388 The Bitter Truth

Relying on their king’s force, the duo effortlessly propelled themselves forward.

She Wanshan, born and bred in Wuji Mountain, exhibited no surprise at Qin Huai’s use of the dragon king’s transformation. It appeared the nine dragons true qi technique held little fame in Wuji Mountain. Alternatively, there may have been a dearth of skilled practitioners to uphold it.

As night descended, Qin Huai and She Wanshan had fulfilled their quota. Their count was spot on — fifty each, without a single miss. Qin Huai took a moment to rest beneath a tree, eyes closed in tranquility.

“Brother Zhou,” She Wanshan asked, his thoughts seemingly astray, “What would happen if Senior Brother Guo Ze and Senior Sister Liu Fang fail to appear as they promised?”

Qin Huai answered, “Two future kings traveling together… Even if they were to face a formidable opponent within the array, they would not be at a disadvantage.”

Few individuals, like him, could cultivate the king’s force immediately upon reaching their maximum potential — unless they were like Yun Qi of the White Cloud sect, innately born with the king’s Force, as he had learned from She Wanshan.

Those who could cultivate the king’s force usually exhibited at least four complete patterns, often five, and only after their entire body’s bone patterns were perfected could they comprehend and cultivate it. Such future king-tier individuals typically exhibited superior combat prowess.

She Wanshan agreed, musing, “Indeed. It’s highly probable there were seniors from Lion Spirit Mountain and Blue Sea Pavilion amongst them. Even if they disagreed, they wouldn’t kill a junior from their own sect.”

Qin Huai hesitated momentarily, contemplating the possibility of a significant event transpiring in the level-one array, given the absence of Guo Ze and Liu Fang. “Who are those cultivators in the level-one array?” he wondered aloud.

She Wanshan pondered for a moment before revealing, “I heard Senior Brother Xiang mention once that he had seen one at the end of the first round. It resembled a log. Senior Brother Xiang, being well over a hundred years old, is practically an ancestor.”

“Imagine being trapped in the bronze realm for decades, or even centuries, with no hope of escape. How would you feel?” Qin Huai posed.

She Wanshan blurted out, “I’d surely go mad.” Realizing the implication of his words, he turned to Qin Huai, his voice trembling. “You mean…”

“It’s just speculation,” Qin Huai reassured. He was merely thinking of what might happen from a worst-case scenario, a hypothetical that couldn’t be validated. All they could do was stay alert.

Suddenly, a familiar roar echoed from within the forest.

“That’s Senior Brother Xiang!” She Wanshan leaped to his feet, instantly awakened from his prior drowsiness.

“He’s close by,” Qin Huai whispered, and they both sprinted towards the sound.

Soon, they found Xiang Mingfeng under a tree, cradling a limbless figure in his arms. The sight was jarring, for Qin Huai had never seen this stoic prodigy of Wuji Mountain display such raw emotion.

The pair approached, identifying the figure in Xiang Mingfeng’s arms as Guo Ze, who had been in the level-one array. Hearing Xiang Mingfeng’s roar seemed to breathe life back into his vacant gaze.

“Senior Brother Xiang, those old fellows have gone mad. They… They want to kill all the geniuses,” Guo Ze managed to say. “They neither wish to involve us nor show any intent to work together.”

“Say no more, brother,” Xiang Mingfeng said. With his eyes reflecting a wave of deep, raw anger, he listened to Guo Ze, who managed to offer a bitter smile.

He glanced at Xiang Mingfeng, his face a mirror of pain. However, regret was not what he felt. In the past, Guo Ze had saved Xiang Mingfeng nineteen times, with Xiang Mingfeng reciprocating twenty times. Now, he had managed to repay the favor.

“You know how I am. I never like owing anyone,” Guo Ze admitted before slowly closing his eyes. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, he was destined to be relegated to a level-five array after the massacre, likely to be killed by the newcomers.

Suddenly, a buzzing filled the air, and the world began to shake, signifying the end of the great slaughter. One by one, everyone’s bodies crumbled.

Qin Huai, already accustomed to this surreal sensation of ‘dying’, found himself opening his eyes to a forest of stone tablets within the level-two array. He stood quietly, waiting.

Before long, everyone arrived astride a giant dragon. She Wanshan, Xiang Mingfeng, the stalwarts of Lion Spirit Mountain, and the fourteen kings from the previous battle, all reappeared in the level-two array. Pairing up, they sought to mitigate the risk of being killed by a new future king.

Xiang Mingfeng’s previous test results were validated once more. Yet, he showed no inclination to celebrate. His countenance remained tense and stern, devoid of any emotion. Only the redness in his eyes betrayed the turmoil in his heart.

“What happened?” a voice, belonging to the stubborn warrior, broke the silence.

“Guo Ze is dead, and if our assumptions are correct, Liu Fang is probably dead too,” Xiang Mingfeng’s deep voice resonated, instantly casting a solemn mood over the group.

“How could that be? There must have been seniors from our sect amongst them,” someone protested. “Surely, they wouldn’t kill one of us.”

“But that’s the bitter truth,” Xiang Mingfeng asserted, his tone unchanged, “They’ve been trapped in the bronze realm for centuries. They’ve entirely lost their sanity.”

A heavy silence fell upon them. In just two succinct sentences, the group had realized the harrowing reality of what transpired in the level-one array and the deranged state of their seniors.

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