I watched Gao Yun next.
He faced his opponent
With quiet resolve.
A hundred rounds passed
Before he claimed victory—
Not with brute force,
But with precision and restraint.
He had grown
Since I first met him.
The arrogance was gone.
In its place—
A tempered strength.
—
His wife and children
Were among the crowd.
She drew many eyes—
Graceful, composed,
Radiant in her silence.
As soon as the match ended,
Gao Yun ran to her.
He embraced her tightly,
And she kissed him on the lips
Without hesitation.
Their children clung to his legs,
Laughing
As he lifted them into his arms.
He laughed too—
Freely, joyfully,
As if the weight he'd carried
Had finally lifted—
They would stay here now.
He had missed them terribly.
We had gone together
To bring them to this province.
And now—
They were home.
Next,
I watched Mianmian.
She faced a woman—
Quick, proud, relentless.
It took fifty-five rounds to end it.
Mianmian shifted into her squirrel form,
Darted beneath a sweeping strike,
Then reverted mid-air
And delivered a clean uppercut
That sent her opponent reeling.
The crowd gasped.
The match was hers.
—
She ran to me,
Leapt onto my shoulders,
And grinned.
"You saw that?
I beat her so easily!
Are you proud of me?"
Her voice was bright,
Her joy unfiltered.
I nodded,
But the air already felt thick.
Killing intent radiated from the crowd—
Jealous cultivators
Cloaked in courtesy.
Mianmian,
Princess Lianhua Tianchen,
Was among the sect's most renowned beauties already.
Her victory,
Her joy,
Her closeness to me—
It stirred envy
Like smoke from dry leaves.
Prince Mingyu Tianchen and Gao Yun
Were counted among the most handsome men of the sect—
Admired, envied, watched.
I, however,
Was not noticed at all.
And honestly,
That was nice.
Very nice.
In this form,
I passed as a plain-looking cultivator.
Nothing special.
No titles.
No aura.
Just another face in the crowd.
And that suited me perfectly.
—
After a while,
The numbers blurred.
At least five hundred thousand disciples
Had faced off against each other.
Victories.
Defeats.
Transformations.
Revelations.
The air was thick
With spent energy
And sharpened intent.
—
Finally,
It was my time.
Gǔlóng Shu had spoken to me earlier,
Her voice low and certain:
"Win this."
And I would.
I stepped onto the battleground.
The crowd shifted, murmured, then refocused.
My opponent was already waiting—
A woman of striking beauty,
Known throughout the sect.
Her hair was a vivid orange,
Flowing like fire,
And her robe matched it perfectly,
Tailored to accentuate her presence.
She stood with poise,
Acutely aware
Of every eye upon her.
I stood across from her—
Plain, quiet, unnoticed.
But not for long.
—
She looked me over,
Lips curled in disdain.
"What's your name, ugly boy?"
The words landed like a slap—
Not just blunt,
But cruel.
I had thought her direct,
Perhaps even honest.
But this was something else.
She found me unappealing.
I saw it in her eyes—
The disgust,
The certainty,
The dismissal.
And I said nothing.
Because silence, too,
Is a kind of blade.
"My name is Shen Wuyin," I said calmly.
"What's yours?"
She scoffed.
"You should know my name.
I'm counted among the striking beauties of this sect—
Alongside Princess Lianhua and Mianmian."
I looked at her closely.
She didn't like those two.
The disdain in her voice
Wasn't just pride—
It was petty.
Bitter.
A rivalry not born of principle,
But of envy.
She gave off a villainous vibe.
Not the grand, tragic kind.
The small kind—
For now.
The type that festers in shadows
And smiles in mirrors.
—
"Sorry," I said.
"I honestly don't know.
I wish I did,
But I ignore that sort of thing.
Please do tell me your name—
At least out of politeness."
She scoffed again,
Arms crossed,
Waiting for me.
Her patience wore thin—
Quickly.
"Fine then," she snapped,
Her voice sharp and theatrical.
"My name is Velanisse Historia.
Surely even someone like you
Has heard it spoken in reverence."
She tilted her chin,
Expecting the crowd to murmur.
Expecting awe.
They did.
But I gave her silence.
Her name was beautiful.
But beauty
Could be a lie
Told often enough
To sound like truth.
"That's a lovely name.
It suits your temperament perfectly."
Velanisse froze.
Her eyes narrowed,
Searching his face for mockery.
"How dare you make fun of me,
You ugly, insignificant boy?"
Her voice cracked with fury.
"You'll never get a woman
With your looks."
She stepped closer.
The air around her tightened.
"And you'll never get anyone
With that personality."
I didn't raise my voice.
"Honestly,
It's fine to like people who are physically attractive—
But you?"
I shook my head.
I turned away,
Having had enough of the exchange.
"Think whatever you want.
You're allowed.
