A Name That Shakes the World – A Life-or-Death Gamble

Chapter 767: A Name That Shakes the World – A Life-or-Death Gamble

The three men walked slowly to the center of the great hall, stopping shoulder to shoulder.

The man in the middle, a burly figure in a black robe with a somewhat fierce face, spoke coldly:

“I assume none of you need an introduction. Even if someone here doesn’t recognize all three of us, you should by now. We are hosting this gathering. Anyone have an objection?”

His voice was icy. The moment he finished speaking, a vast aura erupted from his body, and a colossal spiritual pressure descended upon the entire hall. The cultivators seated below, sensing the unfathomable fluctuations of his spiritual power, changed expressions.

Han Li’s heart skipped a beat at the raw power of this man, but he was also puzzled.

From the man’s dense yin-cold demonic qi, he was clearly the Harmonious Union Old Demon of the demonic path. Yet his appearance was far different from what Han Li had imagined. For the Grand Elder of the Blissful Union Sect, his energy technique seemed closer to the demonic arts of the Ghost Spirit Sect.

Han Li did not know that the Grand Elder of the Blissful Union Sect had always been given the title ‘Harmonious Union Old Demon’ down through the generations. Although the man had actually cultivated a demonic art not directly related to the Blissful Union Sect, he still had to bear the title.

The others, unsettled by the man’s terrifying display, felt somewhat uncomfortable but were not foolish enough to challenge the authority of the three great cultivators.

For a moment, the hall was dead silent, which tacitly acknowledged the Harmonious Union Old Demon’s opening words.

“Good. Since there are no objections, I’ll skip the pleasantries. There’s no time for them anyway. This morning, the Moulan sent an envoy with a formal challenge. If we do not accept their terms, they demand a decisive battle on the border in seven days,” the black-robed man stated flatly.

“A challenge?” “Seven days?” “What terms?”

A stir ran through the crowd.

“Brother Yi’s words are true. This is their letter of challenge. Fellow Daoists, please read it first. Then we will discuss our strategy. Though this war is earlier than we anticipated, with the abilities of those present, you can’t possibly fear the Moulan, can you?” The sword-bearing Daoist smiled faintly and spoke with unhurried composure.

His voice was not loud, but as it reached every listener’s ears, it felt like a gentle breeze brushing against the face, sending a chill of clarity through their hearts, instantly calming them.

The other cultivators were startled, and the disturbance settled at once, though someone muttered in a voice of reluctant acknowledgment:

“The Heart-Calming Art of the Tai Zhen Sect… there’s real skill to it.”

The middle-aged Daoist seemed not to hear the grudging remark. He calmly produced a blood-red jade slip from his robe and casually tossed it to a gray-robed elder across from him, speaking with a smile:

“This is the Moulan’s letter of challenge. Fellow Daoist, please take a look first.”

The elder hesitated, then silently took the slip, sweeping his spiritual sense over its contents. His expression darkened instantly. Without a word, he tossed the slip to the person beside him.

That person took it with curiosity, scanned it with his mind, and his face also turned grim.

As the cultivators passed the challenge letter around, Han Li quietly studied the Daoist and the blue-robed elder.

The Daoist appeared in his forties, with translucent fair skin and refined, scholarly features that inspired immediate goodwill. He must be Supreme Zenith Yang of the Tai Zhen Sect from the Righteous Alliance.

As for the blue-robed elder, he looked utterly ordinary. His robes, his bearing, his face—nothing stood out. The only detail Han Li noted was that the man’s ten fingers were adorned with unusually long nails. The nails were sharp, a glossy purple-black, and glimmered faintly—somewhat eye-catching.

This man could only be Wei Wuyai, the Grand Elder of the Nine-Nation Alliance.

Wei Wuyai seemed to sense Han Li’s gaze. He tilted his head and glanced back, meeting Han Li’s eyes. A flicker of surprise crossed his face, and he actually smiled at Han Li.

Han Li, a little awkward, returned the smile. But inwardly, he wondered: if this man knew about Han Li’s affair with Nangong Wan, would he still be able to smile so easily?

As Han Li was musing, Long Han, who had just read the jade slip, dropped it over with a grim expression.

Seeing the faces of those before him, Han Li grew curious.

He calmly immersed his mind in the slip and read.

A long moment later, he withdrew his spiritual sense with a deep frown and silently passed the slip to the next cultivator.

Soon, the slip had made the rounds, and everyone’s face was unpleasant. One or two even let out cold snorts of barely restrained anger.

“Fellow Daoists, now that you’ve all read the challenge, what are your thoughts?” Supreme Zenith Yang of the Tai Zhen Sect asked with a half-smile.

