Nameless District Arc Chapter Forty-Four: Bai Youxuan

When Han Qiong was locked in a fierce struggle, on the platform reserved for early Foundation Establishment cultivators, Han Yuan was facing off against a newly entered disciple from the Fierce Ghost Sect. This opponent had reached the third level of Foundation Establishment, his body shrouded in billowing ghostly energy, clutching a grotesque skull in his hand, while the shrill wails of vengeful spirits echoed incessantly.

Han Yuan, however, did not so much as lift an eyelid at such a spectacle. The sword mark upon his brow burst forth with radiant light; an incorporeal sword ray shot out, and in the air, countless sword gleams materialized, filling the entire platform, leaving the ghost cultivator with nowhere to hide.

With a different opponent, a ghost cultivator could swap places with their vengeful spirits, and in the face of mortal danger, dissolve into ghostly mist to evade attacks. But before the most formidable inner sword cultivator of the Sword Sect, such tricks were meaningless. The all-encompassing sword light was a wide-range killing technique, ignoring all those flowery ghostly arts.

It could match the close-combat prowess of external sword cultivators, or strike from afar like a spellcaster—attack and defense as one, mighty beyond compare!

With a single move, the Fierce Ghost Sect disciple was forced to reveal his true form. After all, as a third-level Foundation Establishment expert, he would not be instantly slain by someone of lower rank.

“Run!” Stripped of the vengeful spirit’s cover, any fool would realize he was outmatched. If not now, when?

Han Yuan opened his eyes, his divine sense locking onto the fleeing cultivator. The myriad sword rays in the sky coalesced into one, pursuing him relentlessly.

“Sword Art: Soul Extinguishing!”

The sword ray suddenly accelerated, the light about it blazing, trailing a long shadow, and streaked through the air with a chilling killing intent.

“Help me!” At the last possible moment, the Fierce Ghost Sect disciple managed to escape the dueling platform, his feet hitting solid ground, as he cried out to Old Corpse Mountain for rescue.

With a soft pop, Old Corpse Mountain intervened just in time. Before the sword ray could strike the ghost cultivator down, it was intercepted and transformed into a massive, ink-black hand that isolated him from harm. Even so, the sword ray embedded itself in the black palm, held fast and unmoving—a testament that, had it struck its intended target, the ghost cultivator would have perished instantly, soul and spirit utterly annihilated.

Such was the might of an inner sword cultivator: wherever their sword light fell, the ground would be strewn with corpses.

“What a savage attack from this youngster—Da Xi, it seems your Sword Pavilion has produced a rare genius!” Old Corpse Mountain laughed heartily.

Da Xi replied with a chuckle, “You flatter us. Though inner sword cultivators are indeed powerful, their rarity is Heaven’s way of balancing things. Still, unless you use your hidden cards, your two corpse puppets might soon end up in my junior nephew’s hands.”

Wei Cangyuan stroked his beard with a smile. “A true treasure, indeed! With just one inner sword cultivator presiding over the stage, no number of challengers could hope to prevail. My Five Spirits Pill Valley dares not join in the fray!”

Amidst the crowd, Luo Tuan also nodded approvingly toward Han Yuan. “This boy’s strength is extraordinary. I doubt even the disciples of my Shaping Sect could match him; the winner of this platform is now all but decided.”

By Han Yuan’s side, Zhou Xuanhong laughed as well. “Worthy of the sword cultivators’ reputation! By the way, Senior Brother Li Li is also an inner sword cultivator, isn’t he? I wonder, between you and Senior Brother Li, who would come out on top?”

Li Li was present in this area, as were Qiao Yixue, Ran Ziyu, Xu Yuhan, Zhuge Yukun, and Jiang Ti. Hearing Zhou Xuanhong’s question, Li Li and Luo Tuan exchanged a glance, their eyes blazing with sudden, fierce competitiveness.

Luo Tuan said to Li Li, “You and I have always been evenly matched, most of our duels ending in draws. My position as senior brother is anything but secure—this time, I’ll surely defeat you!” His eyes flashed with confidence.

Li Li, who had been conversing with Qiao Yixue, seemed eager to show off before her; he answered with equal confidence, “Very well, let’s have at it again!”

Watching Li Li’s attempts to ingratiate himself with Qiao Yixue, Xu Yuhan felt a pang of discomfort, but after Zhou Xuanhong’s advice the previous day, she had come to terms with it. Seeing Zhou Xuanhong’s air of detachment, she teased, “Junior brother, with such rich prizes at stake, are you sure you don’t want to try your luck?”

Zhou Xuanhong scratched his head. “Don’t tease me, senior sister. With my skills, stepping up would be suicide. My death wouldn’t matter, but it would disgrace the sect.”

His words brought relief not only to Luo Tuan and the others, but also to Xuan Qizi, who was hovering in the air. He had been watching Zhou Xuanhong closely, not wanting his disciple to rashly risk his life—after all, the youth was the vessel preordained by the Ancestral Patriarch, and if he died, how could he explain that? Hearing Zhou Xuanhong speak so sensibly, he relaxed and withdrew his vigilance.

The battles continued. On the late Foundation Establishment stage, Han Qiong, unable to find an opening, was eventually worn down bit by bit by a Corpse Yin Sect disciple. After conceding defeat, he left the field with poise, showing neither reluctance for battle nor humiliation in defeat.

