Chapter Fifty-Two: Trial of the Illusory Realm, Familiar Faces

In the Valley of Illusions, over thirty thousand disciples at the Blood Qi Realm gathered outside the gates, nearly all armed. Xu Chen, carrying his Thousand-Forged Saber on his back, stood beside Niu Dali. At this moment, Niu Dali wore a pair of refined iron gauntlets, weighing a total of three thousand pounds—crafted by Xu Chen himself just the day before.

The massive gates of the Valley of Illusions slowly opened. The disciples poured in, each finding a place to sit cross-legged. “There’s no need to repeat the rules. Let’s begin,” announced the overseer on duty. With his words, the Illusion Formation activated. A blue mist swept across the battlefield.

Within the world of illusion, Xu Chen found himself in a vast ruined city. Everywhere he looked, there were only broken walls and collapsed structures. “Why has the map changed?” he muttered, just as a figure appeared not far away, facing him directly.

That disciple drew his sword and charged at Xu Chen. “A little treat delivered to my door?” With a casual palm strike, Xu Chen sent the disciple flying for several yards. “Who are you?” the disciple gasped, coughing blood and staring at Xu Chen in shock. “Why so many questions?” Xu Chen retorted, stomping on the disciple’s chest, which burst apart as the form dissolved into spiritual energy.

At that moment, a number appeared in Xu Chen’s hand. “Too easy,” he remarked, stretching his body. The disciple who had tried to ambush him had at least the strength of seven tigers, but to Xu Chen, this wasn’t even an appetizer.

“I’m not one for drawing attention. Better to keep a low profile.” He took out the mask he’d made yesterday and placed it over his face. His previously calm gaze turned sharp and fierce.

The ruined city seemed endless. Xu Chen wandered through the rubble, searching. Climbing atop a deserted three-story pavilion, he surveyed the distant landscape. Soon, he spotted several figures locked in combat miles away. Leaping from the tower, he sprinted toward the battle.

As he ran, a flash of cold light swept at him from the side. Without even looking, Xu Chen unleashed a powerful palm. “Bang!” A figure hurtled over ten yards, the force exploding inside him, causing blood to flow from every orifice as he died.

As Xu Chen approached the battlefield, both sides in the fight halted immediately, their eyes wary. They had witnessed what just happened. Xu Chen radiated a mighty and surging vitality, his masked face exuding an aura that threatened everyone present.

Both sides, setting their differences aside, charged toward Xu Chen in unison. “You haven’t even exchanged pleasantries,” he remarked. Six armed opponents advanced together. “Saves us the small talk.” Xu Chen raised his hand—a phantom holy ape materialized behind him.

“Great Waves Surge!” With a shockwave of power, three were sent flying. The remaining three each fell to a single palm strike. Those flung aside had no strength left to resist and were quickly dealt with by Xu Chen.

Glancing at the number in his hand, now increased from two to eight, Xu Chen felt satisfied. “I may still be suppressed in the Sacred White Space, but at least here, I can dominate others.”

He resumed his search for disciples through the ruins. Upon reaching a deserted palace, a golden figure appeared before him. “Junior brother, how about a match?” The figure stood as tall as a city gate—an armored Thunder Bull clad in golden plate, wielding a massive spiked mace.

From this Golden Armored Thunder Bull, Xu Chen sensed an intense and overwhelming vital energy. Judging by this aura, the bull’s strength surpassed even Niu Dali’s. “Isn’t this overkill? You’re strong enough already, yet you’re armed and wrapped in gold armor.” Xu Chen smirked.

The Thunder Bull looked slightly embarrassed but insisted, “I need to earn more points.”

“My apologies, senior brother!” The Thunder Bull charged, mace raised, the pressure like facing a speeding locomotive. Xu Chen drew his Thousand-Forged Saber to meet the attack.

“Clang!” Metal clashed. Man and bull separated, sizing each other up. From the force of that exchange, Xu Chen estimated the bull had the strength of at least a dragon and three tigers.

“My name’s Niu Shenli. What’s yours?” the bull asked cheerfully. “Beat me, and I’ll tell you,” Xu Chen replied, launching another assault.

With a deft block, Xu Chen surged forward, landing a full-force palm on Niu Shenli’s chest armor. “Zheng!” The force penetrated the golden outer armor, then the second layer beneath, dissipating just before reaching flesh.

“Bang!” The mace crashed down, forcing Xu Chen to retreat with the momentum. Man and bull again distanced themselves. Niu Shenli clutched his chest, a grimace of pain crossing his face.

“That really hurt,” Niu Shenli complained. “Your Thunder Bull clan’s armor is thick to begin with, and now you’re wearing an extra layer. This isn’t fair to the other disciples,” Xu Chen replied coolly.

Niu Shenli was formidable, but not worth the effort—better to go after easier targets. “Sorry, but I have to save up spiritual coins. I want to marry Huahua,” Niu Shenli said, embarrassed but resolute.

“Huahua? Isn’t that Niu Dali’s fiancée?” Xu Chen mused silently. “I won’t fight you. Go save up for your bride,” he said, turning and walking away. Niu Shenli watched his retreating figure but did not pursue. “What a formidable junior brother,” he murmured, rubbing his aching chest.

For the rest of the day, Xu Chen rampaged through the ruined city. Any disciple with less than the strength of ten tigers was instantly defeated. The few top contenders he could defeat, he did; if not, he moved on to other opponents.

Sitting atop a crumbling stone tower, Xu Chen gazed into the distance. “I wonder where Senior Brother Niu is?” The number on his hand had reached a hundred. According to his plan, he intended to accumulate two hundred points before leaving.

Just as he pondered, a sword light flashed behind him. Sensing the threat, Xu Chen sprang up, unleashing a full-force palm behind him. “Great Waves Surge!” Expecting a fatal blow, he was surprised when the sword was unaffected, thrusting straight for his brow.

Forced to leap from the tower, Xu Chen was pursued by the attacker who again aimed a sword at his brow. “Such killing intent!” Xu Chen frowned, twisting midair and drawing his Thousand-Forged Saber.

He landed, channeling energy to neutralize the impact, and swung his blade to intercept the incoming sword.

Steel met steel with a resonant clang. The force drove Xu Chen’s feet into the ruined ground, while the attacker used the recoil to retreat several yards.

Only then did Xu Chen get a clear look at his assailant—a figure in a tight black robe, face half-concealed behind a blue mask, with only a pair of sharp, piercing eyes exposed.

“So it’s you!” Xu Chen exclaimed. This was the same female disciple who, during the first Illusion Assessment, had joined forces with Niu Dali to defeat them both.