Hongnong.
The banks of the Yuanhuai River, which flowed down from the mountain peaks, were ablaze with lanterns. During the season of the Tianyuan Grand Tournament, the mountain gate of the Sword Sect was always bustling with boundless energy. At this sunset hour, as the sun dipped toward the west, perhaps the liveliest districts were around Mingqian Ward and Changming Street.
The former was where mortals gathered in droves. During the tournament, the Sword Sect waived all commercial expenses across several neighboring streets to share the festive celebration with the common folk.
The latter, on the other hand, was where cultivators gathered. Clad in the robes of various sects, cultivators flew up and down, their laughter and noisy chatter drifting out from the clusters of elegant pavilions and taverns below. Solitary, eccentric rogue cultivators drank alone in silence, while striking young talents clinked cups with blushing fairy maidens amidst a haze of wine.
And beyond all this,
Discordant conflicts were also inevitable.
The Tianyuan Grand Tournament was a grand gathering for sects throughout the world.
Those capable of accompanying sect elders here were the foremost geniuses within their respective sects, all arrogant and brimming with pride. Upon arriving at such an event, youth naturally ran hot. Moreover, as it was the season of the grand tournament, the Sword Sect actively encouraged such clashes so long as no lives were lost.
As the date of the Tianyuan Grand Tournament drew near, representatives from various sects arrived at the mountain gate one after another. Some displayed their brilliance and sharp edge, while others had their sharp corners worn down and their pride broken.
Through these clashes, the geniuses gradually began to divide themselves into social circles, and by now, the various circles had largely taken shape.
At the apex of these circles, unsurprisingly, were the head disciples and scions from the great sects and powerful clans. Striking in appearance, profound in cultivation, and peerless in combat strength among their peers, wherever they went they were swarmed like queen bees.
Such as the Qin family of Jiangnan, Celestial Master Manor, the Nine Swords Sect, and the like.
The middle and lower tiers consisted of disciples from sects with some measure of influence who refused to curry favor. Most of them moved together with sects from the same province.
And at the very bottom were the rogue cultivators.
Most came harboring hopes of being recruited by a sect, but sect disciples inherently looked down upon these bumpkins.
Thus, the vast majority of conflicts before the tournament broke out between them and sect disciples. Regrettably, however, these clashes almost invariably ended in crushing defeats for the rogue cultivators.
Storybooks always claimed that rogue cultivators who fought their way up from the bottom possessed combat prowess far exceeding sect disciples of the same rank, but the problem was that storybook writers generally knew nothing of cultivation.
They never considered how staggering a rogue cultivator's martial talent would have to be to overcome the deficit when entirely overwhelmed in cultivation methods, combat techniques, and arts; they only cared about conveying the catharsis of an underdog's counterattack.
Beyond these three tiers, the rest belonged to a few specialized circles.
Such as those prodigies among rogue cultivators who, just like storybook plots, overturned sect disciples through sheer talent;
Specialized cultivators whose methods were irreplaceable, such as in alchemy, array formations, or artifact forging;
And lastly, those gifted with grand poetic talent.
Great Yan championed martial prowess, but favored literature just as much.
These three kinds of people were well appreciated by the uppermost circle. As long as they were willing, the true nobles did not mind having another follower by their side.
Once the circles naturally formed by the younger generation solidified, the remaining time was spent making merry together and waiting for the tournament, seeing which peerless genius would claim first prize in this grand event.
Every Tianyuan Tournament had been like this, and this session was no exception—yet today, that tranquility was shattered.
Shattered by the arrival of the Overseeing Heaven Pavilion's Saintess.
Clad in a Saintess's gold-trimmed white robe, with golden pupils and black hair, carrying an immaculate divinity, she paid no heed to anyone attempting conversation and stepped through the void, heading straight toward the jade halls atop the peak.
Her appearance sent surging waves through the hearts of the sect geniuses.
Because,
The young woman did not conceal her cultivation in the least.
A thousand years had passed since the Tianyuan Grand Tournament began. Excluding the years of the Sword Sect's decline, over a hundred tournaments had been held. Though formidable individuals who inspired dread had appeared several times, never had anyone displayed such crushing dominance as this Saintess.
Not even Xu Changge in his time was an exception.
After all, when the eldest son of the Prime Minister's Manor participated, his cultivation was merely at the Grandmaster Realm; geniuses of the same rank still dared to step up and challenge him—even if most ended up having their heads chopped off.
Regardless,
This Tianyuan Grand Tournament might witness an unprecedented spectacle:
Not a single person daring to take the stage.
Transcendent Realm.
Fuck fighting that.
Crude as it was, that was precisely what crossed most minds.
In all fairness, perhaps the Overseeing Heaven Pavilion Master's prophecy of calamity had come to pass, for the gathering of peerless geniuses from across the land at this tournament was practically the greatest in a millennium.
