Situ Yang, clad in a shimmering battle robe, hovered in the air, his eyes shining bright as he looked down on Wei Tu. He had a kind of pressure that made people feel small. Sword in his left hand, a seal forming in his right, he looked like a war god. His Daoist arts were pushed to the limit, giving off an unbeatable presence.

Compared to him, Wei Tu—born in the wilderness, looking plain, and with limited attacks—seemed like a trembling mortal facing a deity.

“It’s over.” Zhao Huamin sighed softly.

From start to finish, she never thought Wei Tu stood a chance. A mid-Golden Core fighting against a late-Golden Core was already hard enough, not to mention the fact that the one he was facing was Shengya Mountain’s Dao Child.

Wei Tu had gained the upper hand only by relying on his talisman skills, using many talismans to hold an advantage. Now, with Situ Yang truly angry and fighting for real, his defeat was only a matter of moments.

“Heh! Zhao Qingluo, you’re just a wild girl from the sticks, and you dare accept the ancestor’s reward? If you’re going to sneak around, at least pick a better man.” Seeing this, Zhao Zhujun felt pleased, her lips curling in mockery.

In her mind, if Situ Yang won, it was her victory, too—a victory over Zhao Qingluo and for the family.

But—

The next moment stunned Zhao Zhujun, leaving her in disbelief.

As Situ Yang approached Wei Tu, a thick yellow mist suddenly poured out from Wei Tu, covering dozens of zhang around them. The mist wrapped Situ Yang tightly, binding him up.

“Go!” The next second, Wei Tu appeared outside the yellow mist, holding a Azure Flood-Dragon Banner. With a heavy wave, a huge single-horned flood dragon burst from the banner, swinging its tail and diving into the mist.

Flood dragon playing in the mist!

In just a few breaths, fierce waves of magical force erupted inside the mist. Now and then, muffled groans and pained cries from Situ Yang, wounded by the flood dragon, rang out.

“A top-tier third-rank magic tool for sneak attacks and trapping? And it’s a set?” Zhao Zhujun’s face twisted. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

A set of top third-rank magic tools—even she and Situ Yang didn’t have that. How did Wei Tu get his hands on such things? Even as an alchemist, there’s no way he could have built up that much wealth in less than a hundred years.

Worse, she and Situ Yang—both at this cultivation level—didn’t even notice when Wei Tu set up this trap! That was even harder to accept.

“Dao Child Situ, just admit defeat.” Wei Tu’s voice was calm.

If they were anywhere else and Situ Yang provoked him, he wouldn’t have held back. But this was Shengya Mountain, and he didn’t want to make a huge scene or become their enemy.

With the “Yellow Cloud Trap” and “Azure Flood-Dragon Banner” together, even someone at peak Golden Core would be trapped with little hope of escaping soon. Plus, he still had his talismans. For Situ Yang, breaking free was as hard as reaching the sky.

‘Such wealth, it’s unbelievable.’ Zhao Huamin was shocked.

She’d respected Wei Tu before for his boldness and willingness to negotiate compensation with the Zhao Clan, but honestly, deep down, she still thought he was exaggerating. After all, if it really came down to compensation, even if the Zhao Clan didn’t ask for too much, the amount would still be astronomical for any Golden Core cultivator.

But now, Zhao Huamin changed her mind. A top-grade blue sword, countless third-rank talismans, a set of top third-rank magic tools—these treasures were enough to back up everything Wei Tu said. Especially the matching set;
even the Shengya Zhao Clan had only a few of those.

Soon, though, her focus shifted from the treasures to Wei Tu’s words.

Have Situ Yang admit defeat?

Zhao Huamin was stunned. She found it hard to believe. If today’s events got out, it would cause a sensation. Shengya Mountain’s Dao Child, defeated by a rogue cultivator from some border country.

No matter how hard it was to believe, she had to admit what was right in front of her. Dao Child Situ Yang… really lost. Even if Wei Tu relied on his magic tools, at the end of the day, Situ Yang was still beaten. After all, magic tools are also part of a cultivator’s strength.

The moment the words fell, Situ Yang, still trapped in the yellow mist, stayed silent. It was clear he couldn’t make the decision. If he admitted defeat, his reputation would be destroyed. He might never be able to lift his head again.

