Chapter 47: Li of the Xuan

Chen Ren had planned to reach the main rounds of the tournament without much trouble, counting on the influence and recklessness of Cang Rui to clear his path. But he wasn’t naive. He knew that while the Cang Clan had power in Cloud Mist City, it didn’t hold much sway beyond its borders.

With cultivators from all over gathered for the competition, Chen Ren prepared himself for more than just local troublemakers.

So, when Mi Fung leapt toward him, shouting his name like a budding Xianxia hero, Chen Ren didn’t even flinch. With a simple sidestep, he dodged the boy’s palm strike, causing the over-eager opponent to stumble dangerously close to the edge of the stage. If he were to jump out of the stage, he’d have been disqualified without another word.

The boy spun around, glaring at Chen Ren, his face red with embarrassment and anger.

“You dare move out of my way? I’ll make you kneel once I defeat you!” Mi Fung shouted. His hands were balled into fists in his sides, and the boy seemed to shake. Anger radiated from every inch of hisbody, and Chen Ren barely stopped himself from laughing.

Instead, he smirked and said, “Get in line, kid. Also, who even talks like that? You’re some village kid with inherent spirit roots, not the prince of the empire.”

The boy’s face darkened with rage. He inhaled deeply and lunged again, yelling the name of his move like it would make it stronger.

“[Heavenly Trusted Strike!]”

Chen Ren sighed, shaking his head as he effortlessly dodged the punch. The boy swung with his other fist, but this time, Chen Ren caught it mid-air and held it firmly. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the struggling cultivator.

“You don’t even seem to be at the fifth star of the body forging realm. What makes you so confident?” Chen Ren asked and raised his eyebrows in question.

But before the boy could reply, Chen Ren’s fist crackled with lightning.

I don’t need to know the answer!

With a quick motion, he struck the boy square in the chest, sending him flying off the stage. The unlucky cultivator crashed into another participant, knocking both of them out cold.

Chen Ren crossed his arms and waited, half-expecting the boy to jump up, stronger and more determined, like one of those "hidden protagonist" types who only grew tougher the more they struggled. Instead, there was just silence as the crowd murmured in surprise.

Just in case

, he stood there for a moment, watching as the boy lay sprawled on the ground, completely unconscious.

Finally, he let out a quiet sigh of relief. “Not a hidden protagonist after all,” he muttered, shaking his head and turning his attention to the rest of the arena.

The battles around him were brutal, and it didn’t take long for the arena to clear out. Over half the cultivators were either lying on the ground or being dragged out by the attendants. Blood splattered the floor in various places, even though killing wasn’t allowed at this stage of the competition. The sight made Chen Ren feel a little nauseous, but he suppressed it. He had seen enough bloodshed by now to keep himself in check.

Eventually, the chaos began to subside, and only two people remained in the arena: Chen Ren and one other man.

As he glanced at his final opponent, recognition flashed in his eyes. It was the man in leather armour, the one Yalan had analysed back in the city lord’s office. She’d mentioned a lingering injury in his left leg—a weakness Chen Ren had tucked away in his mind just in case—especially if a situation as the moment right now arose.

The man noticed Chen Ren as well, the fear in his eyes shifting as conflicting emotions flickered across his face. Chen Ren guessed what was going through his mind. He had probably heard about Cang Rui’s threats and was now weighing whether to give face to the Cang Clan or fight for his own chance at the rewards and the opportunity to enter a sect.

Finally, he seemed to reach a decision. He gave a slight bow and said, “I, Yeng Wi, don’t want to surrender. I’ve sacrificed a lot to stand here and would prefer to leave only after a proper fight.”

Chen Ren smirked at that. “That’s understandable. Come at me, then.”

Yeng Wi didn’t hesitate. He charged forward, gripping a halberd tightly in his hands. As he closed the distance, a gust of wind seemed to swirl around him, boosting his speed and sharpening the blade of his weapon. Chen Ren noted the enhancement but didn’t let it rattle him. With his movement technique, he darted around the halberd, narrowly avoiding its sweeping arc.

