She Dominates the Immortal Realm with Her HP Bar

Seasons turned, and four years had passed. Yan Luoyue was now four years old.

Standing before the mirror at home, Yan Luoyue occasionally raised a hand to her head, as if tugging at an invisible strip, sometimes touching it, sometimes giving it a little shake.

This thin red strip, of course, was her health bar!

Truthfully, in her first year, Yan Luoyue hadn’t been entirely certain about the rule that "with each passing year, her health points would gain an extra zero."

What if the bug she’d encountered only added nine points to her health per year?

Or what if her cheat wasn’t a guaranteed ×10 multiplier every birthday, but instead required her to roll a die, adding whatever number came up?

Holding onto these doubts, Yan Luoyue had felt a hint of anxiety as her second birthday approached.

When the moment of her hatching anniversary arrived, Yan Luoyue stared eagerly into the mirror, witnessing the entire process.

The bug’s effect arrived as punctually as Cinderella’s midnight magic.

Yan Luoyue watched with her own eyes as the health bar above her head stretched out like a noodle-maker pulling dough, *duang*—growing dramatically longer.

Yan Luoyue: “!!!”

So, her cheat really did add a zero to her health every birthday.

For this kind of cheat—where "just keep living, and living becomes effortless"—Yan Luoyue could only nod in agreement: *Very Turtle Clan indeed.*

Outside the mirror, Yan Luoyue smiled faintly at the memory.

Inside the mirror, a petite girl who looked about eleven or twelve years old in human terms smiled back, her eyes crinkling like little crescent moons.

—Yes, the reflection in the mirror was that of a girl who appeared to be around eleven or twelve.

This wasn’t due to any age-increasing pills or magical artifacts simulating a human form. It was simply her natural appearance now.

Yan Luoyue had once asked Yan Yu about this phenomenon.

As early as age one, she had realized that the growth rate of demonic beasts far outpaced that of humans.

For example, a one-year-old human child might still need a walker or the support of a wall to toddle a few dozen steps unsteadily.

But by that age, demonic beast children could already sprint around wildly—some even flipping sideways with a spirited *"Yah-hey!"*

At first, Yan Luoyue had assumed the difference between humans and demonic beasts ended there.

But when she entered her second year of life, alongside the tenfold increase in her health bar came an astonishing growth spurt.

She shot up like a sprout. Though she had just turned two, she now looked like a human child of four or five!

Yan Luoyue: “…”

*Wait a second—let me confirm,* she thought. *The fish, shrimp, veggies, and fruits that Sis Yu feeds me every day… they’re just normal food, right? Not some kind of "Giant Growth Turtle Feed"?*

…Ahem, just kidding.

After all, the other children from her hatching batch in the Turtle Clan also looked about the same age in human form.

Puzzled by this, Yan Luoyue had no choice but to ask Yan Yu.

And Yan Yu’s answer took her in an entirely unexpected direction.

“This is normal. Everyone grows like this. Demonic beasts have short childhoods and long maturation periods—especially our Turtle Clan.”

“If we use human forms as a standard, the first few years fly by. But for the next several centuries, we might stay in adolescent or young adult appearances.”

Yan Luoyue could personally attest to the latter point.

She often visited the Moonlit Market and had gradually noticed that in marketplaces dominated by demonic beasts, beauty-preserving elixirs were rarely sold.

…Well, it made sense. Once one’s cultivation reached a certain level, eternal youth was a natural side effect.

Demonic beasts, with their short childhoods, could start cultivating much earlier.

Take Yan Luoyue, for example. While human babies were still at the "sitting at seven months, crawling at eight, rolling at nine" stage, she had already memorized *The Turtle Breathing Technique* cover to cover.

Because demonic beasts cultivated earlier, they achieved mastery at a younger relative age.

Thus, under the dual buffs of "cultivation" and "growth cycle," demonic beasts indirectly achieved eternal youth—*perfectly logical.*

Up to this point, Yan Yu’s explanation had stayed within the bounds of Yan Luoyue’s comprehension.

