**Chapter 446: Can't Hold Back Anymore**
After the match, Yan Shouyi had "won effortlessly" without revealing much of his true strength—at least, that’s how it seemed to those who knew his real capabilities.
But to those unfamiliar with him, it looked like pure luck. First, he’d used underhanded tricks to defeat the young Taoist Zhu Feifeng, then relied on Zhu Shanzhao to catch the other two contestants off guard.
Now that the rules banned Zhu Shanzhao’s assistance, everyone assumed Yan Shouyi was out of tricks. In the next round, they were sure he’d suffer a crushing defeat.
So even though Yan Shouyi had won this time, the crowd didn’t hold back their mocking remarks.
Not that Yan Shouyi cared.
Stepping off the stage, his first priority was checking on Zhu Feifeng.
Meanwhile, the next set of contestants seamlessly took their places.
The Longhu Mountain disciples were tight-knit. Seeing Yan Shouyi approach, they immediately blocked his path, wary that he might harm Zhu Feifeng.
It was Zhang Shanli who stepped in and scolded them:
"What are you all doing? This is Longhu Mountain! A bunch of grown men blocking someone’s way—you look like bandits! Move aside!"
One disciple muttered, "But what if he tries something against Junior Brother Zhu…?"
"Am I not here? What are you afraid of?" Zhang Shanli snapped.
With that, the disciples didn’t dare argue further and reluctantly made way.
Yan Shouyi gave Zhang Shanli a grateful nod before crouching beside Zhu Feifeng, who had just regained consciousness.
He patted Zhu Feifeng’s shoulder apologetically. "Sorry about earlier. I was just running an experiment."
"An experiment?" Zhu Feifeng blinked in confusion. "What do you mean? Didn’t I just lose fair and square?"
Zhu Feifeng knew Yan Shouyi’s strength—he’d never expected to win in the first place. He only felt his loss had been a bit abrupt, but he didn’t suspect anything.
It never crossed his mind that the one who’d knocked him out wasn’t Yan Shouyi at all—but the very Heavenly Master he revered most.
Yan Shouyi chuckled. "Just take my thanks, alright? Here, I’ve got some good recovery pills. Take them to recuperate. After the Luotian Dajiao, we’re still friends."
From the Dong Wang gourd, he pulled out a few high-grade medicinal pills—courtesy of Old Jin—and handed them to Zhu Feifeng.
Now, Longhu Mountain was no stranger to alchemy. For Yan Shouyi to gift pills here might’ve seemed like showing off in front of experts.
But just as the senior disciples were about to scoff, they noticed the pills’ flawless texture and rich medicinal aroma—far surpassing even the best pills they had access to.
Instantly, they shut their mouths.
Say what you will about Yan Shouyi’s methods, but the guy had deep pockets…
Zhu Feifeng, oblivious to the pills’ value, accepted them naturally and thanked him.
Zhang Shanli spoke up again. "Yan Shouyi, no more experiments. Take the next match seriously."
"Understood, Uncle Zhang. I’ll focus from now on."
With a grin, Yan Shouyi returned to his group.
A Longhu Mountain disciple whispered to Zhang Shanli, "Elder, what real skills does Yan Shouyi even have?"
Zhang Shanli’s smile vanished as he side-eyed the disciple. "His skills? Nothing much. Just enough to wipe the floor with ten of you."
The disciple: "…"
Meanwhile, Zhu Feifeng scratched his head, still unable to recall how he’d blacked out.
Back with his team, Yan Shouyi found Long Feicheng, Wang Jiwang, and Old Jin engaged in a heated exchange of middle fingers with the crowd that looked down on folk sects. Six fingers between the three of them somehow didn’t feel like enough.
He Xiping sighed. "They’re fighting for your honor."
"Honor is something we all fight for together," Yan Shouyi said with a laugh. Then, turning serious, he asked, "Xiping, you’re ‘Ox Yi’—you’re up soon. Nervous?"
Truthfully, Yan Shouyi wasn’t worried about Long Feicheng—that guy could weasel his way into the top 32 with underhanded tactics. But He Xiping was a different story.
As a stage magician, He Xiping had little combat ability, especially in open, rule-bound matches where his usual advantages didn’t apply.
He Xiping shook his head slightly. "Do you know what ‘Ox Yi’ represents?"
Yan Shouyi blinked. "What?"
"In the Heavenly Stems and Earthly Branches, ‘Yi’ is second. In the alphabet, the second letter is ‘B.’"
"Ox… B?"
He Xiping nodded. "Watch me show you how ‘Ox B’ I can be."
"…"
Damn.
He Xiping had been hiding this side of himself!
Who knew the quiet guy had such a shameless streak?
Guess the saying was true—all folk sect practitioners were cut from the same cloth.
Nearby, Luo Ning and Zhao Yiyao rolled their eyes hard.
The next few matches were forgettable.
The contestants gave their all, but their skill ceilings made the bouts unremarkable.
But this was the norm for the younger generation of the mystic sects. True prodigies were rare by definition.
Watching these matches, Yan Shouyi’s biggest takeaway was how sheltered these sect disciples were. Maybe they hadn’t yet needed to venture into the real world, but their performance—in terms of battle experience, adaptability, and more—was leagues behind someone like A Gong.
Being the "wild children" of folk sects wasn’t all bad, it seemed.
After several rounds, it was finally He Xiping’s turn. Amidst cheers, he stepped onto the Wanzong Altar empty-handed.
Standing tall and composed, he announced clearly, "I am He Xiping, inheritor of folk sect stage magic!"
His opponent was a strikingly handsome male disciple, who examined He Xiping with amused interest before replying in a soft, lilting voice, "Wuzhen Sect, Liu Lang."
"Ugh, that voice alone screams ‘flirty bitch’!" Long Feicheng groaned from the sidelines. "Since when does the Wuzhen Sect dare show up at the Luotian Dajiao?!"
The Wuzhen Sect had an awful reputation, bordering on heretical—thanks largely to Yi Hehuan, who’d framed Yan Shouyi earlier. Their presence here baffled Long Feicheng.
The mystic sects scorned folk practitioners but tolerated the Wuzhen Sect? What kind of logic was that?
Abbess Guanyun explained, "The Wuzhen Sect may be infamous, but technically, they’re still a branch of Quanzhen Taoism. By the rules, no one can bar them from participating."
"Bet this Liu Lang’s a damn queer," Wang Jiwang muttered, shuddering. "Xiping, punch him extra hard for me!"
Liu Lang immediately turned to Wang Jiwang, licking his lips before biting the lower one suggestively. "Come to my room tonight. I’ll let you punch me all you want…"
"Fuck!"
Wang Jiwang nearly drew his blade on the spot.
Yan Shouyi and Long Feicheng barely restrained him. "Leave it to Xiping!"
Even the referee Taoist seemed disgusted. As soon as the other contestants were ready, he hastily declared the match begun.
For once, the crowd found themselves rooting for the folk sect practitioner. Say what you would about folk sects, at least they weren’t actively repulsive like Liu Lang.
That said, no one had high hopes for He Xiping.
A stage magician against a Wuzhen Sect disciple? The odds seemed stacked.
"A Gong, release San Yuan. You send out paper scouts too," Yan Shouyi whispered. "If the Wuzhen Sect’s here, Yi Hehuan might be nearby. We’ve got unfinished business with her."
A Gong nodded, discreetly releasing a few paper birds with a soft breath, sending them skyward.
Yan Shouyi pulled San Yuan from his bag. The little creature glanced around curiously but didn’t forget its mission, scanning the area with sharp eyes.
Meanwhile, on stage, He Xiping finally made his move.