Challenge

Lu Tzang stood in place, his mind racing as he weighed his options. "Several choices," he thought. "I can do this without losing my Spirit Stones, but…"

First Idea: Feign Ignorance

He could pretend not to understand the gravity of the situation and insist he didn't need the pill. Maybe An Mo would feel obligated to help him for free out of pity.

Lu Tzang shook his head. "No. Mo Tian isn't a fool. He'll see right through me. If I play dumb, he'll likely let the poison worsen just to teach me a lesson—or worse, leave me to die."

Second Idea: Appeal to Benevolence

He could praise An Mo's supposed generosity and righteousness, perhaps even exaggerating his gratitude, in the hopes that Mo Tian would give the pill as a gift to maintain his façade of benevolence.

Again, Lu Tzang shook his head. "No. In the novel, Mo Tian's 'benevolence' is nothing but a tool to gain leverage. He may act selfless, but only if it serves his interests. Flattery won't work here."

Third Idea: Threaten Him

He could bluff, claiming he had some hidden backing or powerful allies who would retaliate if he died.

Lu Tzang dismissed the idea immediately. "Ridiculous. Even if I could pull it off, Mo Tian thrives on confrontation. Threats would only provoke him—and without the strength to back it up, I'd be digging my own grave."

Fourth Idea: Barter a Different Resource

He considered offering a non-monetary resource, like information or assistance in exchange for the pill.

Lu Tzang sighed. "No. Mo Tian's objective here is clearly my Spirit Stones. He wouldn't have gone through this elaborate scheme otherwise. Anything else I offer would be of lesser value to him."

He rubbed his chin, deep in thought. Suddenly, his eyes lit up with realization. "Wait. He's not just anyone. He's an Asura."

He slowly raised his gaze to An Mo, now studying him with a sharp intensity.

The young man was still smiling, but there was a flicker of surprise and irritation in his expression, as if he'd sensed Lu Tzang's hesitation.

"Fellow Daoist," An Mo said, his voice still smooth and kind, "you've been silent for some time. Perhaps I wasn't clear about the severity of your condition?"

Lu Tzang chuckled lightly, shaking his head. "Oh, you were clear. Crystal clear, in fact."

"Then…" An Mo's voice trailed off as he frowned slightly, unsure of what Lu Tzang was planning.

Lu Tzang straightened his posture and smiled faintly. "However, I cannot give you my Spirit Stones."

An Mo froze, his smile faltering for the first time. Shock flickered across his face. "What?" he blurted out. "You... you won't? But… why? Do you not value your life?"

Lu Tzang tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as he studied An Mo's reaction. He allowed a moment of silence to stretch between them before speaking again.

"Why?" Lu Tzang repeated, his tone calm but deliberate. "The answer lies in your eyes."

"My… eyes?" An Mo's confusion deepened.

Lu Tzang took a step forward, his gaze locking with An Mo's. His voice dropped, taking on a sharper edge, and yet, there was a hint of respect in his tone.

"Yes. Your eyes, fellow Daoist. They betray you. Beneath the façade of kindness, I see it—a curiosity, a hunger, a yearning. Not for wealth, not for power, but for challenge."

An Mo's expression froze, his smile stiffening into something unreadable.

Lu Tzang continued, his voice growing more confident.

"You and I both know it. That desire of yours isn't born of greed. It's something far deeper, something primal. You don't just want Spirit Stones. What you want is to test yourself—to measure your strength against others and see who stands victorious. That's the truth, isn't it?"

An Mo blinked, stunned. For the first time, his mask of composure cracked. "What…?" he murmured, his voice barely audible. "How could you possibly…"

Lu Tzang smiled inwardly. "It's all in the novel, you battle-crazed Asura," he thought.

He pressed on, his tone now carrying a hint of provocation.

"Isn't it obvious? Why else would you deliberately suppress your cultivation to the Fifth Phase, Peak Stage? Why would someone of your caliber walk among mortals, claiming to be no different from them?

"You're not here for charity, nor are you here to take advantage of weaklings. No… you're here because you're bored."

An Mo's fists clenched at his sides, though his face remained neutral.

"Think about it," Lu Tzang continued, now pacing slowly around him.

"You could've stayed in the safety of your sect, training diligently under your esteemed master. But no, you chose to descend into the mortal realm, hiding your true strength.

