Chapter 38: The Blood Banner Flutters, Illuminating the Youth

“Hahaha! Brother Ji, you certainly have high hopes for this boy. From what I see, there’s nothing particularly impressive about him—his cultivation is low, his foundation unstable, clearly just started training. The only remarkable thing is his sturdy physique. You must have invested a lot in him.”

With a single glance, Baishi had already sized up Sumu’s situation with uncanny accuracy. Years of dealing in the human trade had honed his eyes to a razor’s edge, and he was secretly speculating about the true relationship between this youth and Mr. Ji.

“Hmph, don’t overthink it. I just happened to meet this boy on the road. He looked promising, so I wanted to let him taste life and death early on, to help him grow quickly.”

Mr. Ji offered no truth; his secret about Sumu cultivating the Dark Spirit Phantom Body was of the highest order, not to be flaunted about carelessly.

“You just handle the arrangements—leave the rest to me!”

Baishi squinted, smiling, then summoned a cultivator with a wave. After a few whispered instructions, the man cupped his hands in assent and hurried off.

“Well, I was merely curious,” Baishi chuckled, “but I know well enough not to meddle in other people’s business. Since you trust the boy so much, let’s see what he’s made of in the dueling arena. Since he’s just a beginner, I’ll pick an opponent for him from the latest batch of goods my men have brought in.”

As he spoke, the cultivator returned, bowing deeply to Baishi and handing him a slip of paper before standing silently to the side. Baishi glanced at the note, stood up, and made a gesture of invitation to Mr. Ji. The cultivator quickly took the lead.

Mr. Ji nodded, rose, and, after signaling to Black Crow, followed Baishi. Black Crow and his men immediately trailed behind.

All of this had been arranged in less than the time it takes to burn a stick of incense, a testament to Baishi’s overwhelming influence in Deathridge City—perhaps second only to Zhou Chan. It also showed that Baishi had men ready at any moment, evidence of an abundance of talent and, indeed, “goods.”

They proceeded to the most secluded corner of the grounds, where even passersby were scarce. The arena was empty, save for a few white-robed attendants and a ragged, dust-covered youth sitting cross-legged on the ground. His face was smeared with grime, but his eyes were cold and venomous, never leaving Sumu for an instant, as if the rest of those present were invisible.

Baishi regarded the boy with interest, growing more satisfied the longer he looked. With a genial smile, he asked, “What’s your name?”

At last, the boy looked up at Baishi, revealing a pair of sharp canine teeth as he smirked.

“My name is Chai Hong. You must be the Lord Baishi they all talk about. So, this boy is to be my opponent?”

He glanced at Sumu again, as if finding him infinitely more fascinating than all the others combined, making Sumu distinctly uneasy.

“That’s right. My name is Bai. Here’s your chance: if you can beat this boy Sumu today, you’ll follow me from now on—no need to worry about being sold again. You’ll have all the elixirs and beauties you want, as long as you train hard. If you lose, well, I suppose I’ve wasted my breath.”

Baishi produced a porcelain vial from his waist, shook out a crystal-clear pill, and dropped it at Chai Hong’s feet, looking down at him.

“I heard you injured four of my men when you resisted. You’ve suffered enough these past days. Swallow this pill—I’ll give you half an hour.”

He turned to Mr. Ji. “Old friend, I trust half an hour is not too long to wait?”

Mr. Ji simply nodded and turned to instruct Sumu. “You must win this match. Remember, Chai Hong has not reached the Heavenly Son stage either—he cultivates the same Vital Spirit as you. Your natural gifts are far superior. But be wary—judging by his eyes, he’s far more ruthless than you. Don’t hold back in the arena, understand?”

Sumu lifted his head and replied, “Sir, I will give it my all.”

Chai Hong chuckled at this, eyes still closed as he absorbed the pill’s power, lost in his own thoughts.

Mr. Ji shook his head inwardly. Sumu lacked a killer’s edge—not a good sign.

“Hang the yellow flag. Time’s almost up,” Baishi ordered, patience wearing thin. Though less than half an hour had passed, he was ready to begin.

Chai Hong made no complaint about his injuries. He opened his eyes, stood, and walked toward the arena.

“Wait—hang the red flag,” Mr. Ji suddenly called out to the flag bearer. Black Crow was alarmed and hurried to persuade him. “Sir, is this wise? Sumu is inexperienced—I fear...”

Sumu’s heart pounded in his chest, his hands trembling. He hadn’t expected Lord Ji to demand the red flag—didn’t that mean this would be a fight to the death? He was utterly unprepared.

Chai Hong, too, was surprised, but quickly recovered and leapt into the arena with a laugh, pointing at Sumu in challenge.

Baishi’s face grew serious. “Are you certain, Lord Ji? Once that flag is raised, there’s no going back. Sumu seems precious to you.”