Lightning crackled around Chen Ren’s palm as he aimed a punch at Yeng Wi’s side. But the man dodged, stepping back just in time.

Chen Ren smirked. Using the feint to his advantage, he shifted his weight and launched a sharp kick at Yeng Wi’s left leg, the one Yalan had pointed out as injured.

The strike connected. Yeng Wi’s face twisted in pain as he staggered, his footing faltering. Chen Ren took a step back, watching carefully to see if his opponent could recover.

Just as Chen Ren had expected, Yeng Wi collapsed to the ground, clutching his injured leg and crying out in pain. Despite his obvious disadvantage, the man gritted his teeth and swung his halberd at Chen Ren in a desperate attempt to land a hit. But Chen Ren was ready. With a flick of his wrist, lightning crackled to life, surging around him for everyone around him to feel.

The force knocked the halberd from Yeng Wi’s hands, sending it clattering to the ground. Chen Ren stepped closer, narrowing his eyes and looked down at the fallen man.

“You have a lingering injury on your left leg,” Chen Ren said and gestured at the man’s leg. “You can’t win this fight, no matter what. Just give up, or you’ll only make things harder for yourself.”

Yeng Wi’s eyes widened in shock at the statement, and he opened his mouth to respond. But before he could say a word, Chen Ren cut him off. “If ‘I surrender’ isn’t the next thing you say,” he added, “I’ll hit your injury again.”

Fear flashed across Yeng Wi’s face, and he quickly shouted, “I surrender!”

The official overseeing the match stepped forward and raised his voice. “The winner is Chen Ren of Red Peak City!”

With that, cheers erupted from the crowd, and Chen Ren’s name echoed through the arena. He raised his fists in acknowledgment, a small smile tugging at his lips. His gaze naturally drifted toward Tang Xiulan and the others in the stands. They were clapping and smiling, their support warming him more than the cheers of strangers ever could.

But as he turned to leave the arena, his ears caught faint murmurs from the crowd—boos and accusations of cheating.

“Of course he won. No one dared to attack him because of the Cang Rui.”

“Typical. A victory handed to him.”

Chen Ren let the words roll off him. He’d known this was coming the moment he agreed to let Cang Rui’s influence clear his path. He smirked faintly to himself and kept walking, head held high. The tournament wasn’t over yet, and he still had much to prove.

***

After his battle royale round, Chen Ren wasted no time to return to his business. The familiar routine of selling things was a comfort—much better than being in the middle of blood and gore, and with every transaction, he felt his qi swirl more intensely within his dantian.

Although the noodles were now offering diminishing returns in terms of qi generation, his newer creations—chips and ice cream—were proving to be a hit. Ice cream, in particular, seemed to have a much stronger effect on his qi than the chips, though Chen Ren wasn’t sure why.

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Maybe it was because it was more expensive, or perhaps there was something special about it. Either way, he enjoyed the results, the steady stream of customers and the exciting look on their faces after trying ice cream.

As he moved through the arena, peddling his wares, he couldn’t help but overhear snippets of conversation about himself. Some of it was positive, praising his skill or his victory in the arena. But there were just as many whispers calling him a cheater. Those voices seemed to have grown louder since the battle royale, with more people learning about how the Cang Clan’s influence had likely played a role in his advancement.

Chen Ren didn’t let it bother him much. He figured most of the negativity came from people who had lost money betting against him. After all, they probably saw him as nothing more than a weak upstart who’d gotten lucky.

That perception didn’t worry him; he was confident it would change with time. Until it affected his business, he cared little for his reputation. Besides, the quality and uniqueness of his products kept people coming back. For now, the attention was focused on his goods, not him, and that was exactly how he liked it.

