Chapter Twenty: A Contest in the Darkness

“This guy…?” Qin Xiaochuan wiped the sweat from his forehead as he gazed up at the bat demon overhead. It seemed the old saying held true: blessings never come in pairs, and misfortunes never come alone. He had just escaped the crocodile demon’s attack, only to encounter a bat demon next. If he didn’t deal with this creature quickly, it would be hard to press forward.

“I’m starting now, chomp chomp!” Seeing Qin Xiaochuan’s startled expression, the bat demon released its grip, spread its wings, and flew at him with excitement. Clearly, it considered Qin Xiaochuan tonight’s dinner.

By the giant tree at the finish line, Master Jinghai had arrived an hour earlier. She stood with her hands behind her back, eyes closed, using her spiritual senses to perceive the competitors rushing toward her from several kilometers away.

“Well, that curly-haired child is doing well—he’s currently in first place. His intuition has grown strong enough to sense danger in advance and avoid it. Not bad, not bad. That monk’s perception is also good; though a bit inferior to the curly-haired one, he’s following closely behind. Ah, someone has fallen prey to illusions and is wandering in circles… I’ll rescue them when they leave…”

Soon, the competitors who had made it through the Forest of Death emerged one after another, gathering before the giant tree. Master Jinghai counted them—seven had passed the test, more than she’d anticipated. “It seems you seven are the final candidates who made it through the trial. Now…”

“Wait, please!” Zhang Yang, seeing that Qin Xiaochuan hadn’t arrived yet, hurried forward to stop Master Jinghai from announcing the results. He couldn’t believe Qin Xiaochuan had been eliminated so easily. “Master Jinghai, there should be one more person coming…”

Master Jinghai glanced at her watch. “But the time limit will expire in less than a minute. We must strictly abide by the rules—less than ten seconds left now. Nine, eight, seven, six… Very well, the time is…”

“Wait, Master, look! Another one is coming!” Just as Master Jinghai was about to announce the outcome, Zhang Yang pointed to a figure darting from the woods nearby, halting her.

“Ah, damn it, I thought going straight would be fastest, but I lost so much time midway. What a disaster.” Qin Xiaochuan wiped an unknown liquid and moss from his body as he hurried toward the tree, seeing the crowd already gathered beneath it—especially Zhang Yang, who stood among them. Qin Xiaochuan felt a twinge of annoyance; he had fallen behind Zhang Yang again in this contest. How could he show his face after this?

“You came straight toward this tree?” Master Jinghai asked, startled as she looked at Qin Xiaochuan, drenched from head to toe. “You must have encountered a formidable crocodile demon and a swift bat demon along the way?”

“Are you talking about this fellow?” Hearing Master Jinghai mention the incident, Qin Xiaochuan triumphantly grabbed the unconscious bat demon from behind him. “The crocodile demon was too slow—I left it behind. As for this bat demon, its speed is nothing compared to Feiyan. It barely had time to leap before I yanked it out of the air. And you know, this creature couldn’t even withstand a couple hits—I knocked it out easily. How about that, Zhang Yang?” With a flourish, Qin Xiaochuan tossed the bat demon to the ground and clapped his hands. He’d carried it all this way just to show off to Zhang Yang, to prove that even demon spirits, no matter how refined, were no match for him if he so desired.

“…” Master Jinghai stared at the bat demon in surprise. ‘Who exactly is this young man?’

With time running short, Master Jinghai turned to the eight contestants who had emerged victorious and announced loudly, “It seems you all expended considerable effort to reach this place. Those who did not make it, I’ll rescue as we leave. The eight of you will now face the final challenge. I declare, the next test is…”

Hearing Master Jinghai about to unveil the final trial, all eight present immediately held their breath, focusing intently. Even Qin Xiaochuan, who was playfully pressing Zhang Yang’s head down while standing atop the bat demon, quickly released him and listened closely.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“Damn!” Everyone toppled backward in shock—after surviving the Forest of Death and now facing Master Jinghai’s humor, they nearly broke down in tears. Was this how things were done? The rules for selecting disciples were to be improvised?

