I'll make you the furnace and the cauldron, so you can refine Yin and Yang and prove the Great

Zhao Shoudao crashed onto the bluestone ground outside the arena, sending shards of stone flying and dust billowing up, covering his faded gray robe with debris and dirt. He struggled to prop himself up, the robe on his left arm charred black by the pure yang fire, revealing the reddened flesh beneath. His spiritual energy surged chaotically through his meridians, like turbulent water, unable to recombine in a short time.

But he was, after all, only at the third level of the Nascent Soul stage. The chaos was forcibly suppressed within a few breaths. Zhao Shoudao slowly stood up, his gray robe still stained with pebbles and scorch marks, but his face had returned to its usual calm and composed expression. He lowered his head, looking at his slightly trembling fingertips, and remained silent for a long time. Then he raised his head, his gaze passing through the surging crowd in the square, landing on the blue-clad figure still standing at the edge of the arena.

"Time's up," Zhao Shoudao said, his voice returning to its usual calm, yet carrying an extremely restrained chill. "But I haven't lost yet."

He took a step forward, the pressure of a third-level Nascent Soul cultivator rising slowly around him like a rekindled furnace. The shattered array patterns on the arena hummed subtly beneath his feet, as if drawn by an invisible force, attempting to reform. His gaze was fixed on Li Hanshan, his voice not loud, but clearly drowning out the clamor in the square: "Li Hanshan, in the arena match just now, I indeed failed to defeat you within the time limit of an incense stick burning. But a match is a match, and victory is victory. Your sword strike was indeed unexpected, but if we fight again without restraint, I will not give you a second chance."

His tone was as calm as ever, but the barely suppressed anger seeped through every word, silencing the disciples who had been discussing the matter. A third-level Nascent Soul cultivator being knocked off the stage by a peak-level Core Formation cultivator was an unheard-of joke in the entire Central Continent's cultivation world. Zhao Shoudao had cultivated for 1200 years and had never suffered such humiliation.

Wang Hao leaned against the stone pillar, his gaze sweeping back and forth between Zhao Shoudao and Li Hanshan, his tone carrying a hint of anticipation: "Senior Brother Zhao is in a bind. Being knocked off the stage in public by a Nascent Soul cultivator, no one could swallow that insult."

"So what if he can't swallow it?" Xuan Yinzi's voice came from the side, carrying that unique lazy mockery. "That sword strike just now clearly contained power at the level of the divine soul. This Li Hanshan is something else." His eyes narrowed slightly, as if trying to see through Li Hanshan's skin to the depths of his consciousness. "Interesting, very interesting."

On the arena, Li Hanshan slowly dissipated the flames from his longsword. He could feel that the light of the Chongyang Yuan Embryo in his sea of ​​consciousness had dimmed slightly compared to before, clearly a side effect of releasing seventy percent of his soul power. However, the feedback from that power gave him confidence. The power of the Chongyang Yuan Embryo far exceeded his previous expectations. Although it had consumed a lot of energy, if he were to truly fight Zhao Shoudao without restraint, he might not necessarily lose.

Even if Zhao Shoudao summons his primordial spirit, his Chongyang Primordial Embryo can do the same. Although the primordial embryo is not yet fully formed, as a nascent primordial spirit, it already possesses preliminary defensive capabilities. As long as it is not over-exhausted, it is not impossible to withstand the direct impact of the opponent's primordial spirit.

Just then, a silver-white sword light, like lightning piercing the night sky, landed precisely in front of Li Hanshan. Ye Shuanghua's figure appeared within the sword light; her Jinghong Sword was already three inches from its sheath, and her sword intent acted as an invisible barrier, isolating Zhao Shoudao's spreading pressure.

She stood before Li Hanshan, her gaze fixed on Zhao Shoudao, her voice clear and cold yet carrying an undeniable force: "Senior Brother Zhao, the rules of the arena competition are very clear. The incense stick's time limit has expired, and Li Hanshan has not been defeated by you. According to the rules, he has already passed the initial blockade and directly advanced to the finals. If you make another move, you will be violating the sect's rules."

Zhao Shoudao paused. He glanced at the Jinghong Sword in Ye Shuanghua's hand, which was already three inches from its sheath, and then at the figure slowly approaching behind her. Ye Shuanghua's cultivation was a minor realm lower than his, but he knew clearly what the name of the Jinghong Sword meant in the Hehuan Sect. If they were to truly break off relations and fight, he might not be able to bear the consequences of Ye Shuanghua's sword strike.

