Chapter Seventeen: The Great Competition of Mount Mao

“Hmph! Creatures as insignificant as ants, yet you dare bare your fangs before me?” Zhang Xiao stood there, suddenly unleashing the full force of his Foundation Establishment aura. Instantly, everyone present felt as if an enormous mountain pressed down upon them, making it impossible to lift their heads.

“You… you…” Wang Yanbo stared at Zhang Xiao, so stunned that he could hardly speak. As he was on the verge of stepping into the Qi Refining stage, he felt Zhang Xiao’s oppressive force more sharply than anyone. Precisely because of this, he found the scene before him all the more unbelievable.

How could this be? The headmaster himself had assured him that, among all the disciples, his cultivation was the highest. Yet here was someone whose power surpassed his by severalfold; the mere pressure alone made it impossible for him to raise his head. Could it be that this man was already at the Qi Refining stage? No, perhaps even at Foundation Establishment…

Wang Yanbo screamed in terror within his heart. He knew that if Zhang Xiao attacked, even with the protection of his spirit-treasure Iron Corpse, he would stand no chance. If Zhang Xiao were at Qi Refining, perhaps he could still put up a fight, but against a Foundation Establishment cultivator, the gulf was simply too vast.

So vast, in fact, that it left Wang Yanbo feeling utterly powerless. “Enough, Zhang Xiao, withdraw your spiritual pressure,” came a voice. Daoist Kongling had appeared beside Zhang Xiao without warning.

Zhang Xiao was startled—not because Kongling stopped him, but because he hadn’t noticed at all when Kongling had arrived. On reflection, though, it made sense. Kongling’s cultivation surpassed his by a hundredfold; such things came naturally to one of his level.

Zhang Xiao drew back his spiritual might and cupped his hands to Kongling. “Disciple greets Master.” Wang Yanbo felt the weight on his body lift at last and managed to catch his breath. When he saw Daoist Kongling before him, he hurried forward and saluted, “Greetings, Uncle-Master.”

Kongling gave Zhang Xiao a glance, as if to say he had gone too far—what if he scared away the future founder’s disciple? “Enough, no need for formalities. The headmaster is waiting in the martial arena for you all. Follow me.”

Without further ado, Kongling swept his broad sleeve, and beneath everyone’s feet, blossoms of azure cloud sprang up, lifting them straight into the sky.

Seeing this, Zhang Xiao could not help but feel envious. Even the azure cloud conjured by the young attendant Qingsong had seemed enviable before, but compared to Kongling’s, it was a ramshackle imitation; the difference was like night and day.

Standing upon the clouds, the disciples wore expressions of awe and admiration—none more vivid than Xia Tan’s. He had begun by boasting, convinced Zhang Xiao was just one of the last batch of new initiates, only to see Zhang Xiao defeat a Qi Drawing expert in a single move, and then, with a mere aura, press everyone to the ground.

The transformations had come so swiftly that Xia Tan felt as if he were dreaming. Zhang Xiao saw Xia Tan staring at him in a daze not far away, and, bored, he brightened and walked over. “What are you doing here? Come, let’s keep bickering.”

“Senior Zhang, just now I…” Xia Tan hesitated, unsure how to speak. The change had been so dramatic—it was as if a millionaire had flaunted his wealth before a beggar, only for the beggar to suddenly reveal himself as the richest man in the world. How could Xia Tan even begin to address Zhang Xiao now?

“Enough, I told you, never mind my cultivation. Let’s just keep chatting.” Zhang Xiao’s words reassured Xia Tan, and his nerves relaxed. The two began to exchange stories of what they’d experienced since the upheaval of the heavens.

Wang Yanbo stood on the cloud, but he had no mind to admire the scenery below. He glanced at Zhang Xiao, who was chatting nearby, steeled his courage, and approached. “Senior Brother, I apologize for my offense just now. Please, I hope you’ll not hold it against me.”

Zhang Xiao turned and regarded Wang Yanbo, finding him rather pitiable. He had thought himself destined to be the founder’s disciple, wielding power and influence, but only those like Kongxuan and Kongling knew the depths of the undercurrents.

To be so thoroughly controlled and manipulated, yet remain oblivious—Zhang Xiao had no desire to trouble him further. Besides, the last thing he wanted was to frighten him away and have Kongxuan come looking for trouble again.

With that thought, Zhang Xiao’s expression softened into an almost miraculous gentleness. Cultivating Buddhist arts as he did, his smile seemed to bring the warmth of spring itself. “Heh, Brother Wang, as I said, the titles of senior and junior brother will be settled after the competition. For now, we are peers—no need for such courtesy.”

As Zhang Xiao finished speaking, Wang Yanbo nodded eagerly, smiling obsequiously. “Yes, yes. But Senior Brother, your strength is so unmatched—surely you’ll claim the founder’s disciple seat in the competition. Then, with treasures and authority, you’ll be worthy of the title.”

Wang Yanbo’s words drew murmurs of agreement from the surrounding disciples. Xia Tan chimed in as well, “That’s right, Brother Zhang. With your strength, who could hope to rival you in this contest?”

