klisemfg Chapter 506 Public Opinion Counterattack
Chapter 506 Public Opinion Counterattack
When Wen Chen draped my outer robe over me after the meeting, his dark, wide sleeves swept across the peach petals on the steps, and I smelled a faint scent of agarwood from the bottom of his sleeves—the incense he always lit when he stayed up all night to deduce the location of Lei Ze for me.
The curtain to the side hall was lifted slightly by the wind, and Fairy Mingyue was tiptoeing to place the Soul-Manifesting Mirror on the table, a handkerchief twisted into a ball between her fingers: "Fairy Xiao, Immortal Venerable Xuanfeng asked me to pass on a message, saying that he will help arrange the trial..."
"Ah Yao." Wen Chen's fingertips gently touched the back of my hand, the warmth of his palm passing through the protective jade pendant. "Last night you said you wanted to convince everyone, but conviction and obedience aren't just about words."
I stared at the half-map of Thunder Swamp peeking out from his sleeve, recalling the hesitant glances in the hall earlier—when Elder Cangwu's teacup shattered, a cold smile was clearly on his lips; several cultivators from minor sects were looking this way with telescopes, the lenses gleaming coldly in the sunlight.
What they want to see is not whether I truly possess the strength of an immortal, but whether I will show weakness under pressure.
“So we have to try a different approach.” I pressed the protective jade into my bosom; it was carved by Wen Chen using half of his own natal jade marrow. “The lightning tribulation in Lei Ze is too dangerous, so…” I looked up at him, “why not set up a public competition?”
In the battlefield of immortal honor, in front of everyone, I'll let those who doubt me try it themselves.
Wen Chen's pupils contracted slightly, then he smiled: "A clever plan."
They want evidence, so give them the most direct evidence; they want a spectacle, so turn that spectacle into their weapon. He reached out and smoothed my wind-blown hair. "When?"
"The sooner the better." I turned to look at Fairy Mingyue, whose hands, which were twisting her handkerchief, paused. "Fairy, please trouble you to invite Immortal Venerable Xuanfeng and Elder Wu to the side hall."
Half an hour later, Immortal Venerable Xuanfeng's blue-patterned Daoist robe swept across the threshold, and Elder Wu followed behind him carrying a stack of "Immortal Alliance Arena Rules".
Immortal Venerable Xuanfeng's brows were still furrowed: "Fairy Xiao, while a public competition is safer than a Thunder Swamp contest, what if someone foolish enough to try and kill us..."
"Deadly strike?" I tapped the Soul-Manifesting Mirror on the table with my fingertips. The mirror reflected the cold light in my eyes. "The Immortal Alliance Arena has a protective array. Stop when the injury is too severe."
If they dare to use lethal force, it will only confirm their accusation of 'making trouble unreasonably'.
Elder Wu pushed his jade thumb ring, pausing as he flipped through the rules: "Is Fairy Xiao trying to turn the competition into... a forum for public opinion?"
“Exactly.” I pulled the rules out of his hand and turned to the page on “Challenger Qualifications.” “Only cultivators at the Nascent Soul stage or above are allowed to challenge, and they must register three days in advance on the Immortal Alliance bulletin board.”
This way, we can weed out those who just want to stir up trouble, while also giving them enough time to build momentum—"I looked up," I said, "the more they spread the word, the more people will come to see, and the wider the news will spread when I win."
Xuanfeng Immortal Venerable suddenly laughed out loud and tapped the table with his knuckles: "What a fine example of using their own methods."
"I'll go arrange the protective formation right away. Elder Wu will be in charge of verifying the challengers' qualifications." As he stood up, a gust of wind rose from his wide sleeves, blowing Fairy Mingyue's handkerchief to the ground. "As for the announcement..."
“I’ll write it.” I picked up the brush, and the ink spread on the rice paper. “I will write: Xiao Yao, originally a wild cultivator without spiritual roots, now establishes the Immortal Alliance Arena. All cultivators above the Nascent Soul stage are welcome to come and fight.”
The winner will receive the Thousand-Year Mystic Ice Marrow, and the loser… I paused, “The loser must post a message on the bulletin board for three days saying ‘Immortal Venerable Xiao Yao truly deserves her title.’”
Wen Chen chuckled softly behind me, his breath brushing against my ear: "A-Yao isn't even leaving them a way out."
The day the announcement was posted, the bulletin board in front of the Immortal Alliance's mountain gate was packed with people.