Just don't expect anyone to care."
—
"How dare you turn your back on me—"
She began,
Voice rising.
But before she could finish,
She realised
She'd been knocked from the fighting platform.
She stared at me,
Stunned.
My back was turned.
I was already walking away.
The fight won.
—
But before I could leave,
Someone stepped into my path.
A man—
Taller,
Broad-shouldered,
Dressed in the same sect colours as her.
Her partner.
"How dare you treat my woman
With no respect?" he said,
Voice low and full of threat.
"You should know your station, boy."
"You must be her boy toy," I said aloud.
No one laughed.
The air shifted—
Sharp, brittle.
A sudden hush fell over the arena.
The only one who laughed
Was Gǔlóng Shu,
My lover and future wife.
Her laughter was low, deliberate.
It echoed through the silence
Like a blade drawn in moonlight.
—
She rose from her seat,
Voice smooth
As silk drawn over steel.
"Well?
Are you going to let him get away with that?"
Her gaze swept the arena,
Then settled on the man
Blocking my path.
"He may be my disciple,
But I won't save him."
A pause—
Measured.
Dangerous.
"Go ahead.
If you can beat him,
You'll earn your honour back."
—
I looked at her.
She smiled—
Slowly, deliberately.
Affection and authority,
Braided into one expression.
I smirked.
The boy stood tall,
Fist half-raised—
But before it could fall,
He was already unconscious.
No one saw what happened.I walked away
Without a care in the world.
Back in my position.
Standing.
Waiting for my next turn.
Gǔlóng Shu smiled
As she watched her husband win.
Well—
She called him her husband.
They weren't married yet.
But in her mind,
The wedding with Rén
Had already taken place.
She was halfway through
Planning the divorce
From her actual husband—
That scumbag.
Her thoughts weren't on the match.
They were on Rén.
On the way he moved.
On the way he didn't ask for her loyalty,
But earned it anyway.
—
People started murmuring.
Whispers rippled through the crowd.
They said it wasn't possible.
I must have cheated.
Mostly,
It came from those
Who couldn't stomach the truth—
That a plain-looking nobody
Had won,
While the tall, handsome favourite
Got his ass handed to him.—
"How the hell did that plain-looking boy win?"
A random woman scoffed,
Voice sharp with disbelief.
"He beat the tall, handsome fiancé
Of Velanisse Historia?
Seriously?
The only thing that boy's got
Is height."
—
I looked at the woman.
She was attractive—
Undeniably so.
And she knew it.
She had all the assets:
Beauty, poise,
The kind of allure
That drew eyes
Without earning respect.
If this were the old me?
Forget it, I thought.
Not worth it.
This woman only cared about one thing—
Men who were handsome,
Tall,
And powerful.
She didn't care about anything else.
Not their thoughts.
Not their scars.
Not who they were beneath the surface.
Only what they had.
Poor woman.
Just another top striking beauty of this sect.
And of course,
There were men just like her—
Arrogant.
Conceited.
Uncaring.
They worshipped appearance,
Power,
And money.
And nothing else.
Then I heard Emperor Shadow in my head. "How dare she underestimate us. We should make her regret it. Not with violence. Not with fury. With pleasure—better than any man she's known. She's no virgin. But she's never tasted real power.
Rén—our power.
The kind that crowns True Immortals.
There is no right or wrong.
Only emptiness
Dressed in opinion.
You know I speak the truth.
Truth that people cast aside,
Chasing their illusions.
It's all just opinion.
Ours is simple:
Live through action.
Accept the cost.
Good or bad—
It makes no difference to us.
He smirked.
I felt him behind me—
Not in body,
But in memory.
Like the shadow I once was.
The one I buried.
The one that still whispers.
Then Prince Mingyu Tianchen stepped close.
Soft-footed.
Worried.
I looked down.
He was showing his cute side again—
Brows drawn,
Lips parted,
Eyes searching mine.
He called me "True Immortal."
Out loud.
In front of everyone.
No disciple knew what it meant.
But he did.
And he said it
As if it were a prayer.
"Are you okay, True Immortal?"
"For a moment… I sensed something else.
Not just a little difference—
Enough to scare me."
"It felt like someone else was standing in your place."
"I hope you're okay.
Are you okay?"
His voice cracked on the last word.
Not from fear.
From care.—
I rubbed his head.
His hair was soft—
Messy from worry.
He was a caring, cute kid.
Only ten years old.
I hoped he would never lose that.
I leaned down
To match his height.
He looked up,
Eyes wide,
Still searching mine.
"I'm fine," I said.
"Thank you for asking.
I appreciate it."
Then I placed the gift in his hands—
A small jade vial,
Pulsing faintly with light.
"Here.
Another gift for your cultivation."
"It'll help you greatly—
I promise."
He held it
As if it were sacred.
Not because of the power.
