Among the crowd, the expressions of the Rank 3 elders began to shift. Subtle at first—eyes narrowing, jaws tensing—but it spread like a cold shadow over their once-composed faces. These were not fledgling cultivators, easily rattled by uncertainty. No. They had seen blood-soaked battlefields and lived through sieges that broke entire sects. Their cultivation had long since elevated them beyond mundane fear. But now?
Now, there was something in their silence—an unspoken tension crawling beneath their skin like invisible blades pressed too close to the bone.
Their gazes kept returning to the entrance of the secret realm, not with anticipation, but calculation. There was a tremor beneath their stillness, a tautness that only surfaced when faced with something beyond understanding. Rank 3 cultivators did not sweat unless they stood beneath the gaze of something greater. And yet… faint beads of sweat had begun to form at their temples.
Something stronger than them had passed through that realm. Or worse—it still lingered.
One of the elders shifted his weight, hand unconsciously moving toward the hilt of his weapon, but he didn't draw it. He didn't need to. The act alone betrayed his thoughts. Another's pupils contracted slightly, breath held for half a second too long. Their spiritual senses, sharpened through decades of training, picked up on something—something off. Not in the air. Not in the crowd.
In the silence.
A silence so sharp it could cut.
Because Yun had emerged. So had Linglong. And yet it didn't feel like victory.
It felt like a warning.
In contrast, the Rank 1 disciples who had barely made it out now huddled together in pockets, battered, wide-eyed, and too relieved to fully process what had changed around them.
Whispers spread between them like nervous birds fluttering in a storm.
"Yun made it out…"
"And Linglong, too. Both of them. So the others—"
"They'll come out soon, right?"
There were four geniuses. Everyone knew their names, had heard the stories. They were the monsters who stood above all the rest. And if two of them had already made it through… then the remaining two had to be alive. Had to be.
"We survived," one disciple muttered, pressing a trembling hand to the gash on his side. "We're barely Rank 1. If we could crawl out of there… how could they not?"
"They're probably just finishing something up. Securing a treasure. Fighting over spoils." The voice was forced, a little too loud, trying to convince both himself and everyone else. "You know how they are. They're always the last to leave, because they can afford to be."
Heads nodded, some more eager than others. But underneath their words, the unease curled. Because Yun and Linglong hadn't come out triumphant.
They hadn't come out victorious.
They'd come out changed.
…
Obviously, not everyone was anxiously awaiting the return of Jiang Yu and Zhang.
For the Marquis Family and the Gentle Breeze Sect, their absence was a fortune. A silent blessing wrapped in tragedy.
Because if those two failed to emerge—if they were confirmed dead within the secret realm—it wouldn't just be a loss for Cloudveil Sect and Divine Sword Sect. It would be disaster. A devastating blow not only to their power structure, but to their reputation across the cultivation world.
Reputation, after all, was everything.
Especially when it came to recruitment.
Take the Divine Sword Sect, for example—currently the strongest among the major sects. But their strength wasn't just from sheer power. No, it stemmed from belief. From the number of fresh cultivators pouring into their ranks every year. And why were they choosing Divine Sword Sect over others?
Because of Zhang.
Because he wasn't just a genius—he was a symbol. A pillar. A future.
Many believed that as long as he lived, the Divine Sword Sect's future was secure. That he would rise to lead them to an era unmatched, possibly even challenge the great sects beyond this region.
But if he were to die…
Then the truth would follow quickly behind. That even a genius like Zhang couldn't survive the secret realm. That even the strongest sect could lose everything.
And those dreams—the hope of a stable future in Divine Sword Sect—would begin to crumble. One small crack at first, then a cascade of disillusionment. After all, what good is a sect with no future?
As for Cloudveil Sect… well, they were already at the bottom. Jiang Yu was their only thread of redemption. Their last card.
And if that thread snapped—
Then there would be no redemption at all.
Of course, these thoughts remained unsaid, buried beneath polite smiles and composed silence. But they lingered in the air, thick as incense, clinging to every glance and whispered word.
Because everyone knew the truth.
Losing a promising heir didn't just end a legacy.
It shattered a sect.
And when that happened… well.
One could only wonder how those two sects would respond.
…
Of course, not all the disciples waiting outside the secret realm were hoping for Zhang and Jiang Yu to return.
In fact, some were hoping for the opposite.
Their hands were clasped too tightly. Their breaths held a little too long. Eyes locked on the glowing boundary not in anticipation—but in silent, venom-laced prayer.
Please don't come back. Please let this be the end.
A boy from Divine Sword Sect clenched his fists behind his back, knuckles white. He'd grown up with Zhang in the same training hall. Knew firsthand what the word genius really meant in that place—what Zhang's laughter sounded like when it was aimed at someone weaker, how the instructors turned a blind eye because of a bloodline, a talent, a name.
Let him die. Let him vanish in that cursed realm.
Only then can the rest of us breathe.
Not far from him stood a girl, eyes dull but focused, her sleeves trembling slightly. A Cloudveil Sect outer disciple. No one knew her name. She'd been quiet ever since Jiang Yu had forced his "attention" on her two years ago. Her silence had bought her survival. But it hadn't bought her peace.
She didn't pray aloud. But her mind whispered:
If he dies in there, Mother… maybe your soul can finally rest.
And she was not alone.
A young man from an affiliated sect—one that often sent offerings and disciples to Divine Sword Sect—had once refused to carry out an unjust command from Zhang. He'd been crippled for it. Though his dantian had healed, the scar on his back still burned when the wind blew.
I hope he chokes on his own blood.
Another girl, her robes clean but her fingers trembling, had smiled too brightly in front of Jiang Yu once. That was all it had taken.
The smile she wore now was different—tighter, harder.
If this realm is truly a trial of fate, then let his fate end today.
There were more.
Quiet faces in the crowd, eyes like calm water—but beneath that surface lay years of suffocated rage. Some had been beaten. Others threatened. Some had screamed until their throats bled and no one listened.
Now, finally, the heavens had a chance to correct what the sects refused to see.
It was a rare thing in the cultivation world—to wish for a genius's death.
But here, beneath the shadow of the secret realm's fading light…
It wasn't rare at all.
It was everywhere.
Because for all the praise, the admiration, the titles of "genius" and "hope of the sect"… both Zhang and Jiang Yu were not saints.
They were untouchable tyrants.
And everyone knew it.
Within Divine Sword Sect, Zhang walked where he pleased, spoke how he wished, and took whatever he liked. Instructors praised his technique and brushed off his cruelty. Disciples who bowed too slow or stood too proud would find themselves "punished"—a broken limb, a shattered cultivation, a quiet disappearance. Retaliation? Laughable. No one retaliated. Whoever dared to raise a hand… died.
As for Jiang Yu, the golden heir of Cloudveil Sect… he wore a softer mask. But the rot was deeper.
Sweet words. Empty smiles. Promises laced with poison. If Zhang was a storm, Jiang Yu was poison in the cup—invisible, slow, and fatal. Many girls learned that too late. Some boys, too.
And if you survived what he did?
You'd better keep your mouth shut.
Because in Cloudveil Sect, Jiang Yu's word was law. Elders turned blind eyes. Some even enabled him.
So now, among the crowd outside the secret realm, the ones who had once cowered beneath those two watched the gate with silent desperation.