The Arena

The architecture on Shushan's main peak was far grander and more majestic than that of the Southern Courtyard. To begin with, there were the grand halls hung with inscribed plaques, each rising three stories high. In ancient times, the luxury of a building was judged by the abundance of its interlocking dougong bracket sets. Beneath the eaves of Shushan's grand halls, the bracket sets were stacked in intricate tiers, and the eaves tilted sharply upward in an imposing display. There were nine such grand halls on the main peak in total, each fronted by its own plaza, arranged in a stepped ascent that led straight to the summit. Yet, under the relentless erosion of yin qi, their paint had peeled away, stained a deep, pitch black that made them look like the spectral mansions of the netherworld. Beyond these nine halls, rows of pavilions and chambers stretched out, though most had collapsed into rubble. Among these buildings and across the stone-paved plazas, where withered grass sprouted from every fissure, floated ranks of powerful wraiths. Male and female, old and young—some had rotted faces with dislodged eyeballs dangling against their cheeks; some had shattered skulls, dark blood staining half their visages; others drifted aimlessly, dragging their trailing entrails behind them. Besides the wraiths, numerous figures prowled through the plazas and ruins. These were formidable yin corpses, all sharing the distinct traits of bluish-black skin and tangled, straw-like hair. Some had festering, oozing flesh; some bared protruding fangs; others gripped rusted iron swords like swordsmen. In life, these spirit servants and yin corpses had been disciples and teachers of Shushan. In death, corrupted by yin qi, their souls had refused to dissipate, and their flesh had mutated into powerful yin creatures. Yet the moment the domineering, scorching golden sun rose, they were like snowmen cast into boiling water, melting away at a speed visible to the naked eye. Lacking physical vessels, the wraiths possessed almost no power to resist. They were cleansed and liberated on the spot, managing only to utter shrill, agonized shrieks. The yin corpses unleashed hoarse, guttural roars and lunged with bared fangs and brandished claws toward the source of the golden radiance. Bathed in the daylight, their bodies grew increasingly frail, dissolving into ashes mid-stride before they could even get close to Zhang Yuanqing. With a blazing sun hovering behind his head and a divine mark etched between his brows, Zhang Yuanqing strolled through the Shushan immortal sect, progressing from the first grand hall to the second, then the third... Everywhere he passed, every wraith and yin corpse was thoroughly purified. He did not walk quickly, ambling as if taking a leisurely stroll through his own backyard. *Now this is how a Day Wanderer is meant to be played...* Zhang Yuanqing felt thoroughly satisfied. Ever since he had stepped into the Dominator stage, he had never felt so utterly unrestrained. A sense of tyrannical pride welled within him—as if he were the sovereign master of heaven and earth, destined to crush all who opposed him. Back at Level 7, he had access to even more powerful props that overshadowed his profession's unique qualities, preventing him from displaying the true domineering might of his solar divine power. Now that he had advanced to Level 8, aside from a few bottom-of-the-chest trump cards, none of his other Dominator-quality props could compare to the combination of Sunrise and Blazing Sun God of War. Only now did the true terror of the Day Wanderer reveal itself. Any yin corpse or wraith below Level 8 stood no chance whatsoever, reduced to ashes beneath the imperious golden radiance. After clearing his way to the fourth grand hall, Zhang Yuanqing dismissed Sunrise and Blazing Sun God of War, donned the Companion Spirit Moon, entered night roaming, and sat cross-legged in the hall to recuperate. Although his soul had undergone a qualitative transformation into a Yang Spirit, multiplying the depth of his solar divine power several times over, he could not afford to be reckless. Forty minutes was his limit. The boss had not yet appeared; he needed to conserve his spiritual power as much as possible. *** Inside the War of the Gods... Upon arriving at the arena, the demigods of the orthodox faction took to the air in tacit agreement, hovering a hundred meters up as they looked down upon the miniature continent suspended thirty meters off the ground. Directly across from them, on the opposite side of the arena, stood the evil faction's demigods. To their extraordinary eyesight, a distance of four or five kilometers was no different from a few meters; the expressions and looks in one another's eyes were plain to see. Draped in robes of woven starlight, the Taiyi Sect Master turned his gaze—or rather, the starlight swirling within his eye sockets—across his enemies and the arena below. In a slow, measured voice, he said, "Everyone, this arena mechanism places us at a severe disadvantage. Before the first bout begins, we must align our intentions and deliberate on a countermeasure." Once the orthodox demigods turned their attention to him, he continued, "Evil professions possess greater combat strength than orthodox ones, and this remains true in the demigod realm. In a chaotic free-for-all, our superior numbers and well-balanced abilities allow us to suppress them. But once it comes to single combat, our chances of victory are slim." Hearing this, the orthodox demigods directed their gazes toward the evil demigods. Among the evil