Chapter 10: Young Master ….defeated?
“Is he insane? A mere early Foundation Establishment, daring to face the Young Master?”
“Yeah! The Young Master just beat Luo Yan, a late-stage cultivator. How many moves can an early-stage guy last?”
“Probably desperate, just saving face.”
The stands buzzed with mockery, almost no one believing Luo Jiutian could win.
But nearby, Luo Yuanshan’s brows furrowed.
Though he’d lost to Luo Chen, watching Luo Jiutian on the stage now, he felt an indescribable pressure.
Luo Yan’s face darkened too. He’d clashed with Luo Jiutian often and never sensed a threat before.
But now, his instincts screamed—
This man had changed.
They weren’t the only ones feeling it.
On the high platform, the higher-realm Luo family elders sat silent, their expressions varied.
Li Yunzheng tapped his chair arm, face blank.
Xiao Qiankun rubbed his teacup, glancing at Luo Changqing: “Is he… really early Foundation Establishment?”
Luo Changqing didn’t answer, his gaze first landing on the tense Luo Yunlan and Su Wan’er at the edge of the stands, then shifting to the figure in the arena, his eyes growing complex.
In the center of the martial stage, the two stood facing each other.
Luo Chen wore a faint smile, announcing loudly: “Brother Jiutian’s cultivation is lower, so for fairness, I’ll give you three free moves.”
Luo Jiutian only smiled lightly.
When facing Luo Yan and others, Luo Chen said “I.” Now, with him, it was “this Young Master,” and so loudly.
He didn’t call it out, just glanced at Luo Chen: “No need.”
Luo Chen raised an eyebrow: “You sure?”
His tone was concerned, as if worried Luo Jiutian would lose too badly.
Applause erupted from the stands, voices cheering: “The Young Master’s magnanimous, offering three moves—a true model!”
“Winning two fights and still showing courtesy—this is the Luo family’s future!”
“Some people should take the hint and accept the kindness.”
Luo Jiutian ignored the formalities, saying bluntly: “Instead of wasting time on these empty gestures, go cultivate.”
The words silenced the stands, choking off the praise for Luo Chen.
Luo Chen’s smile froze, his eye twitching, but he steadied himself: “Fine, let’s begin.”
Before he finished, Luo Jiutian’s fist was already in his face.
Luo Chen felt the wind, his hair standing on end, instinctively dodging the direct punch.
Luo Jiutian’s fist missed but carried unstoppable force, unleashing a heavy airwave.
A muffled boom rang out as a tree beside the stage snapped at its roots, crashing down.
The crowd fell silent.
After a pause, someone shouted: “Holy sht! When did Luo Jiutian break through to late Foundation Establishment?”
“How’s that possible… Wasn’t his cultivation stuck?”
The Luo family members gaped, but the chatter soon shifted—
“So what if he’s late-stage? Luo Yan was too and still lost.”
“The Young Master’s Star-Plucking Divine Body defies normal logic.”
The crowd’s noise rose and fell, all eyes locked on the stage.
On the platform, Luo Chen, recovering from shock, retreated to widen the gap.
His heart pounded, sweat beading on his forehead.
That punch wasn’t just raw power—it carried a killing intent forged in life-or-death battles.
Half a beat slower, and he’d be the one down, not the tree.
Was this really the former Young Master who struggled to reach mid-Foundation Establishment?
Luo Chen steadied himself, staring at Luo Jiutian, not daring to advance rashly.
Luo Jiutian stood still, tilting his head: “This kind of fight’s boring. How about… we use weapons?”
The meaning was clear—
You can’t beat me unarmed.
Many in the crowd gasped.
[Ding! Host has successfully humiliated Child of Destiny ‘Luo Chen’ publicly, converting destiny points…]
[Current Earth return countdown: 297 years.]
[Six months deducted. Remaining time: 296 years, 6 months.]
Luo Chen clenched his fists, knuckles white.
He knew Luo Jiutian was provoking him.
But he couldn’t back down—retreating would ruin his newly built reputation.
“Luo Jiutian, don’t get cocky,” he said coldly.
With a wave, a silver-white spear shot through the air, landing in his hand. He spun it, pointing it at Luo Jiutian, his pose bold.
The crowd’s eyes lit up.
“That’s… the Luo family’s ancestral spear technique?”
