Boom!
Atop the arena platform, another violent detonation rang out.
White Bone Stockade's young lord Li Huang moved like a beast unleashed from its cage. The pale bone spear in his hand cut through the air with a sharp, piercing shriek and sent yet another Black Blood Stockade fighter flying off the platform.
"The young lord is mighty!"
"The young lord is undefeatable!"
The visiting White Bone delegation erupted into complete chaos.
The White Bone disciples who had spent the entire day suffocating under Black Blood Stockade's overwhelming momentum now roared with flushed faces and hoarse voices, venting every last shred of their pent-up frustration.
And yet.
Beneath all that blazing, battle-charged fervor —
Inside the silent barrier Lin Cang had quietly drawn with his Gu worm, the cold that had gathered between the three men was dense enough to solidify. It pressed down on Li Mang like a plunge into a bottomless abyss.
"I miscalculated..."
Before him stood Lin Zhen — Grand Elder, peak Rank 3 — and Lin Cang, radiating the crushing, suffocating pressure of Rank 4 initial stage like an immovable mountain.
Li Mang gripped the Bone Scepter beneath his sleeve with white-knuckled force. His palm was already slick with cold sweat.
He finally understood how badly he had overestimated himself.
He had assumed that as long as the scepter's existence remained concealed, those faint, hidden probing waves would go undetected.
But he had overlooked one fatal detail. Faced with the ultimate temptation of a Rank 5 inheritance — something that could overturn fate itself — his repeated failures had made him anxious, unraveled, his eyes darting everywhere like a guilty thief.
Those small, involuntary physical tells were as visible as a torch in the dead of night to Lin Cang's sharp, serpentine eyes.
Li Mang understood perfectly. If he could not produce an answer that satisfied Lin Cang — one without a single crack in it — he would not walk out of Black Blood Stockade alive today.
Under the crushing weight of death, Li Mang had no choice but to steel himself. He forced the muscles of his gaunt face into an awkward, stiff smile and made one last attempt to ease the tension.
"Patriarch Lin, what is all this about?"
"What scheme could this old one possibly have? It's simply... ah, it's simply the gap in strength. That's all."
The words landed and sank without a trace. Inside the barrier, there was no response whatsoever.
Silence.
Lin Cang's eyes narrowed slightly. His stone-hard face showed not a ripple of reaction. He looked down at Li Mang from above, his gaze like two surgical blades — as though he intended to dissect Li Mang's very soul.
"Li Mang."
Lin Cang's voice was ice-cold. "Do you think I don't know what kind of man you are?"
"This friendly tournament — you had no legitimate reason to propose it, and yet you volunteered to shoulder all the costs and prizes yourself. What, do you think you're made of money?"
Lin Cang stepped forward sharply. His Rank 4 pressure crashed down like a collapsing ceiling. "Don't forget — White Bone Stockade still owes Black Blood Stockade years of outstanding debt!"
Beside him, Grand Elder Lin Zhen moved in seamless coordination. A cluster of Gu worm light flared to life in his hand — dangerous, pulsing with lethal killing intent.
Only now did Li Mang truly grasp the depth of Lin Cang's terrifying nature.
This man — who had seemed rough and unrefined throughout the entire tournament, who had appeared so openly pleased with himself, as though he suspected nothing — was in truth sharp beneath that blunt exterior, his schemes buried to an unfathomable depth.
All that showing off earlier had been deliberate performance.
He had been playing along, luring Li Mang into Black Blood Stockade, setting the perfect trap to shut the door and beat the dog.
There was no question about it. If his next words failed to satisfy Lin Cang, this Rank 4 warlord would tear him apart inside this barrier without a moment's hesitation.
Life and death hung on a single breath.
A long silence passed.
Then — something shifted in Li Mang's gaunt face. All the fear, the awkwardness, the forced smiling — it vanished completely.
He let out a short, hollow laugh. Cold. Almost relieved.
Then he sagged back into the wide chair, shook his head, and exhaled a long, weary sigh.
"Lin Cang... you really are ruthless."
"You're far stronger than your father ever was. No wonder you broke through to Rank 4. In this round — I, Li Mang, am outmatched."
Watching Li Mang's air of resigned acceptance, Lin Cang did not relax in the slightest. His Primeval Essence continued to churn. He snarled, "Old dog, stop playing the elder in front of me. Say what you have to say. Or do you really think you're walking out of Black Blood Stockade alive?"
As the pressure of death continued to close in, Li Mang instead revealed the composure befitting a patriarch.
"Fine."
Li Mang raised his head. Those deep-set eyes met Lin Cang's with complete calm.
"The reason I was willing to pour resources into this tournament — even at the cost of emptying my own coffers — yes, I had another purpose."
"But it has little to do with you personally, Lin Cang."
Li Mang paused. His voice dropped, heavy with weight. "What matters is the younger generation. That is why I spent the entire match restless and unable to sit still, watching everything around me."
"Oh?"
Lin Cang's pressure did not ease, but a flicker of curiosity crossed his eyes. He held back the impulse to act and said coldly, "Old dog. Speak plainly."
Li Mang drew a slow breath. Rather than answering directly, he posed a question that cut straight to the core ecology of both clans.
"Lin Cang. You know that Black Blood and White Bone Stockades have both taken root in these ten-thousand mountains for hundreds of years. There has been no shortage of friction between us — but there have also been periods where one side rose while the other fell, or where one was pushed to the very edge of collapse."
"As is the case right now."
