Chapter 306

Lu Xingzhou halted his retreat, eased the shock to his body, stood firm, and smiled as he bowed.

No words were needed; everything was understood without speech.

Yuan Muyu stood frozen, silent for a long while, her mind utterly blank. She had merely been blown off-balance by the cloak—no real hindrance to movement—and could easily have pursued, yet she had completely forgotten.

The two stared at each other; whispers spread across the island, nearly drowning out the sound of the waves.

Yuan Muyu's temporary illusion could fool most, but clearly not the elders above first grade who were familiar with the Immortal Fuyao.

At this moment, the elder leaders of each clan exchanged glances, their eyes filled with disbelief.

Everyone had heard that the Immortal Fuyao had quarreled with the Holy Mistress of Tianyao and left home for many years, though Tianyao Holy Land had never expelled her from its lineage records. But no one knew that the fearsome Yan Jun of Daqian was none other than the Immortal Fuyao—the contrast in demeanor was immense…

Leaving aside the Yan Jun, what exactly is going on here?

How can you, Ye Fuyao, still have the nerve to participate in such a grand contest? Don't you have any shame?

And yet you stand on the opposite side of Tianyao Holy Land—does this not… well, since you're opposing Tianyao Holy Land, and everyone here wants to humiliate them, shouldn't we just let it slide and not expose you?

But wasn't this Lu Xingzhou said to be the Immortal Fuyao's disciple, and then reclaimed by Tianyao Holy Land?

Then why is he fighting the Immortal Fuyao?

And he publicly tore off his master's cloak, harshly shaming her in front of everyone?

Speaking of which, the sight of Immortal Fuyao standing in the arena with that charming smile always leaves a group of elders momentarily dazed, as if all these years have passed and nothing has changed.

People's thoughts were complicated; no one moved to expose her, instead turning to look toward Ye Tinglan's direction, waiting to see how the referee would respond.

Ye Tinglan sat upright from her relaxed recline, set down her teacup, and said calmly: "This young lady declared before the match that she would only be defeated if her cloak was lifted… now it has been lifted. What do you say?"

Yuan Muyu glared at her but said nothing.

Ye Tinglan smiled sweetly: "My sect's disciple also suffered minor injuries—consider it even. Watching your duel, it was a true match of equals, fiercely contested. If you continue, casualties may follow… in my opinion, let this be declared a draw, how about that?"

Those who didn't understand whispered among themselves: from the scene, one had merely blown off a cloak, while the other had blood at the corner of her mouth—clearly the latter was at a disadvantage. The Holy Mistress's words seemed unfair.

Those who understood sat calmly on the fishing terrace: a draw is a draw, let's watch the next match. If your Nuojiao Island wins the next round and successfully humiliates Tianyao Holy Land, we'll say nothing. But if you lose the next round, we'll accuse Tianyao Holy Land of match-fixing—sending their own people to the opposite side, deliberately drawing to win.

By the way, you declared it a draw yourself—would Ye Fuyao agree?

She had just openly mocked the Holy Mistress for being third grade at over twenty years old, and would never spare the Holy Mistress's face—logically, she should have retorted sharply. But all anyone saw was her silently gazing at Lu Xingzhou, long moments passing before she slowly replied: "Fine."

Nuojiao Island people: "…"

They said we'd go soft if we faced a handsome man—yet you went up and did the same! Dare you deny it?

Since both parties accepted it, no one else had anything to say for now—the match was declared a draw. Yet strangely, neither of them stepped down from the arena; they continued staring at each other.

Ye Tinglan could no longer sit still; she floated down to the arena and picked up Lu Xingzhou.

Yuan Muyu felt as if a giant needle had pierced her buttocks—her dazed body instantly snapped to life: "What are you doing?!"

Ye Tinglan glanced at her curiously: "What do you mean, 'what are you doing'? My sect's disciple is injured; as sect leader, it is my duty to carry the wounded back for treatment. Your question is most peculiar."

Others also looked at her with strange eyes. The sect leader carrying her disciple back for treatment—though a bit excessive, such a minor injury hardly warranted the Holy Mistress's personal attention—but it was simply an expression of care. Why are you so agitated?

No one would ever imagine the Holy Mistress of Tianyao would publicly display affection for her lover—especially with deliberate intent to show off.

Yuan Muyu ground her teeth in fury: "His injury is so slight—he can walk himself!"

"How my sect treats its wounded is none of an outsider's concern," Ye Tinglan said calmly, carrying Lu Xingzhou off the arena. "You should step down now—your third contestant is up. Don't disrupt the match order."

"Outsider? I…"

"Isn't that exactly what you are?"

Ye Tinglan had already descended the arena, deliberately avoiding flying straight to her seat—instead, she strolled slowly around the back, as if seeking a quiet place to treat her disciple. Yuan Muyu instinctively chased after her, grabbed her sash, and hissed low: "Ye Tinglan! What are you doing?!"

Ye Tinglan didn't stop walking: "Didn't I already answer? Little Pinglan."

Her gaze flickered to Yuan Muyu's chest, emphasizing the "Ping" sound—turning "Pinglan" into another meaning entirely.

The somewhat flat Ye Tinglan.

Yuan Muyu's fury made smoke almost rise from her head; she gritted her teeth: "Lu Xingzhou, how old are you? Don't you have legs of your own?!"

Lu Xingzhou leaned calmly against Ye Tinglan's arms, his serene eyes fixed on Yuan Muyu, saying nothing.

Only when those words were spoken did Lu Xingzhou's gaze flicker slightly; he slowly replied: "The state in which I have no legs… isn't that exactly what you hoped for?"

Yuan Muyu stood as if struck by lightning, unable to move further.

She watched helplessly as Ye Tinglan rounded the back, their intimate figures disappearing into the corner, out of sight.

Occasionally, someone glanced curiously toward the edge of the high platform, where a girl, her face obscured by illusion, stood silently alone amid the roaring crowd of ten thousand.

Behind the arena, no one was there—only rocky shores.

Ye Tinglan set Lu Xingzhou down on a rock, leaned over, and playfully pinched his nose: "I thought you'd avoid being intimate in front of her, but you clearly don't care at all."

Lu Xingzhou asked curiously in return: "She's not my wife—why should I avoid it?"