Chapter 108: Third-Rank Spiritual Power

The figure emerging from the woods wore an expression of bewilderment. He first cast a wary, uncertain glance at the dim red labels hovering above the heads of the crowd, then turned his gaze with a solemn air toward Li Zhen and Ye Xuan, who were locked in a subtle standoff. His eyes widened sharply upon recognizing them; anyone could guess the reason for their confrontation. Subconsciously, he shifted his right foot backward, then stood rooted to the spot, scanning the surroundings with vigilance.

"It's him—it’s actually him." Many in the crowd recognized the newly arrived 'Twenty Kilograms.' Even Ye Xuan spared a fleeting, indifferent glance in his direction, a flicker of surprise crossing her features. That pretentious, attention-seeking, lowly boy possessed such unexpected fortune to have obtained twenty kilograms of low-grade origin stones in the first level. Whether he could actually keep them, however, was another matter; without the strength to back it up, such luck might well become a boon for someone else.

"Kid, hand it over! Someone who didn't even have the courage to attempt the Ten Trials of Qingchi is not worthy of holding twenty kilograms of low-grade origin stones."

Though many were deeply envious of Che Wuyou’s stroke of luck and held him in low regard, they were reluctant to act rashly in such a high-stakes gathering, fearing they might merely be clearing the path for someone else.

Yang Yu, however, had no such reservations. He was accustomed to acting with arrogance, and he trusted his own formidable cultivation. Among those present, aside from a handful like Yang Fengge, there was no one he truly deemed a threat. Since the likes of Yang Fengge showed no intention of acting, it was only natural that these twenty kilograms of origin stones should fall to him.

Yang Yu strolled toward Che Wuyou with an air of contempt and reckless abandon, clearly treating the twenty kilograms of origin stones as his own property.

"Kid, you’d best hand it over yourself. If you cooperate nicely, I can promise to let you follow me through this Heaven-Reaching Tower. You should know that with me, Yang Yu, protecting you, while I can't guarantee you any great treasures, I can at least ensure you make it smoothly into the top one hundred and become an official disciple of Qingchi... Isn't that what you’re here for?" Yang Yu said with practiced certainty.

Hearing this, many in the crowd looked on with envy. It was clear that following Yang Yu’s group offered significant advantages in this mysterious tower, making the first few trials trivial. Some, eager to curry favor with him, chimed in: "Kid, hurry up and hand it over! Being able to follow Young Master Yang Yu is a blessing earned in your past life. Why are you just standing there? Hurry up and thank him!"

Seeing Che Wuyou hesitate, another added, "You didn't participate in the Ten Trials of Qingchi, so you clearly used connections to get in. You paid such a high price—isn't it just to enter Qingchi? The opportunity is right in front of you; what are you waiting for? Besides, even if you refuse, in this perilous Heaven-Reaching Tower, do you really think your strength is enough to keep it?"

Che Wuyou’s brow furrowed deeper. A delicate-looking girl in the crowd watched him with a complex expression. Why was he hesitating over such an opportunity? Was it a matter of pride? But was pride so important now? He was facing a descendant of the Qingchi elders—there was no shame in yielding. What a fool.

Seeing the boy still wavering, Yang Yu’s anger surged. He had offered a chance, but the boy clearly didn't value it. Losing his patience, he sneered, "Kid, you really don't know when you're being given a face. If you like it the hard way, then I will..."

"Stop your yapping. If you have the ability, just come and take it. Why waste breath on such nonsense? As a man, why would I, Che Wuyou, fear the likes of you?" Che Wuyou cut him off, his gaze challenging and his demeanor inexplicably calm.

For years at the Miao family, he had swallowed his pride to survive. Now that he had finally gained some strength, he was faced with Yang Yu, someone far more powerful—was he to continue enduring as he did back then? When would that life ever end?

No. If he lived that way, even if he entered the Qingchi Sword Sect, could he find a worthy master? Even with a master, could he ever reach the Golden Core stage? The Golden Core was known in the cultivation world as the 'Small Inquiry of Immortality,' and its difficulty was unfathomable. Given his own limited talent, the path was already bleak; if he lacked the heart of a warrior who grows stronger in the face of adversity, how could he ever hope to form a core?

Cultivation was an act of defying the heavens. Though he didn't know why someone of Yang Yu’s status would covet his twenty kilograms of stones, he sensed instinctively that Yang Yu was 'contending.' If that was the case, he would contend as well—contend with him, and contend with fate itself for his own future.

With this realization, a profound sense of clarity washed over Che Wuyou. It was as if he had returned to the Miao family, to that grand alchemy competition in Jizhou—the opponent was strong, but he had no regrets about fighting. He slowly closed his eyes, casting aside all distracting thoughts. In his mind, the world faded until only he remained, and everyone else became mere 'spiritual energy entities,' some still, some moving.

It had been a long time since he had entered this state of self-forgetfulness, but it felt different this time—sharper, more vivid. Though he had no books to reference, he sensed that his spiritual power had reached a new realm. He subconsciously guessed he had attained the legendary Third-Grade spiritual power. While he knew this breakthrough wouldn't drastically increase his raw combat power, it still filled him with quiet joy.

"Hmm, Yang Yu is at the middle stage of the Origin Return realm. No wonder he’s so arrogant. To reach this level at such a young age, his arrogance isn't entirely baseless." Che Wuyou used his spiritual sense to 'inspect' Yang Yu’s cultivation. The pressure was immense; the gap between them was glaring. Yet, deep down, he felt an unexpected anticipation, and for a fleeting moment, his blood began to boil.

"You. Are. Courting. Death." Clearly not expecting this boy—who appeared to be only in the early stage of the Purple Palace—to defy him, Yang Yu was instantly enraged. He spoke each word with chilling deliberation: "I am going to tear you into pieces."