Chapter Twenty-One: A Struggle Between Life and Death

Hearing what the assassin on the other side said, Master Jinghai, whose face was shrouded in darkness, burst into hearty laughter. After laughing, she took a step forward and stared seriously into Coldblood's eyes. "I have already said that I will impart the essence of my cultivation to a disciple who meets my requirements, even if that person is a villain beyond redemption."

This old woman is really reckless, Qin Xiaochuan thought, clenching his fists in worry after hearing Master Jinghai's words. That means I absolutely cannot afford to lose.

"Very well, Master Jinghai, your answer satisfies me greatly. Next question: I am an assassin. If, during a duel with an opponent, I accidentally kill them, how will you handle it?"

Looking at the cold-blooded man before her, Master Jinghai's lips curled into a slight smile. "In the third trial of the Forest of Death, I believe all those cowardly souls afraid of death have already left. Anyone who practices martial arts should understand what it means to leave life and death to fate."

"Your answer is very satisfactory. That’s the end of my introduction." With that, Coldblood put his glasses back on and stepped aside.

After Coldblood finished his introduction, a short young monk dressed in Shaolin robes walked forward, clasped his hands together, and bowed to everyone present before introducing himself. "My name is Shaolin. I am a disciple from the Shaolin Temple, currently traveling and cultivating."

"My name is Qin Xiaochuan. I’m studying at Yanjing Affiliated High School, and my profession is... delinquent youth."

"My name is Zhang Yang, also a student at Yanjing Affiliated High School. Profession: delinquent youth."

After everyone finished their introductions, Master Jinghai took out paper and pen, had the eight participants write their names, and placed them in a sealed box with a round opening. Lots were drawn to determine the matches, and after several rounds, the competition order was set:

First match: Kongming vs. Coldblood. Second match: Shaolin vs. Huang Shang. Third match: Zhang Yang vs. Qingming. Fourth match: Qin Xiaochuan vs. Wu Li.

"I will stake my life on my profession," Coldblood said coldly, glancing at his opponent Kongming as he took off his glasses. "No matter who it is, I won’t show any mercy."

"Same here." Kongming didn’t even spare a glance at his opponent’s provocation, replying casually as he walked straight into the darkness of the room.

"That means only one of us will come out alive," Coldblood added, raising the stakes to a brutal life-and-death battle, intending to increase the psychological pressure on his opponent. Clearly, he had already been through many such trials. To maximize his strength, he was accustomed to pushing himself and his adversaries to the brink of death. Only in such situations did he feel he improved faster. Watching his opponent about to disappear into the darkness, Coldblood smiled faintly, took off his shoes and placed them neatly to the side, then slowly stepped into the shadows. Thus, the first match of the ultimate disciple selection tournament began under the ominous prelude of a duel to the death.

As the two vanished into the darkness, Qin Xiaochuan strained his eyes, desperately trying to make out their forms. He yearned to observe their fighting techniques and learn, but the room was so utterly devoid of light that nothing could be seen. Soon, the clanging sounds of metal striking metal echoed from within—sharp and crisp, made all the more terrifying by the total invisibility inside. "Damn, I can’t see anything in there at all," Qin Xiaochuan muttered.

"Who knows what’s going on inside?" Wu Li replied, folding his arms.

"The assassin has the upper hand," Zhang Yang said, focusing intently on the darkness. It seemed he could sense something via spiritual power, as if he could see what was happening inside.

Suddenly, there was a loud "bang!" As Qin Xiaochuan was staring, puzzled at Zhang Yang’s face, wondering how he could see what was happening, he whipped his head around to look into the room. The entire space was now illuminated as Kongming gathered all his spiritual energy into his palms and sent a wave of power roaring toward Coldblood, striking him square in the chest and flinging him violently to the ground, where he lay motionless.

Soon after, Kongming emerged from the darkness, battered and bruised, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth and clutching his wounded chest. He looked utterly exhausted, clearly having suffered serious injuries in his fight with Coldblood.

Regretful for having used his trump card so early, Kongming muttered to himself, "I never expected to resort to that move in the very first match."