Still, amidst the whispers, he picked up valuable information about the competition. There was talk of the other prominent cultivators who had entered, and one name stood out to Chen Ren: Li Xuan.

Li Xuan was the man who had defeated and killed Chen Ren’s predecessor. Though Chen Ren had briefly heard of him before, it hadn’t been confirmed that Li Xuan would participate in the tournament. After all, he had already moved on to the prestigious Soaring Sword Sect. But now it was certain—Li Xuan was here, and from what Chen Ren gathered, he was last year’s champion.

Many cultivators joined the competition this year just for a chance to face Li Xuan. Perhaps that was the reason Li Xuan had entered, too. Chen Ren wouldn’t be surprised if the City Lord had convinced his son to participate to elevate the tournament’s prestige even further.

Rather than dwelling on the implications of Li Xuan’s presence, Chen Ren was more curious about the man’s strength. From his inherited memories, he recalled that Li Xuan had been at the peak of the body forging realm during their last battle. It was almost certain that he had since broken through to higher realms.

The thought of seeing Li Xuan’s current capabilities intrigued him, so Chen Ren decided to watch his battle royale match from the spectator stands. After all, what better way to know your competitor than on the field?

As he leaned forward, his eyes scanning the arena below, a voice interrupted his focus.

“So, you’re the one selling this ice cream I’ve been hearing so much about?”

Chen Ren turned to see a middle-aged man standing nearby, his face glistening with sweat. The afternoon sun blazed overhead, and the oppressive heat had everyone seeking some form of relief. It was no surprise that his ice cream had become a breakout hit under these conditions.

With his best salesman’s smile, Chen Ren straightened and said, “That’s right. Do you want to try some? It’s only 10 copper wen per scoop.”

The man’s hopeful eyes faltered. “That’s too expensive! None of the food stalls here are charging that much.”

Chen Ren tilted his head and sighed. The heat clearly seemed to have gotten into his head. “That’s because none of them are selling ice cream,” he replied smoothly. “It’s not easy to make, you know. I even need cultivators to use frost arrays on my containers just to preserve them. Honestly, I’m barely making any profit here.”

The man hesitated, glancing around at the arena stands before looking up at the sun hanging in the sky and brushing sweat off his forehead. Finally, he grumbled, “Fine, give me one scoop. It better be worth it.”

“You bet.”

Without wasting time, Chen Ren grabbed a wooden bowl and scooped out a portion of the chilled dessert. Handing it over, he said, "Enjoy, but make sure to return the bowl once you're done."

The man muttered a distracted "Sure, sure," already focused on the ice cream. He took an extremely small bite from the ice cream, and soon his eyes widened. He licked his lips deliciously and looked inside the bowl.

“Oh my! Oh my!” He began devouring the rest of the ice cream without a pause, some of it dripping from the corners of his mouth, but soon, he collected them and didn’t allow a drop to go to waste.

Chen Ren allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction at the man's expression and the swirling qi in his dantian before a loud roar from the arena below pulled his attention.

He leaned forward, scanning the arena just as the announcer declared the start of the match. The crowd erupted in cheers, and the sound of clashing weapons echoed from the combatants below. Chen Ren’s focus sharpened, his eyes searching for a familiar face.

A voice suddenly called out from behind him—inside his mind.

"Assessing your competition, are we?"

Chen Ren turned to see Yalan perched on the railing of the stand, her amber eyes gleaming with mischief. Without responding aloud, he nodded slightly before gesturing toward the arena.

“That’s him.”

Yalan followed his gaze to where a young man wielding a sword was cutting through his opponents effortlessly.

“The one who killed the person I was supposed to protect,”

she said in a dead tone, her eyes squinting at the man.

Li Xuan was a tall man— taller than most people in the city. He was at least a foot taller than Chen Ren, standing at seven feet and had long hair that was braided to the middle of his back. It was a shiny blonde colour that stood out from most, giving him the look of a protagonist from one of the Xianxia books he had read back in his previous life.

