Three days passed in what felt like a fleeting moment, yet for many in the outer sect, those three days had been filled with anticipation, speculation, and unease.
By the time the sun reached its peak, the outer disciple arena was already overflowing with people.
Disciples gathered from all directions, forming dense circles around the central platform. Even those who usually remained indifferent to such matters had arrived today. Conversations overlapped, whispers spread like wildfire, and tension lingered in every corner.
"Today's the day…"
"Zhou Yan versus Fang Lin…"
"200 gold coins… and kneeling…"
"This is going to be brutal…"
Some spoke with excitement, eager to witness a clash.
Others—
Were uneasy.
Fang Lin arrived quietly.
There was no fanfare, no announcement.
Yet the moment he stepped into the arena, eyes began to shift toward him.
His steps were light.
His posture calm.
It was as if he wasn't walking into a high-stakes duel—
But merely passing through.
That calmness, however, only made the crowd more restless.
Xuo Mu spotted him first.
"Fang Lin!"
He pushed through the crowd, Xue Ji following close behind.
When they reached him, Xuo Mu's face was pale.
"Something's wrong…"
Fang Lin looked at him steadily.
"What happened?"
Xue Ji spoke, her voice low but firm.
"Zhou Yan… broke through."
A brief pause.
"To the late stage of Qi Conjunction."
The words sank in.
Around them, the murmurs grew louder.
"Late stage…"
"He actually broke through…"
"He was already strong before…"
"This is bad…"
Xuo Mu clenched his fists tightly.
"This changes everything… Fang Lin, you should reconsider—"
"No," Fang Lin said calmly.
A single word.
But firm.
Xuo Mu fell silent.
Xue Ji studied Fang Lin's expression carefully.
There was no hesitation.
No fear.
Only—
Clarity.
Before more could be said—
A ripple spread across the crowd.
"He's here…"
The atmosphere shifted instantly.
Zhou Yan entered the arena.
But this time—
He was different.
His aura was no longer just oppressive.
It was stable.
Heavy.
Like a weight pressing down on the surroundings.
Late stage Qi Conjunction.
Each step he took felt deliberate, controlled, and powerful.
The crowd instinctively parted.
Eyes filled with awe—
And caution.
Then—
Another detail caught everyone's attention.
At his waist—
Hung a blade.
Its body was sleek, dark, and cold.
Faint patterns shimmered along its edge, releasing a subtle but sharp aura.
"That… that's a middle grade weapon…"
"He actually brought a weapon into the duel…"
"This is too much…"
Gasps spread across the arena.
And then—
Someone noticed his hand.
A ring.
Simple in appearance.
But unmistakable.
"A spatial ring…"
"A storage item…"
"He got both…?"
Zhou Yan stopped at the center of the arena.
His gaze swept across the crowd, lingering briefly on the expressions of shock and fear.
Then—
It landed on Fang Lin.
A faint smirk appeared on his face.
"My clan sent me a gift," he said casually, lifting his hand slightly.
"For breaking through."
His tone was light.
But the meaning—
Heavy.
Support from his clan.
Resources beyond ordinary disciples.
Strength backed by power.
The atmosphere grew suffocating.
"This isn't fair anymore…"
"Late stage… weapon… storage ring…"
"He's completely outmatched…"
"Fang Lin might not even survive…"
Some voices dropped even lower.
"He could lose his arms… or legs…"
"…or worse."
Xuo Mu's face turned pale.
"This… this isn't a duel anymore…"
Xue Ji's eyes tightened.
"This is suppression."
Fang Lin stepped forward.
Unhurried.
His expression remained unchanged.
No fluctuation.
No visible tension.
Just—
Calm.
Zhou Yan watched him.
Then spoke.
"Are you ready?"
Fang Lin nodded.
"Yes."
Simple.
Direct.
No hesitation.
That response alone made several people uneasy.
--
High above the arena—
Invisible to all—
Two figures stood silently.
Elder Feng and Sect Master of Green Bamboo Sect.
They observed everything.
Every movement.
Every reaction.
"The factions are becoming bolder," Elder Feng said quietly.
The Sect Master's gaze remained on Zhou Yan.
"They've already crossed the line."
His eyes shifted briefly to the blade.
"A middle grade weapon in the hands of an outer disciple…"
Elder Feng's expression darkened.
"And a spatial item."
A pause.
"They wouldn't dare unless they had backing."
The Sect Master nodded faintly.
"They don't even bother hiding it anymore."
His voice remained calm.
But carried weight.
Elder Feng's eyes narrowed slightly.
"If this continues…"
"They might not hesitate to take a life."
The Sect Master did not deny it.
"In fact… that may be the point."
A brief silence followed.
"To send a message," he added.
Elder Feng's expression turned serious.
"The other elders…"
"…are allowing this."
The Sect Master's gaze deepened.
"Not allowing."
"Ignoring."
A subtle difference.
But dangerous.
His eyes shifted toward Fang Lin.
"At the center of this…"
"That boy stands."
Elder Feng remained silent.
The Sect Master's lips curved faintly.
"Let's see how he responds."
On a separate elevated platform—
A figure in red stood.
Feng Jiu'er.
Her eyes were fixed on the arena below.
The moment she sensed Zhou Yan's aura—
Her expression changed.
"…Late stage?"
Her brows furrowed.
Then—
She noticed the blade.
And the ring.
Her fingers tightened unconsciously.
"That idiot…"
Her lips pressed together.
"You had three days…"
"And THIS is what you're walking into?"
Her gaze locked onto Fang Lin.
Standing there.
Still.
Calm.
Unmoving.
Feng Jiu'er bit her lower lip slightly.
A rare expression of tension crossed her face.
"What are you even thinking…"
Her breathing slowed.
But her eyes—
Remained sharp.
"If you lose…"
She stopped herself.
Then—
Her expression hardened slightly.
"Don't you dare die."
--
Back at the arena—
The tension reached its peak.
No one spoke.
No one moved.
Zhou Yan slowly raised his hand.
His fingers wrapped around the hilt of his blade.
Then—
He drew it.
A sharp metallic sound echoed through the arena.
Cold.
Clear.
Chilling.
The blade reflected light, its edge gleaming with a faint killing intent.
The pressure in the air intensified.
Several disciples instinctively stepped back.
Zhou Yan pointed the blade slightly downward.
His gaze fixed on Fang Lin.
"Let's begin."
Fang Lin stepped forward.
One step.
Then another.
His posture relaxed.
But his eyes—
Focused.
Deep.
The Flowing Wind Steps subtly activated beneath his feet.
His presence—
Light.
Yet grounded.
The two stood facing each other.
Opposites.
One—
Overwhelming.
Dominating.
Armed.
The other—
Calm.
Silent.
Unarmed.
The crowd held its breath.
Even the wind seemed to still.
This was no longer just a duel.
It was a clash of will.
Of backing.
Of survival.
And as the first moment stretched—
Everyone realized—
This fight…
Would decide more than just a bet.