“Arrogant. They want us to give up half of the Tian Nan region. Do they think they have us beaten?” A man in a brocade robe with a gloomy expression said coldly.

“Exactly. They claim that if we yield them some land, they’ll turn hostility into jade and silk. But we all know the Moulan are nothing more than homeless dogs right now. Even without a decisive battle, if we drag things out a little longer, we could slowly starve them out,” said another elder, a fat man with a cunning face.

“Brother Lu, what are you implying? The Thousand Illusion Sect is safely deep in Tian Nan, so you don’t care about the rest of our sects’ survival. Of course you wouldn’t mind a war of attrition. But what about our sect’s foundation?” A dark-faced, burly man seated beside the fat elder shot back with hostility.

“I’m only thinking of everyone’s best interests. A sect can be rebuilt, but once a man is dead, he can’t be revived,” the fat elder replied lightly, unafraid of the dark-faced man, slanting a glance at him.

“Hmph. Easy for you to say. If our countries are abandoned, why should we cultivators fight to block the Dharma Warrior army? We might as well move our whole sect to your Tian Luo Nation—then not a single man would die!” another person sneered.

“You…”

“Enough. Whether or not to fight a war of attrition was decided long ago. It is not up for discussion. Our task now is to deal with the Moulan Dharma Warrior army, not to bicker among ourselves,” the black-robed man interrupted coldly, his face darkening.

Seeing that the Harmonious Union Old Demon himself had spoken, the two arguing men, though displeased, quieted down obediently.

In the cultivation world, strength still ruled.

“In fact, the three of you need not have argued at all. We have already calculated this thoroughly. Given the scale of the Moulan’s full-scale invasion, a war of attrition is impossible. Without concentrating the majority of Tian Nan’s strength, we cannot stop them for a moment. Any single sect or nation would collapse on first contact. In that case, we would end up only consuming our own strength. This battle must be fought—and we must cripple the Moulan. There is no room for wishful thinking,” Supreme Zenith Yang said gravely.

After hearing this, the other cultivators exchanged whispers before falling silent again.

“But what are the Moulan up to? If they want a fight, then fight. Why hold a gamble first? And with such heavy stakes. No single major sect could produce such treasures. Don’t they say the Moulan grasslands are resource-poor?” Dong Men Tu of the Imperial Spirit Sect suddenly asked, his eyes flickering.

“I know a bit about that. The Moulan grasslands are indeed poor in resources, but only relatively. While spiritual stone mines and common material fields are scarce relative to their large population of Dharma Warriors, they are rich in rare materials—even richer than Tian Nan in several types. Being able to offer this much is not surprising,” another cultivator, who seemed well-informed about the Moulan, explained.

“I see. But are they so confident that they will win this gamble? Only cultivators below the late Nascent Soul stage can participate. Ten rounds, to the death. Do they think we are made of mud?” Dong Men Tu said slowly, a contemplative look on his face.

The cultivators in the hall were all seasoned strategists. They knew this gamble must hide some scheme. Each began pondering the potential traps.

Han Li was also puzzled.

The challenge letter had been very clear. The gamble would take place before both armies, making foul play impossible. The cultivators who volunteered would carry their own bet materials into the arena. The victor would simply take the loser’s storage pouch.

The only suspicious part was that the letter insisted all ten rounds be held simultaneously, and that any cultivator who lost could not flee—they could only die on the spot. For this reason, the duels would be held in a sealed space barrier, jointly established by both sides, with both parties monitoring the formation to prevent tampering.

“Still, no matter what trick the Moulan are playing, this could be a good opportunity for us. If we can eliminate a few high-rank Dharma Warriors before the main battle, it would be a significant advantage.”

“Hmph. The Moulan are probably thinking the same thing.”

One person spoke tentatively, and another immediately retorted with a sneer.

“What’s there to think about? If the Moulan want a gamble, that doesn’t mean we have to accept. There’s no need. We can proceed with our own plan in seven days. No need to play their game. That way, any trap they set becomes useless,” said the elderly Kuang from Ni Hang Studio with disdain.

“Unfortunately, while Fellow Daoist Kuang’s reasoning is sound, we must participate in this gamble. And we must win,” Supreme Zenith Yang said with a helpless sigh.

“What? Supreme Zenith, what do you mean by that? We cannot let the Moulan lead us by the nose!” the elderly Kuang frowned in dissatisfaction.

A few other veteran cultivators nodded in agreement.

(Heh. Finished this chapter faster than I expected. Surprising even myself. Unfortunately, this kind of flow is fleeting—it’s only happened five or six times since I started writing. It only occurs when the plot comes with absolutely no obstacles. Rare as finding a needle in a haystack. Also, don’t forget to support me with those monthly votes! The monthly vote rankings are in turmoil now!)