Chapter 502

Ying Wuji stared at Ying Huan lying on the ground, his bloodless lips uttering two words: "Get up."

Ying Huan struggled to turn over and rise, he coughed violently a few times, the organs in his chest ached severely, as if burned by fire, each breath brought a heart-rending, lung-splitting pain.

He raised his hand, and the Seven Extremes Sword lying on the ground was drawn into his grasp.

Immediately after, he lifted his head to meet Ying Wuji's gaze, his heart jolted.

He...

Before Ying Huan could think further, Ying Wuji flashed forward, sword raised, lunging fiercely at him.

Ying Huan could not parry the opponent's attack at all.

Soon, several deep sword wounds exposing bone appeared on his body.

Ying Huan's heart startled; he keenly sensed that Ying Wuji seemed to harbor a hint of killing intent and hatred toward him.

Previously he had not provoked Ying Wuji, so why would Ying Wuji want to kill him?

Soon, Ying Huan's sword was knocked from his hand, and he was pressed at the throat by the Heaven's Mandate Sword.

Everyone present held their breath in anticipation.

"You lost." Ying Wuji said coldly.

Ying Huan's complexion shifted, he fell silent for a few seconds, then spoke in a low voice: "I lost."

As soon as he said that, the crowd erupted.

The people of the First Province again fell into an eerie silence.

They watched as the points of the Ninth Province and the First Province drew ever closer, their hearts unusually heavy.

"Ying Huan actually lost as well..."

"If the Ninth Province wins another five matches, it will take first place!"

The Elders of the Ying family, who had always been optimistic about Ying Huan, now exchanged glances, their expressions somewhat complex; they never expected Ying Wuji to be stronger than Ying Huan.

At this moment, the people of the Ninth Province cheered and leapt with joy.

Ying Tianyian Zun slightly raised his eyebrows.

Below the platform, Yuan Yao, Xiao Lingwei, and others were already anxious; seeing Ying Wuji stagger down the stage, they hurried forward and carefully supported him.

Ying Wuji was now spent, gravely wounded, the surging spiritual power within his body nearly exhausted, only faint traces trickling weakly through his meridians.

His face was ashen as paper, devoid of color, his lips dry and cracked, whitened; sweat beaded his forehead, trickling down his temples. The wound on his left shoulder continued to ooze blood, staining the blue cloth ever darker.

Yuan Yao produced a seventh-grade Spirit-Healing Pill and fed it to Ying Wuji.

Ying Wuji opened his mouth and swallowed it.

Xiao Lingwei frowned and said, "First let Ah Li come over to treat your wound."

Ying Wuji weakly gave a soft "hmm," his voice as faint as a mosquito.

He slowly lowered his eyelashes; long lashes cast a faint shadow on his pale face. The usual arrogance and sharpness of looking down on the world had vanished; now he appeared somewhat fragile, evoking pity.

"Youngest Senior Brother..." Yuan Yao supported his arm, her eyes full of worry and affection.

She had seen everything clearly from below the stage, especially Ying Wuji's momentary loss of focus and the ensuing world-shattering sword strike; the contained fury and resolve were certainly not merely due to a wound on his shoulder.

She could be certain that the Youngest Senior Brother had just recalled events from his past life.

And this matter certainly had to do with Ying Huan.

Upon hearing Yuan Yao's soft call, Ying Wuji lifted his eyes slightly and gave her a faint smile: "I'm fine."

Cang Li rushed over, hearing that, and retorted unhappily, "Whether you're okay isn't up to you to decide!"

Immediately, he forcefully applied medicine and bandaged Ying Wuji.

Ying Wuji: "..."

"Third Senior Brother."

"How?" Cang Li raised his eyebrows slightly.

"Thank you."

Cang Li's hand paused, then he clicked his tongue disdainfully, "How melodramatic; you're not suffering from some incurable ailment."

Xiao Lingwei couldn't help but laugh.

In a blink, the next round of matches arrived.

This time, Yuan Yao stepped onto the platform.

And this time the First Province sent... Xie Zixu.

The two exchanged a glance on the platform.

Then, they tacitly averted their gazes.

Yuan Yao's opponent this time drawn was Hua Chengyan.

And Xie Zixu drew Yu Jing.

Yu Jing had already fought five consecutive matches, her body could barely hold up; facing Xie Zixu, she exchanged only a dozen or so moves before losing to him.

On the platform, Yuan Yao and Hua Chengyan stood opposite each other.

Hua Chengyan gave a somewhat helpless smile, "Daoist Yuan, we indeed share a fateful connection."

Upon hearing that, Yuan Yao also smiled: "Yes."

Hua Chengyan said, "I hope Daoist Yuan will go easy on me; don't strike my face."

Yuan Yao's brows rose slightly; she knew Hua Chengyan cared greatly about his image, and since he said that, she naturally would not aim for his face.

"Alright."

Their match officially began.

Yuan Yao summoned the Phantom Spirit Sword, brandishing it and attacking toward Hua Chengyan.

Meanwhile, Hua Chengyan, with empty hands, instantly condensed a seal of power and blasted it toward Yuan Yao.

Yuan Yao cleaved the opponent's dharma seal with one sword, but just as she was about to reach Hua Chengyan's face, his palm shoved her back several steps.

Yuan Yao steadied her stance, then suddenly lifted her eyes to stare at Hua Chengyan.

That palm strike just now—without late‑stage Spirit Transformation Realm cultivation, Hua Chengyan could not have unleashed it.

Hua Chengyan has long concealed his true cultivation level with a spiritual artifact, firstly to keep a low profile, and secondly to pretend to be weak in order to strike strong.

The spectators watching the match had barely sensed Hua Chengyan's true strength from the start, because his performance in the previous bouts had been utterly ordinary.

Only powerful experts could discern Hua Chengyan's true strength.

The spectators began to discuss:

"This match should be won by Yuan Yao!"

"What background does this Hua Chengyan of the Eighth Continent have? How could he have lasted until now?"

"It's said that this Hua Chengyan is the young master of the Flower Sect."

While the crowd was discussing, the two on the fighting platform continued to clash.

Yuan Yao noticed that Hua Chengyan seemed to be stalling for time.

The corner of her mouth twitched slightly.

Since that was the case, she granted his wish.

Thus, their battle grew increasingly 'peaceful'. It lost some of its fierce killing intent, gaining more probing and maneuvering, seeming less like a life‑and‑death showdown and more like a sparring session among fellow disciples.

The spectators, watching on, began to feel something was off—were these two just going through the motions?

A faint smile flickered in Hua Chengyan's eyes as he said, "Yuan Daoist friend, you don't want to get serious, do you?"

Yuan Yao chuckled, "No."

Finally, she added, "I'm waiting for you to get serious."

Upon hearing that, a hint of regret flashed across Hua Chengyan's already somewhat effeminate handsome face; he let out a soft sigh, as if lamenting the lost chance to keep "playing".

"Alright."

He replied in a leisurely tone, his voice not loud yet clearly carrying across the entire platform.

Immediately, the aura that had been restrained on his person suddenly shifted!

Boom—

An overwhelmingly mighty pressure aura erupted explosively from within Hua Chengyan's body without any warning!

That pressure was as violent as a raging sea, sweeping in all directions, making the air of the entire martial arena seem to solidify!

"Peak of late‑stage Spirit Transformation Realm!" someone exclaimed.