With extreme focus, he shewed off his sword skills, gracefully moving through the dozens of cultivators in the arena and striking them down with precise strikes. A faint crackle of lightning danced along his sword, but unlike Chen Ren’s volatile energy, Li Xuan’s control was impeccable.

“He’s good,”

Yalan remarked.

“Much better than the last time I saw him.”

Chen Ren’s brow furrowed.

“How strong is he? Can you see his soul?”

Yalan shook her head.

“No, I can’t. I believe he’s using an artifact to conceal his aura. But if I had to guess, he’s in the first star of qi refinement. That said, he could easily defeat someone a star or two above him. His techniques are clearly practiced daily. I don’t see anyone in this tournament beating him.”

Chen Ren raised an eyebrow.

“Not even me?”

Yalan turned to him, her expression serious.

“You’ve been scheming your way into the top sixteen, relyin on tricks and strategies. But that kid fights like a veteran. He won’t be easy to deal with.”

Chen Ren’s gaze didn’t waver as he watched Li Xuan dispatch another opponent.

“The demonic cultivator also used a sword,”

he said after a moment,

“and had a way to hide detection, didn’t he?”

Yalan gave him a sharp look.

“Yes, you’re right. Do you think he’s—”

Chen Ren didn’t answer immediately, his mind racing as he considered the possibility. But it seemed too far-fetched.

“No, I don’t think so… I’m just thinking about how hard it’s going to be to find the demonic cultivator until he shows himself. A third of the cultivators here use swords, and it makes sense for someone to have a technique or artifact to hide themselves, especially with this many strong individuals around. If the demonic cultivator is here, he can easily slip past us.”

Yalan purred.

“Yes, I’ve been doing patrols around the area, keeping an eye out for anyone suspicious. But so far, I haven’t seen anyone who fits the profile.”

She paused, glancing toward the arena’s stands, where waves of cultivators watched the battle royale, their eyes fixed on Li Xuan.

“Still,”

she added,

“only a rash individual—even among demonic cultivators—would come to a tournament with so many cultivators around. The risk of exposure is far too high.”

“You’re not wrong… But desperation does strange things to people. If he’s here, he’s either exceptionally bold or has a very specific reason for taking the risk. Either way, we can’t afford to let our guard down.”

Chen Ren’s grip on the railing tightened as he watched Li Xuan strike down his final opponent with a flourish.

His opponent crumbled to the ground, his weapon shattered, and the announcer’s voice boomed over the noise, declaring him the victor. Li Xuan stood tall in the centre of the arena, his blade resting casually on his shoulder.

Cheers erupted all around. The entire fight felt like Li Xuan practising instead of actually putting in the effort to fight. He inclined his head in a polite bow toward the roaring crowd, his composure unshaken by the attention. As he straightened, his gaze swept across the stands, lingering briefly on Chen Ren.

For a moment, their eyes met.

Chen Ren tensed, he felt his knuckles turning white, but Li Xuan’s eyes betrayed no recognition. He looked away without a second thought, striding confidently toward the exit.

Yalan snickered, her amber eyes gleaming with amusement.

“He doesn’t even recognize you.”

Chen Ren exhaled softly and nodded. “Not yet. But I think I’ll just have to make our next meeting memorable enough that he never forgets me.”

As the words left his mouth, a chill ran down his spine. His instincts flared, and he turned his head toward the opposite side of the arena. There, amidst the sea of spectators, stood a man whose eyes locked up with his.

He was tall and broad-shouldered, draped in a dark cloak. His features were rugged and sharp while his skin was pale, almost sickly, which was the polar opposite of the dark lines of scars and tattoos that crawled up his neck and disappeared beneath his collar.

Chen Ren’s fingers twitched instinctively as the man kept his gaze on him.

***

A/N - You can read 30 chapters (15 Magus Reborn and 15 Dao of money) on my patreon. Annual subscription is now on too.