Chapter 33

"Why do I still need to participate in the Descendants' Grand Test?" Bu Li countered, his sharp mind immediately grasping the crux of the matter. If the "Descendants' Grand Test" is just a trap, why should he still go?

"The truly powerful soul techniques are all within the inner sects of various schools; I can't steal them out," Hu Wu said simply.

"Didn't you say those three pages are the most powerful?"

"Can't you learn them? Try other techniques; it might be meaningful. Anyway, you can't figure it out. The old man is resting and recuperating. These years have been idle anyway. It's not wrong to take a look," Hu Wu's words seemed somewhat irresponsible, casually fobbing off Bu Li.

Bu Li inwardly scoffed. Take a look? Just participate in the "Descendants' Grand Test"? Just risk his life? This reason is too flimsy.

"Which supreme powerhouse wasn't forged in life and death? Without the repeated trials of life and death, even the most talented person can't leap to the top," Hu Wu said matter-of-factly.

Thinking of the expectant gazes of the leaders of the hundred tribes of the West Mountain, Bu Li felt a sense of bewilderment. After striving for so long, is fate already predetermined? There has never been fairness in the world, Bu Li knew. But thinking of the hundred tribes of the West Mountain's long-cherished hopes, and Yang Cance's determination on the Tianci Platform, who refused to give up even at the cost of destroying her own cultivation, and Yang Ye's cold turn and departure, his heart felt heavy.

Although he didn't favor the Bai Ling tribe, he couldn't bear to see them leave the West Mountain, be scattered, and sold into slavery.

"Alright, now let's take a look at your opponents," Hu Wu said, looking at Bu Li's expression. His smile was faint, somewhat mocking, but more so filled with a sense of sorrow or self-derision. This is the rule of the world; who can change it? Perhaps the old man could. But Hu Wu quickly negated his own thought; even the old man can't, no one can. This is a cruel and cold world where one can resort to any means to survive.

Bu Li adjusted his mindset, suppressing his inner thoughts. In the past, Bu Li often mocked Cai Xiaoxian for being overly sentimental, but this time it was Bu Li who was being sentimental. Perhaps it was called sorrow? Perhaps because of Yang Cance's fierce and relentless determination, willing to destroy everything to win? Perhaps because of the viciousness of the various sects on the Soul澜 Continent?

If it can't be explained, then don't say it. Bu Li focused on the soul techniques rotating between Hu Wu's fingers, one by one, the illusions appearing before Bu Li's eyes, each of the opponents he would face in the Divine Legacy Mountains being thoroughly analyzed by Hu Wu. Those on the ranking lists, what patterned beasts they used, what they were good at, even their personalities and weaknesses, were described by Hu Wu as easily as reading the lines on a palm.

Bu Li listened attentively, not missing a word. Cai Xiaoxian listened for a few sentences, then felt her eyelids drooping, crawled a few steps, and curled up in Bu Li's arms, falling into a deep sleep. The black bear, seeing the danger pass, didn't move out of the tent, but lay on the ground and soon fell asleep.

Outside the West Mountain, at the peak of Henshan.

The master of Henshan Sect, Luo Qingquan, a stern man in his fifties, was well-preserved, looking like he was in his mid-thirties. He had a long beard, thin lips, a slightly flat nose, and small eyes that had become triangular with age, shining with a fierce light. His thick eyebrows lay horizontally, and his years of commanding and deciding life and death gave him a naturally imposing presence.

How many people from the West Mountain's descendants, managed by Henshan Sect, wanted to leave the West Mountain each year, only to be killed by Henshan Sect? The number was countless over the years. Luo Qingquan was also known as Luo Yama, and his pale hands were seen by the West Mountain's descendants as stained with blood that could never be washed away.

Few of the West Mountain's descendants ever saw Luo Qingquan, the master of Henshan Sect, who was a word of law in this region. Even the disciples of Henshan Sect never dared to defy Luo Qingquan's words. His temper was extremely volatile, and killing was just a daily form of entertainment for him. It was said that Luo Qingquan was already a fifth-stage patterned beast master, possessing a powerful bloodthirsty brute beast from the far north, which was extremely fierce.

But at this moment, Luo Qingquan was bowing, a fawning smile on his face, trying to look amiable and kind. Luo Qingquan was not a good actor; no matter how hard he tried to fawn and flatter, it always seemed somewhat unnatural.

But this unnaturalness went unnoticed. The girl sitting on the soft couch lazily picked up a Qinglan fruit, a specialty of the West Mountain, with two fingers, her movements graceful. Although she seemed aloof, she did not come across as unpleasant, but rather as if everything was as it should be.

"Master, this time in the Descendants' Grand Test, we don't have any particularly outstanding individuals," Luo Qingquan said somewhat nervously, in a low voice.

"Oh? I heard the one you chose from the Dishi tribe was defeated by a pattern hunter without even using a patterned beast," the girl, around fifteen or sixteen years old, with a hint of youth still in her features, spoke in a clear and pleasant voice, her words lingering. But the hidden meaning in her words made Luo Qingquan break out in a cold sweat, soaking through his clothes.

"Later... later he did use it," Luo Qingquan's voice was so low that only he could hear it.

"Have you been living in the West Mountain too long, thinking you're the king? Do you think you can get away with anything by just fudging it?" The girl smiled, leaning lazily on the couch, and said, "I don't want to hold you accountable, but the illusions I saw in the sect were not clear, clearly you tampered with them. Go, bring out the most complete illusions for me to see. This time, the old man is very unhappy. If it weren't for the money you've been sending to those old fellows, who are still somewhat righteous and spoke up for you, it would have been Luo Sha who came, not me."

The moment the name "Luo Sha" was mentioned, the entire inner sect of Henshan Sect seemed to have just been hit by a blizzard. It was quiet, deathly quiet. Luo Sha, the top killer of the Tian Dao Sect, one of the five major sects of the Soul澜 Continent, had a penchant for torture. It was said that no one could die within three days after Luo Sha's attack. The longest one had already lasted eighteen years, with his limbs, eyes, and tongue cut off, and he was still alive, immersed in a bucket of feces. Whenever the Tian Dao Sect's old man was enraged, he would send Luo Sha to carry out the killings.