Geniuses of the human race were beginning to surge against the current in this chaotic era. Just out in the open, there were two Origin Realm talents eligible to compete, and there were bound to be even more lurking in the shadows, such as Ran Qingmo, the head disciple of the Sword Sect.
Gambling dens and well-informed meddlers had speculated endlessly on how various talents might win the tournament, never expecting that the competition would be killed off by the Saintess's mere first appearance.
As twilight faded, the night deepened within this bizarre atmosphere. The moon rose to the middle of the sky, where the bustling merriment of the commoners in the prosperous mountain city formed a stark contrast with the strange, oppressive silence among the sect disciples.
However, this oppression was limited only to the true nobility who had harbored hopes of competing for the championship; to the middle- and lower-tier sect disciples, the Saintess's arrival merely provided extra fodder for conversation.
"Mister Zhou, do you think the Saintess will actually enter the tournament?"
The winter night wind through the mountain forest was somewhat bleak and chilly. A group of young sect disciples sat around a brazier drinking tea beneath an elegant mountain pavilion, while Yuan Hao, an assassin general of the Prime Minister's Manor, sat squarely in the head seat.
Chief Lou had arranged a respectable identity for him, which, combined with his own cultivation, naturally drew a flock of middle- and lower-tier sect disciples to gather around him.
"Hard to say. But if the Saintess participates in this tournament, there won't be any need for us to fret over the outcome."
Hearing this, a busty woman in a palace gown beside him immediately chimed in:
"It is a pity you are past the age limit and cannot enter, Young Master Zhou. Otherwise, with your cultivation having reached the Origin Realm for many years, you could have contested against the Saintess."
Hearing this flattery, the corner of Yuan Hao's eye twitched uncontrollably.
Him?
Duel the Third Young Mistress?
Heh.
Maintaining the demeanor of an expert on the surface, Yuan Hao shook his head gently:
"Fairy Luo flatters me too much. The Overseeing Heaven Pavilion is a sect of ten thousand years; its methods are not something I can easily fathom."
As his words landed, the surrounding sect disciples promptly burst into praises: "Brother Zhou is truly humble," "In my opinion, Brother Zhou's ability is no weaker than Xu Changge's back then," leaving Yuan Hao utterly speechless.
Rather than forging ties with these flatterers, Yuan Hao preferred that sense of fated rivalry where heroes appreciated heroes. Unfortunately, such people were hard to come by.
So he could only make do.
The gathering continued in a harmonious atmosphere until a plump, well-to-do man sitting at the foot of the table suddenly asked:
"By the way, does everyone know the betting odds for the tournament over at the Mingxuan Gambling Den?"
The Mingxuan Gambling Den was established under the Sword Sect's backing, opening once every seven years solely to take wagers on the tournament, collecting the names of nearly all the young heroes across the realm.
This remark instantly piqued the interest of many present.
"What do you mean by that, Brother Ning?" someone asked.
The fat man surnamed Ning rubbed his hands together, speaking mysteriously:
"The odds for that Saintess winning the championship only surged to three-to-one today. Is anyone interested?"
Bet three taels to win one.
The odds were very low, but as long as the base amount was large enough, one could still turn a profit.
However, there was no such thing as free silver in the world. Someone laughed and countered teasingly:
"Transcendent Realm cultivation—forget three-to-one, if it could be confirmed she's competing, I'd say even three hundred-to-one wouldn't be excessive! But Brother Ning, do you have a source confirming she will definitely compete?"
Yuan Hao raised an eyebrow upon hearing this and asked curiously:
"This gambling den allows bets on people who haven't entered yet?"
Seated in the secondary seat, the woman surnamed Luo smiled, her eyes curving:
"Young Master Zhou may not be aware, but that too is part of the game here. The Mingxuan Gambling Den only collects the names of talents, adjusts the betting odds, and takes a cut; it cares about nothing else. Therefore, you can place bets regardless of whether someone participates or not."
The fat man surnamed Ning rubbed his hands with a beaming smile, adding:
"Take that treacherous Prime Minister, for example. In the Tianyuan Grand Tournament of his generation, after the master of the Prime Minister's Manor arrived in person at the Tianyuan Mountain Range, his odds surged to over a thousand-to-one at one point. After all, nearly everyone believed that so long as he took the field, the championship would surely be his. But in the end, he was merely accompanying a friend to watch, with no intention of entering the ring at all. Countless people lost their pants overnight because of that."
Yuan Hao said with a strange expression:
"The Grand Tournament is a grand gathering of top sects across the realm. The silver wagered must amount to at least a hundred million. How can a book have so much room for manipulation? After all, some people must know who will compete."
Saying this, Yuan Hao pointed his finger toward the heavens.