"Why? Because nothing up there could satisfy your craving for combat. Here, you can fight without restraint. Here, you can indulge your nature as an Asura."

An Mo's eyes narrowed, his sharp gaze finally betraying a flicker of emotion: surprise, confusion, and… something like excitement.

Lu Tzang stopped in front of him, planting his feet firmly.

"So let me ask you this, fellow Daoist. Why bother scheming for two measly Spirit Stones? Why waste your time when what you truly desire stands right in front of you?"

An Mo's breath hitched, his body tense as he stared at Lu Tzang.

"What do you say?" Lu Tzang asked, his voice steady, his expression calm. "Isn't your body itching for combat? Isn't your blood boiling for a worthy opponent?" He raised an eyebrow and smirked faintly. "Because mine is."

The challenge hung in the air, electrifying the space between them. For the first time, An Mo's smile faded completely, replaced by a look of genuine shock. "This guy…" he thought. "How does he know?!"

He stared at Lu Tzang, his sharp, dangerous eyes narrowing slightly.

How?

How could this man know about his sect?

Every precaution had been taken: his robes were simple, his aura masked, and even his scent carefully altered with rare herbs. Yet here stood this stranger, speaking as if he could see through every layer of disguise.

The thought churned in his mind, unsettling him. "Could he be the same as me?" he wondered, but quickly dismissed it. No, this man didn't radiate the same energy or presence from a sect. But then… how?

Breaking the silence, An Mo's voice took on a serious, almost suspicious tone. "Fellow Daoist," he began, his smile now replaced by a steely expression. "May I know how you came by this knowledge? Did you perhaps… track us?"

Lu Tzang almost burst out laughing but kept his face neutral. "Shameless," he thought. "This bastard schemes to lure the Shen family trio to me, lets them beat me to near death, and now he's asking if I was the one tracking him? Truly audacious."

Suppressing the urge to scoff, Lu Tzang's eyes lit up with an idea. With a calm yet firm tone, he replied, "No, it's impossible that I could've tracked you." He paused, watching An Mo's gaze flicker with curiosity and suspicion. "But if you truly wish to know the answer…"

He straightened his posture, lifting his hand to brush an imaginary speck of dust from his sleeve. "I'll tell you—if you can beat me in hand-to-hand combat."

An Mo's brows lifted in surprise, and his sharp eyes locked onto Lu Tzang. "Hand-to-hand combat?" he echoed, his tone questioning.

"Yes," Lu Tzang said confidently, his voice ringing with challenge.

He shifted his weight slightly, and without hesitation, he tossed the crowbar he had been holding to the side.

The sound of metal hitting the ground echoed in the clearing as Lu Tzang reached up to adjust his robes, ensuring they wouldn't hinder his movements.

An Mo blinked at the unexpected gesture, then let out a faint chuckle.

"Interesting," he thought.

He had been guilty of the scheme, of course—he'd lured the Shen family trio to Lu Tzang and watched everything unfold from the shadows.

It was all part of the plan. But now, with the man standing before him exuding a quiet confidence, he couldn't deny the growing curiosity in his chest.

"Perhaps my master was right," An Mo thought.

His master had brought him to the mortal realm, saying there were lessons to be learned here that cultivation in isolation could never teach.

Before departing on some important business, his master had left him with a cryptic remark: 'Not all challenges lie in the heavens; some are here, hidden among mortals. Seek them, and you'll understand.'

Could this man—this Lu Tzang—be one of those challenges?

An Mo's lips curled into a small, dangerous smile.

He took a step back and began rolling his shoulders, his movements fluid and precise as he prepared himself.

With one smooth motion, he adjusted his own robes, tying his sleeves back to free his arms.

"Very well," An Mo said, his voice calm yet carrying an undercurrent of excitement. "I accept your challenge, fellow Daoist. But be warned—no one at the same stage as me has ever defeated me in hand-to-hand combat."

Lu Tzang chuckled softly at that. "The world is vast," he replied, his tone laced with subtle provocation. "You might experience it now."

The clearing fell silent, the tension between them thick and palpable.

Both men stood still, their eyes locked as they focused on each other's breathing, each gauging the other's intent and strength.

Time seemed to stretch, the sound of their steady breaths the only noise in the still air.

Then, without a word, they both moved simultaneously—two figures dashing toward each other, the ground beneath them trembling with their explosive speed.