Chapter Sixty-Nine: Trust Me!

The vast Divine Stone Plaza was silent, the echoes of Mo Zhan’s arrogant shouts still lingering within the martial arena. Shi Jian’s robust frame trembled slightly; his face was ashen, eyes ablaze with fury, desperate to strike down Mo Zhan at the center of the arena.

The eyes of everyone from the Northern Ming Clan, the Ling Clan, the Mo Clan, and the Zuo Clan fell upon Shi Jian. Around the arena, countless martial artists cast sympathetic glances at Shi Jian, whose face was twisted with anger.

By now, everyone could see the Mo Clan’s malicious intent, and it was clear they had resorted to unnatural methods. Yet, such was the nature of the martial tournament—both sides could use whatever means they wished, so long as they did not severely violate the rules. No matter how badly the loser was defeated, no one would step forward to protest.

Even the Shi Clan could only seethe in silence; others would hardly dare to speak out of turn.

At that moment, Han Feng stepped forward from behind the Shi Clan, carrying a small slip of paper to Shi Jian’s side and whispered, “Master, someone asked me to give you this note.”

Shi Jian took a deep breath, urging himself to remain calm. He accepted the note from Han Feng and glanced at it, only for his expression to suddenly change.

“All the Mo Clan youths have taken Blood Vitality Pills concocted by alchemists from the Poison Dragon Valley of the Divine Blessing Empire. The Blood Vitality Pill allows Mo Clan youngsters to double their strength for a short time! The price is a year without martial practice. For the upcoming match, it’s best not to continue, or you will suffer another bitter defeat. The elder standing beside Mo Zhan is the Poison Dragon Valley alchemist, Bloodhand. From Mu Xun.”

Shi Jian’s face grew darker as he read the note; at last, he understood what trick the Mo Clan had played. Mo Tuo, to defeat the Shi Clan, had sacrificed his grandson’s year of cultivation, ruthlessly injuring Shi Tianluo and Shi Tianyun—leaving them with wounds that would take years to heal. Such cruelty was unparalleled.

Shi Jian held the note, his expression gloomy, hesitating as he looked at Shi Yan, uncertain what to do.

Without Mu Xun’s note, Shi Jian might have sent Shi Yan onto the field. But now, knowing the truth—that Mo Zhan had surely taken the Blood Vitality Pill and could double his strength in battle—he dared not decide so rashly.

Mo Zhan himself was at the third level of Innate Realm; with the Blood Vitality Pill, his power would reach the Human Rank. A Human Rank martial artist could potentially break through Shi Yan’s second-stage Petrification Martial Soul.

Shi Yan’s exposure to martial arts had been brief. Shi Jian naturally assumed he lacked combat experience.

Under these circumstances, Shi Yan was very likely to be defeated and grievously wounded. With his dual martial souls, Shi Yan could one day become a peer of Northern Ming Ce, the true hope for the Shi Clan’s future.

If Shi Yan suffered a crushing defeat and serious injury in this battle, not only would his path to power be delayed, but he might be so demoralized as to give up entirely.

The more Shi Jian weighed the stakes, the more hesitant he became, almost resolved to endure humiliation to preserve Shi Yan.

Just then,

Zuo Shi walked over from the Zuo Clan, carrying a large backpack.

Zuo Shi’s captivating figure stirred a commotion within and around the arena; many people stared in awe, their gaze lingering on her slender legs.

Quickly, Zuo Shi reached the Shi Clan, stood beside Shi Jian, and placed the backpack on their table. She spoke softly, “Grandfather Shi, my grandfather asked me to lend you the Dragon Turtle Spirit Armor. He hopes it will help you win.”

After speaking, Zuo Shi glanced at Shi Yan and whispered, “Do your best.”

With those words, Zuo Shi drew back her head and hurried away, returning to the Zuo Clan’s crowd.

Though she had returned, her bright eyes continued to watch Shi Yan across the arena.

Among the Shi Clan, everyone was shrouded in despair.

Those who didn’t know Shi Yan’s situation felt this way, and even Han Zhong, who knew Shi Yan had broken through to the third level of Innate Realm, shared their hopelessness.

A martial artist who had just broken through to the third level of Innate Realm versus Mo Zhan—who had spent twenty years cultivating, reaching this stage step by step through countless battles—the disparity was obvious.

Moreover, the Mo Clan had clearly resorted to foul play, widening the gap even further.

“Dragon Turtle Spirit Armor!”

Shi Jian’s spirits lifted slightly, gaining some confidence. After a moment’s hesitation, he handed Mu Xun’s note to Shi Yan and murmured, “Grandfather isn’t sure anymore… You decide. If you think it’s too difficult, then… give up.”

At the words “give up,” Shi Jian seemed utterly spent, as if aged many years in an instant.

Shi Yan’s expression remained calm, betraying little surprise. He glanced at the note, his face as tranquil as a deep well—he had already suspected the Mo Clan’s trickery.

Before Shi Jian could speak, Shi Yan leaped into the center of the arena and called out, “Shi Yan of the Shi Clan, third level of Innate Realm—please instruct me!”

A sudden uproar swept through the arena.

The once silent martial arena became more lively than a marketplace; many stared at Shi Yan in astonishment.