Hearing this, the fat man surnamed Ning looked rather indignant and said:
"There is nothing new under the sun. It might be clear as day to those up high, but for the likes of us, we can only gamble. If Brother Zhou is daring enough, you could even bet on the Prime Minister Manor's 'Crown Prince'—after all, word has it he has already reached the Transcendent Realm as well."
Moonlight spilled across the pavilion.
Yuan Hao pondered for a moment, stroking his chin, and suddenly asked:
"Brother Ning, so what are the odds for that 'Crown Prince'?"
"..."
Everyone present froze for a moment.
"Brother Zhou, you're not actually thinking of betting on Xu Changtian, are you?"
"I heard that guy reached the Transcendent Realm during the Zhenxi Incident as well, and he hasn't passed the age limit yet. If he could participate in the tournament, he could certainly fight the Saintess. But the question is, would the kid dare to come? He wouldn't dare!"
"Brother Zhou must exercise caution. Right now the Prime Minister's Manor is acting against all reason; you and I both know war is already imminent."
"Small bets are fine for amusement, but if Brother Zhou truly wants to bet on him, you must not lose your head."
"Does Brother Zhou have insider information?"
That last question came from the fat man surnamed Ning, the moonlight reflecting the hunger for wealth in his narrow eyes.
Yuan Hao merely smiled and shook his head:
"Brother Ning, you think too highly of me. Whether someone of that stature will come is something probably only our Great Yan Prime Minister knows. If I had insider information, would I still need to make silver through a gambling den?"
The fat man surnamed Ning looked slightly disappointed. Without hurry, he fished out a scroll of paper from his bosom, unfolded it, glanced over it, and muttered under his breath:
"This is the latest gazette provided by the Mingxuan Gambling Den. Let me see... Hmm, Xu Changtian's odds are thirteen-to-one, while Xu Changge's are three hundred and seventy-to-one..."
Yuan Hao interrupted with a bizarre tone:
"Wait, isn't Xu Changge already past thirty? You can bet on him too?"
The fat man surnamed Ning shrugged:
"Some gamblers just don't know any better. Greedy when others are fearful."
"..." Yuan Hao was speechless.
The fat man stroked his fleshy chin, hesitated for a moment, and said softly:
"Still, these odds for Xu Changtian are rather strange. To think they're only thirteen-to-one. Someone is clearly betting he'll show up, and the silver placed on him isn't small..."
***
"The purpose of the Tianyuan Grand Tournament is to encourage the younger generation. If you participate with your current cultivation, wouldn't that be putting the cart before the horse?"
In a side hall of the Sword Sect,
Clouds and mist swirled through the vast, deep hall.
The Seventh Elder of the Sword Sect, who oversaw the tournament participants, looked with a troubled expression at the gold-eyed young woman hovering in the air before the desk.
He already knew the Sect Master had passed away, but he had never expected the Saintess of the Overseeing Heaven Pavilion, having brought back the Sect Master's remains, would turn around and come directly to him first.
If she were permitted to compete, the tournament would undoubtedly turn into a farce.
Thinking this, the Seventh Elder glanced out at the vast, cloud-shrouded mountain peaks outside the hall and reminded her:
"Saintess, the Sect Master has passed away, and representatives from the various sects have arrived one after another. Shouldn't you head to the main hall first?"
Tianyan remained entirely unmoved, her golden eyes placid and expressionless:
"If I do not participate, no one in the younger generation can kill Xu Changtian."
Hearing this, the Seventh Elder said reflexively:
"Heh, Saintess, killing is forbidden in the Tianyuan Grand Tournament... Wait, who did you say you want to kill?"
Floating two feet off the ground, Tianyan looked down at the white-haired elder before her, her voice clear and cool:
"Xu Changtian."
The Seventh Elder fell silent for a moment, then gave a half-believing chuckle:
"That fellow couldn't possibly come."
"He will definitely come."
"This is a gathering of the sects. For the one who presented the Equal Tax Immortal Law, coming here is no different from seeking death."
"Yes. But he will definitely come."
"And what is the reason?"
"There is no reason."
"..."
Choked for words, the Seventh Elder stared at the divinely detached, stunning girl before him for a moment before sighing:
"Saintess, since you insist on participating and meet the requirements, I have no reason to refuse you."
"..."
Having achieved her objective, Tianyan cupped her hands in a salute and turned to leave without the slightest hesitation.
Seeing this, the Seventh Elder rubbed his brow, watching her slender figure from behind:
"Regarding Xu Changtian, this old man must still make bold to ask: you must have a reason for making such a judgment."
Floating forward through the air, the young woman did not pause her steps, her tone as dead and still as a secluded pool:
"Merely personal opinion."
"Personal?" the Seventh Elder repeated.
The girl looked back over her shoulder, her profile immaculate, her golden eyes dazzling under the moonlit night:
"I know him better than he knows himself.
"Therefore,
"He will definitely come."
Chapter 752