But then came the part that shattered her understanding.

Flipping idly through a storybook, Yan Yu—her voice laced with the lazy contentment unique to relaxed turtles—casually dropped a piece of gossip.

“It’s only in the last few millennia, since we demonic beasts settled in the human realm, that our customs have shifted.”

“Back in the old days, following the traditions of the demon realm, in another five or six years—once you’ve found a male demon you like—you could even have children with him.”

Yan Luoyue: “!!!”

She was so shocked she nearly lost color.

*Wait, WHAT did you just say?*

When Yan Yu said "five or six years," was that a rough estimate—or an exact timeframe?

If precise, Yan Luoyue would only be seven or eight years old by then!

*Don’t scare me like this, I’m just a little turtle! I can’t handle jokes like that!*

Finally looking up from her book, Yan Yu caught sight of Yan Luoyue’s horrified expression and burst out laughing.

Setting the storybook aside, Yan Yu lifted her beloved little sister onto her lap and shared an ancient tale from thousands of years ago.

Back then, the demonic realm had not yet been sealed away. Under the relentless invasion of the demonic tribes, the alliance between humans and demonic beasts was at its strongest.

As everyone knew, marriage alliances were the simplest, most straightforward way to cement friendly relations.

Humans and demonic beasts were no exception.

Moreover, amid the flames of war, a wedding celebration offered a rare moment of sweetness amidst the bitterness.

So, by unspoken mutual agreement, a princess from the demonic beast tribes was wed to a promising young human swordsman.

At the wedding banquet, guests raised their cups, reveling in the joyous atmosphere.

Just as everyone was envisioning a future where, after driving back the demons, the two races would forever be bound in harmony—the groom suddenly burst out of the bridal chamber.

Yes, this handsome, love-cultivating swordsman—known for his perpetually easygoing smile—now wore an expression of utter devastation.

Clad only in his undergarments, his crimson wedding robes torn in two, he charged out with sword in hand.

“This marriage…”

The swordsman, who had once single-handedly fought eight hundred demons without flinching, now trembled so violently his lips quivered.

“I can’t go through with this marriage!”

His voice cracked with sheer terror, as if he were on the verge of a complete breakdown.

The startled guests rose to their feet.

The humans speculated along more conventional lines:

“What happened? Does the bride love another? Are you refusing to tear apart a fated pair?”

“Could the demonic beasts have sent a substitute, not the princess herself?”

“Or have the demons infiltrated and swapped the real bride for an imposter?”

The speculations among the demonic races were rather... well, let's just say they carried the tone of insiders poking holes in the whole affair.

"Told you not to let insect demons intermarry with humans. Did they really marry off a female mantis? Using the groom as the first meal on their wedding night—I said this wouldn’t work!"

"No, I heard it wasn’t a mantis."

"Then was it a cockroach? That’s even worse!"

"Could it have been a spider princess? I’ve heard spiders also have a habit of devouring their mates."

"Get lost! How many times have I told you all—spiders aren’t insects, we are NOT insects!"

Amid the heated discussion, the groom let out a bitter laugh, his teeth chattering:

"She—she’s only five years old! How could you marry off a five-year-old girl to me as my wife?!"

Thankfully, he’d had the sense to ask about the bride’s age before the wedding night.

Otherwise, the only honorable option left to him would have been to fall on his sword and apologize to the heavens!

All the human cultivators present: "..."

Yan Luoyue, listening to this: "..."

Truth be told, at that moment, Yan Luoyue was instantly reminded of certain early internet novels like *The Nine-Year-Old Poison Queen* or *The Three-Year-Old Little Consort*.

With a gulp, Yan Luoyue swallowed hard, feeling an odd sense of solidarity with the utterly shattered groom.

"So... what really happened?"

Yan Yu patted Yan Luoyue’s head and continued the story patiently.

The groom’s words struck like a thunderbolt, leaving every human cultivator present pale-faced and scrambling to their feet.

