She Dominates the Immortal Realm with Her HP Bar-Chapter 100

Yan Luoyue murmured to herself, "Slurp, slurp, slurp..."

Her words were so resounding and well-reasoned that they struck her like a sudden wake-up call.

—Right, how could any modern person resist not using a phone for eleven years? freёnovelkiss.com

—Not even missing it for a single day—what kind of modern person was she, really?

Looking back now, Yan Luoyue's belief that she had "transmigrated" was based on her assumption that she had a past life—one where she had played the massive online game All Realms Unite.

But when she calmed her mind and followed every clue, peeling back layer after layer, she quickly realized:

Her memories of that so-called past life had no sense of personal involvement beyond All Realms Unite.

She knew that iron railings tasted sweet when licked in northern winters, and that green onions could be bought by the stalk in the south.

Yet, Yan Luoyue couldn’t determine whether her "past life" had been as a southerner or a northerner.

She knew that schoolgirls would hold hands to go to the bathroom, and that close coworkers would secretly form a group chat to vent about their most annoying colleagues.

But Yan Luoyue couldn’t say for sure whether she had been a student or an office worker.

Now, as she retraced her earliest memories, it seemed the furthest she could go back was to All Realms Unite.

The eccentric culinary cultivators who concocted sweet, delicious pastries, the quirky players who fell into an interspecies romance with seahorses, the knowledge of artifact forging she gained from the in-game shop and the help of kind players—even taking orders from wealthy patrons...

To this day, most of Yan Luoyue’s artifact-forging skills were built on the foundation she laid in All Realms Unite.

As for the rest—her understanding of modern life, those silly and playful memories—

They were merely inherited knowledge, nothing more than a database preloaded into her mind.

Once she grasped this, Yan Luoyue exhaled slowly.

Rubbing her temples, she muttered, "Actually, when you think about it, All Realms Unite’s mechanics were pretty unfriendly to new players!"

Take the vast knowledge required for artifact forging: the ever-changing fire-control techniques, the identification and pairing of materials...

Those complex, irregular, yet essential details had nearly driven her mad with memorization back then.

Yan Luoyue had always assumed All Realms Unite prided itself on realism.

So, these intricate mechanics were likely just part of the game’s charm.

Plus, on a certain modern gaming platform called st○○m, plenty of games had similarly convoluted controls.

But now, as the fog in her mind cleared, Yan Luoyue belatedly realized:

Wait a minute—if they kept this up, the game developers would have hundreds of planners going bald from stress every year!

Just then, a smooth, cool leather glove appeared in her line of sight.

The glove was a pale silver, like the faint glow of a distant star.

The hand wearing it was slender, strong, and familiar.

Wu Manshuang didn’t interrupt her train of thought.

He pressed his palm gently over the back of her hand and waited patiently for her to emerge from her musings.

Only when their eyes met did Wu Manshuang study her expression, confirming that the storm in her mind had passed.

"All good now?"

"Yeah, I’m fine."

Yan Luoyue rubbed her cheeks and glanced at the nearly depleted golden spiritual energy bar above her head, letting out a small whimper:

"Manshuang, I really want to grow up now!"

Looking back, there had been many times when Yan Luoyue had almost recalled details about her past life.

But it was as if there was a movable dam in her mind.

Right at the critical moment, it would appear, cutting off the rushing flow of thoughts and diverting them elsewhere.

Only today, after celebrating her eleventh birthday and her spiritual energy reaching ten thousand, could she finally think clearly about her past life.

As for deeper questions—like the true nature of All Realms Unite, or Yan Luoyue’s real identity...

The moment she brushed against these thoughts, a headache flared.

Clearly, she needed even stronger spiritual energy to withstand the flood of such revelations.

Still, Yan Luoyue had an inkling.

But constrained by the limits of her spiritual energy, she couldn’t voice it or even fully form the thought.

It remained an amorphous notion, suppressed deep in her mind.

Wu Manshuang watched her thoughtfully, a contemplative gleam flickering in his dark eyes.

After a moment, he murmured in agreement, "I also really want to grow up."

On the table, the three Wuti flames seemed to sense Yan Luoyue’s mood.