Zhang Xiao had intended to put Wang Yanbo at ease, but the situation was quickly spiraling beyond his control. He hurriedly interjected, “Careful what you say! All of you, be careful—my circumstances are different. The headmaster has already said I am not to participate in the competition, so please, mind your words.”

His words stunned everyone present. Not allowed to compete? Wang Yanbo had been resigned, but now hope rekindled. Zhang Xiao had said it was the headmaster’s decision—so the headmaster must be grooming him, Wang Yanbo, while deliberately suppressing Zhang Xiao.

Thinking thus, Wang Yanbo’s spirits soared. “Hmph, even if your cultivation is higher now, the headmaster will surely cultivate me with all his might. Once I claim the founder’s disciple seat and have access to the sect’s resources, my cultivation will skyrocket. Then, we’ll see.”

Wang Yanbo kept his expression unchanged, but his tone was no longer so deferential, now calm as he said, “Well, that is a shame. In that case, I won’t disturb you any longer.” With that, he turned and left, and the other disciples’ attention shifted away from Zhang Xiao as well.

Far from being angry, Zhang Xiao was delighted. He knew that until the very last moment, he must not give Kongxuan the opportunity to target him. With Wang Yanbo serving as a lightning rod, all Zhang Xiao needed to do was watch events unfold from afar.

“Brother Zhang, you really can’t take part in the competition?” Xia Tan asked with regret.

Indeed, if Zhang Xiao were to compete, no one could wrest the founder’s disciple title from him. Zhang Xiao only smiled and said nothing more.

Boom! Boom! Boom! Deafening drums thundered from below, their sound piercing the clouds and shaking the sky. The disciples’ hearts leapt at the sound.

“We have arrived,” Daoist Kongling announced, flicking his whisk as he guided everyone down.

“Magnificent!” The word was on everyone’s lips as they gazed at the scene before them. Dozens of martial arenas, each the size of several football fields, lay spread out, surrounded by eight grand stands—each easily seating ten thousand spectators. The arenas’ floors were pure black, yet smooth as mirrors, of some unknown material.

The eight spectator stands were carved from pure azure jade. In the world before the upheaval, even a fingernail-sized piece of such jade would have been a priceless treasure, yet here entire stands were built of it.

Such rare gems used as mere seating—words failed to describe the disciples’ feelings.

At that moment, the headmaster Kongxuan stood on the stands with more than a dozen Maoshan elders. Upon seeing Kongling, the elders descended from the stands to meet the disciples.

“One hundred per group—follow the elders and separate for the contests,” Kongling instructed. With a wave of his sleeve, a fierce wind swept the disciples up. They felt a moment of darkness, and when they could see again, they found themselves split into ten groups of a hundred.

Of course, Zhang Xiao was not among the competitors, but walked with Kongling toward the stands.

“Greetings, Headmaster,” Zhang Xiao said, bowing before Kongxuan. Though Kongxuan had recently urged him to take the founder’s disciple seat—an offer Zhang Xiao had declined—such trifles meant little to the head of a sect. With a wave, Kongxuan lifted Zhang Xiao to his feet.

“No need for courtesy. Sit and watch. Observe well—the future elites of my Maoshan Sect will emerge from among them.” With that, Kongxuan took his seat to watch the proceedings, Kongling beside him. With the two great powers seated, there was no place for Zhang Xiao; he stood quietly to one side.

The stands were built so high that every move on the arenas below could be seen clearly. The ten groups began their contests; the winners advanced, while the defeated continued to fight among themselves until the rankings were settled.

Once the groups were arranged, Kongxuan stood and proclaimed, “This competition will decide your future prospects. Hold nothing back—this is a battle to the death. These arenas are a gift from the heavens; any who die in combat will be revived instantly below the stage, suffering no harm. I hereby declare the Maoshan Grand Competition open!”

His words dispelled all hesitation and fear among the disciples, and the ten groups launched into battle, the scene as spectacular as any sporting event before the upheaval—crowds would have packed the stands, and the ratings would have soared.

Standing on the platform, it took Zhang Xiao little time to see the disparity among the contestants. The earlier arrivals were clearly stronger, often wielding one or two spirit treasures, while the later arrivals were weaker. Even if they possessed spirit treasures, the gap in cultivation became immediately apparent. The same low-grade spirit treasure in the hands of a stronger cultivator was far more formidable.

Still, even among the latecomers, there were prodigies. Zhang Xiao spotted one such person—a newcomer, his cultivation only at the Qi Drawing stage, just a step away from Spirit Condensation. Most early initiates had already reached Spirit Condensation or even Qi Refining, yet this youth, relying solely on his skill and a short sword—without a single spirit treasure—had fought his way to the top hundred.

Clearly, before the great transformation, he must have been a formidable figure. Zhang Xiao could sense the killing intent that lingered with every movement of the youth’s hand—a killing aura that Zhang Xiao himself possessed, but far less deeply. Only those who had truly killed before could exude such a presence.