Just then, another figure—a young woman adorned with jewels, still clad in her pristine wedding dress—burst out of the bridal chamber, clutching a red embroidered veil in her fury.

"What’s wrong with five years old? Am I not good enough for you?"

The demon princess’s chest heaved with indignation, her grief and rage reaching their peak.

"My people, the Ephemera Clan, transform at dawn and die by dusk. Once we take human form, we must marry and bear children within five hours. Only a rare few, the most gifted among us, can cultivate the Dao in that short time and prolong our lives."

"Out of respect for your human customs, we didn’t send you a bride who was five days old, nor one who was five months old."

"Aside from my mother, the queen, who is twenty years old, I—at the age of five—am the oldest unmarried maiden in the entire Ephemera Clan. If even I don’t satisfy you, what kind of bride *do* you want?"

"—Are you saying you want my mother instead?"

"Shameless!" the princess shrieked, her voice cracking. "She’s already the mother of over six thousand children—have some respect!"

All the humans present: "..."

Their expressions glazed over, mouths opening and closing soundlessly.

Judging by their dazed looks, the fact that their souls hadn’t fled their bodies on the spot was a testament to their immense self-control.

Meanwhile, the animal demons in attendance whispered among themselves, nodding in agreement. "She makes a fair point."

As for the insect demons, they listened with deep empathy, their faces twisting in shared resentment and outrage!

But the most devastated of all was undoubtedly the swordsman.

After hearing the ephemeral princess’s accusations, the young swordsman dropped to his knees, clutching his head in despair.

Despite being human, he let out a scream so primal it could have come from a groundhog: "Aaaaaaaah—!!!"

While the swordsman wailed in the story, Yan Luoyue sucked in a sharp breath outside of it. "*Hiss*—no way, this is too absurd."

Yan Yu remained unruffled. "Back then, the alliance had just been formed. Neither side knew much about the other’s ways."

Yan Luoyue pressed eagerly, "What happened after that?"

Yan Yu thought for a moment. "The alliance held, but the marriage was called off. Rumor has it the princess was so enraged that she broke through a mental barrier, advancing a whole cultivation stage on the spot. As for the swordsman..."

"After that disastrous wedding, he abandoned his previous path and devoted himself to the Dao of Emotionlessness. His cultivation progressed by leaps and bounds, and he became quite formidable."

Yan Luoyue: "..."

Unnoticing of Yan Luoyue’s speechlessness, Yan Yu casually added a postscript.

"Though from then on, the swordsman gained a catchphrase: *‘My blade is colder than a five-year-old bride forced upon me, and my heart is harder than a wedding banquet with seven thousand guests.’*"

"Well, it’s a bit... unconventional, but given the circumstances, it’s understandable."

Yan Luoyue: "............"

She opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but in the face of such a hardcore story, words felt inadequate.

Still, Yan Luoyue grasped Yan Yu’s underlying point.

For those early demons, judgments about "marriageable age" were likely based on sexual maturity.

Just as in Yan Luoyue’s previous life—if you went back four million years, a four- or five-year-old hominid would have been in its prime reproductive years.

But nowadays, if a human tried to marry a five-year-old?

Forget actually going through with it—even *joking* about it would earn them a near-fatal beating.

Just as humans didn’t obsess over how old their hominid ancestors were when they started mating, Yan Luoyue decided not to dwell on the demons’ original marital traditions.

Instead, she asked Yan Yu directly, "Sister Yu, what about now?"

Yan Yu flicked Yan Luoyue’s forehead lightly.

"I’m not sure about the demon realm, but among demons in the human world, even the early marriages wait until fifteen or sixteen."

"As for late marriages... well, I won’t mention myself, but take the Grand Elder, for example. He’s nearly two thousand years old and still hasn’t settled down."

"You, little one, why must you dig into every little thing?"

Yan Yu affectionately patted Yan Luoyue’s head and picked up the storybook she’d set aside earlier.