They rolled back from the edge, hopping onto her palm and patting her elbow as if to comfort her.

On impulse, Yan Luoyue scooped up the three little flames and nudged them toward Wu Manshuang.

What followed was the bizarre sight of the three flames leaping into the air and scrambling to plaster themselves onto Wu Manshuang’s face.

"..."

This scene felt familiar.

Back when they were learning alchemy from Senior Sister Chang Lili, Wu Manshuang’s talent had been so poor that Yan Luoyue lent him her flame, Momo, to help.

With Momo’s enthusiastic guidance, Wu Manshuang had finally produced an edible batch of pills.

If Yan Luoyue remembered correctly, the first thing Momo did after emerging from the cauldron was also to pounce onto Wu Manshuang’s face.

Now, the three little flames’ liveliness and agility made them seem less like birds and more like... fiery little cats.

Yan Luoyue rubbed her chin. "Manshuang, these three Wuti flame fragments seem really attached to you."

"Really? That’s hard to believe."

Wu Manshuang flailed as the three flames kneaded—no, pounced on his face.

As everyone knew, cats were liquid.

Fenfen, Momo, and Honghong seemed just as slippery, proving just as difficult to handle as wrangling an actual cat.

After much effort, Wu Manshuang finally managed to hold all three flames in his hands.

At that moment, he recalled the time Momo had ambushed his face.

Wu Manshuang muttered, "My impression is the same as last time—these little guys... they’re here to fight me, aren’t they?"

Something in his words must have offended the flames, because they froze for a second before thrashing wildly in his grip.

Before the battle could escalate, Yan Luoyue retrieved the three flames and tucked them back into their straw nest.

"At least they respond to you," Yan Luoyue comforted Wu Manshuang with a smile. "Normally, even when facing our master, the fire spirits hardly pay any attention."

After the recent awakening of her thoughts and recalling the task assigned to her by the Falling Moon Tree, Yan Luoyue had made up her mind.

Gently touching the three grass-woven ornaments at her waist, Yan Luoyue murmured,

"In the Hongtong Palace... is there still a fragment of the Wailing Crowfire that has been harnessed for three thousand years?"

Thus, for a long time to come, Yan Luoyue's goal would be that little flame within the Hongtong Palace.

...

Yan Luoyue's long-term objective was set on the Hongtong Palace.

As for her short-term goal, it was to investigate the connection between the Silver Light Arena and the demon realm.

After all, throughout her life, Yan Luoyue had only seen the beast-head rings outside the arena twice.

The first time was in the storage pouch of a demon puppet controlled by the Illusionary Shaking Tree, and the second time was in the lair of a demon from the demon realm.

If it wasn’t sheer coincidence, then it could only mean that the Silver Light Arena had deep ties with the demon realm.

So, to achieve this goal, Yan Luoyue naturally decided—

"Well, Manshuang, you’ll have to put on a disguise and investigate."

Wu Manshuang was born with a sense of responsibility. No matter how dangerous the task, he would never refuse.

However, regarding Yan Luoyue’s current plan, the little snake had just a tiny, tiny objection.

"Do we really have to do this?"

Yan Luoyue straightened her expression. "We’ve both seen how thorough the Silver Light Arena’s preparations are."

"They even have an announcer for the Nine-Headed Bird. Surely, before letting any arena champion near their secrets, they’d check if they’re wearing a disguise or mask."

Wu Manshuang’s true appearance had always been half-hidden beneath his cloak, so few people knew what he really looked like.

Thus, with some careful styling—even without a mask—if he appeared with his natural face, no one would uncover his true identity.

"...My fighting style is too recognizable, but you’re different, Manshuang."

Yan Luoyue clasped her hands together, tilting her face upward. Her round, turtle-clan eyes, naturally lined with dark rims, sparkled as if singing "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" through her gaze.

She declared confidently, "I’ve already written the character profile. As long as you embody the essence of this persona, I guarantee no one will recognize you!"

To this, Wu Manshuang responded: "..."

He glanced at the outfit Yan Luoyue was holding, then at her wide, blinking eyes.

After a moment, Wu Manshuang reluctantly averted his gaze and muttered hoarsely, "But this is just... too strange..."

