Chapter 066: Entering the World

At the moment Lin Zhan formed an alliance with the Nine Nether Barbarian Bull King, he gained a significant surge of fortune’s power. Though this force had yet to manifest in any particular way, Lin Zhan knew that, as long as it steadily accumulated, it would surely become his most formidable trump card in the future.

With his divine sense sweeping the area, Lin Zhan located his first target and stealthily approached... Thus began a series of arduous battles, marking the commencement of the most perilous phase of his tempering journey, as he cut down one yellow-ranked expert after another.

Including the earliest team led by Lu Feiying, it took Lin Zhan a full two months to defeat all eight search parties dispatched by Cao Jin, leaving only a handful who managed to escape by sheer luck.

Lin Zhan acquired a wealth of spoils, and now that the Nine-Star Space had been opened, he could store as many items as he wished without worry.

He also learned that Cao Jin’s stronghold was teeming with powerful experts, and for the time being, he lacked the strength to confront him directly.

Yet one thing perplexed him: how could a mere steward like Cao Jin command so many yellow-ranked experts? It was entirely out of the ordinary.

He also overheard another piece of news—the time for the Blaze Mountain Grand Tournament had been moved forward, and any disciple from the five great peaks of the Blaze Mountain Range was eligible to participate.

“A grand tournament, hmm? I wonder if my identity as a menial disciple of Daisy Hall still qualifies?” Such a rare opportunity was not one Lin Zhan would let slip by; he was determined to witness it for himself.

It would be a gathering of countless prodigies, and Lin Zhan was uncertain whether his current realm lagged far behind theirs, or if the gap was not so great.

When Qin Qingxuan first gifted him the Fiery Fist technique, she was already the disciple of an elder from Shadow Drift Peak. By now, she had certainly surpassed the yellow rank.

Thinking of Qin Qingxuan, several others—Fang Daguang and Lian Ming—also surfaced in his mind. He wondered how they were faring.

And then there was that nefarious fellow, Fan Ning, whom Qingxuan had said was the personal disciple of the Sword Burial Peak’s master; his strength must have grown considerably.

Heh, Fan Ning had long been listed in Lin Zhan’s “targets to be dealt with” ledger. He was truly looking forward to this disciples’ tournament.

This year, the disciples’ grand tournament across the Blaze Mountain peaks was being hosted by Sword Burial Peak. Traveling from Blaze Lake to Sword Burial Peak required passing through Westward Peak.

On this day, Lin Zhan used the art of Confounding Appearance and Disordered Form to change his visage, transforming into the likeness of a menial disciple from Green Bamboo Hall whom he had encountered at Spirit Herb Valley. He also concealed his cultivation, and set off toward the domain of Westward Peak.

All menial disciple identity tokens were identical, so with this guise, Lin Zhan was essentially anonymous.

Westward Peak, like Blaze Peak, bordered the Northern Forest and served as the first line of defense, its terrain and landscape complex and interwoven.

“Peaks lofty, paths winding, myriad smaller peaks ringed by verdure, waterways hidden among the hills, facing east yet ever longing for the west.”

The general meaning was that it was very easy to lose one’s way in Westward Peak.

Among the five great peaks, the area of Westward Peak was especially open to outside interaction. At certain junctions, small markets and even villages inhabited by ordinary folk dotted the landscape.

Much like those who refused to leave the foot of Blaze Peak—the rejected candidates, along with servants and household staff—who eventually settled and formed small human communities.

Wherever people gathered, the world grew vibrant. Once such settlements stabilized and flourished, bustle was inevitable.

Lin Zhan’s first stop at Westward Peak was just such a small town.

The town was modest, located at the northern end of Westward Peak, still a day’s journey from the main summit.

Since he had disguised himself as an ordinary menial disciple, maintaining a realm of roughly fifth rank among mortals, Lin Zhan behaved as any common cultivator would—keeping a low profile to avoid unnecessary trouble.

The town was called Fuyang City, considered relatively large, serving as the thoroughfare between Westward Peak and the main Blaze Peak, with frequent traffic.

When Ding Zhennan had led his family’s experts to Spirit Herb Valley, they had passed through Fuyang City, taking advantage of a loophole.

Fuyang City, though small, was fully equipped: rows upon rows of ice-brick houses for residents, neat and orderly.

Trading centers, restaurants, inns, and all basic necessities were present, even a couple of gambling dens and pleasure houses for entertainment.

Lin Zhan’s divine sense could easily encompass all of Fuyang City, so he immediately grasped its basic situation.

This was the first place in the Blue Ice World where Lin Zhan truly entered society; he decided to linger a while, planning to stay at an inn and observe life here.

Of course, in Fuyang City, one must stay at the Fuyang Inn—such a prestigious name surely meant quality service.

“Welcome, honored guest! Are you here for lodging?” The inn’s attendant glanced at Lin Zhan’s menial disciple garb, yet showed not a hint of disrespect, smiling as he ushered him inside.

“Yes, I’d like a room.” Lin Zhan walked to the counter and placed a spirit stone atop it.

Glancing around the hall, he saw business was good—though not yet noon, two or three tables of patrons were already eating and chatting.

As Lin Zhan entered, most of the guests turned to look, then pretended to resume their conversation and raise their cups in cheer.

Their ensuing dialogue was caught word-for-word by Lin Zhan’s keen ears.

“A menial disciple of fifth rank among mortals—nothing worth noting. Come, let’s keep drinking,” said a white-robed cultivator of seventh rank, beckoning to his companions.

Another, a youth in resplendent attire fanning himself, wore a dissatisfied expression. “I just can’t figure it out—why did the chief of Blaze Peak propose moving up the disciples’ tournament, and why did the other four peaks agree?”

“Master Ping, worried your cultivation isn’t up to scratch? Honestly, holding the tournament early isn’t a bad thing. At least I, Zhang Weida, can make a name for myself sooner—what joy! What I don’t get is why menial disciples are allowed to participate. What a waste of time, slaughtering those nobodies.”

Lin Zhan frowned, feeling annoyed. This Zhang Weida clearly looked down on menial disciples—not just disregarding them, but even calling them ‘nobodies,’ and his words seemed deliberately aimed at Lin Zhan.

“Heh, only ninth rank among mortals, not even at the peak—acting so high and mighty,” Lin Zhan silently mocked, when he heard the innkeeper gasp in surprise.

“What’s wrong, innkeeper? Is there a problem with my spirit stone?” Lin Zhan was a bit concerned, since it was a raw stone he’d drawn directly from a spiritual vein—a fist-sized high-grade spirit stone, which he believed matched the purity of those in circulation, though he wasn’t sure if it broke any rules here.

“Oh, young man, there’s no issue with the stone,” the innkeeper shook his head repeatedly, though he wore a troubled look. “It’s just that this high-grade spirit stone is far too large. Our small inn has modest means and simply can’t make change for it!”

Lin Zhan understood. “Ah, so that’s the reason.”