"Wait, Sister Yu," Yan Luoyue raised a hand like an eager student. "If this is how insect clans are, then what about the saying I’ve always heard—that ‘demons have longer lifespans and stronger physiques’? Is that just propaganda?"

Yan Yu didn’t know what "propaganda" meant, but she understood the gist.

She confirmed the first part: "That saying exists, and it’s mostly accurate. But generally, it doesn’t include insect clans."

That made sense—after all, the differences between insect demons and regular demons were even starker than those between humans and regular demons.

And with their sheer variety, subdivided into countless clans (like how the Locust Clan further split into Grasshopper and Cricket branches), it was nearly impossible to keep track.

"From what I know, certain sects and demon clans have closer ties with insect races due to cultivation techniques or innate traits."

Yan Yu pinched her chin and said, "As for our Turtle Clan, while we share some camaraderie with the Insect Clan as fellow demonic races, our interactions are quite limited. The main reason is the vast difference in our lifespans and our perception of time—we’re just not in sync."

"To put it simply, we can’t quite keep up with their pace."

For example, when Yan Luoyue was a child, if she had been suspected by her clan of being an outsider spy, she would likely have been locked in a basement.

Lock her up for fifty or sixty years, and the truth would naturally come to light.

For the Turtle Clan, that’s just the time it takes to clear one’s name.

But for the Insect Clan... in such a long span, they might have gone through over a hundred generations of leaders!

Fifty years later, if a Turtle Clan envoy showed up with a token from over a hundred generations ago, hoping to rekindle old ties...

Uh, sorry, but... who are you again?

In short, to this day, the strongest connection between the Turtle Clan and the Insect Clan might just be the shared tradition of nicknames like "Two-Grasshopper," "Little Red Earthworm," or "Fuzzy Ball."

Yan Luoyue: "..."

After answering her little sister’s question, Yan Yu flipped the page of her novel, eager to continue the thrilling story.

At the critical moment, Yan Luoyue hit the brakes again.

"One last question! I promise this is the last one!"

If this were a human parent faced with Yan Luoyue’s endless "why’s," they might have already rolled their eyes in frustration.

But Yan Yu simply smiled warmly at her little sister and set the book aside again.

"Sure, no problem. Ask as many questions as you like, Luoyue, take your time."

After all, she had *so* much time—whether she read her novel a little earlier or later made no real difference.

Yan Luoyue adopted a serious tone. "I’ve heard that Qi Refinement cultivators can live a hundred years, Foundation Establishment adds another two hundred, Golden Core borrows five hundred more from the heavens, and Nascent Soul True Monarchs enjoy a lifespan of eighteen hundred years... Is it not the same for insect demons?"

And if insect demons didn’t live that long, what about their Turtle Clan?

Yan Yu thought carefully for a moment, then chuckled.

"That sounds like a human saying. Let me guess—did your teachers at school teach you that?"

Yan Luoyue blinked and nodded obediently.

Yan Yu: "Mm, I thought so. Because for demons, it’s different."

She patiently explained: "Higher cultivation naturally extends your lifespan, but the increase varies between demon races."

"If you asked me about other races, I wouldn’t know. But for our Turtle Clan, I recall it’s two hundred years at Qi Refinement, five hundred at Foundation Establishment, two thousand at Golden Core, and five thousand at Nascent Soul..."

As Yan Yu counted on her fingers, she suddenly looked up to see Yan Luoyue frozen in place, her little mouth forming a perfect "o" of shock.

Yan Yu hesitated. "...Little sister?"

What was wrong with her? She’d just shared some basic demon knowledge—why was Luoyue making that face?

Yan Luoyue struggled to close her dropped jaw.

In a dazed voice, she said, "Sister Yu, you know what? I have a feeling I’m going to become *incredibly* powerful in the future..."

Given that Yan Luoyue’s cheat ability made her stronger as long as she lived...

And given that the Turtle Clan’s cheat was that the stronger they became, the longer they lived...

