Dongping did not sleep.
As night fell, its streets pulsed with light from spirit lamps and glowing runes embedded in the cobblestone paths. The outer city bustled with merchant stalls and traveling cultivators—rogue alchemists hawking pills, blacksmiths offering spirit-forged weapons, and street performers drawing crowds with minor qi techniques. Despite the hour, Dongping's veins flowed with life and spirit.
But the inner city… that was a different realm.
Behind layers of restrictive arrays and towering walls coated with black jade, the heart of Dongping glimmered with quiet pressure. Here resided the true powers—ancient clans and elite sects that had ruled for generations. Unlike the outer districts, there was no noise, no hawking voices. Only silence, guards, and invisible boundaries marked by status and cultivation.
The Yanhe delegation was granted a mid-tier courtyard complex nestled just outside the inner wall—a clear statement. They were guests… but not equals. The residence was spacious, with refined décor, spirit-gathering arrays, and a beautiful inner pond carved with dragon koi, but the guards stationed nearby were too watchful. This was not hospitality—it was surveillance in disguise.
Inside the main hall, the four patriarchs and Old Bai gathered. Li Yuan Tian stood silently at the edge of the room, his bearing composed and cold. Since his father's death, he had learned to speak only when necessary.
"They're watching us," Gu Cheng muttered, pouring himself tea. "At least three patrols passed our gates since we arrived."
"They want to remind us where we are," Lei Hong snorted. "This is their territory, and they're not subtle about it."
Old Bai remained calm. "That's expected. But remember—Dongping may be strong, but we're not nobodies. Our disciples made it to the top ten, and we're here under invitation."
Zhao Yufeng leaned back in his chair. "Invitation or not, we should be careful. Xuan Mu… he's not just a guard dog. He's planning something. That gaze of his—I've seen it before in people who don't waste time."
Han Patriarch nodded, then looked toward Yuan Tian. "You're usually sharp. What's your take on all this?"
Li Yuan Tian raised his head. "Xuan Mu already has favorites. The local sects—he's backing them, subtly. The semifinals won't be fair."
The room fell silent.
Dongping's elite might only be at the Blood Opening Realm, but they had resources, experience, and deeply rooted connections. The Yu Clan, known for their thunder arts, produced Yu Leng, a quiet youth who had already been famous for defeating a few masters in the early stage of blood opening
The Fei Sect, famous for assassination techniques, had entered Fei Yuxin, a girl who once blinded a mid stage blood opening martial artist with a single palm strike. Then there was Gao Zhihe, scion of the Gao Family—only early Blood Opening, yet reputed to possess a spiritual technique that allowed him to forcefully shatter talismans and suppress qi fluctuations.
None of them had overwhelming power, but in the ring—cleverness, formations, and spirit tools could close any gap.
Old Bai rubbed his beard. "You're likely right. But what matters is surviving, not winning their favor. We make our presence known, but we don't provoke unless necessary."
Later that night, Li Yuan Tian stood alone atop the courtyard's observation tower, overlooking the glowing city.
Dongping was vast. He could feel it—rising qi veins, defensive layers upon layers, and cultivation auras flickering like stars in the distance. Hundreds, if not thousands, of strong cultivators were nested here like blades in scabbards, waiting to be drawn.
This city is a nest of dragons. We must move like wolves in their den.
His thoughts were interrupted by a faint movement below.
A small shadow darted across the roofs—silent, swift. His eyes sharpened. Not Dongping guards. Not Yanhe disciples either.
He activated a low-level tracking talisman and leapt down silently.
The shadow moved with precise intent, slinking toward the courtyard of Gu Tian Shen, the number one ranked youth of Yanhe. Li Yuan Tian's gaze narrowed.
A scout? An assassin? A test?
He landed soundlessly behind the figure just as it halted, sensing danger too late.
Before the intruder could react, Li Yuan Tian's palm struck his shoulder, disabling movement. The intruder groaned as his hood fell away—revealing a youth with thin features and snake-like eyes, clad in robes marked with a small, obscure sect's insignia.
"Who sent you?" Li Yuan Tian's voice was calm, ice-cold.
The youth trembled. "It—it wasn't to harm him. Just… tracking orders. Lord Xuan said all semifinals contenders should be monitored."
Yuan Tian's eyes narrowed further. "Then tell your lord—if he wants to watch us, he should do it openly. The next time someone sneaks near, they won't leave with all their bones intact."
He knocked the youth out with a chop to the neck.
Within moments, Patriarch Gu and Old Bai arrived, alerted by the qi fluctuations.
"What happened?" Gu Cheng asked.
"Someone sent a spy to watch Tian Shen. I intercepted him."
Old Bai examined the youth's robes. "Small sect from northern Dongping. Not powerful, but tied to Xuan Mu's network."
Zhao Yufeng cursed under his breath. "So it begins."
Li Yuan Tian remained silent, watching the distant tower of Dongping's inner palace.
The city was stirring. And it was watching them like prey.