'Kunlun shouldn't be winning or losing just yet,' Ji Wuye muttered under his breath, his brow furrowing slightly as he weaved through the bustling crowd ascending the stone steps.

The worn granite beneath his feet radiated the day's gathered warmth through the soles of his white shoes, each step bringing him closer to the towering paifang gate that loomed overhead.

They had finally entered the hallowed grounds of Kunlun, and Ji Wuye's sharp gaze swept over the Lower Level.

'As expected, the place is quite deserted,' he thought. He then made his way up the marble stairs.

On this day in the previous timeline, Kunlun sparred with guests using only the martial realm of an Official Disciple, meaning no use of the Zone, Sword Zone, or anything related to the 6th realm. They had been winning more often than not.

Now, however, the situation seemed more balanced—or perhaps Kunlun was even losing more matches.

Because...in this timeline...

'Most of the experienced disciples are probably guarding the critical and blind spots of Kunlun against the upcoming attack,' Ji Wuye mused.

Finally, he reached the Central Courtyard, where the press of bodies and wave of voices washed over him like a physical force. The morning sun caught the various colored silks of the assembled crowd, creating a shifting kaleidoscope of movement as they jostled for better viewing positions.

'Perfect for the plan,' Ji Wuye smiled faintly, the corners of his lips curling ever so slightly as a cool breeze carried the sweet scent of nearby flowering plum trees across the courtyard. This was the main reason for his change of plans.

By exploiting Kunlun's weaker standing, he could step in to represent them and gain the spotlight.

These crowds had flocked to Kunlun thanks to the rumors he had spread through the shopkeepers—that Kunlun would send their greatest expert for this sparring match. With many of Kunlun's experienced disciples absent, it had led to more losses than victories for them, setting the stage perfectly.

All of this was part of his plan—or rather, his new plan. The changes had occurred for a simple reason: 'Too many things have changed, and too many factors need to be considered,' he thought as he surveyed the throngs.

Starting from his discovery that Quick Adaptation could elevate his martial realm to the point of preventing the deaths of his Senior Sisters.

But then...Ji Wuye's trail of thought was abruptly shattered as an unsettling realization washed over him. Ever since his arrival, an air of somber despair had hung heavy across the crowd, their expressions unnaturally grim.

While he had expected tension, what truly caught him off guard were the anguished words from the onlookers, each utterance laced with disbelief and heartache.

"Nooo! Kunlun... my Kunlun... how could this happen? How could my goddess lose?" One man was literally on the ground, sobbing uncontrollably as if a knife had pierced his very heart, his body wracked with tremors of grief.

"O-oh my, t-the Kunlun... I-I can't believe it!" An elderly man trembled, his voice quavering, wide eyes fixed upon the large wooden platform serving as the temporary arena, as if witnessing a nightmare unfold before him.

Ji Wuye, who had already been feeling a creeping sense of unease since leaving the herb shop, felt his heart skip a beat at the sight. His instincts flared, and he began pushing through the crowd , jostling slightly as he advanced, his white robes swirling around him.

Then, he saw something unexpected—a faction that had no reason to be here, 'The Emei Sect...' he noted inwardly, his eyes narrowing. Their revealing outfits, with bare legs, torsos, and arms, along with the veils covering the lower halves of their faces, were unmistakable. Each member had long, sharp nails that glinted like talons in the dappled light.

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Beside that...

'Murong Yu... Mei Ling... Liang Zhi... and lastly, Sun Wei,' Ji Wuye mentally listed, his crimson eyes catching sight of many notable figures observing from the higher ground—the same area where the Elders used to rest and evaluate during the yearly tests.

His eyes then narrowed further, and his hand instinctively moved to his waist, fingers brushing against the reassuring weight of his jian

These people were originally part of Du Chen's group. 'They shouldn't be here—or rather...' His thoughts trailed off.

These figures were typically only interested in Inner Disciple spars, not Official Disciple competitions.

As Ji Wuye shifted his gaze to the Kunlun representative area, where their participants should have been waiting, he found it glaringly empty. For some inexplicable reason, his heartbeat quickened, a sense of dread coiling in the pit of his stomach.