The question was: Just how strong would Yan Luoyue, a member of the Turtle Clan, eventually become?

Yan Yu couldn’t guess her sister’s thoughts and was momentarily covered in question marks.

Fortunately, another defining trait of the Turtle Clan was their easygoing nature.

Since she couldn’t decipher Yan Luoyue’s whimsical musings, Yan Yu simply reclined in her lounge chair and resumed reading her novel.

If two-year-old Yan Luoyue had still prioritized caution and occasionally been stunned by common demon knowledge...

Now, at four (and almost five) years old, she had thoroughly absorbed Turtle Clan lore and was brimming with curiosity about the wider world.

Put yourself in her shoes—after three or four years of careful, uneventful living, Yan Luoyue had finally amassed a whopping **10,000-point HP bar**. Who *wouldn’t* want to cut loose a little?

That said, the stress-relief method Yan Luoyue had in mind was downright *wholesome* by this world’s standards.

Namely—**fighting in the arena**.

This *was* a cultivation world, after all, where combat arenas were everywhere.

Legally operated arenas could even obtain business permits, just like taverns, teahouses, and shops.

In short, arena battles were an integral part of local entertainment.

So Yan Luoyue’s idea was perfectly reasonable and legitimate.

After hearing her out, Yan Gan and Sang Ji exchanged glances.

A moment later, Sang Ji grinned and signaled for Toothpick Bird Huhu to swoop down from the sky.

He cradled the now-rounder fluffball and playfully teased Yan Luoyue, trying to distract her.

Meanwhile, Yan Gan had already started rummaging through his pouch, wondering if he’d accidentally fed his sister something weird earlier.

Yan Luoyue: "..."

She sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Guys, I’m serious. This isn’t a spur-of-the-moment thing or a joke."

Perhaps because their first impression of her was as a fragile child with paper-thin HP, Yan Gan and Sang Ji had always been overly protective.

Over the years, Yan Luoyue’s physical condition had improved dramatically.

But in her brothers’ eyes, their little sister was still that delicate, translucent figure who might keel over at any moment—triggering a full-blown crisis for everyone present.

Yan Luoyue crossed her arms. "**No more stereotypes!** I’ve retired from the scam life years ago!"

"Oh, really?"

Sang Ji smirked, scooting closer and gently pressing the round Toothpick Bird against Yan Luoyue’s chubby cheek.

"Relax, sis. Scamming’s no big deal. Just pick a clean spot in the arena, and your brother and I will stand by with a big sack. The moment you collapse, we’ll open it up for donations..."

Unsurprisingly, Yan Gan watched as Sang Ji was promptly thumped by Yan Luoyue.

True to brotherly form, he offered his sincerest critique: "Deserved it, buddy."

Yan Luoyue chimed in: "So *croco-despicable*, Brother Ji. You’re truly the *croco-worst*."

Sang Ji: "..."

Seriously, you two? You’re just *turtling* the blame now.

After exchanging a round of good-natured jabs about each other’s races, the trio finally settled down to properly address Yan Luoyue’s request.

Yan Gan pulled out a list of the clan’s training curriculum and went through it item by item.

"Have you mastered the *Turtle Shell Technique*?"

Yan Luoyue propped her chin lazily on one hand. "Yep."

"*Turtle Breathing Art*... Yeah, I know you’ve got that one down."

“Have you learned the technique ‘Immovable as a Turtle,’ little sister?”

“The one that makes you so heavy your opponent can’t budge you? Yes, I took that class with the other kids in the clan.”

The two went back and forth, quickly running through every item on the checklist.

As he looked at the now fully marked-off list, Yan Gan couldn’t help but show a hint of surprise.

“Well then, it seems you’ve completed all the lessons in the clan’s curriculum.”

He turned to Sang Ji and nodded. “According to our Turtle Clan’s traditions, that means little sister really can go fight in the arena now.”

Sang Ji pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling like his friend might be a bit lacking in common sense.