“Come with me first; let’s rescue those trapped in the woods.” Master Jinghai, hands clasped behind her back, shuffled toward the forest she had just come from.

Watching her depart, the group hurried after her. Upon returning to the master’s residence, they followed her to a spacious house.

Master Jinghai pushed open the door and entered. The others followed. The floor was covered in wood, pleasantly soft underfoot. Thick black curtains blocked the windows, plunging the room into total darkness, unsettling everyone. As they wondered what trial Master Jinghai planned here, she turned to them, her face half-lit by sunlight streaming through the door. “As you can see, this room will host your fourth trial. Here, you’ll draw lots and face off in pairs. You will sense your opponent’s spiritual energy and position during battle. Weapons and spiritual tools are permitted. Victory belongs to the one who emerges from the darkness…”

“What’s wrong, Zhang Yang?” As Master Jinghai explained the rules, Qin Xiaochuan noticed Zhang Yang repeatedly rubbing his nose and assumed he’d caught a cold in the woods. “Afraid of a one-on-one duel, huh? Relax—if you face me, I’ll go easy on you.” He placed a hand on Zhang Yang’s neck.

“No…” Zhang Yang glanced at Qin Xiaochuan, who was grinning foolishly at him, sweat forming on his brow. He spoke with grave seriousness, “I have a very bad feeling. Since entering the woods, I’ve sensed a sinister spiritual aura lingering around me. It feels as if a wild beast is lurking nearby, and it terrifies me…”

Hearing this, Qin Xiaochuan suddenly remembered the demon child. Right, how could he have forgotten? That so-called demon child had indeed set his sights on Master Jinghai’s secret arts and must be hiding among these six people. Qin Xiaochuan carefully sensed the air around him and detected a faint, icy spiritual force—demon energy—that surrounded him. Though he couldn’t tell how the demon child had concealed his aura, he could still feel wisps of coldness, eerie and indescribable. Glancing at Zhang Yang, Qin Xiaochuan blurted out, “It’s like someone letting out a silent fart in a crowded room, isn’t it?”

“…Yeah, that’s pretty much it,” Zhang Yang replied, rubbing his nose.

“Now,” Master Jinghai continued, “Oh, right, please introduce yourselves—state your name and profession. After introductions, you’ll draw lots. Whoever picks your opponent’s name enters the room for the duel. Go ahead and begin.”

Prompted by Master Jinghai, a long-haired, scarred man glanced at those around him and stepped forward first. “My name is Wu Li. As you can see, I am a martial artist. I travel the land, training to challenge the limits of the body.”

“I am Kong Ming, a lay disciple of Shaolin. My passion for martial arts brought me here to learn secret techniques from Master Jinghai.” The monk, whose spiritual energy was visibly manifest, stepped forward after Wu Li’s introduction, clasped his hands respectfully, and introduced himself to the master and the assembled group with poise and presence.

After Kong Ming, a man dressed as a Daoist, a sword strapped to his back, stepped forward and greeted the group. “My name is Qing Ming. I am a spiritual practitioner with a shop in Qingcheng, offering feng shui consultations and exorcisms.”

Next was a plump, middle-aged man with two small black mustaches at the corners of his mouth. He stepped forward and introduced himself, “Hello, everyone. I’m Huang Shang. Don’t mistake me for the emperor of old—the ‘Huang’ is for yellow, and ‘Shang’ means high. My profession is chef.”

A chef as a spiritual practitioner? Qin Xiaochuan couldn’t help but scrutinize the man. Was he the demon child? Surely not—he was so fat. But then, how could a chef have made it through all those trials?

While Qin Xiaochuan appraised the plump chef Huang Shang, a man with a cold expression, black sunglasses, and a black suit stepped forward. “I am Leng Xue, an assassin.” He bowed briefly to Master Jinghai, then removed his sunglasses, revealing sharp, gleaming eyes. He swept his gaze across those present before fixing it on the master. “Master Jinghai, I seek your secret techniques. I do not wish to deceive you, nor would you, I trust, refuse to teach me simply because I am an assassin—should I defeat everyone here. Is that so, Master Jinghai?”