Chapter 77: Tormenting You Like a Dog

In the midst of the clamor, Ye Jiuyao slowly woke, her face clouded with confusion. She rubbed her sleepy eyes before recalling the matter at hand.

“The competition... is it over?”

She turned to the people beside her to ask, only to be met with a barrage of eye rolls. Left without a choice, she squeezed into the crowd herself.

At this moment, all eyes were fixed on four people, but more precisely on Ye Chaotian and Ye Tianchao.

“I’m just the host. Since you two from the Armory have both an attacker and a defender, why not compete against each other? As for the pills, let each side pick one person to take them. What do you say?”

“As you wish, Master Hua,” Ye Chaofeng replied with a beaming smile to Hua Mingfeng, the confidence in his eyes suggesting victory was already his.

“Very well, then let’s test my artifact. Otherwise, someone might think my Divine Artifact Pavilion is all reputation and no substance.”

Ye Chaotian, nose in the air, exuded an overbearing arrogance and utter contempt, as if victory was already in his grasp.

“Fine, let’s see what you’re capable of. Or are you just using the Divine Artifact Pavilion’s name to deceive others?”

As the tension mounted, a chilling, solemn atmosphere descended over the crowd.

“This item is called Barel. The moment it explodes, it’s as loud as thunder, hence the name!” Tong Zhatian declared, his aura soaring with pride. Yet few paid attention, as almost nobody had faith in the artifact he had forged.

“Mine is just an ordinary artifact, merely a shield.”

“Good!”

“What a humble man—truly worthy of the Divine Artifact Pavilion!”

“Exactly...”

…

No sooner had Ye Chaotian spoken than others chimed in, showering him with praise, forming a stark contrast to the reception Tong Zhatian received. The air grew colder, harsher.

“Enough talk. Let’s begin,” Tong Zhatian said, showing no anger, only casting a chilling glance at Ye Jiuyao, who had just squeezed to the front.

“Very well.”

The onlookers immediately stepped back, leaving ample space for the test. The two men faced each other, each holding their crafted artifact.

“Barel!”

Tong Zhatian could no longer suppress his fighting spirit; it surged behind him, the wind rising in answer.

“Boom!”

A thunderous explosion ripped through the air. From Barel shot a beam of white light, like a rainbow piercing the sky, striking directly at Ye Chaotian’s shield.

A wet, sickening sound followed.

Ye Chaotian felt a stab of pain in his chest. Looking down, he was met with the shocking sight of a fist-sized hole punched clean through.

In that instant, his face fell, draining of all color as he collapsed lifelessly to the ground.

No one had even registered what had happened before Ye Chaotian lay dead, felled by Tong Zhatian’s Barel in a single, fatal blow.

But it didn’t end there.

Behind Ye Chaotian, those standing in a row were suddenly sporting wounds of varying severity on their left arms, blood streaming down.

Yet, in their shock, none noticed their injuries until Hua Mingfeng announced the victor, jolting the crowd back to awareness.

“Ba... Barel wins!”

Hua Mingfeng’s voice crashed through the silence like a thunderclap, snapping everyone back to reality; their faces were painted with disbelief and horror.

“What terrifying power!”

“So much stronger than an ordinary artifact...”

“Ow, it hurts!”

“I... I was hit...”

Some marveled at Barel’s terrifying might, while others grimaced in pain, pale-faced. No one looked worse than Ye Chaofeng and his companions.

His face was so dark it seemed it might drip water; his own man had just died—without even a chance to resist. His earlier bravado now seemed a cruel joke, leaving him utterly humiliated.

“Hmph, all bluster under the Divine Artifact Pavilion’s banner, and not even a tenth of my artifact’s power on display. Truly disappointing...” Tong Zhatian said, feigning world-weariness, his face marked by the trials of life. Ye Jiuyao could only shake her head and sigh.

Unable to bear Tong Zhatian’s posturing any longer, Xuan Tianzha turned to Ye Tianchao, eyes brimming with challenge.

“That was your elder brother, wasn’t it? He’s dead—how do you want to die?”

Arrogant—supremely, outrageously arrogant!

Even Ye Jiuyao almost couldn’t bear to watch. She wanted to kick him, but remembering he was bringing glory to their sect, she let it go.

“Xuan Tianzha, just enrage him to death and be done with it—cut the chatter, I’m in a hurry to get back to sleep,” Ye Jiuyao snapped at him, drawing scornful looks from the crowd—many had seen her asleep on the ground earlier, utterly unconcerned with decorum.

“Fine, fine! Let’s see how you’ll kill me with rage!”

“Let’s compete!” Ye Tianchao roared, and a man from behind Ye Chaofeng stepped forward, took his pill, and swallowed it at once.

On Xuan Tianzha’s side, some hesitated, but suddenly a figure leaped out—it was the bartender from the Xuantian Tavern, who quickly swallowed the pill. Instantly, both men entered a state of cultivation.

In this moment, no one dared utter a word.

After all, the prior demonstration had left them visibly shaken; none dared make light remarks again.

Each onlooker’s face was filled with anticipation, especially those who had signed up for the alchemy contest. They hoped Xuan Tianzha would prove as impressive as Tong Zhatian.

They had already witnessed the armorer’s triumph; now, they longed for a worthy leader—no one revered the weak here. Only the strong were worthy of admiration and respect.

Suddenly, the wind stirred.

Centered on the two competitors, a tempest of vital energy swept outward. Waves of power surged like a tide. At first, their progress was neck and neck, and the crowd began to doubt their own eyes.

Abruptly, radiant light burst from the bartender’s body, forcing those of lower cultivation to shield themselves. The light spun into a vortex, like a great whale in the sea, sucking everything in and creating a torrent.

But that wasn’t all.

“Watch closely!” Xuan Tianzha’s voice rang out like thunder, snapping the crowd’s attention to the bartender.

At that moment, all eyes were on him.

Behind the bartender, a small figure formed from vital energy appeared, drawing gasps from the spectators.

Ye Tianchao knew he had lost, and utterly so, but still he watched on, wanting to see just how far this man’s alchemical skills had reached.

“Devour him!”

The figure’s face twisted into a fierce grimace, transforming into a vengeful specter as it lunged at its target, plunging straight into his body.

Suddenly, screams of agony erupted, as if he truly were being claimed by a ghost.

“No, no, impossible...”

Staggering backward, Ye Tianchao mumbled incoherently, his face a mask of terror beyond words.

He had been utterly, irrevocably defeated.

“Aaah!”

With a final, terrified cry, his pupils dilated, horror frozen on his face as he collapsed, dead.

“Crushing you is like crushing a dog! So what if you’re from the Falling Leaf Sect? You’re nothing but a clown!”