The moment the divine phrase echoed—"You are courting death!"—Xuanyan's brain flipped a switch.
That line.
That sacred, overused, universally worshipped line.
Xuanyan has read a lot of Cultivation Novel throughout in his past life and "Courting death" might me one of the most iconic words that is used by everyone ,author, reader and even memer.
He absolutely could not miss the scene.
This was history. Culture. Spiritual heritage.
A rite of passage for every transmigrator.
He sprinted through the courtyard turns until the noise thickened, and then—
He stopped.
The crowd was massive.
Outer sect disciples clogged the entire training plaza, forming a huge circular ring like some primitive arena. People were elbowing each other, whispering, bickering, cheering—classic chaos.
Xuanyan scanned the faces, and then his gaze halted.
There he was.
He walked straight toward the young man standing calmly at the front and settled at his side.
Ye Qingfeng.
The protagonist.
Heaven's beloved son.
Xuanyan cleared his throat.
"Brother Ye, what's happening?"
But even as he asked, his eyes slid toward the girl standing next to Ye Qingfeng.
She looked young—barely a year younger than them. But her cultivation was already Qi Condensation Stage 3. which was good compared to her age
He recognized her immediately.
Ye Qingyue.
Biological younger sister of Ye Qingfeng.
Reserved. Quiet. Traumatised. Never speaks unless her heart demands it.
In the original novel she barely interacted with anyone except her brother for the first hundred chapters.
Seeing her here, so early, felt strange.
Ye Qingfeng glanced at him, the corner of his eye twitching in mild surprise.
"Brother Xuanyan… meeting again so soon. Perhaps fate truly ties our paths," he muttered softly.
Of course fate ties us, you idiot hero—my system literally wants to dismantle your script, Xuanyan thought silently.
Ye Qingfeng shifted his attention to the center of the circle.
"You've probably heard—there's an inner sect tournament approaching."
Ye Qingyue blinked, glancing briefly at Xuanyan. Her gaze lingered a fraction longer than necessary before returning to the commotion ahead.
Ye Qingfeng continued, voice steady:
"Because of that, many outer sect disciples who were hiding in secluded training spots or out on missions have returned. Old grudges resurfacing. Rivalries igniting. Everyone is trying to settle debts before the tournament begins."And also trying to reduce competition before tournament.
He pointed his chin toward the fighting ring.
"This is the fourth fight since morning."
Xuanyan raised a brow.
Right. Cultivation sects: where anger issues and testosterone combine into spiritual warfare.
Ye Qingfeng suddenly frowned slightly, eyes narrowing at Xuanyan's aura.
"Senior brother… you broke through to Stage 4?" he asked quietly.
Xuanyan nodded.
Ye Qingfeng gave him a brief, sincere smile. "Congratulations."
"Thank you, junior brother."
Formalities exchanged, they turned back to the scene.
In the center of the crowd, three individuals stood facing one another—
Two men.
One woman.
All three were Qi Condensation cultivators.
The first man's face was twisted with rage. His fists trembled, veins bulging violently.
The second man stood casually, amusement wrapped around him like a cloak. His blue sect robe—the color of sword-path disciples—fluttered gently, making him look elegant… and infuriating.
He smiled gently, charmingly, and spoke with a voice that could make flowers bloom and women swoon.
"It was your girlfriend who came to me and begged me to sleep with her in exchange for a few sprit stone," he said, utterly calm.
"I simply fulfilled my duty as a considerate senior brother. When a junior earnestly pleads… how could I refuse?"
The crowd collectively inhaled.
Somewhere, a girl squealed.
Some guy cursed.
Many idiots are idolizing him.
Xuanyan's eyebrow flew up.
This bastard had the protagonist-level shamelessness.
He wasn't the main character… but he was definitely a a young master type villain.
And beside him—
The woman.
A jade beauty.
Her skin glowed like porcelain under moonlight. Her curves were generous, sculpted, obvious even through her light robe. Her hips alone could start a war if this was in his privious world. A mature charm radiated from her—one born not from innocence, but from the killer combination of experience and self-awareness.
She stood like a noble phoenix, chin lifted, eyes half-lidded, knowing perfectly well the effect she had on the world.
Her hair—dark as midnight—cascaded in a waterfall before being gathered into an elegant high coil, pinned with a single jade ornament. Simple. Stylish. Dominating.
The type of woman who enters a room and reality rearranges itself.
Xuanyan whistled internally.
Natural-born trouble.
* "Xiao Tianhao looked like a man who had swallowed an entire spirit furnace sideways.
Veins crawled across his neck like angry spirit serpents, his qi exploding around him in unstable bursts — sparks, crackles, the sound of a meridian about to file a formal complaint to heaven.
He jabbed his finger forward so violently Xuanyan thought the poor digit might detach and fly off like a rogue hidden weapon.
His voice broke — half rage, half shame, half emotional damage:
"Bai Shaoge… YOU ARE COURTING DEATH!"
The crowd went silent.
T— Bai Shaoyue — lowered her eyes, lashes trembling.Her lashes fluttered like annoyed butterfly wings.
Not shy.
Not demure.
Just… done.
So utterly, spiritually, emotionally done with her brother's nonsense.
Xuanyan could practically feel her soul sigh.
This woman has known suffering, he thought.
And most of that suffering is standing two feet away screaming like a broken spiritual whistle.
Bai Shaoyue pinched the bridge of her nose.
Her qi didn't flare, didn't rumble — it cooled, like water settling into a lake before a storm.
Then, in the flattest, most unenthusiastic voice a jade beauty had ever used in the history of cultivation dramas, she said:
"Bai Shaoge, kill him.
He's annoying."
Ye gods.
Mommy Vibes ❣️
Xuanyan inhaled sharply.
Two no name geniuses about to clash.,jade beauty emotionally checked out of life., crowd hungry for violence.
A protagonist standing beside him.
And Xuanyan, with popcorn-level enthusiasm surging in his veins, had a perfect front-row seat.
He folded his arms , let the show begins.