demigods was the supreme powerhouse, Asura, holding Level 12 status; Bacchus at Level 11; the Lord of Myriad Demons at Level 11; two Level 10 Candle Dragons; two Level 10 Illusion Gods; and... the immensely formidable Lord of Taiyin. In contrast, within the orthodox faction, aside from the Lord of the Stars who held Level 11 status, all the other demigods were Level 10. Moreover, in a tournament-style arena, their ultimate trump card—Five Elements Unity—was rendered essentially useless. The only remaining hidden ace they could count on was the Void demigod. The Taiyi Sect Master continued, "The arena mechanism serves two purposes. First, to shave down the duration of both sides' array cores. Second, to thin our numbers. Only when demigods perish will the next round of competition over the array cores cease to remain in a deadlock." The orthodox demigods wore grim expressions. The arena mechanism was clearly designed to cull demigods from the orthodox faction. From the Taiyi Sect Master's layered, multidirectional resonance, an edge of solemnity emerged. "More than the dungeon mechanism itself, what worries me even more are those unseen enemies..." "Unseen enemies?" Gang Leader Jiang knitted his thick brows, failing to grasp the meaning behind his words. The Taiyi Sect Master explained, "The arena match is plainly targeted at our orthodox faction. The emergence of such an 'unfair' mechanism is inherently an act of hostility—not from the Spirit Realm, but from those beings..." At this point, he lifted his head and gazed up into the murky gray sky. "Behold!" The demigods all raised their eyes. With a broad sweep of the Taiyi Sect Master's sleeve, brilliant starlight bloomed and washed across the heavens. Within their vision, the sky rapidly faded away, replaced by the galaxy-like cosmos of the Spirit Realm. Then, the Spirit Realm faded as well, their perspective ascending endlessly, soaring into the boundless heights of the void. Suddenly, a pair of colossal eyes snapped open within the unseen depths, seemingly filling the entire universe. Those eyes were suffused with unbridled fighting spirit, bloodlust, and cruelty, paired with a bewitching malice potent enough to drive any mortal mind to madness. Their field of view rose higher still, revealing an ocean of pitch-black, turbid sludge. Amidst the foul waves, an immense shadow stretching across millions of li appeared and vanished like an endless fortress wall. Its unfathomable scale was reminiscent of the serpent of Midgard from Norse mythology—the world-encircling beast. The colossal silhouette suddenly reared its head, casting its gaze toward the orthodox demigods as a vertical eye upon its brow erupted with an eerie blue beam of light. The starlight shattered. The orthodox demigods felt as though struck by lightning. Bewitching demonic patterns surfaced on the flesh of some, while foul liquids seeped from the pores of others, casting a dark pall of corruption over their astral spirits. A miniature golden sun flared to life behind the Taiyi Sect Master's head. Amid a chorus of sharp sizzling sounds, the corruptions plaguing the orthodox demigods dissolved, restoring them to normal. "Did you see them? Those are the beings lingering above the Spirit Realm," the Taiyi Sect Master said in a low, heavy voice. "They are the supreme entities who invaded the Spirit Realm thousands of years ago." He sighed softly. "Many years ago, I noticed that Spirit Realm dungeons occasionally developed bugs. Some were automatically repaired by the Spirit Realm, while others have persisted to this day—such as the Night Wanderer trial dungeon, 'Sheling Tunnel.' "Over the past year, these bugs have grown increasingly frequent, especially after Ling Tuo threw the dungeons into disarray and obscured the Merit Roster, causing the glitches to spread into the Dominator tier. "The root cause behind all of this is that those supreme beings have deepened their intrusion into the Spirit Realm. This arena mechanism, in all likelihood, is also a manifestation of their will." The orthodox demigods' expressions shifted subtly. Given their status, they were already well-versed in the hidden truths of the Spirit Realm. The President drew in a cold breath. "Those bastards have cast their gaze here? Will that bolster the evil demigods' strength?" "It will!" the Taiyi Sect Master answered with certainty. "They must still adhere to the dungeon's rules, but they will exploit loopholes to grant buffs and conveniences to the evil demigods inside. The administrators of the Spirit Realm have long since perished to the last. We can rely only on ourselves. "In this battle, if I fail to become the Lord of the Sun, even if we manage to scrape by and survive, the Spirit Realm will fall entirely under the evil faction's dominion. When that day comes, our demise will still be inevitable." Having laid bare the stakes, he returned to the matter at hand. "Back to the subject: each victory in the arena reduces the duration of the opponent's array cores by one day. The evil faction currently occupies two arrays, granting them six days in total, but we actually only need to win three bouts in a row. "The evil faction, on the other hand, would have to win seven consecutive bouts to secure victory, because we hold two exemptions." If the orthodox faction achieved three consecutive victories, they could immediately force one of the enemy's arrays to reset. With three of their demigods dead, the evil faction would be entirely unable to defend that array. In that case, the orthodox faction would control four arrays. Afterward, they would only need