The Nameless Region: Chapter Fifty-Two - Seeds

In the outer main world, twenty days had passed since the opening of the small world. The duels on the Martial Platform had come to an end, and it was finally time for Xuan Qizi and his three companions to fulfill their promised rewards.

Xuan Qizi sent forth his divine sense, but it was blocked by the isolation array Zhou Xuanhong had set up outside his wooden hut. Unable to penetrate, Xuan Qizi triggered the array, prompting Zhou Xuanhong to emerge.

At that moment, within the World Pearl, a bloodthirsty insect paused in confusion, then resumed its wooden, dull demeanor as its soul returned to its rightful place.

Inside the hut, Zhou Xuanhong’s body trembled slightly. He opened his eyes, appearing ordinary and unremarkable, but deep within, a lively spirit shone.

He extended his divine sense beyond the hut and encountered Xuan Qizi’s, receiving a summons to gather. Rising, Zhou Xuanhong stepped onto his flying sword and sped toward the Martial Platform.

He pushed his divine sense outward with all his might, and to his astonishment, discovered it had grown several meters further, now spanning an impressive seventy meters—a range comparable to late-stage Foundation Establishment cultivators, though he was only at the first stage.

“Could it be that frequent use of this minor soul transference technique actually strengthens one’s soul?”

Marveling at this, Zhou Xuanhong arrived at the Martial Platform. Many eyes turned toward him—hostile, respectful, dismissive, and admiring. Among them, admiration burned brightest in a certain graceful figure, whose gaze seemed intent on melting him.

This figure was Bai Youxuan, standing among the Yin Corpse Sect disciples, rising to greet Zhou Xuanhong with a wave.

Twenty days had passed since the first day’s preliminary duels. Many disciples of the Form Manifestation Sect had temporarily left the arena, since the small world would remain open for some time yet. Idly waiting was not the way of cultivators—they either trained or ventured out to fulfill tasks.

Yet most Qi Condensation disciples stayed, eager to witness the Foundation Establishment elites battle. It was an invaluable learning experience, offering the chance to observe and absorb their seniors’ combat techniques and secrets.

The early rounds had long concluded, with Zhou Xuanhong’s victory beyond dispute. The mid-stage duels ended on the ninth day, won by a Yin Corpse Sect disciple whose strength and combat experience were undeniable.

The late-stage matches were the fiercest, lasting a full twenty days. The prolonged battles stemmed from the cautiousness of every late-stage Foundation Establishment participant—none would return to the fray without restoring themselves to peak condition.

The fights were brutal. Six Yin Corpse Sect late-stage disciples died in combat; both late-stage Foundation Establishment disciples from the Five Spirit Pill Valley perished; from the Form Manifestation Sect, Zhuge Yukun fell, Ran Ziyu lost an arm—the severed limb destroyed and unable to be restored for some time—and three other late-stage disciples also met their end on the platform.

The final victor was Luo Tun, with Li Li as his opponent. One was a dual cultivator of body and technique, the other a sword cultivator specializing in internal sword arts. Both had achieved the pinnacle of Foundation Establishment, making the contest a test of experience and secret techniques.

Their duel was the most intense. Though neither fought to the death, the spectacle was grand and awe-inspiring, reducing the platform to ruins as the internal array collapsed under pressures akin to the Golden Core realm.

The audience was nearly endangered, but Xuan Qizi intervened, easing the combatants’ onslaught and moving their battle to higher skies.

Li Li’s defeat was expected. Their abilities were evenly matched, but as a sword cultivator, he ought to maintain an unwavering sword heart. While external emotions could influence him, they must never burden his sword path. Unfortunately, Qiao Yixue had become a stumbling block for him.

Zhou Xuanhong returned to his usual spot, noting the absence of several others. Ran Ziyu had gone to recover; Qiao Yixue, unharmed, stood behind Luo Tun, gazing at him with worshipful eyes.

Xu Yuhan appeared seriously wounded, her face pale, still not fully recovered. Upon seeing Zhou Xuanhong, she managed a smile.

Li Li, despite his defeat, showed little discouragement. He stood among the others, silent, seemingly replaying the battle in his mind.

Zhou Xuanhong walked over to Jiang Ti, placing a hand on his shoulder and smiling, “Little junior brother, what did you gain from this competition?”

Jiang Ti found Zhou Xuanhong’s question odd, replying casually, “I learned many combat techniques, saw secret techniques and treasures I’d never encountered before. I’ve gained a lot.”

Zhou Xuanhong shook his head, “If you were an ordinary outer disciple, that would be normal. But don’t forget your identity. You are the last disciple of the Form Manifestation Sect’s Second Elder. This status brings not only benefits, but also heavy bonds.

If all you saw were these things, I, your senior, would be disappointed in you.”

Jiang Ti, confused, asked, “Senior Zhou, what should I have seen?”

