"So that's why I'm telling you, don't use the Bloodline Awakening Array in the future—you never know what kind of weird bloodline might awaken."
After speaking, Black Tiger cast a helpless glance at his brother.
Ever since his brother turned into a black cat, he had become increasingly lazy, spending his days either sleeping or eating.
Yuan Liang snapped back to attention and nodded.
"Oh, by the way, there's an inner disciple competition in five days."
"This competition happens once every five years, and you can participate," Black Tiger said, recalling Elder Huo's instructions.
"But for you, it's more about the experience," Black Tiger cautioned Yuan Liang.
"Why?" Yuan Liang asked, puzzled.
"Because some inner disciples who joined earlier will also participate."
"Got it," Yuan Liang replied.
Black Tiger took an old, worn-out book from his pocket.
The cover design was barely visible.
Yuan Liang's face lit up instantly. "Is this an advanced Beast Taming technique?"
It really paid to be an inner disciple!
Black Tiger shook his head. "Don't get ahead of yourself. Start by memorizing the Illustrated Guide to Spirit Beasts."
"For us in the Beast Taming Faction, the most important thing is building a deep bond with spirit beasts."
After handing the book to Yuan Liang, Black Tiger suddenly remembered something, stood up abruptly, and his expression turned serious.
Yuan Liang immediately felt the tension.
"Elder Black Tiger, what's wrong?"
After a moment's silence, Elder Black Tiger spoke, "I forgot to do the house chores, and my wife will be back soon."
With that, he turned into a gust of black wind and quickly left, leaving a dumbfounded Yuan Liang behind.
Yuan Liang, snapping out of his confusion, reluctantly opened the book in front of him.
It was filled with descriptions of spirit beasts' appearances and habits.
Yawning from boredom, Yuan Liang soon flipped to the last page, suddenly perking up.
Someone had slipped ten hundred money bills between the last pages.
Yuan Liang nonchalantly pocketed the money.
...
Meanwhile, the gust of black wind stopped on a road, and Black Tiger let out a miserable cry.
"Oh no! I forgot to take the money!"
He slapped his thigh heavily, feeling his heart shatter.
Those bills were his hard-earned private stash.
But it was too late to go back now; he had to return home and do the chores, frowning all the way.
...
Five days passed quickly, and during this time, Yuan Liang learned a new move.
He practiced coordinating with his horned caterpillar.
Early in the morning, he arrived at the competition venue.
In the center stood a large stage where the matches had already begun.
Seeing the other three people there, he went up to greet them.
"Hey, why are you wearing a hat?" Yuan Liang asked, curious as he looked at Nie Zhengyu, who was sporting a black hat.
Xiang Dun and Guan Yushu also looked at him in curiosity.
But Nie Zhengyu didn't speak.
In the stands, all the top leaders of the Great Love Sect had gathered, watching the disciples compete on stage.
Eight of them couldn't help but glance at Elder Bai's head.
Because Elder Bai was also wearing a hat today.
"What's going on with you? Why the hat?" the Sect Master finally asked, unable to contain his curiosity.
"Ah, just don't ask. Watch the match; when you see Nie Zhengyu, you'll understand."
Elder Bai sighed with a gloomy expression, regretting ever accepting Nie Zhengyu as a disciple.
Nie Zhengyu was exceptionally talented—a rare genius—but he was also a bit peculiar.
No one else spoke, and the Sect Master quickly altered the match lineup.
The next match was Nie Zhengyu versus Yuan Liang.
...
"Nie Zhengyu and Yuan Liang, come to the stage!" a disciple on the stage shouted.
The disciples below started murmuring. "Who are they? I don't recognize them."
"Probably the new guys."
"Why are they up to fight so early? Strange."
"Who knows? Let's watch; we're not the ones competing, anyway."
Both Nie Zhengyu and Yuan Liang were a bit surprised.
Yuan Liang was visibly excited. "I just learned a new move a few days ago—get ready to lose."
He rubbed his hands and eagerly stepped onto the stage, not noticing Nie Zhengyu's evil smirk behind him.
Xiang Dun and Guan Yushu saw the smile and shivered a little, feeling nervous.
Nie Zhengyu quickly followed him onto the stage.
"For this match, remember, friendship comes first, competition second."
"If you can't handle it, give up, alright?" a tall Senior Brother cautioned them repeatedly.
Both nodded.
"Alright, begin!" With the command, the match started.
Yuan Liang immediately instructed his horned caterpillar to use its silk-spitting technique.
The caterpillar, perched on Yuan Liang's shoulder, quickly shot out eight strands of silk.
The silk was jet black and exceptionally sharp, hard to break.
Yuan Liang held the eight threads between his fingers.
"Wow, who knew he could use silk like this? Impressive," Xiang Dun commented as he began narrating.
"Yeah, smart move, but I wonder how Nie Zhengyu will respond," Guan Yushu added, also providing commentary.
Nie Zhengyu, however, remained unfazed on the stage.
Standing straight with his arms relaxed, he focused forward, left foot stepping slightly out, hands drawing arcs upward.
"Ha!"
Nie Zhengyu's stance and voice were as powerful as a furious arhat, his roar resounding.
"Senior Brother Bai, Nie Zhengyu already knows the Arhat Fist?" Elder Huo asked, surprised.
Elder Bai had spent some time at the Buddha's light Temple in his youth.
But had eaten so much that the monks had eventually begged him to leave, fearing they would run out of food.
Elder Bai stroked his beard without a word, but the corners of his mouth curled up.
Below the stage, everyone gaped in astonishment, surprised to see the Arhat Fist.
"Looks like we're in for a show. Who would've thought this new disciple knew the Arhat Fist?" several disciples murmured.
Yuan Liang, now looking serious, listened to the comments from below, picking up on what the Arhat Fist was.
Unexpectedly, he was facing such a tough opponent right off the bat.
Yuan Liang maneuvered the silk threads like puppet strings, sending them quickly towards Nie Zhengyu.
Each punch Nie Zhengyu threw caused a blast of air, faint Buddhist chants echoing, as if a monk were chanting in the void.
The Sect Master and other elders looked on in surprise—they knew how challenging the Arhat Fist was to master.
Nie Zhengyu advanced toward Yuan Liang, a sly grin finally showing on his face.
Seeing him close in, Yuan Liang abandoned the threads and decided to engage in a real, man-to-man fight.
The two clashed, their fists and kicks like thunder, shaking the leaves on the old trees surrounding the stage.
The audience was abuzz, everyone discussing the duel.
Nie Zhengyu landed several hits on Yuan Liang.
Yuan Liang's entire body ached, feeling like his bones were being dismantled.
"Hmm? What is this?"
Yuan Liang's vision suddenly darkened, not from fainting, but as if something black covered his eyes.
The crowd fell silent, the noise vanishing.
Yuan Liang felt a chill on his head. He touched his scalp.
Whose head was this?
"My hair!" Yuan Liang finally realized.
Quickly pulling out a small mirror, he examined his head.
It was completely bald, so smooth that even a bird would slip on it.
Where did his carefully groomed hair go?
Suddenly, a gust of wind blew, lifting Nie Zhengyu's and Elder Bai's hats.
Revealing bald heads that could reflect light.
Everyone sucked in a breath of cold air and looked at the three bald heads in the stage.