The Fight The Hatred Of Cultivators

Fang Hao emerged from the ancient library, the weight of newfound knowledge pressing against his thoughts.

The clamor of voices gradually reached his ears as he neared the central arena, curiosity pulling at him like an invisible thread.

Despite his original intent, his steps diverted, driven by an innate need to witness the spectacle that had captured the attention of the sect's outer cultivators on this day.

Approaching the bustling scene, he found himself amidst a sea of onlookers, their eager faces turned towards the heart of the arena where an intense confrontation was about to unfold. Amidst the crowd, his gaze was inexorably drawn to a figure standing resolute, a scar etched across his face like a twisted emblem of battle.

A spark of recognition flared within Fang Hao's mind - he had seen this scar before. It was the same cultivator who had been sitting and sipping tea during his journey to the library.

Across from the scar-faced figure stood a younger man, his hair as dark as the abyss. An outer elder positioned himself between them, his voice cutting through the hushed anticipation.

"Fei Tianming and Li Jiral," he intoned, "do you agree to this life-and-death duel?" The two combatants replied in unison, their voices carrying a gravity that echoed through the arena.

With a solemn nod, the elder stepped away, and the duel was set to begin.

"Crazy Tianming," Li Jiral's voice rang out, carrying a mixture of bitterness and determination. "This is the day you will die for killing my clan." A faint frown flickered across the elder's face at the words, though his demeanor remained composed.

"Li Jiral, your clan's motives have led to the upheaval of a mortal kingdom. Your accusations hold little weight in this context," he retorted, unmoved by Jiral's emotions.

"Your clan was deemed guilty, and the mission was sent by the sect. Why do you hold it against me?" Fei Tianming's head tilted in confusion, unable to comprehend the animosity directed towards him.

"Lies!" Jiral's voice trembled with an undercurrent of fury. "My mother was innocent, merely a concubine. Yet you slaughtered everyone, sparing no one!" The pain and resentment in his voice were palpable, a culmination of years of waiting for this moment when justice would finally be served.

"You knew this, yet you still went along with it. You could have spared the innocent. Why didn't you?" Jiral's voice seethed with hatred, his accusations biting through the air.

Fei Tianming's response was chilling in its indifference. "Does it matter? We cultivators tread the path of Dao, unaffected by the petty affairs of mortals."

His words hung heavy in the air as he drew a sword from behind him, an aura of formidable strength radiating from his being.

Fang Hao, positioned among the crowd, could feel the impending danger, understanding that one swing of that blade would spell instant death.

Jiral's resolve remained unshaken.

"Very well, then," he responded, his voice laced with grim determination.

With a fluid motion, he drew his own sword from his waist, the metallic hiss of the blade leaving the sheath signalling the start of the battle.

A deep breath, a moment's hesitation, and then Jiral surged forward with a burst of energy, his sword poised to strike.

As Li Jiral charged forward, Fei Tianming's grin widened. His sword swept through the air in a rapid succession of strikes, each shout reverberating like thunder. "River Flow!" he bellowed, imbuing his voice with the echoes of countless battles past.

His blade danced with the fluidity of a rushing river, a torrent of strikes that pressed Li Jiral onto the defensive. Jiral's attempts to parry grew increasingly frantic as he struggled to match the pace.

Fei Tianming's command over his qi-infused swordplay was a testament to his cultivation, each movement a symphony of precision that overwhelmed his enemy.

In a swift retort, Li Jiral cried out, "Wheel of Swords!" His blade spun in a protective vortex, meeting Fei Tianming's onslaught with a fierce whirlwind of steel.

"This is the move I've prepared. I know you like the back of my hand. Now you can die!" Jiral's scream held a twisted excitement as he watched Fei Tianming being pushed back.

Jiral's expression transitioned from one of anticipation to grim determination as he exerted pressure on Fei Tianming, making him bleed with minor wounds.

However, just as victory appeared to be within Jiral's reach, his face paled, the color draining away.

''Oh is that so?'' Fei Tianming shook his head before revealing his late-stage Vein, making himself one step higher than Jiral's Mid-stage.

This slight gap granted Fei Tianming the upper hand, and it became evident as Jiral's strength waned.

"You've broken through!" Jiral's disbelief was palpable, his stance faltering as Fei Tianming's attack crashed against his blade, sending shockwaves rippling through the air.

Jiral's defenses crumbled like fragile glass, his blade sent spiralling as the impact overwhelmed him.

Recoiling, he stumbled, collapsing to the ground, his throat laid bare to Fei Tianming's blade. cutting and spilling crimson blood.

Jiral's eyes reflected a mixture of horror and resignation as his fingers clenched around his throat, his own blood choking him.

Darkness encroached as life slipped away, and the arena descended into a chilling hush.

Fang Hao looked at the elder arriving announcing ''Winner Fei Tianming'' before carrying the body out like normal every day.

The crowd started departing leaving Hao alone, he was going to go back to the cave and cultivate for a period of time before wanting to check the missions.

Right, where can I get food?" Fang Hao asked, glancing towards the pill pavilion in the distance. He intended to obtain some fasting pills to ensure he wouldn't go hungry during his training.

Upon arriving at the pill pavilion, he observed disciples going in and out, carrying pouches filled with various items. A young girl in green robes was seated at a desk, and she stood up as she noticed Fang Hao approaching.

"Hello, how can I help you?" she greeted him professionally. Fang Hao inquired about fasting pills, and she requested to see his token.

"You are new. According to the rules, you can claim one year of supply for free each time. Here is your portion," she informed him.

After signing in a book, she handed Fang Hao 36 pills. "Each one lasts for 10 days," she added with a smile, passing him the pills.

"Thank you. Do you have a list of items?" Fang Hao asked further.

"Yes, here it is," she provided him with a jade, instructing him to place it on his forehead, much like the token.

As he did so, he saw various pills listed. One of them caught his attention: the 'Ironclad Sinew Pill', known to significantly boost cultivation speed for the muscle realm.

"How many spirit stones?" Fang Hao inquired, ready to make a purchase.

"We only accept contribution points," she replied apologetically. Fang Hao wondered if he could convert his spirit stones into points.

"Yes, but only once you become an inner sect member. The sect wants you to participate in missions to gain experience before allowing you to use your wealth," she explained, seemingly aware of his thoughts. It appeared this question was a frequent one.

"I see," Fang Hao muttered, taken aback by the replies. He wondered if she possessed some kind of mind-reading power. Storing the pills in his ring surprised the girl with his action.

Meanwhile, a male who had come to purchase pills noticed Fang Hao's ring and started forming a plan in his mind.

With no further tasks at hand, Fang Hao headed back to the cave. His plan was to focus on cultivating the manual first, refining his skills before delving into arrays and formations.

Only once he felt confident in his progress would he turn his attention to exploring the available missions.