“Who is this kid? Never heard of him in the Shi Clan!”

“Yeah, he’s never appeared in any tournament before. When did the Shi Clan produce such a talent?”

“…Shi Yan, I remember. Isn’t he the Shi Clan young master who loves classical texts? He’s never trained in martial arts—I only know him because he’s always causing trouble.”

“Impossible, right? Never practiced martial arts, yet has reached the third level of Innate Realm?”

“Who knows? But even if he’s at the third level, so what? Mo Qi was only at the second level and defeated Shi Tianyun, who was at the third. You all saw the result. Shi Yan is probably just Shi Jian’s way of saving face, sending him out to die.”

“Exactly. Poor guy—he’s just being sacrificed.”

“….”

All around the arena, voices rose and fell in debate. Not a single martial artist had faith in Shi Yan. Once they learned his identity, they naturally assumed Shi Jian had no choice but to send him out, and the outcome… was already decided.

On the Northern Ming Clan side, Northern Ming Shang frowned and turned to ask a retainer, “What’s going on with Shi Yan? Why was there no news of him? When did the Shi Clan gain a youngster at the third level of Innate Realm—did he appear out of thin air?”

“Master, I don’t know. Shi Yan never had the Shi Clan martial soul and never trained, so we didn’t waste effort on him. Who could have expected this sudden…”

“A bit odd,” Northern Ming Shang nodded, frowning but not pressing further.

Northern Ming Ce was briefly surprised, his eyes flashing with intrigue as he stared at Shi Yan. Suddenly, he said, “Wait, isn’t that the kid who drank with Han Zhong at Spring Pavilion a few days ago?”

Mu Yudie and Di Yalan recalled as well, nodding gently. Di Yalan, staring from afar at Shi Yan amidst the arena gossip, looked puzzled and whispered, “It’s him.”

“He’s doomed,” Northern Ming Ce shook his head dismissively. “No matter how lucky he was before, facing Mo Zhan means death or ruin.”

Mo Tuo was momentarily stunned, then sneered, “No matter where this brat came from, he’ll never get another chance after today.”

“Shi Yan, your gear!” Shi Jian called out, his face terrible, gesturing repeatedly toward the Dragon Turtle Spirit Armor left by Zuo Shi.

“No need.” Shi Yan glanced back at Shi Jian, shook his head lightly, then smiled at Mo Zhan. “At Spring Pavilion, I said we’d meet again. Now you know who I am, don’t you?”

“I do!” Mo Zhan laughed wildly. “You’re just here to die! Hahaha—the Shi Clan truly has no one left, sending a scholar to the arena! Hahaha, what a joke!”

Shi Yan was not angered; his demeanor remained calm as he waited in the center of the arena.

“Ahem, Clan Master Shi, please present your wager,” called the tournament official from the round platform.

“Clan Master!”

“Clan Master!”

“Clan Master!”

Many Shi Clan retainers spoke up together, all looking at Shi Jian and shaking their heads. Each had heard of Shi Yan’s history. Though none knew how he had reached the third level of Innate Realm, they were certain he would lose—perhaps disgracefully.

If the Shi Clan lost their wager in this bout, it would not only be a crushing defeat but could spell their ruin.

“Big brother, you mustn’t!” Shi Tie, still pressing on Shi Tianyun’s wounds, shook his head at Shi Jian. “Big brother, it’s not worth it for a bit of glory! Tianluo and Tianyun have already paid the price—don’t let Shi Yan be sacrificed too! Let it go, big brother!”

Though the clamor behind him was clear to Shi Yan, he turned and calmly looked at Shi Jian. “Grandfather, believe in me.”

“Alright!”

Hesitant, Shi Jian saw Shi Yan’s composure and, for reasons unknown, chose to trust him. Suddenly, he shouted, “Phoenix City! All rights to this city’s management—I, Shi Clan, relinquish them! If the Mo Clan wins, we will immediately withdraw from Phoenix City!”

His words set off another uproar; the crowd erupted in debate.

Phoenix City was a major city of the Merchant Alliance. The Shi Clan had operated there for decades, leaving their mark deep upon it.

Phoenix City was the Shi Clan’s strongest base. Yet Shi Jian was now wagering its management rights in a gamble—had he lost his mind?

“Big brother!”

“Clan Master!!”

All members of the Shi Clan stood up, staring in disbelief at Shi Jian, pleading with him to take back his words.

“Don’t try to persuade me! My mind is made up!” Shi Jian’s stubbornness returned; he scowled and snorted coldly. “If I fail, I’ll perish! This is my final wager!”

The Northern Ming and Ling Clans were equally stunned, clearly unable to understand.

Zuo Xu was taken aback, sighed softly, and murmured, “Brother Shi truly has no retreat left now.”

“Very well!” Mo Tuo suddenly stood, shouting, “No backing out!”

“Take it!” Shi Jian pulled out the deed from his inner pocket and handed it to the official. He then growled, “Mo Tuo, your wager isn’t enough!”

“I’ll add three more mines!” Mo Tuo’s face was dark as he sneered. “With a match certain to win, it doesn’t matter how much I stake—it’ll all end up belonging to the Mo Clan anyway!”

Soon, the official collected the Mo Clan’s wager as well and shouted, “Let the match begin!”

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