Chapter 15

Suddenly, a commotion erupted from the disciple seating area.

Luo Chu followed the noise and saw a young man dressed in a dark crimson robe embroidered with auspicious clouds and soaring eagles, surrounded by a crowd.

His jet-black hair was tied high with a ruby-studded crown, his waist cinched by an obsidian sash.

His face was like polished jade, his brows sharp as swords—extraordinarily handsome.

“Isn’t that the young master of the Xiao family? I heard he’s incredibly privileged. How did the Xiao’s let him come to this tournament?”

“Which Xiao family?”

“How many Xiao families do you think there are? The one with hereditary nobility and enough wealth to rival a nation!”

“They say this Xiao heir is both prodigiously talented and devastatingly handsome. Seeing him today, the rumors don’t do him justice.”

“He even declared he’d ‘save the common people’! Truly, the younger generation inspires awe!”

Typical protagonist halo.

If anyone else had spouted such lofty words, they’d be mocked for “a newborn calf not fearing the tiger.”

But when the male lead said it? Nothing but praise.

Luo Chu glanced at the disciples around him, draped in lavish hues of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple—then at her own disciple, clad in plain white robes.

She couldn’t help but chuckle.

After the tournament, I’ll have to get him some finer outfits.

Liu Chengzhi noticed his master’s gaze lingering on the crimson-clad youth, her lips curving slightly.

His already indifferent expression darkened, a trace of grievance flickering in his eyes.

A dull ache spread through his chest, sour and tangled like a thousand threads, suffocating him.

This was all master’s fault.

She was the one who reached out and pulled him up when he was a stray dog hitting rock bottom.

She was the one who doted on him for four years, making him cling to her like this.

How could she look at anyone else?

She should only have eyes for him!

The crimson-robed youth approached Xue Yu and Shi Wujian, who were still “separated but not severed,” and smiled.

“Brother Xue, Brother Wujian, I’ve long admired your reputations.”

Xue Yu, ever the charmer, arched his fox-like eyes.

“If it isn’t Xiao Chen, the second-ranked prodigy from Young Heroes’ Chronicles! Truly, ‘seeing once is better than hearing a hundred times’—your aura is extraordinary.”

“Young Heroes’ Chronicles?”

“A wildly popular booklet circulating the jianghu, compiling the most promising young talents. Rumor has it it’s written by someone named Dong Duanni—‘changes elusive as ghosts, origins unknowable.’ Fitting for a man who ‘grasps the clues,’ no?”

“Oh? Then who’s first?”

Xiao Chen was taken aback.

Since childhood, he’d always been number one—the “other people’s child” elders praised.

Now, this Chronicles had him in second place.

The discomfort was undeniable.

“Him, over there.”

Xue Yu jerked his chin toward Liu Chengzhi.

Xiao Chen followed his gaze and locked eyes with Liu Chengzhi.

Meanwhile, Shi Wujian seized Xue Yu’s distraction to wrench his hand free and flee without a backward glance—as if demons were chasing him.

“Ah, senior brother! Don’t leave! Wait for me!”

Xue Yu scrambled after him, leaving the two youths staring at each other.

Amid the bustling crowd, the red-and-white-clad boys stood like opposing forces: one proud as the sun, the other cold as snow.

As if fate had long decided their rivalry.

Xiao Chen couldn’t shake the feeling that Liu Chengzhi’s gaze held hostility—but before he could dwell on it, the tournament began.

Disciples surged onto the central arena.

As drums rolled, clashes erupted.

True to the novel’s plot, the male lead moved with agile grace.

Though his strikes lacked cultivators’ sharpness, he narrowly dodged every attack—sheer luck.

Compared to Xiao Chen’s struggle, Liu Chengzhi was a picture of calm.

When opponents lunged, a sidestep and a single palm strike sent them flying off the arena,without him even shifting his footing.

Amid the chaos, a hidden blade shot from someone’s sleeve like a streak of light toward Liu Chengzhi’s back.

Luo Chu’s sharp eyes caught it—she nearly flung her fan to intercept—but Liu Chengzhi, as if anticipating it, channeled spiritual energy.

The blade floated like a leaf into his grasp before he flicked it back.

“Ah—!”

A scream pierced the air.

The drums halted.

Over half the disciples had been eliminated.

The remaining few turned to see a fallen contestant clutching his chest—a thin, razor-sharp blade embedded in his heart.

It was Zichu!

The same disciple expelled from Yunshang immortal sect three years ago! He’d returned not as a disciple, but as an outsider that seeking revenge against Liu Chengzhi.

Yet in just three years, Liu Chengzhi’s growth had far surpassed his expectations!

The peak masters, all high-level cultivators, had seen Zichu’s ambush clearly, even if the disciples missed it.

“Peak Master Xiao, had my Chengzhi not been vigilant, he’d have been gravely injured.”

Xiao Qiang had hoped silence would bury the matter, but Luo Chu dragged him into the spotlight, humiliating him.

“Three years ago, he was expelled from Xuanyu Peak. He’s no disciple of mine—handle him as you see fit.”

Xiao Qiang flicked his sleeves and left, too ashamed to stay.

“Very well.”

In a flash, Luo Chu descended, pressing a finger to Zichu’s forehead.

A burst of spiritual light—his cultivation shattered.

Zichu’s pleading hands fell limp, his eyes hollow with despair.

A cold voice rang across the arena:

“A cultivator’s duty is to uphold righteousness and protect the common people—not seek vengeance. Petty grudges breed demonic hearts. The stronger the cultivation, the deeper the fall. Today, I offer you a warning. Reflect well.”

Luo Chu’s piercing gaze commanded awe.

The crowd finally understood: the aloof, untouchable Venerable Luo Chu had a ‘soft spot for her own.’

From the stands, a pair of burning eyes clung to her.

Liu Chengzhi’s gaze shimmered, misty with tenderness, unwavering as he stared at the white-robed woman on stage.

A sweet warmth unfurled in his chest.