Orange and blue energy domes surrounded the two platforms, sealing them from outside interference. Spiritual fog poured out, preventing most cultivators on the scene from seeing through what went on within the domes’ walls. Informed beforehand by their elders, some of the younger White Immortal sect disciples had seen the space-altering show coming. The others had witnessed more than one such contest and thus kept their composure. It was the vassal faction disciples, who witnessed the competition for the first time, that marveled at the succession of fourth-layer formations put forth by the White Immortal sect.

In Dongli where profound-grade Formation Masters were in short supply and earth-grade grandmasters studied their craft in seclusion, the White Immortal sect had four active grandmasters and 18 profound-grade masters. With over 90% of the state’s active supply, they didn’t fail to live up to their prestigious name. On the yang side, some of the male disciples leaned against one another’s back, shirking from the geysering magma and scalding stones as droplets of sweat moistened their terror-struck faces.

Others pinched their noses, a futile attempt to prevent the sulfurous scent from seeping their meridians. On the yin side, crammed in a frigid pit of doom, the female disciples shivered uncontrollably, raising their trembling eyes at the sky like frogs seeing the world from the bottom of a stifling well.

“The Yin-Yang Sword Array is both our sect’s number one dual cultivation method and its strongest sword formation. It goes without saying that its cultivators require a minimum understanding in the sword and formation arts. Most of you fail horribly in at least one of these requirements. Some fail at both. You can’t be blamed for that, but with these qualifications, even if you defeated all your peers, you wouldn’t be able to learn the array—at least not within a reasonable timeframe.” Guang Fanghu spoke facts. Ninety percent of the sect disciples on the scene specialized in sword arts while the rest excelled at miscellaneous disciplines such as refining, alchemy, and formations.

In the Great Desolation world where formations ruled supreme and could, in one way or another, achieve what all the other disciplines could and more—most of those alchemists and refiners settled for their profession due to lack of talent in the formation arts. They were not there to contend for the array, and all had a leader to support. Unironically, the swordmasters faced a similar problem. Though respected for their versatile destruction skills, they couldn’t compete with formation masters in raw talent. The average formation master had decent odds to become a skilled swordmaster. The opposite didn’t apply. Still, because outstanding sword masters had high predisposition to comprehending sword formations, there was room for maneuver.

“The Great Elders built this Smelting Trial to give you all the opportunity to absorb what you lack. Here, swordmasters can get profound insight into the formation arts, saving years of diligent studies. Likewise, formation masters can absorb the great elders’ insight into the sword arts. How much you gain depends on you. I will now explain the rules. Each platform carries concealed orbs of Sword Qi and recorded knowledge. Find, absorb and—once you believe that your insight level has peaked—refine them into a Yang Sword for the men and Yin Sheath for the women.” Here Guang Fanghu paused, giving the disciples a moment to digest his words. The...intriguing connotation didn’t escape their perverted minds. And as frowns, impious smiles and coy blushes marked their faces, many pledged to settle for no less than the biggest sword.

“Then fight, fight until you’ve snatched and incorporated all the sword orbs and recorded knowledge spread within your platform. Besides taking your opponents’ lives or destroying their dantian, all is fair game. When only one Yang Sword and Yin Sheath remain, we will have our 300th generation of Yin-Yang Controllers. As for the locations and refinement process...that’s up to you to figure out,” Guang Fanghu said, and the words provoked an uproar.

Structure-wise, there wasn’t much of a difference between the previous contests. Since the Zi clan took shelter in the White Immortal sect and helped the Dong clan develop the Yin-Yang Sword Array, the contest had always been about swords and sheaths, with the main difference being the level of individuality in the contestants.

Down the road, the contest devolved into the factional power play that we see today. But at first, all disciples signed up for their shot at the sword array and didn’t mess with the opportunity. They wouldn’t care for any young master’s background or face and tear one another to shreds in barbaric melees—Hanxing and Ziyue stemmed from that era.

The brutality forced the White Immortal sect elders to occasionally shift to a one vs one elimination contest, with softer rules to control the violence. But after statistics showed that this tame format overall produced the weakest generations of Yin-Yang Controllers, the competition returned to the battle royale format—albeit with the same compassion-heavy rules that ultimately pushed it into a watered-down version of itself, where spoiled young masters and ladies led their goons into harmless battles—cheered on by mom, dad and uncle Wang.