Wen Chen and I hid on the second floor of the teahouse, watching several cultivators in blue robes tiptoeing to copy the contents of the notice. An old man with a white beard slammed his fist on the table and cursed, "Has Xiao Yao gone mad?"
"Is Xuanbing Marrow easy to obtain?" The young cultivator beside him gleamed, "I heard she used to draw spiritual energy in Thunder Swamp; she might actually have some skill..."
Three days later, on the day of the arena, a faint smell of blood lingered in the air of the Immortal Realm's battlefield of honor—the scent of blood left over from previous arenas. But today's air was also mixed with the smells of incense, perfume, and the whispers of countless cultivators.
I stood on the arena, the black iron floor tiles beneath my feet were damp with morning dew, and felt cool to the touch.
Among the dense crowd below the stage, I spotted Wen Chen at a glance. He was standing in the front row, his black robes billowing in the wind, and he was nodding slightly at me.
"Immortal Master Xiao!" a shrill voice came from below the stage, "Back then, you were able to cultivate immortality even without spiritual roots. Could it be that you stole someone else's opportunity?"
I looked towards the source of the sound—it was a young cultivator wearing an apricot-yellow Taoist robe, with a cultivation level at the early stage of the Nascent Soul realm.
The audience roared with laughter, but I smiled and said, "Brother Daoist, once you step onto the stage, I'll show you that a good-for-nothing's opportunities are always earned by himself."
Before he could finish speaking, a commotion suddenly broke out at the entrance to the arena.
The crowd parted to make way, and a cultivator dressed in a short, gray-blue outfit walked in. He had seven fine iron short blades hanging at his waist, each blade tip gleaming coldly.
I squinted and saw a faint scar on his forehead, running diagonally from his brow bone to his jaw. He was none other than Qing Shi, the challenger who had been ranked first when I registered yesterday.
He looked up at me, his eyes like icy blades: "Immortal Xiao, my strength lies in speed."
The wind whipped his clothes, making them flutter, and the murmurs from the audience suddenly fell silent for a moment.
I touched the heart-protecting jade in my arms, and the warmth of Wen Chen seeped into my palm through the jade.
This battle is about to begin.
As soon as Qing Shi finished speaking, I smelled the scent of rust—the wind stirred up by the short blade at his waist as it sliced through the air.
The aroma, mingled with the scent of incense from the audience, filled my nostrils. I stared at his toes as he touched the ground, and suddenly remembered the arc Wen Chen had drawn in my palm last night: "The weakness of a speed cultivator isn't speed, but the instant they breathe."
He moved.
Seven short blades shot towards me like seven silver threads from different directions. My vision was shattered by the flash of the blades, and all I could hear was the violent pounding of my own heart.
My left hand instinctively touched the heart-protecting jade. The warmth of the warm dust surged up my meridians, and I suddenly saw clearly—those sword lights were not chaotic, but followed the direction of the "Big Dipper". The trajectory of each sword was three points faster than the previous one, forcing people to retreat, retreat to the edge of the arena, and then be nailed to death by the last sword.
"A clever scheme." I sneered inwardly, lightly touching the ground with my toes and sliding half a zhang backward, the black iron floor tiles screeching against the soles of my shoes.
The moment the seventh blade grazed my temple, I spun around abruptly, my right hand forming a "Wind-Breaking Technique"—a technique Wen Chen modified based on my movement, specifically designed to break through extreme speed.
A wind blade, imbued with spiritual energy, slashed towards the back of his neck. He clearly hadn't expected me to retaliate; his pupils constricted as he turned his head, the scar taut as a white line in the morning light.
"Clang!" The short blade struck the protective array and bounced off, drawing gasps from the audience.
Qing Shi took three steps back, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead: "Immortal Xiao, what skill!" His voice was strained, and his fingertips trembled slightly. Only then did I notice the tiny incantations engraved on the short blade at his waist—it turned out he wasn't relying solely on speed, but rather on an acceleration talisman.
"Brother Dao, you must have bought this talisman from the black market, right?" I deliberately raised my voice. "The Immortal Alliance has long banned things that damage meridians." A murmur immediately arose from below the stage: "No wonder his speed is so strange; even Immortal Venerable Xiao noticed this."
Qing Shi's face turned bright red. He grabbed his short blade and lunged at me again. This time, I didn't dodge. I made a hand seal with my left hand to activate the spiritual energy of the earth veins below the arena, and met his blade with my right palm.