But—

There was another reason for his hesitation. In his mind, he hadn’t truly lost to Wei Tu. He’d just underestimated him and slipped up. If he really gave it his all, he didn’t believe he’d actually lose.

“I admit defeat…” Situ Yang finally prepared to speak.

Losing would only hurt his reputation, but compared to the price of using “that thing,” reputation was nothing. Today, Wei Tu beat him once. But in the long run, raw battle power isn’t everything. Even the weakest Nascent Soul can still completely suppress the strongest Golden Core. Realm is what really matters.

“Situ, you must not admit defeat!” As soon as Situ Yang uttered the first word, Zhao Zhujun reacted faster than anyone. She grew desperate, yelling at the top of her lungs.

If Situ Yang lost, he could always hide away in Shengya Mountain’s main peak. But not her. This provocation had already pushed the family’s limits. If Situ Yang lost, how could she face anyone in the family again?

“Can’t admit defeat?” Situ Yang paused, then glanced toward the voice. But all he could see was thick yellow mist, blocking sight and sense alike.

“In that case…” Situ Yang narrowed his eyes.

Then, he let out a long howl. The crown on his head scattered to the ground, his hair coming loose, and his Daoist robe billowed out, sending out a wave of powerful energy. This aura surged out like a tidal wave in all directions. The once unbreakable “Yellow Cloud Trap” shook violently, like it was about to be blown away.

The next moment, the bands of flowing light around Situ Yang turned gold and purple. Even his eyebrows took on a hint of purple.

“Not good, the Tianyuan Sacred Art?” Zhao Huamin’s face changed instantly, shouting out.

The “Tianyuan Sacred Art” was one of Shengya Mountain’s three great secret arts—a high-level Daoist technique only passed down to Dao Child, capable of being cultivated all the way to the Divine Transformation realm. But like all high-level techniques, it came with its own taboos and requirements. The greatest taboo of “Tianyuan Sacred Art” was using it before the Nascent Soul realm. That meant even if Situ Yang fixed things later, using this now would permanently damage his future path.

Of course, using this technique would also boost Situ Yang’s strength far beyond how he’d fought Wei Tu before. In fact, his earlier strength was only a portion of his true power. The Dao Child of Shengya Mountain wasn’t so weak that he could be defeated by Wei Tu in just a couple moves!

“Wei Tu, give up now!” Now, Zhao Huamin was the one who was anxious.

She didn’t think Wei Tu could keep any advantage against this version of Situ Yang. With the Tianyuan Sacred Art, this duel was sure to end badly.

“You loose cultivators only know how to rely on magic tools. You don’t understand what a true Daoist tradition is or what real techniques mean!” Situ Yang shouted, and the gold and purple light behind him swept out, washing away everything nearby.

Suddenly, the “Yellow Cloud Trap” that had shown its power before dimmed and went dark the instant it touched the gold-purple light, shrinking back to a plain cloth pouch. The rampaging one-horned flood dragon was also slapped to the ground by one of Situ Yang’s seals, pinned down and howling in pain.

“Tianyuan Sacred Art?” Wei Tu’s expression changed. He made sure to remember this Daoist art from Shengya Mountain.

Right now, with this power added, Situ Yang’s fighting strength was nearly on par with the likes of Fox Mountain or Qi Chengchu, whom Wei Tu had fought before.

Buzz! Situ Yang struck. The moment the “Yellow Cloud Trap” broke, he became a surge of purple energy, rushing toward Wei Tu. With a flick of his fingers, the golden-purple light turned into countless magical swords, filling the air and making space twist and tremble.

Clang! Clang! Clang! Wei Tu didn’t try to face them head-on. He immediately summoned a tortoise shell shield to block the flying swords. Having seen so many battles, he wouldn’t let Situ Yang’s taunts rattle him.

A fight was all about using your own strengths and avoiding your weaknesses. Compared to Situ Yang, his own advantages were all about talismans and magic tools—why would he abandon them?

But even the tortoise shell shield soon met the same fate as the pouch, battered until its light faded and it was full of cracks. Wei Tu didn’t panic. He calmly pulled another third-rank shield from his storage pouch and kept defending.

