CHAPTER 237: BETRAYAL OF A PET

"Disciple Li Shen of the Life and Death Peak," the youth said flatly, his voice devoid of tone or warmth.

He stepped forward, unhurried, and withdrew a small, pitch-black dagger from his sleeve.

Without hesitation, he dragged the blade across his palm. Blood dripped soundlessly onto the ground.

A chill spread through the field.

The blood didn’t pool, it writhed.

Black Qi poured from Li Shen’s body, merging with the blood until the droplets began to twist and rise, stretching upward into vague human forms.

Within moments, the shapes solidified, each one refining until their features mirrored his own.

One became two.

Two became five.

Five became twenty.

In the blink of an eye, twenty identical Li Shens stood in perfect formation — each expressionless, each emanating that same cold, deathly calm.

A faint stir rippled through the crowd. Even the other geniuses couldn’t help but feel unsettled. The technique was eerie, its Qi reeked of death.

Fang Wu’s brows furrowed slightly before he nodded in acknowledgment.

"Nether Blood Clone Art. You’ve done well," he said evenly.

Although such a technique was commonly categorized as demonic, the distinction meant little to true cultivators.

The path to strength was littered with taboo arts, and Fang Wu, as a peak master, knew better than to condemn results simply because of their origin.

Li Shen remained unmoving, his clones fading into motes of shadow before he quietly stepped back into line.

Fang Wu took a deep breath and turned to face the assembly.

"Now that the demonstrations are complete," he announced, his voice carrying through the illusory realm, "the Martial Ancestor will select those he deems most suitable to proceed to the next test."

A wave of silence washed over the group. The remaining disciples straightened their backs, hearts pounding.

For many, this was the moment that would determine whether they would continue on the path — or vanish into obscurity.

The Martial Ancestor’s gaze swept across them slowly. His presence was overwhelming, ancient, and absolute. Under that gaze, even the most arrogant genius felt their will waver, as if their very souls were being weighed.

Then, he snapped his fingers.

A low, resonant sound echoed through the realm.

In the same instant, the vast majority of disciples, ninety-one in total — crumbled into dust-like motes of light, vanishing without a sound.

Only nine figures remained standing.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Fang Wu’s eyes flicked across the survivors, a spark of anticipation lighting within them. The chosen stood firm — Yu Xuan, Long Anming, Li Shen, the Wu brothers, Luo Xianyin, Kong Xuanyi, a plain-looking disciple whose very presence screamed side character and finally, a girl so ethereal she almost seemed unreal.

The Martial Ancestor’s lips curved faintly, though none could see it, amusement flickering within his ancient gaze.

"Now," he said, his voice calm yet resonating through the heavens like thunder, "let us see who among you truly deserves my legacy."

The world shuddered.

The illusionary realm warped, reshaping itself.

The plains vanished, replaced by jagged mountains piercing through mist and clouds.

The air grew heavy with dense spiritual energy surrounding them. Each of the nine found themselves standing atop a vast stone platform surrounded by endless peaks.

Yu Xuan looked around, his gaze sweeping the others. He recalled their names and origins, their peaks, their strengths.

Jun Zha, the simple one who looked like a background extra was from the Celestial Heaven Peak;

Piao Ling, the ethereal girl whose aura whispered of souls and dreams was from the Soul Heaven Peak;

And the others — each a genius in their own right.

Then the Martial Ancestor’s deep voice rolled across the mountain range.

"Only one among you," he said,

"will be qualified to inherit my legacy."

The silence that followed was sharp as a drawn blade.

Each of them tensed. Gaze met gaze — none willing to back down. Hidden killing intent flared like lightning sparks.

And among them, Long Anming’s hatred burned the brightest.

She glared at Yu Xuan with eyes that blazed gold.

That human — no, that insufferable mortal — had humiliated her, twisted her pride, and worst of all, her very body now refused to act against him.

It was as if his existence had written a command deep into her bloodline, one her dragon soul couldn’t defy.

Her pride screamed. Her reason fractured.

She closed her eyes, trembling — not from fear, but from rage boiling beneath her skin. Her mind fought her body until finally, after a long, silent battle within herself, she made her decision.

Her eyes snapped open, shimmering with fury and indomitable will.

"AAAHHHHHHHH!"

The roar that tore from her throat shook the peaks.

In an instant, her slender fingers elongated into obsidian dragon claws, and she lunged toward Yu Xuan, her killing intent erupting like a storm.

But just before her claws could reach his chest — mere centimeters away, her body froze.

Every muscle, every vein locked in place.

Dread crashed through her mind as invisible pressure wrapped around her entire being. Her claws trembled, suspended in mid-air, unable to advance or retreat.

Yu Xuan blinked, looking genuinely hurt.

"..."

He tilted his head slightly.

"You’re... actually trying to kill me?"

Long Anming’s eyes widened in disbelief — how could he look hurt?

With effort, she forced her trembling hands to pull back, her face pale from the strain.

"Little Boldy," Yu Xuan said, sighing theatrically,

"are you trying to hurt me? That’s... really cruel, you know."

He placed a hand on his chest, feigning heartbreak.

"The betrayal of one’s pet hurts the most."

Her golden eyes blazed hotter.

"My name is Long Anming!" she shouted, voice shaking with rage and shame.

"And today, I swear on my Dragon Blood, I will kill you!"

Yu Xuan’s expression turned mock-serious, his tone pitying.

"Ah, but..." He leaned closer, his breath brushing against her ear as he whispered, "didn’t I change your bloodline?"

"YOU—!!!"

Her roar echoed through the mountains, half fury, half despair. She wanted to tear him apart, but her body still refused to obey.

Before the tension could break, a sudden gust of killing intent surged toward them.

Wu Jianxiao — his sword drawn, aura blazing with murderous resolve, charged straight at the two. To him, this was the perfect opportunity to strike down the man he felt unknown hatred towards while he was distracted.

But Yu Xuan didn’t even turn to look.

He lifted a hand lazily.

A wave of invisible force burst outward [Telekinesis] and caught Wu Jianxiao mid-air.

The young swordsman froze, his momentum halted as if gripped by an unseen giant.

"You little shit," Yu Xuan said coldly, finally turning his gaze toward him, "how dare you interrupt me?"

A pulse of dark light flashed across Yu Xuan’s eyes. In the next instant, a black beam shot forth, striking Wu Jianxiao clean through the abdomen.

The swordsman’s expression twisted in disbelief as the force tore through his defenses like paper.

"Cough—" Blood spilled from his lips, his sword clattering to the ground as he staggered back, clutching the wound.

Apparently, this was the punishment... for being the third wheel.

Up above, even Fang Wu and the elders watching fell into stunned silence.

Only Tianling, the artifact spirit, let out a low whistle.