Chapter 17

Chapter 17: He Lost…

[Did the Heaven-Questioning Sect really not know?]

Liu Chan’s mind raced, and the Sect Masters on the platform were no less stunned.

The Sect Master of the Heaven-Questioning Sect could only give a bitter smile.

[If he explained that he had sent pills over, would anyone even believe him?]

This Bai Yang was just as stubborn as his master.

“Pfft!”

Bai Yang spat out another mouthful of blood. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, as if refusing to let weakness show, but his eyes still drifted upward—searching for Song Wan Ning.

[Seeing him hurt, his master would feel sorry for him, right?]

He still remembered when he was seven. Curiosity had led him to sneak into the back mountain, and a tiny demon beast had bitten him.

His master had been so distressed her eyes turned red.

That night, many demon beasts in the back mountain paid the price.

He remembered when he was fifteen, training down the mountain. A spoiled young immortal had harassed him. He killed the boy in return, only to be hunted by the boy’s elders.

When his master heard, she rushed over at once to protect him. She crippled the elder who chased him and declared loudly that anyone looking for revenge could come to her.

And when he was twenty…

Bai Yang’s breath caught. It hit him all at once—every step he’d taken to get this far had carried his master’s shadow behind it.

He lifted his head higher, staring at that figure on the platform.

But he didn’t see worry in her eyes.

He saw only half her face, turned away.

His master hadn’t looked at him even once.

“Pfft…”

Something inside him hollowed out. Bai Yang staggered to his feet, blood smeared across his face like war paint.

He lifted his sword and charged at Liu Chan again.

[His master will definitely feel sorry for him.]

[His master is just putting on a front.]

[He has to be the person his master cares about most.]

He attacked like he didn’t care whether he lived, forcing Liu Chan to respond. In only a few exchanges, he was wounded again.

Yet he acted as if he couldn’t feel it—eyes bright, movements reckless, like someone possessed.

“What is Bai Yang doing? Is he trying to die?”

“Looks like he’s deliberately provoking the other side…”

“Martial Uncle Bai looks seriously wrong today. His aura is unstable too…”

The smiles vanished from the watching disciples’ faces. A heavy silence fell as their expressions turned grim.

Even the elders of the Heaven-Questioning Sect on the platform couldn’t hold themselves still. Their gazes flicked, one after another, toward Song Wan Ning.

And Song Wan Ning?

No one knew where she’d found yet another storybook. She read with relish, the corners of her lips lifted as if she were enjoying herself.

There wasn’t even a hint of worry.

The elders’ hearts sank.

For some reason, they all felt that Junior Sister Song was completely off now.

They would rather Junior Sister Song be the old version of herself—competitive and fiercely protective.

Not like this, calm in a way that was impossible to read.

On the Battle Platform, Bai Yang already had more than ten fresh wounds.

Gu Qing Yuan’s patience finally snapped.

“Song Wan Ning, are you really this cold-blooded?” he demanded, voice sharp enough to cut. “Bai Yang is hurt this badly, and you won’t even spare him a glance?”

He didn’t stop there. In front of everyone, he pressed hard, as if he could shame her into movement.

“Your disciple is seriously injured, yet you’re sitting here reading. Is that how a master behaves?”

His words voiced what many people were thinking. The difference was that no one else dared say them.

Song Wan Ning paused mid-page. Slowly, she lifted her head.

“You said it yourself,” she replied, eyes cool. “He’s my disciple. Why are you, an outsider, so anxious?”

Her brows rose, pressure pouring from her gaze. “Besides, shouldn’t you be wishing Bai Yang would die?”

“If he dies, no one will compete with you for your obedient disciple.”

The platform went dead silent.

The Sect Masters from every sect exchanged looks, the scent of gossip sharpening their attention.

“Song Wan Ning!” Gu Qing Yuan’s face turned as black as a pot bottom. He ground the words out through clenched teeth, forcing his rage down by sheer will. “He’s your disciple, and he’s also my martial nephew. How could I want him to die?”

“Don’t slander me.”

Bai Yang was a child he had watched grow up. He wasn’t that vicious.

Song Wan Ning only laughed.

“Ha… ha… ha…”

She stared straight into Gu Qing Yuan’s eyes, smiling in a way that made people uneasy.

“I hope you can keep thinking that way in the future.”

Gu Qing Yuan’s heart jolted. Heat crawled up his neck—anger, irritation, something darker. He turned away, refusing to look at her any longer.

[He never should have spoken to Song Wan Ning again.]

[He was only humiliating himself.]

On the Battle Platform, the fight grew even more brutal.

Bai Yang’s robes were torn to shreds. Blood soaked through every layer, running down his arms, splattering the platform beneath his feet.

Liu Chan kept trying to force him to concede, but Bai Yang refused, clinging and pressing like he meant to drag them both into the mud.

The longer it went on, the more alarmed Liu Chan became. They had no grudge. He didn’t want to damage Bai Yang’s foundation.

But Bai Yang left him no room.

Bai Yang pushed harder, forcing Liu Chan to strike harder.

“Pfft!”

The spear drove into Bai Yang’s thigh. The tip punched straight through.

“Thud!”

Bai Yang crashed down. Blood blurred his vision until the lights above became smeared stars.

The spiritual power in his body was almost completely drained.

He struggled to lift his head and look toward the high platform, toward the figure he had held in his heart for so long.

Fear rose like cold water.

[Will Master worry about him?]

[As long as Master still cares, he can forget all the hurt from before.]

[But…]

On the high platform, that red-robed figure blurred.

Song Wan Ning was smiling as she gently patted Li Ruo’s head, speaking with a bright ease.

She still hadn’t looked his way.

Not once.

Bai Yang froze. Something tore open inside his chest.

Jealousy. Hatred. Pain.

They flooded over him like a tidal wave.

He lost.

He lost completely.

…

“Battle Platform Two: Liu Chan wins!”

An elder of the Heaven-Questioning Sect stepped out and announced the result with regret.

Bai Yang—the one who had seemed most likely to take the crown—hadn’t even made the top three.

The elder hurried to Bai Yang’s side and tried to help him up, but Bai Yang refused.

He lay there stubbornly, staring at the high platform as if he were waiting for something that refused to come.

Liu Chan stepped back, unsettled. He had won, yet he couldn’t feel happy at all.

“Eldest Senior Brother lost!”

An Ze clenched his fists so hard his knuckles went white, his eyes reddening with a helpless, stinging heat.

But he no longer dared shout at Song Wan Ning. He didn’t even dare rush down to pull Bai Yang up.

Only then did Song Wan Ning finally glance toward the Battle Platform.

Her gaze was cold as winter.

It met Bai Yang’s eyes—eyes full of desperate hope.

A spark of light flared in Bai Yang’s gaze.

Song Wan Ning looked at him as if he were nothing more than a stain.

Then she said, sharp and careless, “An Ze. Hurry up and take him down.”

“How embarrassing.”

The square went utterly silent.

Even the disciples below shut their mouths at once.

They stared, confused and stunned, unable to understand why Song Wan Ning had changed so drastically.

“Junior Sister Song!”

The Sect Master of the Heaven-Questioning Sect’s face darkened. He glared at her, displeasure plain, warning her to watch her words.

Win or lose, she shouldn’t have said that.

Song Wan Ning didn’t reply. She simply turned her head away.

In that moment, Bai Yang felt as if his heart…

shattered.