"It’s not strange!" Yan Luoyue insisted. "Didn’t Second Senior Mi wear something similar? She looked great in it!"

"That’s completely different," Wu Manshuang murmured. "Second Senior Mi doesn’t have..."

Mi Jichen, the Second Senior, didn’t have a gender.

Not just gender—she didn’t even have a navel.

So no matter what Mi Jichen wore, it never looked odd. Even the most revealing outfits carried the untamed elegance of a mountain spirit from ancient myths.

But the outfit laid out before Wu Manshuang was another matter entirely.

The fabric was brightly colored, light, and adorned with tiny silver ornaments from head to toe.

Most importantly, wearing it would expose his waist and abs.

In short, this was an ensemble that made one want to exclaim, "Southern Border Enchanting Man!"

For Wu Manshuang—who had spent his entire life wrapped up tightly, sometimes even covering his eyes like a little mummy—this was a psychological challenge.

Still, he had to admit Yan Luoyue had a point:

Because Wu Manshuang was the polar opposite of such unconventional attire, no one would ever connect this flamboyant persona to him.

Add one of Chang Lili’s high-quality age-enhancing pills to boost his height by several dozen centimeters...

The rebellious Southern Border enchantress and the perpetually cloaked, half-masked Wu Manshuang would share no resemblance whatsoever.

After several rounds of back-and-forth, like two people sawing wood, the debate finally ended with Wu Manshuang’s reluctant surrender.

The little snake sighed deeply at the outfit, then resignedly stepped into the inner room to change.

Meanwhile, Yan Luoyue rubbed her hands excitedly by the door, like a fan eagerly awaiting a Victoria’s Secret fashion show.

After a while, the door opened—but the person behind it hesitated to step out.

Yan Luoyue called softly, "Manshuang?"

"..."

Before Wu Manshuang’s bare foot crossed the threshold, a soft sigh escaped him.

The next moment, the delicate chime of silver ornaments filled the air.

A pale, well-defined foot stepped forward, a red-stringed bell tied around the ankle.

Wu Manshuang, now in the form of a young man, emerged and stood before Yan Luoyue.

The vibrant, lightweight fabric carried an exotic flair, its emerald-green weave threaded with silver, as if a celestial maiden had scattered stars across it.

Silver tassels dangled from the hem of the top, half-veiling the firm, sculpted lines of his abdomen.

His naturally cool, pale complexion complemented the silver ornaments perfectly, like salt pillars atop a snow-capped peak.

Following the shallow vertical line between his abs upward, Yan Luoyue finally met the little snake’s face.

Usually, men wearing such bold colors risked looking frivolous—but Wu Manshuang had no such problem.

Before, Yan Luoyue had always thought the little snake was handsome.

But it was the delicate beauty of youth, frost-like and pristine, like a thousand miles of ice and snow adorned with frozen mist.

Now, seeing Wu Manshuang in this dazzling attire, Yan Luoyue realized that as he grew older, his features had matured into a striking intensity—equally breathtaking whether understated or bold.

Somehow, he had even instinctively applied two faint red strokes at the outer corners of his eyes and painted a vibrant peacock feather pattern across his cheek.

Thus, even when Wu Manshuang pressed his lips together in silence, he only looked like a haughty, rebellious seducer.

The moment their eyes met, Yan Luoyue’s breath caught.

Not just that—she seemed to have lost the ability to speak entirely.

"Holy..." Yan Luoyue mumbled. "Slurp slurp slurp..."

Wu Manshuang: "..."

Wu Manshuang took a deep breath. "The first exclamation is fine, but what’s with the slurp slurp?"

Yan Luoyue rubbed the tip of her nose sheepishly.

"Well, you know... it’s just my way of expressing awe at nature’s perfection when the human body achieves the golden ratio?"

Wu Manshuang: "..."

As if he’d believe that nonsense!

Right now, Wu Manshuang’s feet felt cold, his abs felt cold, and the exposed skin on either side of his torso felt cold.

Meanwhile, the culprit behind it all was staring at him without blinking.

Even as his ears and neck flushed red, she refused to look away—even clapping her hands like an excited seal.

Wu Manshuang: "..."

Wu Manshuang had wanted to say something.