If Luo Yue were his own little sister, even if it matched the clan’s customs, he wouldn’t let her step into the arena at just four years old.

But since Yan Gan had already blurted out the decision, all he could do now was try to mitigate the risks:

“Fine, but we’ll pick an arena with proper safety measures.”

“Hmm, let me think… Your Turtle Clan’s traits are similar to body cultivators, right? If Luo Yue wants to fight, how about we ask Wu Pingyuan from the Howling Sect for some advice?”

Over the years, Yan Luoyue had maintained a steady trade with the Canglang Sect, supplying them with her irresistibly sweet and delicious pills.

And gradually, the Canglang Sect—once just another generic sect name—had quietly transformed in the public eye into the “Howling Sect.”

By now, even Sang Ji sometimes forgot their real name and slipped into calling them by the nickname.

As it happened, the next day was the Moonlit Market—the same day Yan Luoyue had agreed with the Howling Sect to make her monthly delivery.

For years now, Wu Pingyuan had been the disciple sent to collect the goods. With their regular meetings, the two sides had built a decent rapport.

…………

The next day, long before class was dismissed, the trio had already packed their bags, ready to bolt at a moment’s notice.

Their teacher had long since given up trying to discipline them.

At first, he’d grumbled the usual complaints: “You’re so eager when it’s time to eat or pack up, but where’s that enthusiasm for studying, cultivating, or solving problems?”

Now, though, he just turned a blind eye—even kindly asking,

“Heh, it’s the Moonlit Market again today, isn’t it?”

Between the sarcastic “heh” and the phrasing (“market” followed by an unnecessary “today”), Yan Luoyue suspected their teacher still harbored a sliver of resentment…

The moment the dismissal bell rang, Yan Gan snatched up both his and Yan Luoyue’s bags.

Meanwhile, Sang Ji grabbed his own bag in one hand and Yan Luoyue in the other, sprinting out like madmen.

Hahahahaha, school was finally over! Freedom! Time for the Moonlit Market!

As they ran, the three of them deliberately—or perhaps unconsciously—overlooked one name.

Not a single one of them mentioned whether they should swing by the clan first to ask if Shen Jingxuan wanted to join them.

And honestly, who could blame them?

The consequences of bringing Shen Jingxuan to the market were simply too terrifying.

Three years ago, Shen Jingxuan had accepted Yan Yu’s invitation to stay temporarily with the Turtle Clan.

Later, thanks to her mastery of the “Diamond Demon-Subduing Fist”—which complemented the Turtle Clan’s “Turtle Shell Technique” perfectly—she was hired as a combat instructor for the clan’s school.

The Turtle Clan’s classes were held every three days.

For combat practice, Shen Jingxuan only needed to do one thing: punch the turtles with just the right amount of force.

And what counted as “just the right amount”?

Well, by the Turtle Clan’s standards, as long as no one died or suffered serious injuries, the force was perfectly acceptable.

Shen Jingxuan: “…”

She’d performed rites for countless souls, but this level of leniency was unheard of!

In any case, Shen Jingxuan settled in at Yan Yu’s home.

At first, when space was tight, she’d even shared a bed with Yan Luoyue.

And Yan Luoyue could personally attest: the little monk’s shaved head was *incredibly* satisfying to touch.

A shame, then, that while her scalp felt amazing, the contents of her skull—especially regarding navigation—were utterly baffling.

Yan Luoyue would never forget their first trip to the Moonlit Market with Shen Jingxuan.

In the span of walking from one end of the market to the other, Shen Jingxuan had gone missing nearly *twenty times*.

Yan Luoyue: “…”

Yan Gan: “…”

Sang Ji groaned in despair, “I *don’t* understand. The market is *one straight road*—two directions, start to finish! How do you keep getting lost?! *How?!*”

That night, Yan Luoyue titled her diary entry: *“One Market Trip, Eighteen Searches for My Friend.”*

From then on, whenever market day rolled around, the three of them silently agreed not to bring up inviting Shen Jingxuan.