He still had four more shields like that. Bao Siyan, Liu Moqun, Wolfslayer Daoist, Lou Sanhua, Granny Ke, and more—on his journey, he’d killed more than just two or three Golden Core cultivators. Ordinary magic tools had piled up like a mountain. Losing a few was nothing to him, especially as an alchemist and talisman master.

“Who is this Wei Tu, really? How can he have so many magic tools?” Both Zhao Huamin and Zhao Zhujun couldn’t help but wonder. They’d done plenty of homework on Wei Tu, and while they might have missed a detail or two, they never thought they could be this far off.

Snap! Crackle! Pop! The light swords never seemed to end. Behind the shields, Wei Tu stood unmoving, but the land around him was flattened several zhang deep, rocks, trees, and spirit herbs all turned to dust.

“Coward, hiding behind defenses!” Situ Yang was furious. His eyes burned, and golden-purple flames erupted all over him. The light behind him gathered into a massive fist, which he smashed down toward Wei Tu.

This time, he wouldn’t give Wei Tu the chance to swap out another defensive tool. He was going for the kill! Yes, Situ Yang was now truly out for blood. If Wei Tu fought him head-on, maybe he wouldn’t be so mad, but instead Wei Tu kept turtling up and using these annoying tricks.

Crash! Situ Yang’s golden-purple fist blazed like divine fire and smashed right through the shield, heading straight for Wei Tu’s chest.

Dead?

At that moment, everyone around held their breath, unable to believe the disaster about to unfold. A promising young alchemist, who’d climbed up from nothing, about to be killed by a Dao Child’s arrogance and die in a foreign land?

A lot of the ordinary cultivators felt for him. They didn’t resent Wei Tu just because Situ Yang was from Shengya Mountain. This could just as easily happen to any of them. From beginning to end, it was Situ Yang who started this fight, and Wei Tu was forced to answer the challenge.

“What a waste.” Zhao Huamin sighed quietly. She planned to ask the ancestor to at least let Wei Tu’s body be left whole and maybe give his family some compensation to save the Zhao Clan’s reputation.

“Going to kill him?” Zhao Zhujun, off to the side, was excited but also a little scared. She’d only wanted Situ Yang to teach Wei Tu a lesson, not to actually kill him. But there was nothing she could do now—Situ Yang’s attack was too fast, she couldn’t even send a message in time.

But the next moment stunned everyone watching.

Clang!

Instead of dodging, Wei Tu faced the oncoming golden-purple fist head-on. He threw his own punch right at it. At the same time, fine, jade-like fish scales appeared on his arms and spread to cover his body like a suit of jade armor.

The two fists collided, and it was like thunder exploded in the air.

Wei Tu stood his ground under the crushing force. The ground beneath his feet cracked open, and the nearby pavilions and towers were smashed to rubble by the aftermath, leveled flat.

Up in the air, Situ Yang was also in bad shape. Wei Tu’s punch sent him flying hundreds of steps back. He coughed up blood several times before finally coming to a stop.

“Third rank, late stage body refinement?” Situ Yang wiped the blood from his mouth, his eyes full of disbelief as he stared at Wei Tu.

For an ordinary cultivator, specializing in even one path was nearly impossible. Yet Wei Tu hadn’t just reached the Golden Core realm in qi cultivation—his body cultivation was actually ahead, reaching late third rank? Actually, Situ Yang got that wrong.

Wei Tu’s body cultivation was still at mid third rank, the same as his qi cultivation. It was just that the “Dao Immortal Source Scripture” he cultivated was a high-level body refinement method, making his third rank mid stage body comparable to late stage.

Body cultivation was not easily judged by outsiders.

Other cultivators watching were just as shocked. “Dual cultivation of body and qi” was a common phrase, but those who could truly reach Golden Core in both were extremely rare, almost unheard of.

The famous direct disciple Wang Tianwu of the Divine Armor Sect had peak third rank body cultivation, but his qi cultivation was far behind, still only at Foundation Establishment.

Few people had the dual talent for both, let alone the resources to cultivate both at once.

“I underestimated Wei Tu.” Zhao Huamin was surprised and delighted at the same time.

She was glad that as the Zhao Clan’s senior elder, she’d made one good decision after another when dealing with Wei Tu, never making an enemy of this wandering genius, who now seemed on par with Situ Yang.

