Chapter 10: The Young Master… Lost?

“Is he insane? A mere Foundation Establishment beginner dares to challenge the Young Master?”

“Exactly! The Young Master just defeated Luo Yan, who was late-stage Foundation. How many moves can someone at the early stage last?”

“He must’ve been cornered and is only putting on a show.”

Mocking voices filled the stands. Almost no one believed Luo Jiutian could win.

Yet, not far away, Luo Yuanshan’s brows were tightly knit. Though he had lost to Luo Chen, the moment he looked at Luo Jiutian on stage, an indescribable pressure welled in his chest.

Luo Yan’s expression was equally grim. He had crossed blades with Jiutian countless times and never once had he felt threatened. But now… his instincts screamed at him—

This man had changed.

And they weren’t the only ones unsettled.

On the high platform, several Luo clan elders sat silent, their expressions unreadable. Li Yunzhen tapped the armrest lightly, face expressionless. Xiao Qiankun slowly rolled his teacup between his fingers before suddenly turning toward Luo Changqing.

“He… is really only at the early stage of Foundation?”

Luo Changqing didn’t answer immediately. He first glanced toward the edge of the spectator stands, where Luo Yunlan and Su Wan’er sat stiff with tension, before finally turning back to the figure on the stage. His eyes grew more complicated by the second.

At the center of the dueling platform, the two men faced each other.

Luo Chen smiled faintly and raised his voice.
“Brother Jiutian’s cultivation is slightly lacking. To be fair, I’ll let you have three moves.”

Luo Jiutian only smiled in return.

Moments ago, when sparring with Luo Yan and the others, Luo Chen had referred to himself as “I.” But now, against Jiutian, it had suddenly become “this Young Master”—loudly, for all to hear.

Jiutian didn’t bother pointing it out. He only gave Luo Chen a brief glance and said,
“Not necessary.”

“You’re sure?” Luo Chen arched his brow. His tone carried mock concern, as though he truly feared Jiutian would lose too miserably.

Applause rang out from the stands, and someone shouted,

“The Young Master is magnanimous, giving away three moves! Truly a model for us all!”

“The Young Master has already won two matches and still acts with courtesy before combat—that is the future of the Luo clan!”

“Certain people should learn to be grateful.”

Luo Jiutian couldn’t be bothered with such empty formalities. He said bluntly,
“If you have time to practice these hollow gestures, better to spend it on real cultivation.”

The words fell, and silence followed. The sycophants who had just been praising Luo Chen suddenly choked, as if someone had squeezed their throats.

Luo Chen’s smile faltered, a twitch at the corner of his eye. Forcing himself calm, he replied,
“Since that’s how it is, then come.”

He had barely spoken when Luo Jiutian’s fist was already before his eyes.

The gust of force hit like a storm. Every hair on Luo Chen’s body stood on end. Instinct screamed, and he barely twisted aside in time to dodge the punch.

But Jiutian’s fist didn’t simply stop at empty air. The momentum carried through, blasting outward in a muffled shockwave.

With a thunderous boom, a massive tree beside the platform snapped clean at the roots and toppled with a crash.

The crowd fell into stunned silence.

After a long pause, someone finally blurted out,
“Holy shit! When did Luo Jiutian break through to the late Foundation!?”

“That—that’s impossible… his cultivation had been stuck for so long!”

All around, Luo clan disciples stared wide-eyed. But the discussion quickly shifted—

“So what if he’s late-stage? Luo Yan is too, and he still lost.”

“The Young Master has the Star-Seizing Divine Body! His combat strength can’t be measured by common sense.”

The noise surged again, only to be cut short as every gaze turned back to the dueling platform.

Luo Chen, shaken back to his senses, immediately retreated, widening the distance between them. His heart pounded like war drums, cold sweat already trickling down his forehead.

He had seen it clearly—

That punch was not just brute force. It carried the killing intent honed in a true life-and-death battle.

Had he been a fraction slower, it wouldn’t have been the tree lying broken, but himself.

This… was really the so-called “former Young Master,” who had always struggled to advance, scraping by on clan resources?

Stealing his stance, Luo Chen fixed his eyes on Jiutian, not daring to rush forward again.

Luo Jiutian still stood where he was, motionless. He tilted his head slightly.
“Just trading bare fists is dull. Why not… bring out a weapon?”

The meaning couldn’t be clearer—

You can’t beat me empty-handed.

A chill rippled through the crowd as realization dawned.

【Ding! The host successfully slapped the Son of Destiny ‘Luo Chen’ in public. Fortune value converting…】
【Current Blue Star Return Countdown: 297 years.】
【Six months deducted. Remaining: 296 years, 6 months.】

Luo Chen clenched his fists so hard his knuckles whitened. He knew Jiutian was deliberately trying to provoke him. But he couldn’t back down. If he did, all the prestige he had just built would vanish instantly.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Luo Jiutian,” he said coldly.

He raised his hand, and with a sharp whistle, a silver-white spear flew into his grasp. With a flourish, its tip leveled at Jiutian, his stance proud and unrestrained.

The crowd’s eyes lit up at once.
“That’s… the Luo clan’s ancestral spear art?”

