Volume 1, Chapter 62 – “She’s Just a Vase, Unworthy of Being My Opponent”

As time passed, the drawing of lots for over a hundred participants concluded swiftly. Everyone was eager to know who their opponent would be, but under the Immortal Alliance’s authority, no one dared to disrupt the proceedings.

“Alright, I will now announce the rules for this Evergreen Conference,” Steward Cai declared. “Number one will face number two, number three against four, five against six, and so on. All matches will follow a single-elimination format—one round determines victory or defeat. Winners advance, losers depart. If by chance a participant receives a bye, they will proceed directly to the next round. This continues until the strongest few immortal seedlings are selected to represent our province in the national-level Evergreen Conference.”

After laying out the rules, he added a stern reminder: “The Evergreen Conference recognizes numbers, not individuals. Protect your slip well.”

“If there are no further questions, return and prepare. The Conference officially begins in three days, right here.”

With that, the drawing ceremony concluded.

The moment the announcement ended, the Honghua Sect group was immediately swarmed. After all, they were seen as easy prey—everyone wanted to confirm whether they’d been lucky enough to draw one of them.

Ruan Lingyu moved swiftly to cover her slip, but she was a step too late—someone had already glimpsed it.

“She’s number twenty-seven! I saw it! Who’s her opponent?”

“What kind of idiot question is that? Twenty-seven’s opponent is obviously twenty-eight!”

“Who has twenty-eight? Did anyone draw twenty-eight? Come claim your gift package ¹ AKA easy opponent/win !”

“Dammit, why wasn’t it me? This girl’s clearly just a vase ² Derogatory term for a beautiful but useless woman .”

The crowd buzzed with envy and resentment.

“I—I have twenty-eight! What gift package? Where’s my gift?”

A young man stumbled through the crowd, flustered.

“You drew a Honghua Sect female disciple—and such a pretty one at that. Isn’t that a gift?” someone remarked enviously.

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“Hah! Really? Heaven blesses us! Our Feisha Sect is saved!”

The man burst into hysterical laughter, tears streaming down his face.

“This—this is outrageous!”

Ruan Lingyu trembled with rage, her teeth grinding audibly.

Cheng Hongling couldn’t stand it any longer. She stepped forward and gently took Ruan Lingyu’s hand, while the other female disciples offered words of comfort.

One by one, the remaining three Honghua Sect participants were “claimed” as gift packages by their opponents. Only Cheng Hongling’s adversary remained unaccounted for.

This, oddly enough, made the Honghua Sect group anxious. Cheng Hongling’s match was the most crucial—only if she obtained the Pink Bamboo Water would the sect have a future. Otherwise, if the Golden Fate Blossom’s original owner came knocking, the consequences would be dire.

Unable to wait any longer, Qin Quan led the Honghua Sect disciples in inquiring about who held number fifty-two.

“Who’s looking for fifty-two?”

A thunderous voice boomed, amplified by qi, drowning out all other noise in the square.

“It’s Lü Zhen, the Huxiao Sect’s top immortal seedling!”

“Whoever drew him is doomed. A first-round exit for sure.”

“I heard it’s one of the Honghua Sect’s female disciples—the prettiest one!”

“Isn’t this like an egg smashing against a rock? Lü Zhen isn’t the type to spare anyone, man or woman. He fights brutally, leaving opponents half-dead every time.”

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“I’ve heard he treats every match like a life-or-death battle to temper his skills. A complete battle maniac. What a pity for that little beauty.”

Whispers rippled through the crowd, faces filled with awe and dread.

‘What? The Huxiao Sect’s top immortal seedling?’

Even as an observer, Qi Huang broke into a cold sweat for Cheng Hongling. The Huxiao Sect was Yongning Province’s most powerful immortal faction, recruiting only the most exceptional talents. For someone to be their top seedling—his innate prowess was unimaginable.

The Honghua Sect disciples were stunned. Cheng Hongling’s luck couldn’t possibly be worse. Is the heavens truly determined to destroy us?

“It’s us. We’re looking for fifty-two.”

As sect leader, Qin Quan had no choice but to speak up.

“You? Which sect are you from? Why are you looking for me?”

Lü Zhen pushed through the crowd. He appeared to be in his late twenties, not particularly tall but with a stocky, muscular build that exuded a compact ferocity.

“We’re from the Honghua Sect. This female disciple is your opponent.”

Qin Quan replied politely. Though Lü Zhen was merely a disciple, the power behind him demanded deference.

“Honghua Sect? And a female disciple?”

Lü Zhen glanced at Cheng Hongling, paused briefly, then his expression darkened.

The Honghua Sect members tensed—except Cheng Hongling.

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“Who wants this slip?”

Without warning, Lü Zhen raised his number fifty-three slip high.

Silence fell. Though the offer was tempting, no one dared speak—no one could decipher Lü Zhen’s intentions.

“I came to the Evergreen Conference to temper my skills through battle. But her…”

He cast another glance at Cheng Hongling, sneering.

“She’s just a vase. Unworthy of being my opponent. So, whoever wants this slip can have it.”

“Me! I want it!”

Now understanding, the crowd surged forward eagerly. Facing Cheng Hongling wasn’t just a stroke of romantic fortune—it was practically a free pass to the next round. Who wouldn’t want that?

The Honghua Sect disciples were dumbfounded. Others saw them as easy prey, which was insulting enough—but this man couldn’t even be bothered to crush them. The humiliation was immeasurable.

“Grandpa Lü! Ancestor Lü! Please, I beg you, give it to me! Our Xiangyun Sect has run out of ‘Cat’s Tears’. My martial brothers exorcise ghosts and demons purely by luck now. If we don’t secure a provincial-level seedling quota this time, our sect will be wiped out!”

A short, pudgy young cultivator dropped to his knees, kowtowing desperately. Clearly, he was after the Cat’s Tears resource.

“Since you’re so sincere… take it.”

Lü Zhen tossed the slip at him like alms to a beggar.

“Thank you, Ancestor! Thank you, Grandfather!”

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The pudgy cultivator kowtowed several more times, then carefully picked up the number fifty-two slip after handing over his own.

“I was about to kowtow, but he beat me to it! Damn my luck!”

“I wonder who his original opponent was. Now that poor soul is truly cursed!”

“Why isn’t anyone stopping this? Isn’t openly trading slips against the rules?”

“Are you stupid? Didn’t you hear Steward Cai earlier? ‘Recognize the slip, not the person’. That implies this kind of exchange is tacitly allowed.”

“Exactly. The Immortal Alliance only cares about selecting the strongest seedlings. How it happens doesn’t matter.”

“Really? Then I’ll just snatch it! I must have that little beauty ‘reward’ me with a few kicks!”

The crowd’s murmurs grew increasingly brazen, some even harboring malicious intent—all for the sake of being “rewarded” by Cheng Hongling.

‘These fools have no idea they’re courting death.’

Qi Huang nearly laughed. What should’ve been a cursed draw had somehow become a coveted prize.

After a dismissive glance at his new slip, Lü Zhen smirked and walked away.

The Honghua Sect disciples exchanged bewildered looks. Though they’d been thoroughly insulted, this outcome was secretly what they’d hoped for—avoiding their strongest competitor.

Cheng Hongling, being a young girl, didn’t confront Lü Zhen publicly. To onlookers, this only reinforced her image as a meek, helpless lamb.