Yes, in Zhao Huamin’s mind, Wei Tu’s potential was at least as high as Situ Yang’s now, maybe even greater since Situ Yang had damaged his path by burning his power.

As long as Wei Tu had enough resources, in time he’d definitely become a Nascent Soul ancestor.

Cultivators who trained both body and qi were not just invincible at the same level;
they also had a better chance of breaking through to the next realm.

“Dao Child Situ? That’s all you’ve got.” Wei Tu smiled slightly, stabbing straight at his opponent’s confidence.

Since Situ Yang had already gone all out and tried to kill him, there was no reason to hold back any more. He wanted to shatter Situ Yang’s Dao heart.

“How dare you…” Situ Yang’s face darkened.

Even though he was furious and shocked, he didn’t rush forward to fight Wei Tu again like before.

He saw clearly now—with Wei Tu’s wealth and strength, even after a hundred or a thousand more exchanges, he probably wouldn’t win.

If this dragged on… his damaged foundation would be truly beyond repair.

“Wei Tu, I’ll remember you. When we both reach the Nascent Soul realm, we’ll settle this.” The purple tint faded from Situ Yang’s eyebrows, the rings of light behind him disappeared. He stared hard at Wei Tu, flicked his sleeve, and flew away from Shendu Island.

Zhao Zhujun, standing to the side, wanted to follow Situ Yang, but before she could move, a beam of power dropped from the sky, locking her in place.

“Ancestor?” Zhao Zhujun’s face changed.

This power was Nascent Soul level. She immediately knew it came from the Zhao Clan’s ancestor—Zhao Yu’e.

“Zhujun, this whole mess started because of you. I’m sealing your power. You’re not leaving Shendu Island until Wei Tu forgives you. Otherwise, you’ll be stuck serving the clan forever,” came an old voice from the clouds.

“What? Get Wei Tu’s forgiveness?” Zhao Zhujun was humiliated and furious. She’d nearly become Wei Tu’s mortal enemy. How could she possibly earn his forgiveness now?

“Thank you, Senior, for your help.” Wei Tu let out a long breath of relief and bowed in thanks.

Even though he’d been the victim, bullied by Situ Yang and Zhao Zhujun, Situ Yang was still the Dao Child of Shengya Mountain. Who the clan would side with afterward was always uncertain.

Even if he had his own status as the top alchemist of the Ying Ding Tribe and strong backing, a righteous sect like Shengya Mountain wasn’t likely to punish him too harshly. But it was still a big surprise to have the Zhao Clan’s ancestor so firmly on his side.

However, the ancestor didn’t respond to Wei Tu’s thanks. She glanced at him, then disappeared among the clouds.

“Alchemist Wei, Zhao Zhujun caused all this trouble. As an apology, the engagement between Qingluo and the Jiao Clan of Tianyi Sect is hereby canceled, and Qingluo will keep her direct disciple status…” Zhao Huamin transmitted this message to Wei Tu.

Times had changed. Just a few days ago, Wei Tu had to negotiate compensation with the Zhao Clan to break the engagement. But today, after fighting and winning against Situ Yang, the Zhao Clan ended the engagement on their own.

After this one battle, Wei Tu’s status in the Zhao Clan had soared, now equal to that of Situ Yang, their Dao Child. If the clan could make an exception for Zhao Zhujun, they could do it for Wei Tu too.

“Thank you for your help,” Wei Tu replied with a smile, casually taking out two talismans and handing them to Zhao Huamin as a thank you.

Although the ancestor had helped him, he didn’t know if Zhao Huamin had a part in it, but he knew that during the duel, Zhao Huamin was on his side—and that was enough.

“A mere loose cultivator?” Zhao Huamin paused for a moment as she accepted the talismans.

She thought now that Zhao Qingluo was not worthy of Wei Tu. Maybe right now, Wei Tu couldn’t give her the same treatment as a direct disciple of Shengya Mountain, but in the future, he could give her even more.

That humiliating engagement had never been a real shackle to this man in front of her. Ever since he’d come to Shengya Mountain, he’d always faced everything calmly—not loving, not resenting.

‘What a shame I’m already married…’ Zhao Huamin sighed in her heart. If she were two or three hundred years younger, she might have fought Zhao Qingluo for Wei Tu.

But, unfortunately, she was old.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep