Chapter 237: Consecutive Defeats Shake Confidence, Yu Xian Steps Forward to Challenge

An Wenyuan’s emergence drew every gaze—Fu Ning’an, six Core Formation experts, and fifteen Foundation Establishment disciples all looked toward him.

Their eyes flickered with attempts to see through him. But even Fu Ning’an could only perceive An Wenyuan as a peak Foundation Establishment cultivator with a thick aura of bloodlust. He couldn’t determine his true combat strength.

After all, combat prowess isn’t some quantifiable number. How could it be clearly displayed?

Even Nascent Soul experts—let alone others—couldn’t always judge who among equal realms was stronger unless a fight occurred.

Of course, kill counts, battle records, and performance data could help deduce relative strength, but ultimately—true strength is proven only in real battle.

Because real combat between cultivators is filled with far too many variables.

Even mortal martial arts masters have been killed by mere thugs. The same goes for Foundation Establishment cultivators.

Fu Ning’an studied An Wenyuan for a while. He noticed that while his aura was calm and his killing intent well-suppressed, the sheer weight of it was unmistakable.

This amount of murderous intent couldn’t be faked—it was proof An Wenyuan had killed many.

His cultivation might still be low, but the intensity of his killing aura was too visible. If he were Core Formation level, he might be able to hide it completely. In that case, even his kill count would be indiscernible.

Still, for someone at the Foundation level, this level of bloodlust meant one thing—he was no ordinary cultivator.

Fu Ning’an’s gaze shifted toward his fifteen disciples, his eyes sweeping over them one by one.

He already knew them inside and out. After a moment of thought, he said plainly,

“Lu Mingshan.”

“Disciple here!”

A tall, burly cultivator with a robust, deep aura stepped forward.

“You’ll take the first match,” Fu Ning’an said lightly. “Remember, we cultivators must slay the evil and uphold righteousness.”

Lu Mingshan responded firmly,

“Disciple obeys the Grand Elder’s command! I shall slay the heretic and uphold justice!”

But suddenly, a chuckle echoed.

Everyone frowned and turned—An Wenyuan was rubbing his nose and had just stifled a laugh.

“An Wenyuan, why do you laugh?” asked the elder sternly. “You’ve no manners.”

“My apologies,” An Wenyuan said with a bow, smiling mockingly. “I simply found it amusing. I was careless. I accept my fault.”

Of course, everyone knew exactly what he was laughing at.

Fu Ning’an’s eyes flashed with icy anger. Lu Mingshan’s face was openly murderous.

The elder frowned and said,

“What’s wrong with what was said? You’ll also be upholding righteousness and slaying evil.”

An Wenyuan straightened up and nodded,

“Disciple understands. I shall remember it well.”

The elder nodded, glanced at Fu Ning’an, and smiled. “Shall we begin?”

“Of course,” Fu Ning’an said calmly.

The two experts each released a stream of light that enveloped Lu Mingshan and An Wenyuan, pulling them into the twisted portal of the Xuantian Secret Realm.

Two Nascent Soul experts projected their divine senses into the secret realm to observe and ensure no one cheated by sending a higher realm cultivator disguised as a Foundation Establishment disciple.

They wouldn’t interfere unless one side was completely annihilated.

Originally, the elder had proposed a lottery draw system for matchups, which could have spared a few lives even in defeat.

But Fu Ning’an’s “betting style” approach meant only one thing—one side’s disciples would all die before it was over.

Perhaps this was his belief in absolute justice—true growth only comes through life-and-death battles!

Yet just then, a new voice rang out.

“Elder, this disciple wishes to face him.”

Everyone turned in surprise.

Someone was volunteering?

A young man in white robes, neither too tall nor too lean, neither bulky nor frail, stepped forward. His proportions were perfect.

As he stepped out, everyone finally noticed—his cultivation aura was only at the mid-stage Foundation Establishment level?

They had overlooked him earlier, but now that he had stepped forward, his true cultivation was clear.

The elder’s white brows twitched. After observing Yu Xian carefully, he realized the boy wasn’t hiding his realm—he truly was at mid-stage.

But after examining his breathing rhythm and physical condition, he saw the truth.

Ah, a late-stage body cultivator!

No wonder.

The elder’s eyes turned cold but soon lost interest.

Others couldn’t see as clearly, however. Their eyes were filled with disbelief.

A mere mid-stage Foundation Establishment cultivator… challenging peak stage An Wenyuan?

Was he insane?

Fu Ning’an’s frown eased slightly. He stared at Yu Xian before nodding,

“Alright, go—but be careful!”

He knew Yu Xian had a powerful fused thunderball technique capable of terrifying destruction—if An Wenyuan got hit, even survival would be questionable.

But the technique took too long—thirty whole breaths to fully charge!

In that time, he might be beaten to death.

As for his late-stage physical body cultivation? That was irrelevant.

To a spell cultivator, a body cultivator was just a punching bag.

Getting close to a spell cultivator was nearly impossible. If you managed it, the spellcaster was basically asking to die.

Still, since Yu Xian volunteered, Fu Ning’an didn’t refuse.

