The long spear puppet crossed the arena in a single breath.
Its spear point tore through the air with a sharp whistle, and the pressure behind it forced several nearby Alliance disciples to step back before they were even touched. The puppet did not have flesh, blood, or breath, but the battle intent inside its body was heavy enough to make it feel like an old warrior who had died standing.
Fang Lin lifted his palm and executed Black Mountain Guard.
A dark pressure shield formed before him. The spear struck it head-on, and cracks spread across the shield instantly. Fang Lin let the force push him back. His boots scraped across the black stone floor, and his sleeve split open from the shockwave.
The Alliance disciples' expressions shifted.
"Fellow Daoist Shen!" Bai Qing called out.
Fang Lin did not answer her. He shifted his weight, stepped sideways, and let the spear brush past his shoulder. The fabric there tore open, revealing a shallow line of blood. It was not a serious wound, but it looked dangerous enough.
Feng Jiu'er saw it from the corner of her eye.
Her brows tightened slightly, but the tower shield puppet before her smashed forward at that exact moment. Its shield was taller than a man, and every step it took made the arena floor tremble. She could not turn away.
Verdant Flame Lotus Guard bloomed before her in a burst of crimson-green flame, receiving the shield strike with a heavy explosion. Fire scattered across the arena floor, and Feng Jiu'er slid back half a step. Her expression remained cold, but the pressure around her sharpened. The tower shield puppet raised its shield again, yet before it could charge, her sword had already cut forward.
Crimson Verdant Line flashed across the puppet's shield.
The thin sword light did not break it, but it left a deep glowing scar on the surface.
Across the arena, Xu Hanjiang was also forced into a hard fight. The greatsword puppet facing him was slower than Fang Lin's spear puppet, but every strike carried frightening weight. Xu Hanjiang's water-sword Qi wrapped around his blade again and again, but each collision pushed him back. Two River Sword Sect disciples tried to support him, only to be knocked aside by the puppet's sword wind.
Xu Hanjiang's face turned ugly.
He had entered this arena to preserve face, but now the arena was making him pay interest.
Fang Lin did not have the time to care about him. The spear puppet's second thrust had already arrived.
This time, Fang Lin did not block directly.
Stone Vein Crushing Step landed on the arena floor, and a dull vibration spread through the black stone beneath him. The spear puppet's charging rhythm sank for a breath. It was only a tiny disturbance, but Fang Lin's body had already moved through that opening. His palm struck the spear shaft from the side.
Black Mountain Breaking Palm bent the spear away from its killing line, and the tip scraped past Fang Lin's ribs instead of piercing through his chest. Fang Lin's body turned with the motion, his other hand pressing down as Black Mountain Lock dropped heavy pressure over the puppet's right shoulder.
Its arm stopped for half a breath.
That half breath was enough for Fang Lin to step inside its reach and strike its chest with his palm. A crack appeared on the puppet's armor, but the puppet did not retreat. Its left knee rose suddenly and smashed toward Fang Lin's abdomen.
Fang Lin's eyes flickered faintly.
This puppet was not alive, but it knew how to adapt.
He pulled back, allowing the knee to miss by a narrow margin, then staggered two steps as if the movement had cost him too much. The spear puppet chased immediately. Its spear swept sideways, forcing Fang Lin toward the edge of the battlefield where two broken puppets were beginning to reform.
Murong Yue saw this and frowned. "It's herding him."
Li Shan's expression grew solemn. "That spear puppet is stronger than the earlier ones."
Zhao Feng gripped his blade tighter. "Can we help?"
Before anyone answered, Feng Jiu'er's cold voice rang out. "Hold your positions."
Zhao Feng froze.
Feng Jiu'er did not look at him. Her sword struck the tower shield puppet again, forcing it back through sheer precision. "If we scatter now, the remaining puppets will tear open the formation."
Zhao Feng clenched his teeth, but he understood. The third drum had not only summoned three powerful puppets. The damaged puppets from the earlier waves were still moving around them, waiting for weakness. If the Alliance lost formation, more people would die.
Fang Lin stepped back again.
The spear puppet advanced.
The two broken puppets behind Fang Lin suddenly lurched upward, one with half a saber and the other with a cracked axe. Their bodies were incomplete, but their killing intent had not faded.
For a moment, Fang Lin seemed trapped between three attacks.
Bai Qing's face paled.
Fang Lin's expression remained calm.