Li Mang pointed to himself, then to Lin Cang. "You have reached Rank 4. I am still struggling in the mud of Rank 3."
"And yet — you, Lin Cang, have done nothing more than extort a portion of our resources. You have not moved to immediately send troops and swallow White Bone Stockade whole."
"Is that not so?"
Lin Cang said nothing. He simply watched with cold eyes.
Because Li Mang had struck on the truth.
Annexing an entire clan was no small matter. It was not something that individual power alone could resolve overnight.
Seeing Lin Cang's silent acknowledgment, Li Mang continued on his own.
"In truth, during the height of White Bone Stockade's prosperity — when we had your clan pressed so hard you could barely breathe — They was not without thoughts of swallowing Black Blood Stockade entirely. But in the end, our predecessors always abandoned that path."
"The reason is simple."
"In the world of Gu Masters, individual power can stand above any organization. But organizations remain the absolute foundation that sustains individuals — the endless source of resources that allows them to keep climbing."
"Look across the history of the Southern Border. Those strongholds that achieved total dominance and lost all outside threats — they invariably collapsed from within. Internal power struggles, resource corruption, fragmentation. And then — extinction."
Li Mang's gaze sharpened.
"So the best path to survival for both clans is to forge strength through conflict."
"To use an opponent — strong enough to be a genuine threat, but contained within manageable limits — to keep the clan's vitality cycling, to keep the younger generation sharp and hungry."
This was the core logic of clan ecology.
"The reason I arranged this tournament..."
Li Mang's eyes drifted to the arena platform. What showed in them was pain — genuine, unfeigned.
"First, to see whether the younger generations of both clans could still mirror each other as they have throughout history — pushing one another forward."
"But what I have seen today..."
Li Mang's fingers trembled faintly.
"Has left this old man cold. Deeply, deeply cold."
"From my observations, your Lin Feng has already reached Rank 2 middle stage. Given time, he will become another Rank 4 powerhouse like yourself. And the others — Lin Xue, Lin Yan — they are extraordinary talents as well."
"My son Li Huang, his strength is genuine. But the rest of White Bone Stockade's younger generation — compared to yours — they are nothing but a pool of mud."
Li Mang closed his eyes in visible anguish and let out a long, despairing sigh.
"White Bone Stockade... has run dry of talent."
"If this continues, you won't even need to lift a hand, Lin Cang. The inheritance of my White Bone Clan — I fear it will be severed entirely in my generation."
"That is why..."
Li Mang's eyes snapped open, locking onto Lin Cang.
"That is why this old man has been so restless and unable to sit still — why I have been looking everywhere, desperately searching for even a single thread of hope in all this despair."
Every word Li Mang spoke came from the marrow. Not a single sentence was false.
Because White Bone Stockade truly had no one to carry on after him. It truly had sunk into the depths of despair.
And facing Lin Cang, Li Mang knew with absolute clarity — he could not afford even a single lie. One false word would give Lin Cang all the justification he needed to strike.
Lin Cang looked at Li Mang — slumped in his chair, seeming to have aged ten years in an instant.
He had to admit it. Li Mang was a supremely capable opponent, and a warlord who had calculated his clan's interests down to the bone.
And the reality was exactly as Li Mang described.
Even if he erupted inside this barrier today and killed Li Mang by force — Black Blood Stockade could not absorb White Bone Mountain in any short span of time. It would only draw in a pack of wolves and tigers from every direction.
Black Blood Stockade had only one Rank 4 cultivator. Two fists could not hold off four hands.
Weighing the costs and benefits —
Lin Cang slowly drew back that overwhelming Rank 4 pressure. But his voice remained ferocious.
"Old dog. Whatever schemes you're running — as long as I, Lin Cang, am here for a single day, you will keep your head down and behave."
"How today ends — you decide."
Seeing Lin Cang relent and the situation ease, Li Mang did not rush. He reached into his robe.
"Conducting unauthorized scans of your clan's disciples — that was my fault."
"I have a few Rank 3 Gu worms here. All treasures from White Bone Stockade's vault. Consider them a gift to Patriarch Lin today."
Li Mang pushed several Gu worms — glowing with soft radiance — across toward Lin Cang, and smiled apologetically. "Think of it as this old one making amends. Might it ease the old grievances between us?"
Lin Cang didn't even glance at the Gu worms. He swept them into his possession with one broad wave of his hand.
Whoosh.
Then Lin Cang's mind shifted.
The invisible barrier that had sealed out the thunderous noise of the outside world dissolved in an instant.
"Hmph. Watch the matches."
Lin Cang gave a cold snort and settled back into his seat, his gaze dropping to the arena floor below.
"It's about time for Feng to take the stage."
As the barrier fell away, the roaring, tsunami-like cheering of the crowd flooded back into all three of their ears at once.
Below the platform, White Bone Stockade's young lord Li Huang had been winning without pause. With savage, relentless ferocity, he had consecutively knocked three of Black Blood Stockade's upper stage Rank 1 fighters off the platform.
His momentum, stacked victory upon victory, had climbed to its absolute peak.
"Who else?!"
Li Huang roared from the arena, utterly imperious.
And at that moment —
In the preparation area, Lin Feng rose slowly to his feet, robed in white as clean as snow.
There was not a trace of urgency in him. The tip of his foot touched the ground lightly, and like a crane taking flight, he ascended the arena platform amid a wave of thunderous cheering.
"Insolent wretch. Enough of your arrogance."