cheng and his companions, and prepared to leave on a cloud.

Remembering something, he turned once more to Van Lanzhou. “Lanzhou, you come as well.”

Van Lanzhou blinked in surprise, then nodded and followed.

The four of them departed.

The rest of the crowd was left bewildered, sensing that something significant was unfolding.

Thus, the match that might have been Fang Junmei’s moment to shine was abruptly interrupted, and no one could guess what would happen next.