Of course, if she *asked* to come, they’d never refuse.

But every now and then—like today—they just wanted to cut themselves some slack.

After all, that night had *exhausted* them.

If future historians ever traced the origins of the Moonlit Market’s signature lost-and-found announcements, they’d find the system was born that very evening—after broadcasting Shen Jingxuan’s name over twenty times.

…………

The trio waited at the market’s entrance, and before long, a brawny man covered in bulging muscles arrived.

This was Wu Pingyuan, the body cultivator.

He hadn’t changed much since first meeting Yan Luoyue four years ago, save for a small scar cutting through his left eyebrow, leaving a pale sliver of missing hair.

They exchanged familiar smiles and headed straight for a dessert stall, ordering a round of sweet treats before handing over five full jars of—no, not sweet bean paste—*sweet and delicious pills*.

“Oh, Little Master wants to try the arena?”

The moment the topic came up, Wu Pingyuan puffed out his chest—this was *his* expertise.

“No problem! We body cultivators live and breathe arena fights. Our Howling Sect knows all the best spots nearby… You’re from the Turtle Clan, right? Your training needs should align pretty well with ours.”

Yan Luoyue didn’t have the heart to admit she hadn’t actually thought much about training.

After lying low for four whole years, her HP had finally broken 10,000.

And with that milestone came a deep nostalgia for PvP (player versus player) battles—she just wanted to scratch that itch.

Wu Pingyuan’s eyes lit up as he launched into an enthusiastic rundown:

“Perfect timing! If you’re free today, why not come check out one of our favorite arena spots?”

Sang Ji, who knew a thing or two about this, immediately fired off a rapid series of questions:

“Live fights or deathmatches? Short rounds or endurance? Gambling bouts or clean sparring? Open or closed rules? Weapons or hand-to-hand?”

This barrage of jargon left the law-abiding Yan siblings—Yan Gan and Yan Luoyue—completely lost.

Thanks to Wu Pingyuan and Sang Ji’s explanations, Yan Luoyue gradually understood the intricacies of dueling in this world—rules and customs that were both complex and highly developed.

Take the distinction between life duels and death duels, for instance.

In a life duel, participants could concede defeat or lose by being thrown off the stage.

But in a death duel, the fight wouldn’t end until one combatant was dead, regardless of whether a cultivator was knocked off the platform or not.

Short duels were brief, often concluding within a day or a night.

Long duels, on the other hand, could stretch from a month or two to half a year, a full year, or even a decade for the defending champion.

Betting duels allowed spectators to place wagers, and the prizes for the winners were usually substantial. Pure duels, meanwhile, only charged an admission fee.

As for open and closed duels, the difference lay in whether the event was publicly accessible.

Open duels were typically legitimate operations.

Closed duels were invitation-only, often entangled in murky relationships with local power brokers.

Finally, weapon duels and barehanded duels were distinguished by whether magical artifacts could be used.

After this crash course, Yan Luoyue nodded repeatedly, feeling her knowledge expanding by the minute.

Wu Pingyuan scratched his head reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Little Master. We’ve known each other long enough—I wouldn’t steer you toward some shady dueling pit.”

He adopted a serious tone. “This is an open dueling arena with varying defense periods. I mainly compete in barehanded duels there. It’s a betting format, but I guarantee they’re all life duels.”

Sang Ji pondered for a moment before nodding slowly. “I know the place you’re talking about. We can take our sister to check it out first.”

…………

Betting duels were undeniably more popular than standard pure duels.

This form of combative entertainment thrilled spectators at every turn.

Coupled with the raw thrill of money changing hands, it was no wonder dueling had become one of the world’s pillar industries.

Even before Yan Luoyue and her companions reached the arena, they could hear the roaring crowd from a distance.

“It’s so lively,” she remarked.

Now that Yan Luoyue’s human form resembled an eleven- or twelve-year-old, she no longer needed to be carried around by Yan Gan or Sang Ji.