Mr. Ji snorted, “I said red flag, so it’s the red flag. Enough talk. Sumu, get in there!”

Sumu staggered, unable to believe his ears, hoping there’d been some mistake. But Mr. Ji wouldn’t meet his eyes; Black Crow was anxious but dared not speak.

“Red flag! Haha, this grows more interesting by the moment!” Baishi was exhilarated, ordering the red flag raised and taking his seat beside Mr. Ji, keen to see his reaction when Sumu was slain—certain the spectacle would surpass any duel today.

The die was cast. Sumu clenched his teeth and entered the arena, the voices of Black Crow and Ye Jun ringing in his ears.

“Sumu, be careful! Remember what you’ve learned—don’t hesitate, or you’ll die. Think of your family and friends. Think of Miss An. Don’t you want to see them again?”

Sumu heard, but did not look back. He resolved to give everything he had, to survive at any cost.

“Stage Ding, below Heavenly Son, Vital Spirit duel, begin!”

A yellow-robed official stood atop the arena platform, calling out loudly, then gestured to the two combatants.

“Both parties have agreed to the red flag—no quarter given, no retreat, only one may leave alive. Do you both understand?”

“I do,” Chai Hong replied coolly, arms relaxed, waiting for the fight to start.

“I... understand,” Sumu stammered, heart racing. He was afraid—afraid that if he died, he’d never see his parents or An Rui again. He also worried whether he could bring himself to kill another person.

“Very well. Choose your weapons. If you have none, select from those provided.”

Scores of weapons had been laid out. Chai Hong chose two slender curved blades and returned to the center. Sumu, after much deliberation, picked a greatsword, causing Chai Hong to snicker.

“Begin the duel!”

At the official’s command, Chai Hong’s relaxed posture vanished, energy coursing through his body as he charged at Sumu without warning.

Sumu was ready. With a shout, he raised his greatsword and brought it down toward Chai Hong with all his might, certain that this blow could not be blocked.

“Brother Ji, why does your boy start with such wild, open moves? He’s certainly fierce, but…” Baishi commented offhandedly, with no hint of praise. Mr. Ji’s face was grim, and he said nothing.

Chai Hong had no intention of meeting the greatsword head-on. Speed was his forte, and his curved blades were light and nimble. Seeing Sumu’s ferocious strike, he spun like a top, slipping past with ease. His blade flickered, slicing across Sumu’s body—a spray of blood burst out. From thigh to abdomen, a long wound opened, staining Sumu’s clothes crimson.

Like a blooming rose, blood instantly drenched him. Sumu stared dumbly at the wound, momentarily stunned—he hadn’t expected Chai Hong to inflict such a grievous injury in a single exchange.

“Brother Ji, have you misjudged? Sumu has no idea how to fight—give it ten breaths and Chai Hong will have his head. The boy will be in too much pain to stand, let alone resist,” Baishi drawled lazily, eyes flicking to Mr. Ji’s face as if it were the most fascinating sight in the world.

“Sumu, behind you!”

Startled, Sumu didn’t have time to think who had shouted the warning. Acting on instinct, he swung his greatsword sideways behind him, catching both of Chai Hong’s blades with a clang. The force sent Chai Hong stumbling back several steps, cursing the person who had called out.

Now Sumu’s physical training paid off. Though blood spurted from his wounds, the bleeding slowed quickly. The curved blade had only cut the skin—Sumu’s body was too tough for deeper harm.

Chai Hong, thinking Sumu would be weakened, pressed his attack, slashing like a storm.

But Sumu was pleased—if Chai Hong ran rings around him, he’d never catch him. Now, seeing his foe charge, he swept his greatsword in a broad arc, unthinking.

Chai Hong scoffed at Sumu’s crude technique. Like a street brawler, he knew only to hack and slash. Without hesitation, Chai Hong flipped over Sumu’s head, dodging the sword, and raked both blades down Sumu’s back, drawing two more bloody lines.

Sumu felt no pain, ignoring whether he’d been hit. Seeing Chai Hong pass overhead, he kept his sweep and swung backward.

Chai Hong hadn’t expected Sumu to be so nimble—any normal person, with wounds like that, would be paralyzed by pain, unable to fight back. But Sumu was a rarity—he couldn’t seem to feel pain.

Unprepared, Chai Hong had no time to dodge as the greatsword swept toward him. He managed to parry with one blade, but the force snapped it in half, sending him tumbling several yards.

Before he could recover, Sumu came after him again, wild and relentless. Alarmed, Chai Hong rolled desperately, stabbing his remaining blade into Sumu’s thigh before leaping away.

But the result stunned him—Sumu, expressionless, yanked the blade from his leg and tossed it aside. Blood spurted, but he seemed not to notice, his movements undiminished as he charged once more.

“What kind of monster is this?!”

Not only Chai Hong, but Baishi and all the onlookers found themselves thinking the very same thing.