Because it came from me.
The moment was interrupted—
By the soft press of a beautiful chest.
Mianmian.
She wrapped her arms around me.
Bold.
Uninvited.
But not unwelcome.
"My poor sweet master," she cooed,
Voice like silk over steel.
"Mianmian will do anything
To comfort her master.
Anything."
She let that word linger.
Anything.
It hung in the air like perfume—
Sweet,
Heavy,
Dangerous.
She turned her head slowly,
Deliberately.
Eyes sweeping the gathered disciples.
Some gulped.
Others looked away.
Jealousy bloomed
Like poison petals.
Silent.
Vivid.
Incurable.
—
Mingyu stepped back,
Still clutching the jade vial.
Still ten years old.
Still pure.
But now—
Surrounded by shadows.
A voice broke the hush.
"Did she just call him master?"
The words were low,
But not quiet enough.
A random cultivator—
Plain-robed,
Sharp-eyed,
Forgettable.
"That plain-looking boy…
Lucky to have one of the striking beauties
Of the Black Dragon Sect."
The words hung like smoke.
Thin.
Bitter.
Meant to vanish.
But they didn't.
Several disciples shifted.
One scoffed.
Another clenched his fist.
Mianmian didn't flinch.
She smiled.
Not at the speaker.
At me.—
You did that purposely, I said through transmission.
She didn't answer.
Just grinned.
Like a mischievous disciple
Who knew precisely what she was doing—
And knew I wouldn't punish her for it.
Her eyes sparkled.
Not with innocence.
With possession.
—
She pressed her chest into my face.
Soft—like pillows.
She smelled like nuts.
Not the bitter kind.
The warm kind.
The kind you roast over fire
And eat with honey.
She was technically
My second spirit animal.
Bound to me.
Loyal.
Wild.
Right now,
She wore her human form.
Brown-silver robes,
Matching her hair—
A cascade of dusk and moonlight.
She knew what she was doing.
And she knew
I wouldn't stop her.—
I saw the eyes.
Disciples watching.
Envy blooming.
Killing intent rising.
So I lifted Prince Mingyu Tianchen
And placed him on my shoulders.
He blinked, surprised—
Then smiled.
Chubby cheeks.
Wide eyes.
The crowd shifted.
Their hatred paused.
Their jealousy softened.
He was cute.
He was ten.
He was not a threat.
I had replaced her with him.
And they saw it.
—
Mianmian pouted.
She stepped closer,
Took my arm,
Wrapped it around her waist.
And pressed her chest against me.
"Traitor," she murmured.
Not loud.
Not angry.
Just hurt.
Velanisse Historia stared at Shen Wuyin.
Hatred burned in her eyes.
"He cheated. He must have.
It makes no sense."
She said it out loud.
Didn't care who heard.
Not her fiancé, Yunbei of the Ox Clan.
Not the disciples whispering behind their sleeves.
Yunbei came to comfort her.
She let him.
Arms wrapped around him—
A gesture.
Nothing more.
His qi was steady,
Like mountain fog.
Present.
Unmoving.
But it couldn't reach her.
Her gaze never left Shen Wuyin.
And his eyes—
When they met hers—
Were empty.
Not cold.
Not cruel.
Just… absent.
Like she didn't exist.
Her hair flared.
Flames licked the air.
She was a fire lotus spirit.
And she was burning.—
Lingxue approached.
Graceful.
Poised.
Cold.
She walked toward her best friend—
Velanisse Historia.
Lingxue of the Ice Phoenix Clan.
A striking beauty of the Blackdragon Sect.
Admired.
Desired.
Never truly known.
She had mocked Shen Wuyin.
Scoffed at his looks.
Dismissed his silence.
Underestimated his power.
The only thing she noticed?
He was the tallest.
That was it.
She saw nothing else.
And that blindness
Would cost her
More than she knew.
—
Velanisse and Lingxue
Were best friends.
But Velanisse knew—
Lingxue desired her fiancé, Yunbei.
Lingxue's voice was light,
Almost playful.
But Velanisse heard the rot beneath it.
"He's nothing special, Velanisse.
The only thing he's got going for him
Is his height.
That's it.Everything else?
Trash.
Don't you agree?
Yunbei—he's nothing like you.
Handsome.
Tall.
Powerful.
Shen Wuyin's just lucky.
That's all he is."
"You're right, Lingxue. I agree—he was just lucky.
I'll face him again.
For real this time.
And I'll destroy him.
Don't you think, Velanisse?"
"I agree with Yunbei.
It was just luck—for both of us.
He cheated, that's all—no real talent.
I found out he has the lowest talent here,
And somehow the Sect Master still chose him.
He's just lucky.
That's all," Velanisse said.
—
I looked at Princess Lianhua.
She seemed angry
At what the three of them were saying about me.