But he did not back down. "Junior Sister Ye, I do not intend to break the rules." Zhao Shoudao's voice was calm, yet carried an unyielding determination. "I just feel that the sword strike came too suddenly, and I did not truly catch it. I want to challenge him, not in a ring match, but in a private spar. Life or death is irrelevant; let fate decide."

Upon hearing this, another collective gasp filled the plaza. "Life or death... Senior Brother Zhao is serious!" "A Nascent Soul cultivator at the third level challenging a peak Nascent Soul cultivator to a life-or-death confrontation—what's the difference between that and murder?" "Senior Brother Li can't possibly accept, can he? That sword strike just now, while incredibly effective, is a life-or-death struggle completely different from a duel in the arena."

Li Hanshan stood behind Ye Shuanghua, listening to the whispers and discussions. He didn't rush to answer, but instead focused on sensing the Chongyang Yuan Tai within his sea of ​​consciousness, which was slowly regaining its light. That sword strike had made him clearly aware of the true power of the Yuan Tai. Although it had consumed seventy percent of his soul power, given time to recover, he wasn't without a chance of victory in another battle.

But he was also weighing something else in his mind—Ye Shuanghua had just mentioned that he still had a match to fight. If he accepted Zhao Shoudao's challenge now, even if he won, it would definitely consume a lot of his soul power and spiritual power. By then, when facing his opponent in the finals, he wouldn't be in peak condition. He might not be able to secure a victory.

Ye Shuanghua had clearly considered this as well. She turned her head, her gaze falling on Li Hanshan, carrying a hint of concern that he could understand. She didn't speak, but her eyes clearly said: Don't be fooled.

Li Hanshan withdrew his gaze, remained silent for a moment, and then shook his head slightly at Zhao Shoudao. His voice was not loud, but it carried a calmness that was so composed it made one's teeth itch: "Senior Brother Zhao, I have no interest in fighting a defeated opponent a second time."

Zhao Shoudao's expression finally changed. For the first time, a clear anger surfaced on his usually calm face. His greyish-white spiritual energy surged around him for a moment, cracking the stone slab beneath his feet, and even the shattered array patterns around him rippled under the impact of the energy. He gritted his teeth and said, each word distinct, "Li Hanshan, what did you say?"

"I'm telling you," Li Hanshan said, standing on the ring and looking down at him, "I don't like fighting my defeated opponents a second time."

Zhao Shoudao's chest heaved violently, the pressure of a third-level Nascent Soul cultivator surging around him like a volcano. He tried to rush onto the arena, but was blocked half a step away by Ye Shuanghua's silver-white sword light. The two faced off for a moment, then Zhao Shoudao's gaze shifted from Li Hanshan to Ye Shuanghua's face, then swept over the elders watching from the high platform, finally turning into a suppressed cold snort.

He abruptly turned and strode towards the edge of the plaza, his grey robes casting a particularly solitary and imposing shadow in the twilight. Chen Jie stood at the edge of the platform, watching the direction Zhao Shoudao had gone, his face as grim as the sky before a storm, but he didn't chase after him. He glanced back at the blue-clad figure slowly descending the arena, his fingers clenched so tightly in his sleeves that the veins bulged, and finally turned and left as well, his steps betraying a desperate attempt to suppress his panic.

On the high platform, the Ninth Elder's gaze finally settled on Li Hanshan. His sharp eyes, like lightning, scrutinized Li Hanshan, carrying a deeper meaning, lingering on him for a long time, as if reassessing this Northern Wilderness disciple he had long overlooked. But he didn't speak or make any statement; he simply narrowed his eyes slightly after a moment before looking away.

On the other side of the platform, the Fifth Elder remained seated. When her gaze fell upon Li Hanshan, a faint smile appeared on her lips, like a shallow ripple spreading across the surface of a bottomless autumn pool.

As Li Hanshan stepped down from the arena, night had already fallen. The crowd in the square was gradually dispersing, but their gazes remained fixed on him, filled with amazement, curiosity, awe, and a touch of uncertain scrutiny. He stopped at the edge of the stone steps, looking up at the slowly fading twilight on the horizon. The certainty in his heart brought by the Chongyang Yuan Tai was like a seed that had fallen to the ground, slowly but firmly taking root and growing.

He won. A peak Nascent Soul cultivator defeated a third-level Deity Transformation cultivator. Although there was an element of trickery in that sword strike, and although Zhao Shoudao did underestimate his opponent, the result speaks for itself. From this day forward, no one in the Hehuan Sect would dare to refer to him as "Old Deng from the Northern Wilderness."