Chapter 86: Sudden Turn

At his command, over thirty robed disciples rushed out from the main hall.

They said not a word, silently marking out a death arena on the open ground before the hall with wooden stakes and ropes; their swift, practiced movements revealed they were all highly trained, not ordinary low-level disciples of the Seven Mysteries Sect.

Watching the duel ground being marked out, Li Feiyu grew uneasy and asked Han Li: “Are we really just going to hide here, doing nothing but watch them fight? This doesn’t seem right!”

“What’s wrong with it? Your little sweetheart isn’t in any danger—she’s perfectly safe. Once both sides finish their duel, we’ll slip out and rescue Miss Zhang during the chaos when the Wild Wolf Gang withdraws. Then the two of you can flee far away, find somewhere they can’t reach, and spare yourself from being made a scapegoat by the higher-ups, forced to carry a burden you can’t possibly bear.” Han Li spoke calmly; clearly, he felt no deep loyalty to the Seven Mysteries Sect.

“Isn’t this elopement? No way—Xiuer won’t agree!” Li Feiyu shook his head like a rattle.

“Then knock her out, drag her away by force, and let the deed be done.” Han Li replied indifferently.

“You…” Li Feiyu stared at Han Li, speechless with rage.

Just then, the Sect Master received two blood-red documents from a disciple with solemn care—they were the Death Pacts. He kept one for himself and had another handed over to Jia Tianlong across the way.

When Jia Tianlong took the document, his expression turned grave. He carefully unrolled it, scanned it with caution, confirmed there were no issues, nodded, then closed it, and began selecting his combatants.

After careful screening, he chose thirteen elite warriors from the Wild Wolf Gang. To minimize losses, he also picked over a dozen capable members from smaller gangs; regardless of whether they were willing, once they signed the Death Pact, they’d have no choice but to fight for their lives. The remaining fighters were drawn from his own elite bodyguards, skilled in coordination—and of course, Jin Guang Shangren would also fight; he was counting on the man’s flying sword technique to turn the tide.

While Jia Tianlong was busy, Wang Juechu had returned to the stone hall sometime earlier and had not emerged since—presumably agonizing over his own selection of combatants.

When the death arena was finally completed, the Sect Master stepped out from the hall, accompanied by three or four hundred disciples.

They ranged from young to old, male to female, but all had sharp, piercing eyes and steady steps—clearly elite members of the Seven Mysteries Sect. The three who drew Jia Tianlong’s closest attention were those immediately behind Wang Juechu.

One wore a Confucian robe, flowing and elegant, exuding scholarly air; another was tall and burly, bare-chested, with a thick, bristling beard like steel needles, radiating ferocity; the third was a cold-faced man clad in gray, carrying a long sword on his back.

At first glance, they all appeared to be middle-aged men in their thirties or forties, but a closer look at their faces revealed an aged weariness—only seen in men of seventy or eighty—suggesting their true age far exceeded their outward appearance.

Jia Tianlong understood at once: these three must be Wang Juechu’s three master uncles. Clearly, the other side was willing to risk everything to trap him here.

Thinking this, he turned his body, pointed at the three, and said to the dwarf Jin Guang Shangren beside him: “Shangren, what do you think of those three? Can you handle them?”

“Just ordinary mortals. My flying sword will end them the moment I release it! What’s there to worry about? Don’t you trust me?” Jin Guang Shangren glared, his tone sharp with irritation.

“Never! Never! I only asked out of curiosity, Immortal Master, please don’t take offense.” Jia Tianlong quickly smiled, terrified of offending his greatest ally.

“Hmph!” The dwarf’s anger slowly subsided at these words.

Jia Tianlong finally relaxed, realizing this great immortal was truly hard to please.

He silently grimaced, then quickly turned and shouted loudly: “Are you ready? Begin signing the Death Pacts!”

At this command, the Wild Wolf Gang’s combatants solemnly wrote their names and signed the Death Pacts, pledging their resolve.

At the same time, Wang Juechu coldly echoed: “Sign the Death Pacts!”

Instantly, dozens of pre-selected death warriors stepped forward from the Seven Mysteries Sect’s ranks, preparing to sign their own pacts.

As these men emerged, Han Li naturally turned his gaze toward them, scanning for any familiar faces. He saw Wang Juechu’s three master uncles, but paid them no mind, glancing past them quickly—his eyes settled instead on an elderly man in blue robes.

Seeing the old man’s face, Han Li involuntarily whispered: “Senior Li!”

It was Senior Li—the master of Ma Rong, the man Han Li had once saved. He was one of the combatants? This was utterly unexpected.

Regaining his composure, Han Li quickly turned and slapped Li Feiyu hard on the shoulder. “Did you see that? Senior Li is there too—he’s signing the Death Pact!”

Li Feiyu stood motionless, staring blankly into the distance, as if he hadn’t heard a word—his expression utterly vacant.

“Huh? What’s going on?” Han Li was startled.

“Even if Senior Li is signing the Death Pact, he doesn’t need to look like this!” he asked, puzzled.

Hearing this, Li Feiyu finally turned his gaze back. He stared blankly at Han Li, then uttered a sentence that left Han Li momentarily stunned.

“Xiuer… Xiuer… she’s there too. She’s going to fight in the Death Pact duel!”

Instantly, Li Feiyu’s face turned ashen.

Website