Yu Xian nodded calmly. “Rest assured, Elder. I will proceed with caution.”

The elder twitched his brows but said nothing more.

He had already subtly warned him by saying “be careful”—a reasonable enough statement.

Yu Xian smiled and continued,

“Shall we wait a stick of incense first?”

“No need,” the elder said with a smile, stroking his beard.

“An Wenyuan has already recovered sufficiently. You may go in now.”

Fu Ning’an’s eyes darkened. An Wenyuan had seized Liang Cheng’s storage pouch—loaded with valuable treasures he hadn’t had time to use!

No wonder he recovered so fast!

Yu Xian smiled. “All the better.”

He turned to Fu Ning’an. “Elder, please send me in.”

Fu Ning’an nodded slightly and again reminded, “Be careful. Go now.”

With a wave of his hand, Yu Xian flew into the twisted gate—into the Xuantian Secret Realm.

These rogue Nascent Soul heretics used every possible means to advance their cultivation. Shameless beyond measure, their disciples followed suit. Talking sense with them was pointless.

The elder smirked slightly and calmly waited.

Meanwhile, inside the realm, An Wenyuan was already healing and absorbing the gains from Lu Mingshan’s storage pouch. He might even be stronger now.

A stick of incense soon passed.

Fu Ning’an’s voice rang out again,

“Time’s up. Liang Cheng, are you ready?”

“Disciple is ready!”

Liang Cheng’s eyes blazed with fighting spirit.

“Then go!”

He was immediately swept into the portal.

Now only observation remained. Neither Nascent Soul expert would interfere.

The disciples outside shifted in mood.

On the Blood River Sect’s side, all fourteen peak Foundation Establishment disciples wore mocking, relaxed expressions.

On the Haotian Sect side, the remaining twelve disciples were visibly tense.

If even Liang Cheng died… what then?

Would An Wenyuan defeat all fifteen?

The psychological gap between a first loss and a first win was monumental.

Even Fu Ning’an started to regret his decision.

Had he followed the elder’s suggestion and done a lottery draw, An Wenyuan could’ve only killed one.

But now… the rogue’s vicious tactics and shameless methods might actually work—he could kill all of them one by one!

Even though both Lu Mingshan and Liang Cheng were slightly stronger than An Wenyuan in raw power, they lacked experience.

That allowed An Wenyuan to exploit weaknesses and turn the tables—dirty, cunning, but undeniably effective.

These shameless rogue cultivators… damn them all!

Time passed. One incense stick… two…

Fu Ning’an’s eyes suddenly widened. His expression turned murderous.

“That bastard again!”

“Such despicable filth!” he roared. “He’ll never form a golden core!”

The elder chuckled.

“Such vulgarity from a man of your status, Daoist Fu. As for whether An Wenyuan will form a core, leave that to us. We’ll help him do it.”

Fu Ning’an was seething. Two of his best disciples had died—yet he couldn’t retaliate directly.

Now only thirteen remained. And none were clearly stronger than An Wenyuan.

Even among the disciples, panic was spreading.

Two victories. Two corpses.

This guy was truly terrifying.

Now, everyone silently prayed: Please don’t call me next.

They were afraid.

Fu Ning’an saw it instantly in their eyes—hesitation, avoidance, weakness.

It was obvious.

These cowards! Was this the result of the sect’s nurturing?

Only two deaths and already trembling?

The more one feared death, the easier it came!

He swept his gaze over the disciples and prepared to randomly select the next.

Inside the realm, time passed differently—ten times faster.

An hour here was ten inside. If they’d been fighting nonstop, that was already over four days!

Still no victor?

They were clearly closely matched.

But after another two incense sticks, Fu Ning’an’s face contorted with fury.

An Wenyuan had won again.

Lu Mingshan had died!

A renowned peak Foundation Establishment cultivator with over a dozen confirmed kills… now dead.

This proved An Wenyuan’s murderous aura was well earned.

“Though our Blood River disciple slightly edges ahead, no need to be upset,” the elder said, smiling.

Fu Ning’an’s eyes twitched.

He had watched the entire fight through his divine sense—four full days of hunting, evasion, ambush, and vicious killing.

An Wenyuan’s tactics were underhanded but effective.

And now… he was stronger than ever.

Who among the thirteen could stop him?

After a while, Fu Ning’an said quietly,

“Liang Cheng.”

“Disciple present!”

A slender cultivator stepped forward, his aura no less than Lu Mingshan’s.

“You’ll be next.”

“Understood!”

Liang Cheng responded calmly. He was ready.

He would go all out—and even if An Wenyuan had grown stronger, Liang Cheng believed he was just as capable.

But the elder spoke again,

“No need to rush. Let them rest for a stick of incense. Surely a righteous sect wouldn’t deny an injured opponent some time?”

Ten incense sticks within. Even a heavily wounded cultivator could recover most of their strength.

Fu Ning’an frowned, but ultimately agreed,

“Very well. A righteous path cultivator does not stoop to disgraceful means.”

“Ha!” the elder laughed. “A technique is a technique. Victory is what matters. You’re still too fixated, Daoist Fu.”

Fu Ning’an snorted coldly and said nothing more.