“Yes! It’s not something just anyone can learn. Only with the Patriarch’s approval. Until now, only the Eldest Miss knew it. But now the Young Master does as well!”

Luo Jiutian couldn’t help laughing.
“Your father really does dote on you. The moment you return, he teaches you the clan’s ancestral technique.”

The Luo Spear Art—Thirteen Strikes Chasing Stars.

It was said the clan’s founding ancestor had used this very art to battle seven peers of the same realm, carving a bloody path and establishing the Luo family’s foundation.

The technique was pure lethality. No wasted motion, no flowery displays. Every strike aimed to kill—swift, ruthless, precise.

Even back when Jiutian was Young Master, working tirelessly for the clan, he had never been permitted to touch it.

Not that it was surprising. It was an ancestral technique, passed to blood kin, not outsiders.

But now…

Jiutian lifted one hand. Bloodlight gathered in his palm, and from the void, a scarlet longsword slowly emerged. Its body had yet to move, but its oppressive aura swept out first.

Its name was Weeping Dust.

It did not belong to this world. It carried slaughter in its very essence, merging seamlessly with Jiutian’s aura.

In that instant, everyone—on the stands and on the high platform alike—felt their hearts tremble, as though the sword itself was coldly watching them.

Luo Chen’s grip on his spear tightened reflexively. Even he could not deny—this sword was no ordinary weapon.

Luo Jiutian stood with sword in hand, robes swaying faintly in the wind.

At last, Luo Chen cracked under the pressure and struck first. The silver spear swept forth, a violent gale exploding outward. The weapon thrummed like a dragon’s roar, power fierce and overwhelming.

Jiutian neither dodged nor retreated. He raised his sword to meet it.

Spear and sword clashed again and again, dozens of exchanges in rapid succession. Sparks sprayed, shockwaves rippling across the platform.

Spectators’ eyes widened in disbelief. Many couldn’t even track the movements, relying only on bursts of air to guess where the two figures were.

The longer he fought, the more dread grew in Luo Chen’s heart.

He had thought Jiutian was using some secret art to forcefully boost his strength. But in battle, it became clear—

Aside from slightly lesser raw power, in speed, technique, and control of the fight’s rhythm… Jiutian suppressed him in every way.

A weight sank into his chest.

He flipped upward, soaring into the night sky.

Starlight gathered, silver radiance weaving around him like dust motes, orbiting his body. Suspended above the platform, his presence swelled, his confidence returning.

Looking down on Jiutian, he declared,
“Brother Jiutian, won’t you use your illusions? What comes next won’t be child’s play.”

Jiutian raised his head, voice calm.
“No need.”

Luo Chen sneered.
“Very well. You’ve asked for it.”

Starry brilliance surged into his spearpoint. His entire figure became a streak of light, plunging down toward the center of the dueling platform.

This strike was merciless, killing intent bare.

“My god! The Young Master—he’s going for the kill!?”

“This move… this aura—it’s nearly at Core Formation level!”

“Can Luo Jiutian withstand it? If he doesn’t die, he’ll be crippled!”

In the corner, Luo Yuanshan rushed to Luo Yan’s side, whispering,
“Skinny Ghost, what do you think?”

Luo Yan stared hard at the center of the platform and shook his head.
“One chance in ten to live.”

Several clan elders nearby looked on coldly. Not one moved to intervene. They didn’t care about Jiutian’s life or death. Tonight’s stage was built for Luo Chen alone. No one would break the rules for someone the clan had already cast aside.

This “sparring match” had never been fair.

“Xiaotian!”

On the spectator’s edge, Luo Yunlan shot to her feet, crimson light flashing in her eyes. She was about to rush forward.

But a hand seized her arm.
“What are you doing?”

She turned sharply, gaze fierce at Su Wan’er.

Wan’er said nothing. She only shook her head, ever so slightly.

In that moment’s pause, Yunlan suddenly recalled Jiutian’s expression before stepping onto the stage. That wasn’t stubborn bravado.

It was confidence. A calm, unshakable confidence.

Her heart jolted in realization. Now she understood why Wan’er stopped her.

If Jiutian dared to accept this fight, then he must have the certainty to win.

The two women exchanged a wordless nod, then sat back down, eyes fixed on the platform.

By then, Luo Chen’s full-force strike had already landed. The spear’s radiance tore through the night, engulfing the platform in a storm of dust and debris.

Everyone held their breath, waiting for the duel’s end.

The smoke had yet to clear, but faintly, a figure began to take shape within. He stood tall in the center, one hand holding a weapon, the other dragging someone limp.

“It’s the Young Master!” a voice shouted with joy.
“The Young Master has won!”

Like a stone cast into a pond, the cry spread at once. The stands erupted in cheers, applause rising like thunder.

On the high platform, Xiao Qiankun turned his head away, unwilling to watch Jiutian’s humiliation, a sigh heavy in his heart.

Other elders wore expressions of “just as expected.”

But when the dust finally cleared, the entire crowd froze.

Luo Jiutian stood unharmed.

In his right hand, he gripped a spear. In his left, he dragged a bloodied figure, barely clinging to life.

That figure was none other than—

The one they had all believed guaranteed victory—

Luo Chen.