to wait out the duration of the final array and seize it with their combined might, securing all five arrays to obtain the origin of the sun. For the evil faction, their safest path to victory was to win five bouts in a row. A five-day reduction, added to the time consumed by the arena matches, would be just enough to reset two of the orthodox arrays. And an orthodox faction reduced by five demigods would no longer possess the strength to contend with them. "Three consecutive wins is impossible!" Fu Qingxuan shook her head. "As long as Asura takes the stage, the evil faction is guaranteed a victory." The Taiyi Sect Master's voice rang out with majestic, layered resonance. "Therefore, we must win three out of five." The President raised a hand and gave an easy smile. "I can take one bout. As long as I don't face Asura, I can kill an evil demigod, seize their authority, keep pouring in resources, and ride that momentum to victory after victory. "However, I doubt the evil faction will give us that opening. If I don't step forward, Asura won't either." "Then stay in reserve to keep Asura in check," Gang Leader Jiang volunteered proactively. "I'll take the opening bout." The white-haired, white-bearded Liu family demigod shook his head. "We must maintain two bottom lines in this tournament. First, the five alliance leaders must not fight. If any one of you falls in the arena and has your authority stripped, we lose our Five Elements Unity trump card. Second, the Lord of the Stars cannot take the field." If anything happened to the Lord of the Stars, the contest for the sun would come to an abrupt end. "There's no need to be so rigid!" It was the Lord of the Central Court who spoke. "We can adjust our roster according to who they send out. Both the President of Baihui and I can fight. Gang Leader Jiang, you'd better sit this out—even in the best scenario, you'd only manage a mutual destruction." Gang Leader Jiang bristled, about to argue back, when the soft, sultry voice of the Palace Master of the Water God drifted over: "We have two chances to use our exemptions. If used wisely, we should be able to prevent any casualties. The only question is whether the exemption merely lets us 'opt out of a life-and-death bout,' or if it spares both our lives and prevents our array duration from being reduced." This was a detail the dungeon had not explicitly clarified. "We also have one distinct advantage: the evil faction must announce their combatant first, allowing us to select our fighter accordingly," Fu Qingxuan noted. This was paramount. The professions of the Spirit Realm were bound by elemental counter-mechanics; as long as the counter was aligned, one could triumph even against an opponent of higher level. Half an hour slipped by in a flash. The Spirit Realm prompt sounded once more: [Both sides, please select your combatants.] *** Half an hour later, having restored his spiritual power, Zhang Yuanqing exited the grand hall. He activated Sunrise and Blazing Sun God of War once more, flooding the Shushan immortal sect with brilliant golden radiance to purge the yin corpses and wraiths lingering within the yin fog. He swept forward unobstructed, encountering several Dominator-stage yin corpses along the way, all of which he eradicated after fierce clashes. Before long, he reached the main hall crowning the peak. This hall towered a full six stories high, its sweeping eaves stacked tier upon tier with dazzling, intricate bracket sets that overwhelmed the eyes, far more grand and magnificent than any Golden Top hall. Before the hall, an incense burner lay overturned, and the stone pavers were fractured. Sprouting from the fissures were not wild weeds, but clusters of peculiar, ink-black plants. Though Zhang Yuanqing was not of the Scholar profession, he could still recognize them as exceptionally rare, yin-attribute spiritual herbs. *The mere aura leaking from this place was enough to alter the surrounding environment and nourish spiritual herbs... The dungeon boss has to be early Level 9 at the very least, perhaps even mid Level 9...* Zhang Yuanqing mused inwardly. In the Dominator stage, it was standard for an S-rank Level 8 dungeon to feature a Level 9 boss. He had heard his uncle mention that in a mid Level 9 dungeon, the boss reached peak Level 9 strength. As for spirit realm walkers at peak Level 9... they barely needed to worry about dungeons anymore. Given their status, the moment they obtained a demigod item, they could directly accommodate and refine it to step into the demigod realm. The only thing that posed a genuine threat to them was a demigod advancement trial dungeon. Such dungeons had appeared frequently in the early days of the Spirit Realm, but as one demigod after another arose, they had gradually dwindled into extinction. The most recent demigod trial dungeon had surfaced as a guild dungeon for the White Tiger Brigade; Fu Qingxuan had cleared it to become the new Grand Marshal. By now, the spirit servants and yin corpses wandering outside had been entirely purified by Zhang Yuanqing. The vast expanse of Shushan was steeped in absolute silence, leaving only the distinct sound of his footsteps as he ascended the stone stairs. Zhang Yuanqing stepped onto the upper landing and paused before the hall. Tilted precariously above his head hung a plaque that seemed on the verge of falling, inscribed with the words: Hall of Everlasting Sword Qi! With a gentle flick of his right hand, a blast of air slammed into the rotted, tightly sealed double doors. With a sharp crack, the doors splintered apart, revealing the scene within.