Seeing Yan Luoyue's reaction, Wu Manshuang felt there was no need to say anything further.

He took a step forward, pinched Yan Luoyue’s cheeks between his fingers, squishing them until her lips puckered into a little beak-like shape.

Then, with feigned annoyance, he began kneading her face like dough, rubbing and squeezing relentlessly.

Yan Luoyue laughed carefreely even as her face was being manhandled, and she couldn’t resist teasing him:

"Manshuang, from this close, I can see your abs, you know."

Wu Manshuang: "…"

In an instant, it was as if he had been scalded by hot coal. He released her immediately, turning his back to her and practically gliding to the corner of the room like a wheeled contraption, pressing his face against the wall in embarrassment.

Watching this, Yan Luoyue laughed even louder and more mischievously.

At this moment, Yan Luoyue finally understood why, in romantic tales, a woman with an alluring charm was often described as having a "waist like a water snake."

Of course, to avoid further embarrassing her little snake, she decided not to voice this thought aloud.

Not that Wu Manshuang walked with any deliberate sway or anything.

But that naturally slender waistline, a trademark of his serpent lineage… tsk tsk tsk, it was truly beyond words.

Since she was the one who had provoked him, it was only right that she coax him out of his fluster.

After laughing for a while, Yan Luoyue finally walked over, took Wu Manshuang’s hand, and gave it a playful shake before leading him to sit at the table.

Resting her chin in her palm, she admired the striking beauty of the young serpent for a moment before asking, "Manshuang, I had no idea you knew how to do makeup?"

Wu Manshuang’s expression remained stern, his lips pressed into a tight line.

If not for the lingering blush that spread from his cheeks down to his neck, he might have actually looked intimidating.

He answered stiffly, "I learned it from Senior Brother Song Qingchi before."

"Oh, right! Senior Brother Song Qingchi is really good at doing Tao Tao’s makeup," Yan Luoyue said, suddenly enlightened—but then another question arose.

"But why did you think to ask him about it?"

"…"

Wu Manshuang opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end, he just covered his eyes in exasperation.

He muttered quietly, "I thought… it wouldn’t hurt to have an extra skill. That someday it might come in handy…"

What he hadn’t anticipated was that the circumstances and the person he’d end up using this skill on would be so far from his original expectations.

"Don’t be embarrassed! You look really good like this," Yan Luoyue reassured him, sliding her elbows across the table and resting her head on her arms, tilting her face up to look at him.

Wu Manshuang stiffly averted his gaze.

He wasn’t actually angry with her—just unbearably flustered.

So, he pretended to be upset, if only to avoid the barrage of questions he knew Yan Luoyue would inevitably ask.

—Otherwise, she’d definitely pester him with things like, "Does the silver fringe feel cold against your abs?" Wu Manshuang knew her too well.

But if he met her eyes, even this act of feigned irritation would crumble.

"I have a deep purple set of women’s robes in my collection too. How about I wear it with you?"

When Wu Manshuang didn’t respond, Yan Luoyue curved her eyes and shook his hand again.

She mused aloud, "Though… I don’t know how to do such pretty makeup like this."

"…"

Wu Manshuang’s gaze flickered toward her instinctively—only to be caught red-handed by Yan Luoyue, who had been lying in wait.

"Please, Manshuang?" she said brightly, her tone playful. "After I take the Age-Increasing Pill and change clothes, you can do my makeup to match, right?"

Wu Manshuang: "…"

Well. Though the path had been winding and the circumstances unexpected…

In the end, the original purpose for which he’d learned this skill had been fulfilled—albeit in the most roundabout way possible.

His face remained stern, but the corners of his lips betrayed the faintest upward twitch.

"I might not do it well," he said.

"How could you not do it well?" Yan Luoyue replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

The way she said it made it sound like Wu Manshuang making her look beautiful was an irrefutable law of nature—as inevitable as the sun rising in the east and setting in the west.

Yan Luoyue blinked, a sly grin spreading across her face.

"—After all, you’re doing it for me."

……

Unlike Wu Manshuang, who had never revealed his face publicly, Yan Luoyue had been seen before.

So, even after taking the specially crafted Age-Increasing Pill to adjust her physique, she still wore a butterfly-shaped mask she had forged herself to obscure her features.