As Kongming sat cross-legged to rest, the Taoist priest Qingming turned to Wu Li in confusion, "Did you see what happened in that move just now? What exactly was it?"

Wu Li shook his head, "It looked like a technique that gathers all the body’s spiritual energy and fires it outward. I’m not sure, but that’s probably it."

Hearing their conversation, Qin Xiaochuan grew frustrated. Isn’t that just like my Spirit Bullet? I thought I was the only one who could do it. But his Spirit Light Bomb looks much bigger than mine. Annoyed, Qin Xiaochuan muttered to himself, "A spiritual energy sphere? Isn’t that the same as my Spirit Bullet?"

"In principle, yes," came a familiar voice. Qin Xiaochuan turned to see who it was. "Xia Dan? What are you doing here?"

"Giggle, I was worried about you, so I came," Xia Dan replied, her signature smile lighting up her face, her eyes curving into crescent moons and deep dimples appearing on her cheeks—so adorable one could hardly resist wanting to plant a kiss there. "That little master Kongming seems to have undergone extremely rigorous training. The sphere of spiritual energy he released is similar in principle to your Spirit Light Bomb, but his spiritual power is much deeper. When he gathered all his energy into his palms and fired it at his opponent, he still had plenty left in reserve—unlike you, who can’t fire a second Spirit Bullet after launching one. Hehe."

"That’s not my fault!" Qin Xiaochuan protested, blushing as Xia Dan teased him. "I only just learned about spiritual energy. Kongming has probably been training for years. If I’d been practicing as long as he has, my Spirit Bullets would be much bigger than his. You believe me, right?"

"Of course I do," Xia Dan giggled, covering her mouth as she laughed again. "You’re the best, Xiaochuan…"

That girl must be an underling of Little King Yama, Master Jinghai thought, watching Xia Dan chat with Qin Xiaochuan and finally understanding why that boy was so formidable at such a young age. Still, even a recommendation from an old acquaintance wasn’t enough—only a fair duel could determine who would inherit her legacy.

As Master Jinghai pondered, Shaolin emerged from the darkness, clutching his stomach and looking exhausted. It seemed Chef Huang Shang had lost to the little monk. As Shaolin sat down to rest, Qin Xiaochuan stroked his chin, deep in thought. His earlier assumption had been wrong; Huang Shang didn’t seem to be the Demon Child, or he wouldn’t have so easily forfeited the chance to become Master Jinghai’s disciple. So who was it?

While Qin Xiaochuan was lost in thought, the third match was about to begin. As Zhang Yang prepared to enter the arena, Qin Xiaochuan extended his fist with a thumbs-down gesture and shouted provocatively, "Hey, Zhang Yang, do your best not to get slaughtered, huh!"

"Hmph," Zhang Yang retorted, sticking out his tongue at Qin Xiaochuan. "I won’t fall before I get to you. Just wait and see." With that, he turned away and walked straight into the darkness.

Ahead of Zhang Yang, the Taoist priest Qingming suddenly stopped and glanced back. "If you want to forfeit, now’s your chance, kid. Once we’re inside, it’s a battle of life and death between men. Even against a minor like you, I won’t hold back. So, have you made up your mind?"

Smiling with his eyes closed, Zhang Yang grinned at Qingming. "Don’t underestimate me, old man. I may just be in middle school, but I’ve fought more and have a better sense for spiritual power than you. Even if you disappear into the darkness, I can still see every move you make… huh?!"

"Bang!" As Zhang Yang responded to Qingming in the pitch-black arena, a punch came out of nowhere and knocked him hard to the ground.

To Zhang Yang’s left, he could clearly sense Qingming with his spiritual power—arms folded, watching him—but in an instant, Qingming’s presence faded from Zhang Yang’s mind. "What? He’s gone?" Zhang Yang couldn’t quite believe it. He was very confident in his ability to sense spiritual power, but now he couldn’t detect Qingming at all—not even a trace from within his own body. Did this guy possess some kind of secret treasure?

"I know full well your spiritual sense can detect energy and presence, letting you see in the dark. But through harsh training, I’ve learned to completely sever my spiritual energy and aura from the outside world. So, in a match fought in darkness, you have no chance of winning. Prepare to die!"