The Dynasty of Cultivating Immortality

C36 – Admit Defeat

“What are you doing?” Ni Zhenlin was taken aback, his expression one of sheer surprise. He lowered the wooden sword he was holding.

Just moments before, he had nearly knocked Ni Huibo out of the competition with a single strike, and now, here he was, expressing gratitude. It seemed quite ridiculous.

Ni Huibo straightened up, fixing his gaze on Ni Zhenlin, and spoke with earnest, “You have no idea – that sword strike of yours just now led me to an epiphany with the cultivation method I’ve been stuck on for ages.”

“All because of that?”

“Yes.”

Ni Zhenlin’s mouth twitched slightly. Observing Ni Huibo’s serious demeanor, he was overwhelmed with mixed emotions.

Tales of sudden insights during combat were plentiful, yet most were mere fabrications. Very few had the chance to witness or experience such a thing firsthand. In this regard, Ni Huibo must possess some natural talent.

​Still, it was the first time Ni Zhenlin had encountered someone offering thanks for such a reason. His sword had not been intended as a lesson in cultivation methods; his true aim had been victory.

Such genuine individuals were rare, especially considering the many who had perished.

Ni Zhenlin gave Ni Huibo a complex look, reflecting on his own trials within the Ni family, and shook his head slightly.

“I concede,” Ni Zhenlin declared, turning his back and tossing the wooden sword aside before making his way to the spectator seats.

“Ni Huibo wins!”

The referee didn’t dwell on the details. Seeing Ni Zhenlin’s voluntary surrender, he proclaimed the outcome loudly.

The crowd erupted into a frenzy at the announcement.

“What just happened?”

“Did I miss something? Why is the match over?”

“I’m not sure. Ni Zhenlin just seemed to suddenly give up.”

“Is it possible that Ni Huibo has the power to control minds?”

Whispers of confusion, skepticism, and wild speculation rippled through the audience, some tinged with a hint of fear.

As Ni Zhenlin reached the stands, the younger members of the crowd swarmed around him, eager for an explanation.

“Stop asking. He’s better than me, so I gave up,” Ni Zhenlin responded with a smile, his rapport with some of the onlookers evident.

​Just then, another voice chimed in from nearby.

“You can’t even beat a piece of trash; what good are you?”

The identity of the voice’s owner was clear to many. They remained silent and returned to their seats.

“Ni Situo, what are you implying?”

Ni Zhenlin’s brows were tightly knit as he stared at Ni Situo, who stood a short distance away, his eyes narrowing.

“Listen up. Even though I’m no longer the junior patriarch, you’d do well to watch how you look at me.”

Ni Situo’s tone started off with a hint of disdain but quickly turned icy. He was unabashedly threatening him.

Ni Zhenlin stood up abruptly, pointing at Ni Situo, but ultimately held his tongue.

Despite no longer being the junior patriarch, Ni Situo was still the patriarch’s son with strength at the second level, highly esteemed by the family, and not someone Ni Zhenlin could provoke. Though enraged, he kept his composure, snorted coldly, and sat back down.

“You’re wise to recognize your place. To be honest, I’m not particularly interested in you. I was just taken aback that you would concede to a nobody, and I felt compelled to give you a little education.”

With a shake of his head that conveyed disappointment, Ni Situo departed.

The first round consisted of five matches and was over quickly. To allow the victors ample rest, the second round was scheduled for two hours later, while the day was still young.

Aside from Ni Huibo, nineteen others advanced, including Ni Situo without surprise. Additionally, Ni Yirong, Ni Shang, and Ni Yong all made it through, showcasing their exceptional talent.

At that point, they had each reached the late period of the first level. Ni Yirong, in particular, had attained Great Perfection and was on the verge of stepping into the second level, a breakthrough that could happen at any moment. Such achievements earned the family elders’ respect.

These three were the only ones among the Ni family’s younger generation to have reached the late period of the first level.

Ni Huibo sat in a corner, observing his fellow cultivators in meditative poses, a look of helplessness in his eyes.

He was suddenly overcome with a sense of guilt.

He was at the late stage of the second level, yet he deliberately chose to blend in with those at the middle stage of the first level, even feigning to be at their level of skill.

Deception was not his forte, nor was he comfortable with the current predicament.

“I don’t want to deceive anyone; this is all at the behest of our patriarch. You can’t hold this against me,” Ni Huibo murmured to himself. Shaking off these distractions, he refocused on his cultivation.

He had briefly touched upon the realm described by the Clear Qi Method, but the exposure was fleeting. He needed to delve deeper to reap any benefits and possibly master this cultivation method.

His mind replayed the sensations he had experienced as time swiftly passed.

“Since embarking on the Immortal Path, my perception of time has grown increasingly vague, particularly during cultivation, when it seems to accelerate,” he reflected with a hint of wistfulness, feeling as though only moments had passed.

​The twenty victors emerged from the resting area and made their way back to the training field. The same table and box awaited them, though the number of black lots had been halved.

Ni Huibo was the last to draw, waiting until the others had finished before selecting the final lot.

“One?”

He examined the black lot in his hand, glancing around curiously. With fewer competitors, the likelihood of facing a late-stage contender was high, and a direct confrontation with Ni Situo was possible.

The prospect of battling Ni Situo was least appealing to him. It meant either conceding defeat or revealing his full capabilities, neither of which he desired.

Soon, the official tallying the numbers approached, recorded his entry, and collected the remaining black lots.

With the number one, Ni Huibo was slated to be the first to step into the arena. Without hesitation, he advanced toward the center.

Just then, an announcement echoed across the field.

“In area one, Ni Huibo versus Ni Yong. In area two, Ni Yirong versus Ni Shang.”

Ni Huibo paused, turning around in mild astonishment, but he quickly composed himself and continued to the heart of the arena.

Atop the elevated stage, Ni Xianjian’s face grew stormy as he took in the sequence of the upcoming battles.

“Why did I have to draw such a lot?”

​”Don’t worry, Patriarch. There are more challenges ahead,” a person beside him assured, offering a reassuring smile. Ni Xianjian felt somewhat displeased with the schedule.