Batian Martial Soul

Qingluan slowly turned her head to look at Lin Muying. The laziness in her eyes disappeared, replaced by an unusual seriousness, and even a trace of fear that Lin Muying had never seen before: "Do you think those people threw Ling Xiao into this Death Arena for fun?"

Qingluan's voice was extremely low, almost a whisper:

"This is a whetstone, and also the cruelest selection. His enemies are not in this perilous place, but higher up, in dimensions you can't even imagine, watching with predatory eyes. If you dare to get involved, you won't even be qualified to be pawns; you'll be instantly reduced to dust."

Lin Muying's expression changed drastically, from initial greed to shock, and finally to dejection.

She exhaled a long breath, the tension in her back gradually relaxing as if a heavy burden had been lifted, and her eyes regained their clarity: "I understand. Greed is harmful... Thank you for reminding me, Qingluan. From this day forward, Jueling City will never be an enemy of Lingxiao, nor will it ever plot against him."

Qingluan nodded, picked up her wine cup again, her fingertips tracing the rim of the cup, but a hint of worry flashed across her eyes.

She gazed in the direction of the Soul-Slaying Arena, silently reciting in her heart:

Little one, grow up quickly. Those hidden forces behind the scenes don't have much time left for you. The Moon Maiden is very strong, so strong it's despair-inducing, but you are her greatest weakness. If you can't quickly develop the ability to protect yourself independently, you will eventually become a chain binding her, and that would be the most dangerous situation.

Outside the tavern, the wind howled, and the rain pattered against the eaves. The cold raindrops pounded on the bluestone pavement, splashing up a fine mist that blurred the streets and alleys.

Lin Muying and Qingluan sat facing each other for a long time, neither of them showing any intention of getting up.

Qingluan swirled the remaining wine in her cup, then suddenly broke the silence: "How's that kid doing in the deathmatch arena lately?"

"He's been fighting like a madman." Lin Muying frowned slightly, her tone filled with disbelief. "His strength has increased frighteningly. In just a few days, he has defeated nearly 80% of the top fighters in the Jueling Death Arena. Now, no one dares to provoke him easily."

"She's quite a prospect." Qingluan chuckled, a hint of approval flashing in her eyes. "She has a resilient spirit and a tenacious drive to never give up and climb higher. She hasn't wasted the trials of this desperate situation."

"When do you plan to take him away?" Lin Muying raised her eyes, her gaze carrying a hint of probing.

"What, scared?" Qingluan raised an eyebrow.

"Yes." Lin Muying admitted frankly, her tone solemn, "Recently, many unfamiliar faces have come to Jueling City. They all conceal their aura very well, and each of them is here with ill intentions. I'm afraid they are all here for Ling Xiao."

Qingluan gazed into the depths of the rain, her eyes growing deep: "Give him some more time. This whetstone isn't sharp enough yet."

Lin Muying stood up, walked to the door, stopped, turned back and whispered, "Qingluan, some forces have already started investigating your background."

"It's alright." Qingluan waved her hand, her tone casual as if she were talking about a trivial matter.

Lin Muying said no more, turned around and stepped into the misty rain, her figure quickly disappearing at the end of the street.

She had barely left when a gaunt, gray figure flashed into the tavern like a ghost and sat down directly in the empty seat opposite Qingluan. The old man in gray had a sinister expression; his lips moved slightly, but no sound came out…

"boom!"

The air suddenly froze, and an invisible, enormous force erupted like Mount Tai pressing down!
Before the old man in gray could even react, he was sent flying backward like a kite with a broken string, crashing through three earthen walls, spewing wood chips and bricks, and finally landing in the mud hundreds of feet away, his mouth full of blood, his eyes filled with horror and disbelief.

Qingluan's voice drifted over, carrying a hint of impatience: "Did I tell you to sit down?"

The old man struggled to his feet, his chest heaving violently, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. He stared intently in the direction of the tavern and roared, "Sir! We are here only for Lingxiao, it has nothing to do with you! Please mind your own business!"

"Fools." Qingluan finished the last of her wine, her tone laced with undisguised sarcasm. "Use your brains! Have you found a solution to the Moon Maiden's methods? Have you figured out her background? Even if you're going to be the villain, you should at least use your brains, okay?"

The old man's face turned pale and then red, and he clenched his fists tightly: "Why must you be so ruthless..."

"roll."

Qingluan interrupted him, her single word carrying a chilling coldness, like an ice pick piercing the old man's mind.

A flash of resentment crossed the old man's eyes as he gritted his teeth and said, "You'll regret this! The power behind us is not something you can afford to mess with!" With that, he turned to leave.

The next instant, Qingluan's figure appeared in front of him like a ghost, her speed so fast that the old man didn't even see her movements before a cold hand gripped his throat, freezing his cultivation instantly and rendering him unable to move.

“Talk is cheap; you have to show some real skill.” Qingluan’s red lips parted slightly, and her five fingers suddenly tightened.

"puff……"

The old man's body disintegrated like a sand sculpture, turning into countless specks of light, which were washed away by the drizzling rain without leaving a trace.

Qingluan walked back to the eaves of the tavern, picked up the wine pot and poured herself another cup. A few drops of rainwater clung to her fingertips as she muttered to herself, "She has no strength but still tries to talk tough. She deserves to die."

……

The Deathmatch Arena, beneath a section of broken walls and ruins.

Ling Xiao leaned against the cold stone wall, his body covered in wounds:

The deep, bone-revealing knife wound was still bleeding, and a claw mark on his ribs was tearing open the flesh. His black outfit was soaked in blood and stuck to his body, staining the ground beneath him a dark brown.

His eyes were closed, his chest rose and fell slightly, and he held three dark purple source crystals tightly in his hands. The rich energy seeped into his meridians through his palms, washing over his damaged bones like a warm current, slowly repairing his terrible injuries.

Since his encounter with Zhang Hong that day, he had fallen into a near-manic cycle of battle: challenge, get injured, heal, review, and challenge again. Nearly 80% of his opponents in the Deathmatch Arena had experienced his ruthless, all-or-nothing fighting style.

Losing? He had never even considered it.

Even when he was pushed to the brink of death several times and had most of his bones broken, he always managed to turn the tide with sheer grit, without even having to use his true trump cards.

Every desperate situation, every time his opponent found a weakness and knocked him down, was like a heavy hammer, solidifying the superficial and weak parts of his understanding of martial arts.

His control over power became increasingly refined, and his demonic intent was no longer limited to moves, but also incorporated into his aura, rhythm, and even the deception in his eyes... Sometimes he would deliberately feign weakness to lure the enemy deeper, and sometimes he would pretend to be exhausted to lure the enemy into a strong attack. Every move he made was precise and ruthless, hitting the vital points directly.

Not far away, Zhang Ming was also meditating cross-legged, the arrow wound on his shoulder still throbbing. He had been infected by Ling Xiao's madness; although not as crazy as Ling Xiao, he had also begun high-intensity arena training, and his strength had increased accordingly.

In today's Deathmatch Arena, the name "Ling the Demon" is known to everyone.

Many people caught a glimpse of him from afar and immediately turned away, not even daring to entertain the thought of challenging him... No one wanted to fight a reckless madman to the death; even if they won, they'd be badly hurt, and if they lost, they'd be utterly humiliated. (End of Chapter)