When Fan Zhiyi saw what Bing Nandong was holding, he said: Damn, he even forgot that he had put on a disguise!
So, just now, in this state, he was recognized by the headmaster's son, the gatekeeper, and Bing Nandong. Where was the disguise? Damn, it didn't work at all!
Bing Nandong stared at him: "Who gave you this idea? Your jaw is red all over."
Fan Zhiyi: “…” He silently complained in his heart that the eldest young master was indeed unreliable.
"Alright, you two, stop flirting here." Zhuang Yujing couldn't wait any longer and asked, "What's going on here? Why is the sect secretly training these extremely talented disciples? What's going on in the world of immortal cultivation?"
"Zhuang Yujing." Bing Nandong glanced at him. "Did you put this on Fan Zhiyi?"
"How's it going? My disguise skills are pretty good, right?"
"How stupid! You look even more stupid now."
Zhuang Yujing was about to explode in anger. Fan Zhiyi felt exhausted trying to maneuver between them. "Let's get down to business first."
Zhuang Yujing snorted and raised his eyebrows to look at Bing Nandong: "Tell me first, what is going on here?"
"There's nothing to say." Bing Nandong grabbed Fan Zhiyi and walked outside, "Go out first."
Zhuang Yujing grabbed Fan Zhiyi's other hand first: "We came in for something important."
The two sides stared at each other, and a nameless smoke of gunpowder rose up. Fan Zhiyi was caught in the middle. Suddenly, he turned his hand and grabbed the two sides: "Let's go, let's go."
He tried to pull, but found that he couldn't move Zhuang Yujing at all. Turning around, Zhuang Yujing had a look of disgust on his face. Fan Zhiyi could understand what he meant: You dare to pull me, your young master? You're finished.
Fan Zhiyi tried to pull Bing Nandong, but saw Bing Nandong staring at him. Then, he didn't know what he thought of, but took a step towards him out of courtesy and didn't move.
Fan Zhiyi let go of his hand. Why should a man without spiritual power or physical strength like him humiliate himself?
Bing Nandong felt a bit of a headache. He knew that if he didn't explain clearly, Zhuang Yujing would definitely continue to pester him. It would be of no benefit for him to get involved in such matters.
"This competition is held by the Immortal Cultivation World to select the best of the new generation of disciples. Therefore, those who can participate in the competition have their own strengths, so you can start to reflect on why you were not invited."
Bing Nandong's tone was definitely an understatement, but it was always so devastating to Zhuang Yujing, causing him to blush pale and blue. "You, you're talking nonsense!"
"Why would I talk nonsense? You saw the competition just now, didn't you have any judgment in your heart? Young Master, go back and practice well. Leave quickly before others recognize you." Bing Nandong's eyes fell on Fan Zhiyi, "Don't fool around with him."
"Why did I act so foolishly? If it's really like what you said, why did you hold it secretly? Wouldn't it be better to just do it openly? I'm not someone who can't afford to play around."
"In order to maintain the confidence of everyone in the world of immortal cultivation, and to prevent them from being hit too hard and developing inner demons."
Zhuang Yujing: “…”
Bing Nandong said, "Let's go."
Fan Zhiyi glanced at the stage and saw a new person starting the competition, but something was wrong this time. The winner had been decided, and one party was clearly powerless to resist, but the other party was still trying to kill them.
Bing Nandong and the others had not noticed the changes on the stage yet, and the two were still bickering.
Zhuang Yujing was dissatisfied: "Then why can you go?"
Bing Nandong stopped talking and gave Zhuang Yujing a look asking him to figure it out for himself.
"I give up, I give up!" The man who fell on the stage roared, and crawled backwards using his hands and feet, but was then lifted up and pierced through the heart.
He stared blankly down at the fist that had pierced his chest, blood continuously spitting out of his mouth, his eyes filled with disbelief.
He stared blankly at his own sect, the fear in his eyes was infinitely magnified, and then he stretched out his hand towards the sect, he was eager to get help.
Fan Zhiyi knew clearly what it was, it was the desire for life.
But the winner didn't give him such an opportunity at all. He pulled his hand away without hesitation and threw the still-living man aside.
Blood dyed Qin Qianchi's entire arm red, dripping from his fingertips, but his eyes were full of teasing and excitement: "Next!"
The person who fell to the ground as lightly as catkins let out a heavy muffled sound and opened his eyes wide.
Fan Zhiyi followed his gaze and saw that his sect and even all the audience below had no reaction, as if what had died was just a blade of grass, a piece of mud, an insignificant thing.
They seemed to have gotten used to it, as if they were born without emotions.
This was the first time someone died in front of Fan Zhiyi.
Just seeing Xue Xiuniang's tragic deathbed in his illusion was enough to frighten Fan Zhiyi to death. But now, Fan Zhiyi felt a chill running through his entire body from behind.
So he looked at Bing Nandong anxiously. He was afraid of seeing such a cold expression on Bing Nandong's face, which would make Fan Zhiyi begin to doubt whether he was the only one with problems in this world.
The young man's brows were furrowed, his eyes full of disbelief. He stood there in a daze, then looked at Fan Zhiyi, and reached around from behind to cover Fan Zhiyi's eyes tightly.
Bing Nandong's voice was a little hoarse: "Don't be afraid, I'll go and take a look."
Fan Zhiyi realized that he seemed to be trembling. It was ridiculous. He was so much older than Bing Nandong, but he still needed a young man to comfort him. He felt like he had lived in vain.
However, Fan Zhiyi was just shocked. He soon recovered and calmed himself down. He patted Bing Nandong's hand and said, "I'm fine."
In a world like the Immortal Cultivation World, where the strong are respected, there will only be more fighting and death. If Fan Zhiyi wants to survive, he must adapt.
In the silence, Fan Zhiyi saw a disciple come up to the stage to check the breath of the fallen man, and then announced like a machine: "Dead, next one, Lin Taiyin."
"Bing Nandong, what on earth is going on? How could a competition result in the death of a disciple?" Zhuang Yujing's chest was heaving abnormally, obviously he was suppressing his anger and being aggressive.
Bing Nandong opened his mouth, but finally pursed his lips and looked towards the stage.
The man who entered the arena was a purple-clad, frivolous-looking man. At a glance, Fan Zhiyi recognized him immediately; not only had he seen him at Zui Xiang Lou yesterday, but he had also been the man Zhuang Yujing had followed into the arena this morning.
Is all this just a coincidence?
Zhuang Yujing watched the fight begin. The man in purple barely dodged a blow and staggered to his feet. The wind from the fist swept across his face, causing it to immediately become red and swollen. He muttered, "No, no!" Zhuang Yujing was about to rush forward, "He'll be beaten to death too!"
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