Zhou Xuanhong replied, “How many senior brothers and sisters did our sect lose in this competition? How many were seriously injured?”

Jiang Ti thought a moment, “Seven died, and five were gravely wounded. But, senior, what are you really trying to say?”

Perplexed by the seemingly random questions, Jiang Ti glanced at Zhou Xuanhong, catching in his eyes a profound disappointment, helplessness, and sorrow.

“Se—senior?”

Zhou Xuanhong sighed deeply, the breath weighted with helplessness, disappointment, and heartache.

Jiang Ti, for reasons unknown, felt as if he had done something wrong, causing his senior to lose hope in him. It was reminiscent of childhood mistakes that left one’s parents disappointed, and he immediately regretted his earlier words.

He lowered his head, his voice timid, “Senior, I was wrong…”

Zhou Xuanhong placed his hand gently on Jiang Ti’s head, softly rubbing it. “No, you’re not wrong. Perhaps, to you, the Form Manifestation Sect is just a newly joined cultivation sect. Those who died are mere strangers you met briefly. It’s only natural.”

Jiang Ti raised his head again, this time with curiosity and sincerity, “Senior Zhou, can you tell me what you saw?”

Zhou Xuanhong pointed toward the platform, speaking quietly, “Do you know why our brothers and sisters fell? You might say it was for the prizes. No, they fought to defend this ‘home.’ In this great family, we are all siblings. When outsiders wish to trample our home, how can we let them succeed? Our seniors would rather lay down their lives than let our home be violated, fighting to the death if need be.”

He paused, noticing many nearby disciples listening, and continued, “What I see are young geniuses at the prime of their cultivation, sacrificing their lives to protect the home they cherish, keeping the invading beasts at bay. This is the spirit of fearless devotion, the foundation upon which our sect stands, and a humanity that cultivators must never forget.

The path to immortality is long. Is the highest ideal simply the pursuit of longevity? I think not. At least, within this family, to protect it, I, Zhou Xuanhong, will follow the example of those valiant seniors who died in battle, fearless of death, dedicating my life, becoming a firework that briefly illuminates the sky. Though fleeting, at least I will have shone. Jiang Ti, I don’t ask you to sacrifice yourself for the sect, but please remember: if one day our sect is in peril, I hope you’ll do your part. Will you?”

Stirring words may not change a person’s mind, but at the very least, they can plant a seed in the heart. With time and nourishment, it will one day sprout.

Jiang Ti nodded emphatically, “Don’t worry, senior. When I grow up, I’ll be like those brothers and sisters, dedicating my strength to protect the sect.”

Though young, Jiang Ti was not so easily swayed. He promised to dedicate his strength, not his life, showing that Zhou Xuanhong’s words had some effect, but not fully.

Zhou Xuanhong was satisfied nonetheless. Outwardly, he appeared gratified, but inwardly, he sneered: “Little junior, I must keep you under my control. To control you is to control a future Golden Core expert.”

Luo Tun stood nearby, sharing Zhou Xuanhong’s sentiments and feeling a touch of melancholy. But he was no novice; mere words could not sway his heart, and he remained a detached observer.

Xu Yuhan believed Zhou Xuanhong wholeheartedly, knowing him to be a person of deep feeling and loyalty—his pain at his wife’s departure was immense. Such a sincere man’s words were unsurprising, and she felt gratified for the sect.

The one most pleasantly surprised by Zhou Xuanhong’s speech was Xuan Qizi. Had he spoken such words himself, the disciples would have dismissed it as indoctrination. Yet at this moment, in this setting, spoken by a disciple who had fought on the platform, the effect was profound. Seeds of loyalty to the sect were planted in many hearts.

“Who would have thought this young man so full of feeling and loyalty? If not for being the patriarch’s chosen candidate, I’d wish to groom him as my successor.”

The competition had ended, and it was time to reward the victors. The old ghost of the Corpse Mountain teased Da Xi, “Da Xi, as a sword cultivator, failing to secure a prize in a one-on-one contest is truly a pity.”

Da Xi’s thoughts were elsewhere, his gaze lingering on Li Li among the Form Manifestation Sect group, a look of disappointment and suspicion in his eyes.

“Fine, fine, I have some matters to attend to. Here’s the Golden-Eyed Beast’s essence blood—distribute it yourselves. I’ll be back soon.”

With that, Da Xi transformed into a streak of sword light, bringing Li Li up into the skies, activating an isolation array to prevent eavesdropping.

Wei Cangyuan smiled at Xuan Qizi, “Daoist Xu, you truly have good fortune—three tigers in one sect. This Li Li is an internal sword cultivator. I wonder what connection he has to the Song Mountain Sword Pavilion?”

Xuan Qizi laughed, “I have no idea. Perhaps you can ask Da Xi when he returns.”

Still harboring resentment toward Wei Cangyuan for sending Cong Yushu to challenge Zhou Xuanhong, Xuan Qizi showed him no goodwill.