The lower half of her face that remained exposed was adorned with intricate makeup designs.

At a glance, the mask was draped with delicate wisteria vines.

Dressed like this, Yan Luoyue and Wu Manshuang looked nothing like disciples of a righteous sect—instead, they resembled a pair of young troublemakers from some obscure, borderline-evil faction in the southern borders.

The two of them swaggered through the streets, turning heads left and right.

Wu Manshuang had always been a diligent learner, and whatever he set his mind to, he committed fully.

Even if he wasn’t entirely comfortable with this flamboyant getup, since Yan Luoyue had already crafted the persona of a seductive rogue for him, he played the part with utmost dedication.

A server guided them to register as arena challengers.

Yan Luoyue waved a hand dismissively with a light laugh. "Not me. I’m just here to watch the fun."

The server nodded and turned to Wu Manshuang. "Then, honored guest, what shall your challenger name be?"

Wu Manshuang lowered his lashes, languidly raising the silver-grape-patterned ruby-encrusted smoking pipe at his side and sweeping it lightly across the paper.

He and Yan Luoyue had already settled on this beforehand.

In the next moment, everyone present heard the gorgeously eerie man speak.

His voice, too, was unusual—soft and smooth, yet carrying an untouchable chill, like a venomous serpent slithering intimately along one’s neck.

"Dui Chou Mian," the man said unhurriedly. "My challenger name is Dui Chou Mian."

……

This southern border cultivator named Dui Chou Mian was indeed extraordinary.

—Yes, though his origins remained unknown, nearly everyone had already concluded he hailed from the southern borders.

Be it his flamboyant, rarely-seen-in-the-central-plains attire, the long smoking pipe he carried—capable of exhaling multiple types of toxic fumes—or his ghostly, disorienting footwork, synchronized with the faint chime of silver bells…

In reality, the outfit had been provided by Yan Luoyue.

The smoking pipe was merely a cover for Wu Manshuang’s poison mist.

As for the footwork… well, that was unique.

But as the former number-one sect in the world, the Guiyuan Sect’s archives undoubtedly housed some obscure, little-known techniques.

Wu Manshuang embodied the persona of Dui Chou Mian flawlessly.

His striking appearance alone made an immediate impression.

Then, Dui Chou Mian proceeded to win ten consecutive matches with effortless ease.

Though his face was enchantingly beautiful, his methods were ruthless. Not once did he show mercy, even when his opponents were leagues beneath him in cultivation.

This southern demon’s demeanor was obstinate and eccentric.

Every opponent ended up paralyzed, foaming at the mouth, and convulsing on the ground—hauled away by attendants without fail.

One onlooker couldn’t stand it and snapped, "He was about to surrender! Why did you still attack him?"

"A pity," Dui Chou Mian replied coolly. "His surrender wasn’t quick enough to outpace my strike."

Dui Choumian cast a careless sidelong glance and smirked, instantly maxing out his provocation meter.

And yet, the words that followed were even more infuriating than that smirk.

Dui Choumian said softly, "I just don’t understand—how dare a weak cultivator like him challenge me on this stage without first mastering the art of surrender?"

In the entire arena, only Wu Manshuang and Yan Luoyue knew that the paralyzing poison smoke, which left victims stiff and foaming at the mouth, had no lasting effects beyond rendering them immobile for a month.

Sitting in the audience, Yan Luoyue immediately leaned back in a tactical retreat upon hearing those words.

If ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‍not for her mask, everyone would have seen the utterly peculiar expression on her face at that moment.

After all, when they had discussed their personas earlier, Yan Luoyue had offered a shortcut.

She said, "Manshuang, if you really can’t pull off this rebellious character… why not just imitate our shizun, Ji Qinghong?"

"...Shizun?"

Yan Luoyue nodded firmly. "I’ve thought about it—given how shizun presents himself to outsiders, he could totally pull off this look!"

Now that Wu Manshuang was clearly capable of carrying the entire act, Yan Luoyue’s thoughts began to wander.

For instance, she found herself wondering… did Wu Manshuang have some misconceptions about Ji Qinghong in his mind?

