Chapter 29:
Challenge
“QINGTONG-ZHENREN,” Yunsong said grimly. “It’s been quite some time.”
Acting as if he hadn’t heard him, Qingtong accepted the white-jade teacup Yanlie offered him and took a sip before setting it down. Only then did he look at Yunsong, although he showed no sign of responding.
Yunsong’s face flushed red with anger.
Chaojun stepped forward, glaring at Mo Tianliao. “Since Zhenren has accepted the challenge, I’d like to see just what kind of talent can advance from mortal flesh to foundation establishment in just one year.” He was a talented man with a heaven attribute, yet he’d had to painstakingly cultivate day and night for ten years before he just barely managed to establish his foundation.
“This is a misunderstanding.” Mo Tianliao smiled. “I was already at level nine of the qi-refining stage when I joined the sect.” Cultivation sects accepted disciples regardless of their level, and those below the foundation establishment stage would usually be accepted. After all, there were independent cultivators out there who wandered by themselves for a long time before they sought the protection of a sect.
Hearing this, Chaojun held his chin even higher—Mo Tianliao must be just some self-taught rookie. “Well then, let’s begin.”
“Wait.” Mo Tianliao held up a hand to stop Chaojun in his tracks.
Chaojun sneered. Afraid now, are we?
“It’s cramped in here, and we might prevent my shizun from drinking his tea. Let’s go outside.” Mo Tianliao politely gestured for him to go out.
One just wanted to humiliate the other, while the other was thinking about his own shizun—in terms of character, it was clear who the winner was.
Before Woyun Palace was an open space paved with adamantine jade, specifically designed for such impromptu “sparring.”
As the crowd headed outside, Tianlang-zhenren stroked his beard and telepathically transmitted a message to Yanlie: Find out how Qingyun Sect knew Qingtong took in a disciple with dual attributes.
Yanlie nodded. He’d noticed the same thing, and he knew he’d have to look into it quickly.
The two opponents stood on both ends of the paved area while the others gathered around to watch.
Chaojun, whose elemental attribute was earth, summoned a swirling vortex of yellow sand with his spiritual energy. “Since I’m slightly ahead of you in my cultivation, I’ll let you have three moves.”
Mo Tianliao raised an eyebrow. This was common practice among the orthodox sects. When facing opponents of different levels and stages, the higher one would take a handicap.
“Well, then,” said Mo Tianliao, already moving. Three flaming wooden spikes went hurtling toward Chaojun’s face.
Chaojun’s pupils contracted, and he hastily erected an earthen wall for defense. But as soon as the wooden spikes stabbed into the wall they took root, sprouting vines that swarmed over the entire wall. Chaojun’s defenses crumbled, and Mo Tianliao sprang as the wall collapsed.
Startled, Chaojun conjured a pair of seemingly ordinary cymbals and crashed them together with a deafening clang. Yellow sand surged up toward Mo Tianliao, who summoned forth countless withered leaves to form a shield in front of him.
“Hey!” Zimo shouted. “Didn’t you say a handicap of three moves?! It’s only been two!”
Chaojun had been caught off guard; he hadn’t expected someone who’d just established his foundation to switch stances so quickly. If he didn’t make his move now, he’d be forced into a defensive position. He channeled his spiritual energy into his palms and struck the cymbals again.
Mo Tianliao flicked a black orb between the cymbals just in time for the treasure artifact to smash it to pieces, unleashing the spatial array within. Two vats’ worth of oil splashed out, soaking into the yellow sand—and then a small fire snake darted forward and turned the oil-soaked sand into a sandstorm of fire with Chaojun at its center.
Chaojun stomped his foot, raising an earthen wall about three yards high around him. Earth could resist fire. As long as the earthen wall held, the fire wouldn’t reach him.
The Woyun Sect disciples watching couldn’t help but fret. Mo Tianliao had only just established his foundation. If the guy stayed inside his defenses, Mo Tianliao would be in danger once his spiritual energy was depleted.
But Mo Tianliao wasn’t worried. He ignited a wooden spike, sprang into the air, and lobbed it over the earthen wall. Chaojun scrambled to seal off the top, but his hastily constructed ceiling couldn’t stop the Sinking Agarwood infused with spiritual energy. This wooden spike could pierce through rock, after all. The earthen wall collapsed instantly, and his oil-soaked clothes burst into flames on contact with the woodfire. Chaojun summoned more sand to cocoon himself, just barely managing to put it out.
Narrowing his eyes, Mo Tianliao conjured forth a wooden sword, blazing with woodfire, and lunged.
“Insolent brat!” Seeing him make his killing move, Elder Yunsong couldn’t sit still anymore; he struck out, sending a palm-strike at Mo Tianliao.
A chill ran down Mo Tianliao’s spine. No matter how capable he was, he couldn’t possibly take a blow from a soul transformation master with his meager foundation establishment cultivation.
Wham! A fair, jade-white hand steadily met the fatal blow head-on, and the ensuing blast of spiritual energy sent Mo Tianliao flying. Menghu leaped into the air and caught him by the collar.
Meanwhile, Qingtong and Yunsong traded a flurry of blows. Tianlang-zhenren promptly erected a defensive barrier to shield everyone else from Woyun Sect. Two soul transformation cultivators battling it out was no joke! The shockwaves could destroy the whole of Wotian Sanctum.
Seeing the situation deteriorate, the rest of the Qingyun Sect disciples hurriedly took shelter behind the shield. Even Chaojun himself scrambled for shelter, covering his butt—it had been left exposed by the hole burned in his pants. But Mo Tianliao couldn’t be bothered to mock him. He was too busy watching the battle with a frown on his face.
Countless vines rose into the air as Elder Yunsong unleashed his wood-element spells. The vines multiplied, much like Mo Tianliao’s spell earlier—but a hundred times more powerful. Countless brambly vines shot straight toward Qingtong, who looked incredibly fragile amid the massive wave of dark thorns.
But he stamped once, and glistening frost spread from beneath his foot, freezing every vine with such accuracy that not even a single icicle was wasted. The Qingyun Sect disciples gasped in awe at the precision of his spellcasting. Without casting another spell, Qingtong raised his hand and struck a colossal phantom palm at the frozen vines, shattering them to pieces.
Next, Yunsong summoned countless wooden spikes that hung in midair like a bed of nails and hurled them at Qingtong. This spell was extremely taxing on the divine soul, as the spellcaster had to control every spike, so only those with powerful divine souls could use it. On seeing this move, most people would immediately put their defenses up, but Qingtong merely scoffed and spread his hands, summoning countless icicles to meet the wooden spikes head-on.
Wood collided with ice, sending a shower of wood splinters and ice shards raining down on the cultivators. The beautiful man in white charged through the debris, punched through Yunsong’s defense, and socked him squarely in the eye, leaving him stunned.
What kind of fighting style was this?
But Qingtong wasn’t inclined to explain. He grabbed his opponent and pummeled him with his fists. Finally, he snapped, “Have some dignity!” and left as gracefully as he came.
The onlookers peered at the bruised and battered Yunsong, and then at Chaojun with his hands clasped over his rear. They couldn’t process what had just happened. This was supposed to be a battle between high-level cultivators…right?
Mo Tianliao frowned as he watched the white light streak back toward Woqing Sanctum. After informing his senior, he followed after his master, leaving a group of people staring at each other in awkward silence.