“Right, not just anyone can learn it—only with the Patriarch’s approval. Only the eldest miss knew it, but now the Young Master has it too.”
Luo Jiutian chuckled: “Your dad really loves you, teaching you the ancestral technique right after you returned.”
The Luo family’s spear art, Thirteen Star-Chasing Forms.
Legend said the Luo ancestor used it to defeat seven peers, carving a bloody path to establish the clan.
It wasn’t flashy—every move a killing strike, emphasizing speed, ruthlessness, precision.
Even as Young Master, Luo Jiutian, despite his contributions, was never allowed to learn it.
No surprise there—ancestral techniques were for blood kin, not outsiders. Fair enough.
But…
Luo Jiutian reached into the air, a blood-red light gathering in his palm. A scarlet sword slowly materialized.
The blade didn’t move, yet its pressure hit first.
The sword, Weeping Red Dust*, not of this world, carried innate killing intent, blending seamlessly with his aura.
In that moment, everyone—stands and platform—felt a chill, as if the sword watched them coldly.
Luo Chen’s grip on his spear tightened.
Even he couldn’t deny the sword’s power.
Luo Jiutian stood with sword in hand, robes fluttering lightly.
Unable to bear the pressure, Luo Chen struck first.
His spear swept, unleashing fierce winds, its force stunning, trembling like a dragon’s roar.
Luo Jiutian didn’t retreat, meeting it with his sword.
They clashed dozens of times, energies intertwining, sparks flying.
Spectators gaped, many unable to track their moves, only sensing their positions through airwaves.
Luo Chen grew more shocked.
He’d thought Luo Jiutian relied on a secret technique to boost strength, but in combat, aside from slightly less power, Luo Jiutian’s speed, skill, and battle rhythm outclassed him.
His heart sank. Luo Chen leaped into the night sky.
Starlight gathered as he drew it in, silver glows swirling around him like dust.
Floating above the stage, his aura imposing, he regained his confident smile.
Looking down at Luo Jiutian, he said loudly: “Brother Jiutian, not using your illusions? This isn’t a game anymore.”
Luo Jiutian looked up, saying lightly: “No need.”
Luo Chen sneered: “Fine, you asked for it.”
Without another word, he channeled starlight into his spear tip, becoming a streak of light, charging the stage’s center.
This strike held nothing back, its killing intent bare!
“Whoa! Is the Young Master going for the kill?” someone gasped.
“That aura… it’s almost Golden Core level!”
“Can Luo Jiutian take it? He’ll be crippled if not dead!”
In the corner, Luo Yuanshan hurried to Luo Yan, whispering: “Skinny, what do you think?”
Luo Yan stared at the stage’s center, shaking his head: “Nine deaths, one life.”
The Luo elders watched coldly, none intervening.
They didn’t care about Luo Jiutian’s fate. Tonight was for Luo Chen’s rise—no one would break the rules for an abandoned figure.
This ‘spar’ was never fair.
“Xiaotian!”
At the stands’ edge, crimson flashed in Luo Yunlan’s eyes as she stood.
She was ready to save him.
But as she moved, her arm was grabbed.
“What are you doing?”
Luo Yunlan turned, glaring at Su Wan’er.
Su Wan’er said nothing, just shook her head.
That brief pause made Luo Yunlan recall Luo Jiutian’s demeanor before stepping up.
It wasn’t bravado—it was confidence.
Unshakable confidence.
Her heart jolted, understanding why Su Wan’er stopped her.
If Luo Jiutian dared take this fight, he had his trump card.
They nodded silently, returning to their seats, eyes fixed on the stage.
Luo Chen’s full-force strike landed, spear light piercing the night, kicking up dust that engulfed the stage.
Everyone held their breath, awaiting the outcome.
The dust hadn’t cleared, but a figure’s outline emerged.
He stood at the stage’s center, back straight, one hand lifting a person, the other holding a spear.
“It’s the Young Master!” someone shouted excitedly. “He won, as expected!”
The cry sparked a wave, the stands erupting, applause rising.
On the high platform, Xiao Qiankun turned away, unable to watch Luo Jiutian’s defeat, sighing inwardly.
Other elders wore “as expected” looks.
But as the dust fully cleared, everyone froze.
Luo Jiutian stood unscathed.
His right hand held the spear, his left dragging a person.
That person, bloodied and barely conscious, was none other than—
Luo Chen, whom they’d thought was certain to win.