Black Mountain Descent sank through the air around him, and pressure exploded like the weight of ocean depths. The saber puppet and axe puppet behind him were crushed downward before they could fully rise. Their cracked bodies slammed into the floor, and Fang Lin stepped on the saber puppet's shoulder, using it as a foothold. His body rose sharply, avoiding the spear thrust that came straight for his chest.
The spear pierced through the broken axe puppet instead.
Black-red fragments exploded outward.
Fang Lin landed on the spear shaft itself.
The spear puppet raised its head.
Fang Lin's palm descended.
Black Mountain Breaking Palm struck the puppet's helmet. Its head cracked, but did not shatter. Its left hand released the spear and grabbed toward Fang Lin's ankle with terrifying speed.
Fang Lin jumped back.
The puppet pulled its spear free and rushed after him again.
This time, Fang Lin's breathing became visibly heavier. His robe was torn in several places, and his aura trembled as if he was being pushed to his limit. The Alliance disciples saw this and grew tense. Even Murong Yue stopped joking.
Feng Jiu'er's sword light grew sharper.
The tower shield puppet raised its shield to block again, but her gaze cooled.
Crimson Leaf Sword cut down.
The shield split open from top to bottom.
The tower shield puppet staggered for the first time. Feng Jiu'er stepped in immediately, crimson-green flames wrapping around her blade. Her strike pierced through the glowing scar she had left earlier, driving directly into the puppet's chest. The puppet's body shook violently, then collapsed into fragments with a thunderous sound.
She turned at once toward Fang Lin.
At almost the same moment, Fang Lin moved.
The spear puppet thrust forward with its strongest strike yet. The spear tip carried a black-red glow, and the battle scars on the arena floor lit up beneath its feet. Fang Lin did not dodge to the side. He stepped forward instead.
A dark pressure shield formed close to his body rather than in front of him. The spear struck the shield and shattered it instantly, but the brief resistance shifted the spear tip just enough. It pierced through Fang Lin's outer robe near his shoulder, missing flesh by a hair.
Fang Lin's right hand closed on the spear shaft.
His foot struck the floor.
The puppet's stance sank.
Heavy pressure fell over its elbow and wrist.
Then Fang Lin's left palm landed on the crack in its chest.
The puppet's chest caved inward.
A dull boom spread through the arena. The spear puppet froze, red light flickering inside its helmet. Then its body broke apart from the chest outward, scattering into black-red fragments across the arena floor.
The spear fell with a heavy clang.
Unlike the puppet's body, it did not shatter.
Fang Lin's eyes lowered toward it for an instant. Then he bent down, picked up the black-red spear, and put it into his storage treasure with natural calm, as if collecting the weapon of a defeated enemy was the most reasonable thing in the world.
Several disciples could only stare.
Zhao Feng opened his mouth. "Can we take those?"
Murong Yue's eyes brightened. "Apparently, the ruins are generous if you ask with your hands."
Fang Lin glanced at her. "Only after you survive."
Murong Yue smiled. "Fellow Daoist Shen, your wisdom is always painful."
The moment the spear disappeared into Fang Lin's storage treasure, several disciples finally reacted. A few looked toward the broken weapons on the ground, but most of the earlier puppet weapons had already dissolved into fragments. Only the weapons of the three final puppets seemed to possess a chance of remaining intact.
Feng Jiu'er looked toward the broken tower shield, but it had already collapsed into black-red iron flakes. Her expression did not change. She had not fought for spoils in that moment. She had fought to end the danger.
Xu Hanjiang saw Fang Lin take the spear, and greed flashed in his eyes. He could see that the spear was not ordinary.
Unfortunately for him, the greatsword puppet before him had not fallen yet.
The puppet raised its sword and struck again. Xu Hanjiang roared, water-sword Qi surging from his body. Three River Sword Sect disciples supported him from the side, their swords forming a rushing current that wrapped around the greatsword puppet's legs.
River-Folding Sword Net tightened around the puppet.
The greatsword puppet slowed. Xu Hanjiang seized the chance, his face fierce, and executed River Severing Sword. His sword cut through the puppet's neck with a burst of blue light.
The greatsword puppet shattered.
Its greatsword fell to the ground, but before Xu Hanjiang could reach for it, the blade cracked apart and turned into dull fragments. His expression froze.
Murong Yue looked away quickly, but her shoulders trembled once.
Zhao Feng whispered, "Are you laughing?"
Murong Yue said softly, "No. I am respecting his loss."
Fang Lin coughed once, hiding the faint curve on his mouth.
Xu Hanjiang's face darkened, but he could not flare up. The arena still had not ended.
The remaining damaged puppets suddenly stopped moving.
