Starting from the steel of the heart, slaying demons and monsters.

The Pure Heaven Sect has thirty-six branch sects, each with a black mirror. The number of demons killed by all disciples who enter the black mirror trial is recorded and summarized on this stone tablet at the main sect.

The higher the ranking, the bigger the name, and the brighter the brilliance.

The names of the people within ten miles were as large as fists, dazzling with golden light, and could be seen from a great distance.

Those ranked lower had names no bigger than a finger joint, their brilliance dimmed, and they were barely visible from a distance.

At this moment, a person is idly leaning against the base of the stone monument in the square, basking in the sun.

His name is Zhao Heng.

Nine levels of Body Tempering, inner disciple of the Pure Heaven Sect, three years before entering the sect.

A month ago, he entered the Black Mirror Trial, killed twenty-two demonic beasts, and squeezed into the top one hundred, ranking ninety-ninth on the overall list.

This was the most glorious moment of his life.

With this ranking, he gained more confidence in his words within the inner sect, and could boast to anyone that he had been on the Demon Slayer Ranking.

He was leaning against the stone tablet with his eyes closed, resting, when he suddenly felt the stone tablet behind him shake.

The vibration was very slight.

But Zhao Heng was leaning against the stone tablet, and he could feel the vibrations coming from his back very clearly.

He opened his eyes and casually turned to look at them.

Then his eyes widened suddenly.

Ninety-ninth place, the spot he had held for a whole month, his name was no longer there.

It was replaced by another name.

Zhang Ping.

Zhao Heng froze, as if struck by lightning.

"Who the hell is Zhang Ping?"

His voice boomed across the square, drawing the attention of many people around him.

But soon, more and more people noticed the changes to the stone tablet.

"Look, the new top 100 list has been updated."

A voice rang out from the crowd.

"Someone made the list? This time it's a new face, not from Cangwu Mountain."

"Zhang Ping? Never heard of him."

"From a branch headquarters, right? Which branch?"

Immediately, discussions arose one after another in the square.

Many people gathered in front of the stone tablet, looking up at the newly appeared name.

Ninety-nine names, their golden light not too bright, but still quite noticeable among the dim names at the bottom of the stone tablet.

"Is this the third newcomer this year?"

"Neither of the first two made it into the top 90, hopefully one of them will be able to compete."

"Come on, do you think getting into the overall rankings is that easy? Just getting in is good enough, the top ninety is another story."

"How long do you think this name will stay on the market?"

"It depends on how many people are killed. If it's only twenty or so, the next wave will probably be pushed back."

As everyone was discussing, someone suddenly exclaimed in surprise.

"It's moved; the rankings have changed again."

Zhang Ping's name changed from ninety-nine to ninety-seven...

The noise from the square spread out, attracting quite a few onlookers.

On the pavilion in front of the square, two old men were sitting and playing chess.

The pavilion is built on a high platform on the north side of the square, which is higher than the square. From the railing, you can overlook the entire Demon Slayer List stele.

The old man on the left was dressed in a black-purple robe, embroidered with dark gold cloud patterns, and trimmed with silver at the collar and cuffs.

He was slender, with his silver hair neatly combed. He sat there with his back straight, like a long sword drawn from its sheath.

He held a white piece, contemplating his next move.

The old man on the right was dressed in a red and gold robe, the colors were flamboyant and the style was loose. He was leaning back in his chair, playing with a black chess piece in his hand. Even though he was so old, he didn't look very proper.

Suddenly, a commotion broke out in the square outside, and the sounds faintly drifted into the attic.

The old man in the black-purple robe paused in his move, raised his eyelids to look outside, and frowned slightly.

"These young people are always making a fuss over nothing."

He placed a piece, then picked up the teacup on the table and took a sip.

Upon hearing this, the old man in the red and gold robe retorted, "It's been over a year, and finally a new face has appeared on this stone tablet. It's normal for them to make a fuss."

He looked at the chessboard, and without pondering for a long time like the old man in black robes, he placed a piece.

Then he said, "Making it into the top 100 just means you've killed a few more demons than others. What our Jingtian Sect lacks are people who can shoulder the responsibility, not these filler people."

"Let's talk about it once we get into the top 50."

Upon hearing this, the elderly man in a dark purple robe put down his teacup and said indifferently, "Back in your day, I think you were ranked ninety-eighth."

The old man in the red and gold robe was taken aback by his words, his expression changed slightly, and then he snorted and said, "That's because I wasn't taking it seriously."

"Oh?"

"Don't believe me? Let's play another round."

"Solve this puzzle first."

The two old men exchanged a few words, but you could tell it was the tacit understanding of old acquaintances playfully teasing each other.

Just as the two were arguing, the noise outside grew even louder.

The old man in the red and gold robe frowned. The chess piece stopped in mid-air. He turned his head and glanced outside the pavilion, his gaze falling on the stone tablet.

Then his hand stopped.

The old man in the black and purple robe also noticed his unusual behavior and looked in the direction he was looking.

On the stone tablet, Zhang Ping's name has jumped from ninety-ninth to eighty-fifth place, and that number is still slowly climbing at a rapid pace.

It was a speed neither of them had ever seen before.

Eighty-three.

Eighty-one.

seventy-nine.

"Um?"

At this moment, a ripple finally appeared in the eyes of the old man in the black and purple robe.

The noise in the square had turned into a frenzy.

"It moved again! It's eighty now!"

"It's not eighty, it's seventy-eight!"

"How long has it been? Not even half an incense stick's time yet!"

"Which branch is this? Baihe City? Beiyuan? Or Kuiwu City?"

"Are the newly recruited disciples this strong?"

Inside the attic, the old man in the red and gold robe withdrew his gaze, threw the black chess piece in his hand onto the chessboard, and immediately said, "I'm not playing anymore."

The old man in the dark purple robe didn't reply. His gaze remained fixed on the stone tablet, his right hand unconsciously stroking his beard as he murmured, "Interesting."

The old man in the red and gold robe snorted, but his tone wasn't as harsh as before. "Only seventy-six. He's still a long way from the top fifty."

He paused, then added, "Even if you make it into the top fifty, it's still just barely good enough to watch."

The old man in the black-purple robe glanced at him but didn't expose him.

Because he noticed that the old man in front of him never took his eyes off the stone tablet.

Based on this momentum, it should be easy for this person to reach fifty.

They might even be able to achieve an even higher ranking.

Zhang Ping, however, was unaware of everything that had happened while he was in the illusion.

All he knew was that he had to run and survive.

You can't stop, stopping might kill you.