Observing Zhao Kang on the ground like a dead pig, the surrounding onlookers were left speechless. He had threatened to defeat in pain, but the result was the complete opposite. Tian Mo instead defeated Zhao Kang in pain from those punches!
How was this a fight between a Origin Awakening First Stager and a Third Stager? This seemed to be the complete opposite!
"Senior Qan, what is your opinion regarding this fight?" In the midst of the duel, an elderly man appeared amongst the onlookers. In his younger days, this elder had once attained the Sixth Stage of Origin Awakening, Late Pulse Condensation Stage. He was only one-step away from reaching the Ten Stage Tempering Marrowe; however, he had ultimately failed to break through. A Bone Forging Stage. Now that this Senior Qan age had exceeded seventy, he no longer has any fighting strength. But, his perceptive eyes remained.
The elderly man pondered for a moment before replying. "That child is gifted in combat." His voice was low, thoughtful.
Combat are one of the main things, that cultivator always encountered and have to do, that why in the world cultivators would need incredible will and spirit to survive to top there beside martial art techniques beside spending solitude behind closed door cultivation. This was the hardships that came along with seeking greater things in life. There is still different paths in cultivation soul cultivation is less of combat.
"So that all…" The surrounding observers nodded their heads.Some sighing with relief while others still looked on in disbelief. This explanation was very reasonable.
Tian Mo stumbled over to Zhao Kang, in a miserable state. His clothes had turned into strips of fabrics, blood spilled from his mouth and his face was covered with dirt. Zhao Kang wanted nothing more now than to kill Tian Mo. The anger inside him bubbled, but it was overshadowed by a deep, stinging sense of humiliation. He had completely lost his face in today's incident. He would likely become the laughing stock amongst his peers and family.
As a child of the Kang family, Zhao Kang was expected to climb the ranks quickly. His downfall today would cost him more than just silver; his standing within the sect might now be in jeopardy.
Tian Mo standing tall, his chest heaving stretched out his hands and spoke up. "Zhao, a deal is a deal. You agreed to the terms before we fought. Now, hand over the silver and herbs...also are the one who said it earlier, six hundred silver oris, cough it out."
Shit!
Hearing those words, Zhao Kang nearly spat out another mouthful of blood.
Oh, what a son of a fool I am! Did I really have nothing better to do? Why did I have to turn three hundred to one six hundred?
Zhao Kang threw out a satchel."Take the herbs if you want them so badly. The silver stays with me. What do you need it for, anyway? You're too soft to survive long enough to spend it."
'Softness isn't weakness, Zhao. Strength isn't just about winning fights; it's about integrity. If you think breaking your word makes you stronger, you've already lost more than just this match."
Zhao Kang laughed bitterly. "Spare me your righteous nonsense. This is the demonic path, Tian. Ideals like yours will get crushed under the weight of reality."
Tian Mo stepping closer, his voice firm but not threatening. "Reality doesn't scare me, Zhao Kang. I walk my own path, and I won't let greed or arrogance stray me from it. If you won't pay up, then don't expect anyone to trust you in the future not even our fellow disciples."
Zhao Kang hesitating for a moment, then growling in frustration as he throws the pouch of silver at Tian Mo's feet. "Fine! Take it. But don't think this makes you better than me. Next time, you won't be so lucky."
Today's incident was certainly the most miserable and unforgettable one in his entire life. With so many people bearing witness, Zhao Kang was unable to go back on his words.
Additionally, since it was the terms of a duel, he could not even think about exacting vengeance or risk being ridiculed by all. Unless, unless it was done in utmost secrecy.
Tian Mo bent to pick up the pouch, fingers brushing the cool leather, his face a mask of quiet satisfaction. Meeting Zhao Kang's glare with a calm expression. "Luck has nothing to do with it, Zhao Kang. Maybe one day, you'll realize that."
"Innocent fool... We'll see how long that purity lasts." Zhao Kang mutterd under his breath.
Outside devil combat grounds, the sun dips low, casting long shadows across the sect's grim landscape. Tian Mo meet back with Feng Hao.
A group of disciples were all shocked senseless by Tian Mo's performance. Even if all of them were to gang up on him, there was no guarantee that they could win! Is he really just a Origin Awakening First Stage?
Feng Hao grinning and clapping him on his back. "I still can't believe it! You actually beat Zhao Kang. The guy's been strutting around like a rooster in a henhouse for months. How did you do it?"
Tian Mo shrugged his shoulder. "Technique, I guess. And maybe a bit of strategy. I studied his movements. He's strong, but predictable."
Feng Hao laughed "Predictable? Zhao's like a battering ram. Who cares about technique when the other guy's trying to turn you into paste? You must've had nerves of steel out there."