Eavesdropping on the distant commotion, she tugged discreetly at Sang Ji’s sleeve.

“Brother Ji, how do you know so much about the dueling rules?”

Sang Ji blinked, trying to maintain his image as a dependable older brother.

After a pause, he replied, “My father took me to watch a few matches before.”

“Really?” Yan Gan chimed in, his tone dripping with skepticism. “A few matches, and you’re this well-informed?”

“…I developed an interest and snuck back to watch a few more on my own. That’s all.”

By then, they had reached the entrance of the betting arena.

A handsome young attendant stepped forward with a polite bow.

At the same time, Sang Ji seemed to recall something and sucked in a sharp breath!

The attendant greeted them warmly. “Champion Sang, Champion Wu, welcome back. Are these your friends? Please, come in.”

Sang Ji: “…”

Damn it, his reaction had been so obvious—couldn’t the attendant tell he didn’t want to be recognized?

He hadn’t even brought Yan Luoyue and Yan Gan here for fun yet. Now he was definitely going to catch hell later!

Any attempt at subtlety was too late now.

Beside him, Yan Luoyue’s eyes widened with realization as she drawled in a slow, exaggerated tone:

“Ohhh, so that’s what you meant by ‘slightly interested’—”

Next to her, Yan Gan mirrored her epiphany, stretching his words just as theatrically:

“Hmmm, and here I thought it was just ‘a few matches’—”

The siblings exchanged a glance, then leaned toward Sang Ji in unison, shaking their heads and clicking their tongues.

“Brother Ji/Buddy, is this your idea of a croc-o-dile joke?”

Sang Ji: “…Enough! Are we never getting past these puns about my species?!”

Flushed with embarrassment, Sang Ji’s mouth stretched into a 270-degree crocodilian snarl, morphing into a living meme that screamed, “Once we’re out of here, I’m slaughtering all of you.”

Despite the teasing, the lighthearted banter eased the group’s initial tension.

After all, if even Sang Ji had fought in this arena before, it had to be safe.

With his secret exposed, Sang Ji dropped the pretense and even bought drinks for everyone.

“You can skip the fights here, but you can’t miss these fruit beverages. Trust me, these juices are the real highlight of this arena.”

Now, instead of relying on Wu Pingyuan’s guidance, Sang Ji took the lead, navigating the venue like a seasoned regular.

“Those red-painted seats over there have the best views, even though all tickets cost the same.”

“Avoid those guys—they’re pickpockets who loiter around the arena.”

“There used to be a liangfen cart here—wait, since when did it turn into a pill stall?”

The cart was run by a strikingly similar-looking pair, likely siblings.

Noticing Sang Ji’s gaze, the brother immediately launched into his sales pitch:

“Honored customer, what’ll it be? We’ve got all the basics—Bone-Mending Elixir, Revitalizing Pills, Hemostatic Powder… and Little Tortoise Balm.”

Sang Ji: “…”

Yan Gan: “…”

Yan Luoyue: “…”

Hold on—everything else made sense, but what the heck was “Little Tortoise Balm”?

Hadn’t Yan Luoyue only ever crafted one type of “Tortoise Balm”?

The vendor brother was clearly used to the question.

With a proud grin, he explained, “This is my sister’s special formula—”

Before he could finish, Sang Ji’s conditioned reflex kicked in. “My sister—that’s my sister too.”

Vendor Brother: ?

Vendor Sister: ??

These two weren’t pushovers—running a stall in this rowdy arena required some mettle.

They’d long since mastered handling provocations, whether they were flirtatious, predatory, or just plain troublesome.

Hearing Sang Ji’s audacious claim—which could be interpreted as flirting, attempted theft, or outright trolling—the siblings exchanged a glance. In unison, they whipped out two gleaming broadswords from beneath the counter with a metallic shing!

Everyone: “…”

“Uh, listen,” Sang Ji coughed, taking a half-step back. “…What if I said that was an accident?”