Because when Ji Qinghong was being sarcastic and stirring up trouble…

Well…

It really did resemble the current situation!

Alright, confirmed—the little snake didn’t misunderstand at all. He’d grasped the essence perfectly!

...

The reigning champion, Dui Choumian, much like the previously unstoppable rising star □□□, had fought dozens of matches without showing the slightest sign of defeat.

During this time, he had been escorted backstage to rest and had changed his rank insignia several times.

When he first advanced from Iron to Bronze, Dui Choumian didn’t even glance at the reward list presented by the attendant.

He asked lazily, "What’s the first item on the list?"

"One hundred low-grade spirit stones, honored guest," the attendant replied with a bow. "Would you like to claim them?"

Dui Choumian waved a dismissive hand. "Go ahead and exchange them—then keep the stones for yourself."

The attendant looked up slightly, hesitated for a moment, then retreated with small steps.

Advancing from Iron to Bronze wasn’t particularly impressive.

So, the rewards on the list were nothing extraordinary.

Choosing the first reward wasn’t unusual.

But showing no attachment to a hundred low-grade spirit stones? While not unheard of, such guests weren’t exactly common.

And usually, these guests weren’t here for the rewards… nor for the thrill of sparring on the stage.

Sure enough, that afternoon, when he advanced from Bronze to Silver, Dui Choumian smiled slowly.

With his striking, mesmerizing features and an aloof aura that kept others at arm’s length, his smile—though enchanting—gave the attendant the chilling sensation of a venomous snake flicking its tongue right in front of him.

Dui Choumian asked lightly, "I heard Silver champions are granted a wish?"

The attendant corrected respectfully, "A 'potentially fulfillable wish.'"

"Mm." Dui Choumian drew out the sound, nodding slowly. "I’ll take that wish."

The attendant reminded him, "If the wish cannot be fulfilled, you cannot return to claim another reward from the list."

Dui Choumian frowned slightly—a simple action, yet it felt like a crushing weight had been dropped onto the attendant’s already frayed nerves.

The man snapped coldly, "Enough chatter."

"Understood. My apologies." The attendant bowed even deeper. "Then, may I ask what your wish is…?"

Dui Choumian’s dazzling smile returned.

He didn’t voice any wish, merely waving a calm hand.

"Arrange my next match. You’ll learn my wish… in due time."

"...As you command."

This time, after leaving the lounge, the attendant didn’t head to the match coordination room. Instead, he turned sharply and strode in another direction.

Unbeknownst to him, a wisp of colorless, formless mist had quietly attached itself to the back of his robe the moment he turned away.

In the lounge, Wu Manshuang half-closed his eyes.

Once he sensed the mist’s trajectory, the corner of his lips curled into a faint, knowing smile.

—As a cultivator of considerable skill, he had deliberately pointed out the wish among the rewards, yet refused to reveal what it was.

Clearly, this man had a goal in mind.

And he knew his current rank wasn’t enough to warrant such a request.

In other words, the Silver-level wish was merely a heads-up to the arena.

If the Silver Light Arena had handled similar cases before, the attendant would surely report this to the higher-ups, who would then order an evaluation of this cultivator.

If Wu Manshuang wasn’t mistaken, his next opponent would likely be a tough one.

...

Wu Manshuang’s reasoning was sound—the arena did indeed assign him a tough opponent.

But this opponent… well, how should he put it?

The opponent himself wasn’t the problem. He just looked… oddly familiar.

Staring at the proud, taciturn young swordsman who had, not long ago, been decisively defeated by Yan Luoyue…

Dui Choumian wanted to say something, then decided against it.

Fate truly was a fickle thing.

Especially when this swordsman strode confidently to the bookmaker before the match.

In the exact same manner as when he had faced Yan Luoyue, he emptied his coin pouch with a flourish, slamming down ten mid-grade spirit stones and four spirit pearls before declaring firmly, "I bet on myself!"

Wu Manshuang on stage: "..."

Yan Luoyue in the audience: "..."

Witnessing this, the two fell into simultaneous silence.

When the swordsman—whose champion name was "Ten Steps, One Kill"—stepped onto the stage, Dui Choumian let out an imperceptible sigh.

He asked with feigned interest, "Was that bet your entire fortune?"