The same breed of young masters now had to compete in an environment where death and dantian-destruction aside, all was fair play—imagine their surprise.

To the psychopaths of the world, forbidding murder and dantian-destruction might look soft. But rationally-thinking people understood that competitors seldom hesitated to go as far as the rules allowed them to. In this case, this meant that gouging out eyes, chopping legs and biting ears off all stood within the realm of possibility.

The scenery bore striking similarities to the Ice-Fire cave, but the actors were entirely different. Thrill-seeking lunatics like Dong Ling aside, not many aristocratic disciples bothered with the ice-fire cave. The temperature was less than adequate, and the treasures’ price tags had not reached the point where they couldn’t keep their greed in check. For these reasons, the aristocratic disciples didn’t have half the spine of their lowborn counterparts.

They didn’t mind lopping an enemy’s head off. But if their own bodies were at risk of serious harm, the situation became more complex. Considering that most had no hope to win the event to begin with, why would they bother? Alas, as they glanced left and right, seeking their elders’ support, the disciples realized that they’d been cut off from the world, and could no longer back off.

“The sect masters have gone insane! How Hateful! Had I known that it would come to this, I would have never signed up!” Getting enlightenment in the ancestral art of ranting, the contestants raged at one another. Outside, Guang Fanghu’s voice resounded, splitting the audience between excitement and outrage.

Last-man-standing battle royales always get the views rolling in. But most would rather not have their loved ones on the battlefield—especially when the slightest misfortune could derail their future. And nothing summoned misfortune at a higher rate than swordsmen going all out. Flying limbs would rain like candy at a cult festival to promote the spread of diabetes—and there was nothing the anxious relatives could do to stop it.

The bluster stopped, and a heavy silence dropped on the scene. Through this contest, Zi Yao and Guang Fanghu reaffirmed their desire to take the White Immortal sect down a war-laden path. And so long as the great elders didn’t intervene, no one could stop them.

The White Immortal sect’s leadership had reached a point that, in the Dongli sphere, it didn’t need to care for opinions or reason. Most of the Golden Core and Nascent Soul powerhouses were either surnamed Dong or Zi, further cementing the clans’ dominance. Craven disciples that didn’t wish to put themselves at risk could be disposed of with no opposition. Glory hunters and clout demons multiplied, while the vassals’ future looked increasingly grim.

The Thousand Roads mountain, Nameless Sword mountain and Albizia Heart court masters clenched their fists—obviously displeased by what they perceived as Guang Fanghu’s war preparations.

The Shui clan master, contemporary King of Dongli, had sober concerns—wondering when the White Immortal sect masters’ overwhelming power-lust would put his country at risk. Unbeknown to them, though she never once glanced at the vassal masters, Zi Yao studied them all through her Spiritual Sense—taking notes of the tiniest fluctuation in their faces.

“We understand that only one pair of male and female disciples will benefit from this event, so to reward your competitive spirit and stimulate our talents’ growth, we’ve added an extra rule. For each disciple you take down, you will receive contribution points—1,000 points for every 100 Spiritual Drops in your opponents’ dantian. Spirals count as Spiritual Drops. The formations will calculate your point worth and display it for all to see.” Before the disciples had time to catch a break, Guang Fanghu dropped another bomb.

Two gray clouds formed above the domes, displaying all that went on within the yang and yin platforms from several angles. Blue light flashed past the disciples’ navels, seeping into their dantian to appraise their Spiritual Drops—or spirals for those who’d completed half their Return to One already.

Instantly, names and numbers appeared above the contestants’ heads—showcasing their bounty level. As expected, of the roughly 260 disciples present on each platform, no one was worth less than 900 points. And since names are scarce resources best not said in vain, the audience ignored most of the contestants to focus on the big names.

“Shui Haoyang: 3,200.

Rong Suishan: 3,500.

Dong Ling: 15,000.

Chun Xu: 15,000.

Xia Hu...Malfunction.

Xinzi...Malfunction.”

The bluster ushered in by the point system was short-lived. The audience lost its breath, knees buckled, and men fell flat on their rears—rubbing their eyes as if rejecting the sight.