Zhao Kang relied too heavily on his brute strength, assuming it would be enough to overwhelm Tian Mo. When he feigned a stumble, Zhao Kang charged in like a wild bull, leaving himself completely exposed. Tian Mo had to exploited this by delivering a precise strike to Zhao Kang's solar plexus, driving the air from his lungs and halting his advance.
As Tian Mo trudged forward, clutching the pouch of silver tightly, he found his mind wandering. His triumph over Zhao Kang should have filled him with satisfaction, but instead, a strange unease gnawed at him.
Why would a reward make me feel this way?
Herbs were the lifeblood of every cultivator; some could restore spiritual energy, while others could fortify the body and mind. Zhao Kang's was reluctance to give up as knew the value of the herbs Tian Mo demanded, but he also understood that silver was a much more flexible resource.
"I won because I stayed calm. Rage clouds judgment, and Zhao Kang seemed to have a temper and it's greatest weakness. Besides, I had to win. The silver and herbs... they mean more than just a victory."
Tian Mo found that it was the perfect opportunity to help boost his cultivation despite a practice technique, while he still isn't sure about the book yet he needed something to fall back on.
While walking Tian Mo didn't realize where he was heading wasn't back to the his courtyard, it's only when he felt dread upon he each step he took.
Looking around that when he saw where it came from there was a vast pool, circular basin carved from black stone, adorned with ancient demonic runes that pulsate with a crimson glow. The liquid within the pool is a thick, viscous crimson substance that radiates a faint dark mist, giving the air an oppressive, metallic scent.The pool is surrounded by demonic totems and statues of ancient demon ancestors, their eyes glowing as if watching the disciples who dare to enter.
A faint, acrid stench of iron clawed at his senses, turning his stomach.
Tian Mo froze, his body rigid, eyes wide, breath caught in his throat. His heart pounded, not from exertion, but from an inexplicable sense of dread.
"What is that?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Feng Hao, who had followed close behind, stepped up beside him, his face grim. "That's the Blood Pool," he said matter-of-factly, though his tone carried a hint of unease. "A reservoir of power for the sect. It's filled with the concentrated essence of demonic beasts, sacrifices... and humans."
Tian Mo's eyes widened. He felt his stomach churn as the realization sank in. "Humans? How many people died to fill that pool?".
Feng Hao shrugged, his expression guarded. "Who can say? Hundreds, maybe thousands. But it's necessary. The path we've chosen demands sacrifices. The pool strengthens those who dare to use it, refines their bodies, and pushes their cultivation forward. It's the sect's greatest treasure and its darkest secret."
"This…" Tian Mo murmured, shivering despite himself. "This is vile. It's not strength; it's slaughter. Is this really the cost of power?"
"Tell that to them." Feng Hao pointed to the discple in and around the pool. "Every time I walk past this cursed place, I wonder how many dreams and ideals got swallowed up in there."
Tian Mo staring at the pool, his voice quiet and thoughtful. "The sect teaches us that this is the price of the demonic path. Bodies for power, souls for strength. But I wonder... at what point does the cost outweigh the reward?"
The Demonic Path, wasn't the path of brute strength; it was a path that twisted one's mind and soul. Those who walked it had to forsake purity for power, often paying an unseen price in the form of madness or spiritual decay. Yet, such dark cultivation was powerful, so many sought it despite the risks.
Feng Hao placed his hand on Tian Mo shoulder scoffing, though uneasily. "You sound like you're questioning the sect, Tian. Careful with talk like that. The elders don't take kindly to doubt."
Tian Mo nodded still, his gaze still fixed on the pool. "I'm not questioning the sect, Senior Brother. Just... trying to find my place in it. If power is all we strive for, then what separates us from beasts? There has to be more."
"You always think too much. Maybe that's why you beat Zhao Kang. He's all brute force; you've got that pesky brain of yours to fall back on." Feng Hao grin teasingly But seriously, what's next? You've got your rewards. What are you going to do with them?"
"I'm going to practice so I don't know when I will meet ou again."
"That OK we all spend a very long time cultivating."
Tian Mo nodded the Feng Hao spoke. "All right, I'll leave you to your brooding. Just don't stare into that pool too long. They say the souls trapped in there whisper secrets to those who listen too hard."
Tian Mo watched as Feng Hao walked away. 'Secrets, or warnings?' He thought.
Tian Mo thought linger for a moment, of triumph and unease. The Blood Pool bubbles ominously, its dark surface reflecting the ever-present cost of the path he has chosen. With a sigh, he turns and walks away. How far am I willing to go?