The swordsman, true to his cold and reticent nature, merely nodded.

Yan Luoyue: "..."

Wu Manshuang: "..."

This time, Dui Choumian offered a genuinely sympathetic reminder. "Then… take one last look at them."

—After all, this match was already decided. The swordsman was doomed to lose.

Those possessions—better to savor them while he still could.

If the timing had allowed it, Yan Luoyue would’ve loved to ask the swordsman: Brother, do you feel a sense of déjà vu?

And more importantly—after losing everything the last time you went all-in, how do you still have the guts to do it again?!

This wasn’t Yan Luoyue being arrogant, declaring victory before the match even began.

The main thing is, the abilities of her and Wu Manshuang couldn’t be judged by their cultivation level alone.

Though both of them were only at the Golden Core stage, their "cheats" were anything but ordinary!

Yan Luoyue’s own prowess went without saying. As for Wu Manshuang—from what Yan Luoyue knew, while the little snake’s vitality wasn’t as exaggerated as her own (which was multiplied by ten), his toxicity had been growing stronger by the day.

It was only after several subsequent molts that Wu Manshuang’s control over his venom became increasingly refined, making it appear more restrained.

In reality, Yan Luoyue had no doubt that a single drop of Wu Manshuang’s blood could kill an average Golden Core cultivator a hundred or two hundred times over.

The outcome of this match was naturally a foregone conclusion.

Though the swordsman’s sword energy was fierce, Dui Choumian’s instant-cast restriction arrays were equally formidable.

The toxic mist, colorless and scentless, spread imperceptibly across the arena.

Even when the Golden Core swordsman held his breath, the insidious poison seeped through every possible opening.

It worked like unraveling silk—first sealing his spiritual senses, then binding his meridians, until finally striking straight at his dantian, stripping the swordsman of every ounce of strength.

And so, the once-confident swordsman lost his entire fortune yet again.

Dui Choumian, with a tone that feigned sympathy but leaned more toward schadenfreude, asked softly:

"What’s to be done now? You wouldn’t be so poor as to sell your scabbard, would you?"

As a fellow junior disciple of the sword path, he knew all too well what a scabbard meant to a swordsman!

The aloof swordsman clenched his fist—or tried to, at least. His body was limp, limbs twitching, white foam frothing at the corners of his mouth.

Yet even so, his willpower was as unyielding as steel, surpassing that of all who had ever fallen to Dui Choumian’s poison combined.

Because, despite the terrifying paralyzing venom, he still managed to force out one last sentence:

"We swordsmen would sooner sell our last pair of underpants than our scabbards!"

Wu Manshuang: "…"

Yan Luoyue: "…"

Well, certified—this was a true-blooded swordsman.

…

After this interlude, Dui Choumian’s strength was clearly acknowledged.

Not long after, he received the Golden Beast Ring.

Once again, he chose "one possible wish to be granted" as his reward and remained silent, refusing to disclose what that wish might be.

His intentions, however, were clearly conveyed through his actions to the Silver Light Arena’s overseers.

Because soon after, Dui Choumian received an invitation.

—And on the very same day, Yan Luoyue received two letters.

The first paper crane message came from an unexpected sender: Yin Wangyou.

The second was from a frequent correspondent, the little nun Shen Jingxuan, whose footsteps always pattered like raindrops.

Speaking of Yin Wangyou, over the years, the young alchemist had maintained correspondence with Yan Luoyue.

Their exchanges weren’t frequent—perhaps once every six months—and mostly revolved around scholarly discussions.

Fate had a funny way of working. Back when Yan Luoyue first met Yin Wangyou, it had been at the Silver Light Arena.

Now, after all this time, as Yan Luoyue investigated matters related to the arena, she coincidentally received Yin Wangyou’s letter.

With a smile, Yan Luoyue unfolded Yin Wangyou’s letter—only for her expression to freeze the moment her eyes landed on the words.

A beat later, without hesitation, she opened Shen Jingxuan’s letter as well, then placed the two side by side.

—The contents of both letters were identical.

[This is Jingxuan/Wangyou. Currently with Wangyou/Jingxuan. Pursued by unknown assailants. Request Luoyue’s immediate aid!]