Then she spoke—
Loud enough for everyone to hear.
"How dare they speak that way about you, True Immortal.
I was just like them—
Self-entitled, blind.
I didn't know better
Until you taught me
Not to underestimate anyone."
—
People were giving me the death stare again.
Mianmian was clinging to me,
Her chest pressed against my arm.
The little prince sat on my shoulders,
Laughing at the height difference.
And now his sister, Princess Lianhua,
Was showing me respect
In front of everyone.By accident,
She had shown reverence.
She was known
As a striking beauty in the Blackdragon Sect—
Just like Mianmian, Velanisse, and Lingxue.
—
Gao Yun came along.
"True Immortal, don't listen to them.
They're just idiots—like I was.
Soon they'll see your greatness,
Like I did."
This was getting out of hand.
I was getting a headache.
Gao Yun was known
As one of the spectacularly handsome men,
Alongside Yunbei,
Of the Blackdragon Sect.
It took a while,
But it was my turn again.
I stepped forward—
And saw him.
Yunbei.
I didn't give him a chance to speak.
He was down again.
—
"How the hell did he beat him again?
He must be cheating.
He has to be.
I didn't even see how he did it,"
Said a random disciple.
—
This time,
I was stopped by Lingxue.
She looked at my face
With disgust.
"You're cheating.
You have to be.
You're not handsome.
You don't have power.
The only good thing about you
Is that you're the tallest person in this sect.
That's it.
Nothing else.
You're trash."
I looked at her
With empty eyes—
And ignored her.—
Then I looked to my master,
Gǔlóng Shu.
She spoke for me.
"He did not cheat.
He won fairly.
You're just too blind to see.
All of you."
I didn't look at her.
I ignored her.
She was tall for a woman.
But next to me,
She was short as hell.
She hated that.
"I demand a rematch for him," she snapped.
"This time, fight fairly.
Let us all see your supposed greatness."
The training ground fell quiet.
Some disciples nodded.
Others looked away.
I stepped forward—
Slowly.
Silently.
"I don't need to prove anything to you," I said,
Voice flat.
But I looked at Yunbei.
"If he wants a rematch,
I'll give him one more chance."
The Sect Master said nothing.
It looked like she was fine
With what Lingxue said.
So I went back.—
Yunbei was furious.
He transformed into his proper form—
An ox.
The mythical beast of his clan.
He charged straight at me.
I didn't move.
I picked up my two swords.
I had just thought of a name.
Simple.
Fitting.
One was the sword
My other master, Fairy Jin, had given me—
Her family's blade.
I had merged it with my soul.
It became the Whitedragon Sword.
I already had the Blackdragon Sword.
Now they were twins.
One born of legacy.
One born of silence.—
I barely moved.
Cut off his two horns—
Easy.
Like slicing tofu.
He collapsed.
Turned back into his human form.
Rolled across the ground.
Then stopped.
I walked toward him—
Slowly.
He was unconscious.
I placed my foot on his head.
Raised my Whitedragon Sword.
Looked at my lover—
The Sect Master.
She nodded.
I was about to strike
When I heard his fiancée cry out his name.
"Please…
Show him mercy.
I beg of you."
I could still see it in their eyes.
They thought I cheated.
Somehow.
Even though I moved slow—
Slow enough they could see every cut.
If I hadn't,
Their minds wouldn't have been able
To comprehend my speed.
—
"Does anyone else wish to challenge my disciple?
Then step up.
Prove that he cheated—
Or admit he's better than all of you.
How disappointing."
"I will."
I turned.
Of course.
It was that annoying woman
Who cared too much about appearances—
Lingxue.
Just like Velanisse,
Who shielded her fiancé.
How sweet, I thought,
As I glanced back at Lingxue.
"Fine. I'll face you too," I said.
I kicked his body aside.
The mountain had crushed him.
He was lace—
I made sure of that.I didn't kill him for vengeance.
I did it
To show her my strength.
So she wouldn't underestimate me.
—
Then, with two swings of my swords,
I destroyed two more mountains.
Clean.
Controlled.
Like slicing butter.
The wind pressure was so intense
That my lover—the Sect Master—
And the elders
Had to shield the disciples
To keep them from being flung into the sky.
Then I shattered the battlefield.
It crumbled beneath us.
She didn't flinch.
I respected her for that.
She stood firm,
Ice phoenix wings unfurled behind her,
Holding her steady
Against the storm.
Even if I'd made it serious,
Even that wouldn't have saved her.
When I get serious,
Nothing can stop me.
Even when I'm not serious.
I sighed, silently—
Too much power.—
I wish I could face Venya again.
It's been a while.
She was the female version
Of my one true equal—
The only one
Who could defeat me.
Kill me.
But I'd come back, of course.
I should stop mentioning that.
Can't help myself.
It's just true.
Sadly.