Old Corpse Mountain narrowed his eyes at this; such young people were the most formidable, for they understood advance and retreat, knew propriety and measure, and had the greatest chance of becoming true powers in the future.

“Heh, Da Xi, your Song Mountain Sword Pavilion truly is brimming with talent! Though the boy was defeated, with such an outstanding temperament, he will surely be a future paragon. I envy you!”

Da Xi neither rebuked nor comforted Han Qiong for his defeat. The heart of a sword cultivator is resilient—such setbacks are but a passing drizzle.

After defeating Han Qiong, the Corpse Yin Sect disciple was exceedingly cautious. Rather than face another challenger, he busied himself repairing the damaged defensive talismans on his coffin before crawling back inside to recuperate, preparing for the next fight. For now, there was nothing more to see.

Meanwhile, on the middle Foundation Establishment stage, sword cultivator Han Fa was locked in a bitter struggle against a Corpse Yin Sect opponent. The latter commanded a veritable horde of corpse puppets and, using the Fierce Ghost Sect’s soul-refining technique, melded his own presence into the swarm, making Han Fa’s target impossible to pinpoint.

“Damn it, if not for the restrictions of this platform, who knows who would last longer!” Han Fa’s battle was extremely arduous. His combat style was extreme—relying solely on physical strength to take on the corpse horde head-on, his own blood and energy unstable and his reserves rapidly draining.

Nor were the corpse puppets unscathed—over half had been destroyed, the dueling platform littered with mangled limbs and reeking of rot, further clouding Han Fa’s senses.

As Da Xi frowned, Han Fa prepared to risk it all. He flung his spirit sword into the air, stamped his foot, and shot upward, apparently intending to reach the same height as his sword and unleash some secret art that would decide victory.

But as he leapt ten meters into the air, the severed limbs below suddenly came alive again, fusing into a massive hand that seized his legs in a vise.

With a cold snort, Han Fa strained against his bonds, attempting to break free. At that instant, the giant hand burst open from within; a shadow emerged, brandishing a bone dagger that stabbed straight at Han Fa’s brow.

At such close range, with his sword out of reach, Han Fa had no chance to dodge—death was certain.

With a sickening squelch, the dagger drove into Han Fa’s skull, icy energy instantly shredding his sea of consciousness, killing him on the spot.

Han Fa’s corpse crashed heavily to the floor, his spirit sword clattering down beside him. His eyes, wide open, were filled with regret—regret for his stubborn refusal to yield, for his failure to calmly analyze the situation, for recklessly using his trump card before discerning his opponent’s abilities.

But it was too late for regret; he was now just another corpse, soon to be fodder for the enemy’s horde.

Da Xi showed no sign of grief for his disciple’s death. Han Fa had only himself to blame; though Da Xi could have intervened to save him, with Han Fa’s disposition, saving him once or twice would accomplish nothing. He was no one’s caretaker—those who died had only themselves to blame.

In this, Han Qiong had done far better, never allowing himself to fall into danger, always able to retreat unscathed. When no opening appeared and peril loomed, he withdrew from the arena without delay or hesitation.

This, too, was a matter of temperament. This was merely a sparring match, not worth risking one’s life for pride or promised rewards. That, more than anything, was why Han Fa was slain.

There is nothing shameful in inferior skill; what is shameful is to know oneself outmatched and still charge headlong to certain doom. If not you, then who else would die?

The immortal path is long, only the sword remains; the immortal path is long, only death awaits; the immortal path is long, and I am not resigned!

The Corpse Yin Sect disciples, ever prudent, immediately withdrew to recover and replenish their strength, refining Han Fa’s corpse into another puppet to swell their ranks.

Meanwhile, on the early Foundation Establishment stage, Han Yuan had already bested three opponents, achieving two kills and a single defeat—both victims Corpse Yin Sect disciples.

He spent little time resting, for he had expended little effort—it was less a challenge across ranks than a one-sided slaughter, a display of effortless, overwhelming power.

With ample time for rest, there was no hurry. The trial within the small world would last a month; this was only the beginning.

As everyone awaited the resumption of battle, the vision in Zhou Xuanhong’s eyes began to shift, his gaze growing dull, his expression remote, no longer human but more akin to some unknown being.

Just as Han Yuan finished his rest, the last early Foundation Establishment disciple of the Corpse Yin Sect ascended the platform and spoke in a clear, bright voice, “Corpse Yin Sect’s Bai Youxuan accepts the challenge!”

The moment she stepped onto the stage, Da Xi, Wei Cangyuan, and Xuan Qizi each sensed something unusual, their expressions turning to surprise. For the first time, genuine concern for Han Yuan appeared in Da Xi’s eyes.

Wei Cangyuan sighed, “This girl is a spirit born from a corpse; her flesh rivals that of a Golden Core. Though her cultivation is but at the second level of Foundation Establishment, I fear that young Han Yuan will struggle to breach her defenses. The outcome is uncertain.”

Da Xi asked, “What is her background?”

Old Corpse Mountain let out a sinister chuckle. “That’s a sect secret—not for outsiders. I can only say that even I must address her as ‘Ancestor’!”

“What!”