The three war drums sounded together, and three heavy beats rolled across the arena like thunder. The battle scars on the floor burned bright, then slowly dimmed. The broken puppets collapsed one after another, their bodies turning into black-red dust. A stone gate appeared at the far end of the arena, and above it, ancient characters emerged.
Those who endure battle shall receive battle's memory.
Three streams of light flew out from the arena floor.
One went to Feng Jiu'er.
One went to Xu Hanjiang.
One went to Fang Lin.
Fang Lin caught his stream calmly. Inside it were a dark-red pill and a small black-red metal fragment. The pill carried a thick battle intent that pressed lightly against his palm, while the metal fragment felt heavy for its size.
Battle Intent Tempering Pill.
War Scar Iron Fragment.
Fang Lin stored both away. He did not examine them too closely in front of others. The spear he had taken was already enough to draw attention.
Feng Jiu'er received the same reward, though her gaze briefly passed over Fang Lin's storage treasure. She did not ask about the spear. In the cultivation world, a weapon gained after killing an opponent belonged to the one who killed it. The ruins had not forbidden it.
Xu Hanjiang received only one pill.
No fragment.
His expression became even uglier.
The injured River Sword Sect disciple behind him lowered his head, but the corner of his mouth twitched faintly. After Black Lamp Hall, some things could no longer return to how they had been.
The stone gate opened.
Cooler air drifted in from the passage beyond.
Feng Jiu'er looked over the Alliance disciples. Several were wounded, but none had died. That alone was already rare inside a trial like this.
Everyone kept their spoils of war in their storage treasures.
"We leave first," she said.
No one objected.
The Alliance group passed through the stone gate. Fang Lin walked near the middle, his steps slightly slower than usual. His aura still looked unstable, and his torn robe made him appear as though the spear puppet had forced him to pay a real price.
Feng Jiu'er walked beside him for several breaths before speaking quietly. "Your injury?"
Fang Lin looked at the tear near his shoulder. "It looks worse than it is."
"That is usually what people say when it is worse than it looks."
Fang Lin sighed lightly. "Fairy Feng, if I wished to worry people, I would have chosen a more profitable profession."
Feng Jiu'er studied him for a moment.
Fang Lin's expression remained calm.
A moment later, Murong Yue's voice floated from behind them. "Senior Sister Feng, Fellow Daoist Shen is right. With his mouth, he could earn spirit stones by making enemies angry."
Zhao Feng nodded seriously. "He already does that for free."
Bai Qing lowered her head and smiled.
Even Feng Jiu'er's eyes softened for an instant, though her face remained composed.
The passage led them to a broken underground courtyard. The place was wide, quiet, and surrounded by half-collapsed stone walls. A dry spirit pond lay at the center, and old formation lines still remained beneath the dust. The air here was calmer than the arena. There was no killing intent, no drum sound, and no immediate trial pressure.
Feng Jiu'er inspected the area and gave the order to rest.
Su Wanqing and Han Zhi repaired part of the old formation with simple formation flags, enough to block sound and warn them if something approached. Li Shan took first watch with Luo Chen. Zhao Feng sat down heavily, swallowed a recovery pill, and stared at the ceiling as if it had personally offended him.
The River Sword Sect group emerged later and chose another corner of the courtyard, keeping a clear distance. Xu Hanjiang did not speak to Feng Jiu'er or Fang Lin. His silence was colder than before, but there was also caution inside it now.
The Alliance rested through that day and the next.
By Fang Lin's rough calculation, nearly a day and a half passed in that courtyard. The Rivercloud Demon Sealing Ruins had been open for around five to six days. To the others, there was still time before the fifteenth day they believed would eject them from the ruins. To Fang Lin, every remaining day had to be used carefully. The ruins were becoming more crowded, and the people entering now would only grow stronger. He also had no intention of leaving the Alliance group too early. Staying near them allowed him to protect them quietly.
During the rest, Fang Lin silently refined his breathing, stabilized the injuries he had shown, and let a trace of life force move beneath his skin where no one could sense it. His body recovered far faster than Shen Mo's injuries should have allowed, but outwardly, he remained pale enough to be believable.
At one point, Feng Jiu'er glanced at him from across the courtyard.
Fang Lin noticed, but did not look back immediately.
After a few breaths, he turned his head and met her gaze.
Feng Jiu'er looked away first.
Fang Lin lowered his gaze, and a trace of helplessness crossed his face.
Old habits could be dangerous.
So were sharp women.
When the rest finally ended, the black mark beneath Fang Lin's skin remained silent, like a buried ember waiting for wind.
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