Liu Xing chuckled softly, completely unfazed by the taunt.
He had clashed with Yan Ruyu once before—a three-star Mystic Practitioner against a one-star. It should have been a total rout, but their fight had been surprisingly even. He would have won in the end had they kept going, but Yan Ruyu’s strength clearly defied conventional wisdom.
Now he was a seven-star Mystic Practitioner, while she—barring surprises—was surely at five-star.
In a normal matchup, victory was a foregone conclusion. Still, Liu Xing preferred to play it safe.
That was why he had brought along two four-star helpers: to wear down her stamina so he could crush her effortlessly when his turn came.
The City Lord’s Mansion’s younger generation sorely lacked promising talent. Yan Ruyu was the only one worth his attention. Once he defeated her, the Dragon Night Platform would become his personal stage.
As for that young city lord who had once dazzled the entire city, Yan Zhen? Even if he had recovered his cultivation, he was at most at Mystic Disciple Eighth or Ninth Stage—maybe a one- or two-star Mystic Practitioner on a good day. A total rookie, not even worthy to shine his shoes.
With that thought, Liu Xing smirked and beckoned Jia Lin from the Jia Clan to go up and soften her up.
Jia Lin was reluctant to stoop to such sneaky tactics, but this was an order from his clan elders. He had no choice but to obey.
Jia Lin was a four-star Mystic Practitioner, one of Liu Xing’s two hired guns. He went all out, trading more than a dozen clashes head-on with Yan Ruyu. When he judged her sufficiently worn down, he promptly cried defeat and stepped back.
Next up was someone from the Ao Clan—Ae Tuo, the green-haired cousin of Ao Ge. He too was a four-star Mystic Practitioner. He dueled her directly for over a dozen exchanges, then quit while ahead and slipped off the platform.
Yan Ruyu had now fought two bouts back-to-back. She was breathing heavily, her mystic power significantly depleted. Naturally, she understood Liu Xing’s scheme. She shouted angrily,
“Coward! Dare to face me yourself?”
Liu Xing judged the moment right. He smiled faintly and replied,
“Since Junior Sister Ruyu invites me so warmly, how could I refuse?”
He snapped his folded fan shut and leaped onto the platform, landing opposite her with the poise of a dapper gentleman.
Yan Ruyu despised such hypocrisy. With a twist of her fair wrist, she channeled mystic power into her longsword once more, activating the runes etched upon it. Her foot slammed down, propelling her forward as her blade thrust straight for his face.
“Scattering Flowers Sword!”
She opened with a Mystic Technique, clearly aiming for a quick finish.
If she could take down the strongest foe, Liu Xing, the rest could be handled by Yan Zhen and the other clan members.
Liu Xing saw through her intent. Unhurried, he unfurled his fan. The runes upon it glowed under the surge of mystic power—it was a First-Tier Mystic Artifact as well.
The open fan blocked her sword. Then it snapped shut, snuffing out the red plum manifestation. The fan’s ribs clamped onto the blade, halting her advance cold.
Liu Xing swept out with a kick. Yan Ruyu lifted her leg to counter, then wrenched her sword free and retreated several paces.
Liu Xing did not press the attack. Instead, he watched her languidly.
He didn’t just want victory. He wanted to humiliate her publicly, payback for the trouble she’d caused him before.
It was all her fault—his reputation had tanked, and picking up girls had become an uphill battle.
“Is that all you’ve got, Junior Sister Ruyu?”
“Then try this!”
Yan Ruyu swept her hand along the sword, pouring mystic power into it ceaselessly. The blade began to glow fiery red and heat up rapidly until it shimmered like a branding iron.
Gripping the scorching sword, she charged at Liu Xing again. The tip bloomed with fiery red petals like winter plums.
“Scattering Flowers Sword – Red Plum Style.”
Liu Xing’s eyes narrowed. He no longer dared let the fan touch the blade directly.
“Iron Fan Dance.”
His mystic power-wreathed fan spun out like a boomerang, striking her thrusting sword dead center. Their energies collided in a fierce burst of qi.
Yan Ruyu staggered back several steps, while Liu Xing casually caught the rebounding fan.
The gap in skill was now painfully clear.
“Got any more tricks? If not, it’s my turn!”
Liu Xing snapped his fan shut and advanced. Yan Ruyu rallied her mystic power and met him sword-first.
Blade and fan crossed repeatedly, sparks flying.
After a dozen exchanges, the exhaustion from three straight fights caught up to Yan Ruyu. Liu Xing’s fan slammed into her sword, sending it spinning from her grasp.
She retreated violently, but this time Liu Xing gave her no reprieve. He strode forward in pursuit.
“Why run? Keep fighting!”
He unfurled the fan, its ribs extending into iron spikes, the face sharpening like a blade as it slashed toward Yan Ruyu’s waist—aiming to slice her belt and expose her publicly.
“Shameless!”
Shock and fury warred on Yan Ruyu’s face as she tried to backpedal further. But Liu Xing stuck to her like glue.
Just as the fan was about to rake her belt, a figure shot from the spectator stands. In an instant, it inserted itself between them.
One hand clamped down on Liu Xing’s wrist like an iron vise, halting the fan’s spikes a mere foot from Yan Ruyu. It advanced no further.
It was Yan Zhen.
Both Liu Xing and Yan Ruyu turned to him in surprise, baffled at how he’d closed the distance so swiftly.
Yan Zhen spoke up.
“Cousin, step down first. I’ll handle him.”
Yan Ruyu opened her mouth as if to argue, but a glare from Yan Zhen silenced her at once.
“Be careful,” she said.
She gave him one last look before hurrying off the platform.
Liu Xing wrenched free of Yan Zhen’s grip and backed away, his voice icy.
“Young Master Yan Zhen—I never imagined you’d make such a comeback. Color me surprised.”
Yan Zhen tilted his chin upward, radiating arrogance.
“Then why don’t you scram off the platform?”
“Heh. That was then, this is now. After three years without progress, you’re no genius anymore. I advise Young Master Yan Zhen to face reality.”
“Genius or not, who cares? I can still beat the crap out of you.”
“With your one- or two-star strength?”
“You blind?”
Yan Zhen circulated his mystic power. The aura radiating from him rivaled Yan Ruyu’s in intensity.
“Three-star—no, four-star Mystic Practitioner?!” Liu Xing blurted, stunned. “How in the world—”
A mere four-star posed no threat to him. But according to his intel, during the City Lord’s Mansion’s recent small tournament, Yan Zhen had only been at Mystic Disciple Eighth or Ninth Stage—enough to barely defeat Yan Mo at Ninth Stage.
Less than two months had passed since then. At best, he’d advanced to one-star Mystic Practitioner like Yan Mo. Two-star would be generous. But four-star…?
Yan Ruyu was equally astonished. Back over New Year’s, Yan Zhen had been three-star. Jumping a star in less than half a month was downright absurd.
The other spectators erupted in uproar—especially those from the Three Great Families.
They hadn’t spared Yan Zhen a thought before the event. Now his cultivation had caught up to them, or even surpassed it? And he was only fifteen—they were all over twenty!
Once the initial shock passed, Liu Xing quickly regained his composure up on the platform.
The kid’s talent had fully returned. If he kept this up, he’d be stepping on Liu Xing’s head within a year!
But fast advancement or not, he was still just four-star. Liu Xing was seven-star. A three-star gap wasn’t something you bridged on a whim.
No half-measures, then. Time to seize the chance and cripple him for good!