"Bang!" The shockwave from the collision of spiritual energy sent skirts flying wildly below the stage. I felt a numbness in my palm and saw Qing Shi stagger and fall to the edge of the arena, his short blades all falling to the ground.
His eyes were red when he looked up: "I lost."
"Thank you for the favor." I bent down to pick up a short blade, deliberately using a little force when handing it back to him, and his hand trembled as he took it. "This talisman will only hurt you. Go back and ask Immortal Venerable Xuanfeng for a recipe for a Nourishing Meridian Pill."
A burst of applause suddenly erupted from the audience.
I looked up and saw Wen Chen standing in the front row, his black robes fluttering in the wind. He nodded at me, his eyes shining.
Fairy Mingyue clapped her hands frantically, almost tearing the corners of the handkerchief; Immortal Venerable Xuanfeng stroked his beard and smiled, while Elder Wu adjusted his jade thumb ring and scribbled something down in his notebook.
The second challenger was a female cultivator wearing a fiery red Taoist robe. As soon as she stepped onto the stage, she threw nine balls of fire, and the heat wave, mixed with the smell of sulfur, made it impossible for me to open my eyes.
I recalled Wen Chen's words yesterday about "overcoming strength with softness." I lightly touched the Heart-Protecting Jade with my fingertips, activating the Wood Spirit Root within my body—this was something I had secretly cultivated. Back when I had no spiritual root, in order to survive, I had used spiritual energy to nurture a trace of Wood Spirit.
The vines sprouted from the cracks in the ground, wrapped around the ball of fire, and sent it into the sky. The fire burned even more fiercely when it encountered the wood spirit, but it exploded with a "bang" when it hit the protective array, turning into a sky full of starlight.
"Bravo!" someone shouted, and the audience erupted in laughter.
The female cultivator paused, then suddenly burst into laughter: "Immortal Xiao's move was brilliant! You turned my Blazing Fire into fireworks!" As she conceded defeat, she slipped a pill into my hand: "This is a Spirit Gathering Pill I refined. I admire your thoughtfulness."
The third game, the fourth game... I can't remember how many games I played.
Some wielded swords, their swordplay concealing the sword intent of the Thirty-Three Heavens; others practiced body cultivation, their fists so hard they could shatter black iron; and one old cultivator even used an illusion to try and remind me of the days when I was ridiculed for having no spiritual roots.
But every time, I remember Wen Chen's words at the most crucial moment: "What they want to see isn't how strong you are, but how much you resemble the 'Immortal Venerable'—calm, insightful, and with a touch of compassion."
When the seventh challenger stepped off the stage clutching his chest, the discussion below changed. "So she really didn't rely on luck to draw spiritual energy in Lei Ze back then. I'm afraid no one could have been as resolute as her."
A little girl held up a candied hawthorn and shouted, "Immortal Xiao, when I grow up I want to be like you!" Her mother picked her up with tears in her eyes, and I suddenly felt a lump in my throat—it turns out that the feeling of being recognized is more reassuring than breaking through to a higher realm.
“That’s enough.”
A cold drink pierced the noisy crowd like an icicle.
I looked up and saw the crowd at the entrance to the arena parting like a tide.
Lingyun Immortal Venerable stood there in his moon-white Daoist robe, the jade pendant on his hair ornament gleaming coldly. The beauty mark at the corner of his eye was taut with anger. "Xiao Yao, what kind of skill is it to defeat these shrimp soldiers and crab generals?"
The wind suddenly picked up.
I touched the heart-protecting jade; the warmth of the dust was still there. But this time, what seeped into my palm was what he had said last night: "The sword of the Immortal Venerable Lingyun is faster than the thunder of Leize."
The noise from below the stage was like a snapped string on a musical instrument. Fairy Mingyue's handkerchief fell to the ground with a "thud," Immortal Venerable Xuanfeng's smile froze on his face, and Elder Wu's pen snapped with a "crack."
The moment Lingyun Immortal stepped onto the arena, I smelled the scent of snow—the sword energy of the "Frost Abyss Sword" at his waist.
He looked at me, a cold smile creeping onto his lips: "Back in Leize, you stole my thunder; today, I'll show everyone that a loser is always a loser."
I took a deep breath and pressed the heart-protecting jade even tighter.
Wen Chen's voice suddenly rang in her ears: "A Yao, you've never been a good-for-nothing."
The protective array around the arena emitted a buzzing sound, as if in response to something.