He moved slowly, edging closer to the vast wooden platform until he finally saw it...

"What is this? Is Kunlun really so weak?" A young woman's voice cut through the air like a whip crack, her mocking tone dripping with disdain. She stood atop the platform, a vision of contrasts in her flowing white robes adorned with deep purple stripes, revealing toned legs and bare arms.

It was Xing Shufen, a genius Ji Wuye knew all too well, her beauty as striking as her prowess. A faint veil covered her lower face, yet the derisive smirk behind it was unmistakable, her eyes glinting with cruel amusement.

She was a figure who should not have been here—someone who had surpassed even Du Chen in strength at this point. Her power was dangerous, but it was her charm, or rather the martial arts of her Emei sect, that made her a greater threat—precisely why Kunlun had not extended an invitation.

But that wasn't what drew Ji Wuye's attention and rooted him to the spot. It was the figure Xing Shufen held in one hand, like a trophy claimed through conquest...

"Senior Sister..." Ji Wuye muttered in shock, his voice barely above a whisper. The person in her grasp was Lian Rougang.

Her cheeks were gripped tightly by Xing Shufen's long nails, leaving crescent indentations in her flushed skin, and her eyes were swollen with dark blue bruises beneath them.

Her once-pristine martial robe was torn and disheveled, and her long, beautiful raven hair had become a tangled mess, framing her face like a shattered halo.

Her sword lay discarded on the wooden floor, a silent witness to her defeat, yet her gaze remained locked on Xing Shufen, full of defiant fire, refusing to yield even in the face of such humiliation.

"Y-your intentions are impure, and your methods are deceitful... I-I can't admit defeat to such—" Lian Rougang tried to spit out the words, her voice strained but unwavering. However, her defiance was abruptly cut short.

She coughed violently, blinking in pain as a vicious punch landed in her abdomen, and Xing Shufen's grip tightened, her nails digging in viciously, rendering Lian's words inaudible save for a pained whimper that escaped her lips.

"Stubborn," Xing Shufen said, rolling her eyes in exaggerated exasperation, the gesture accentuating her smirk hidden behind the veil. She then looked up at the guest area with a cold smile. "Are you satisfied with this, Junior Sister?"

"Oh my, Elder Sister, you're so kind. But I think you should save your energy, my respected Elder Sister," Yao Zhi giggled, her veil bouncing slightly with her laughter. Despite her playful tone, one couldn't help but notice the menacing gleam in her eyes as she surveyed the carnage before her.

Her long nails, which she had used to deflect a sneak attack by one of Kunlun's Official Disciples aimed at Xing Shufen, were now completely gone—cut down to the length of ordinary nails.

With a dismissive sigh, Xing Shufen tossed Lian Rougang aside like a discarded rag doll, crumpling amidst the scattered forms of several other female Kunlun Official Disciples, all suffering from the same brutal injuries.

It was a shocking sight—all of them were female Kunlun disciples.

"You're right. This is getting boring. How about sparring with me, Young Master Murong?" Xing Shufen continued, her voice dripping with mocking disdain as she blatantly disregarded Kunlun, the host sect, and looked up at the guest area, where Murong Yu silently observed the entire arena, his expression unreadable.

"And with this, I declare that Kunlun has completely... lost." Wu Gao's voice vibrated from the representative area, laced with a mixture of disbelief and resignation, as if he could scarcely comprehend the events unfolding before his eyes.

Just after Xing Shufen discarded Lian Rougang, who was now barely breathing, he and Hao Hanying immediately rushed onto the scene along with other Kunlun Official Disciples.

It had been a one-against-four confrontation. But the ones losing—disastrously—were the four Kunlun disciples. The outcome was a humiliating defeat for Kunlun, a slap in the face to the entire sect.

The once-respected image of Kunlun's strong disciples had been shattered in front of the common people, their pride and honor lying in tatters amidst the dust and debris of the arena.

But no one could really blame the stunned onlookers, considering how absurd and one-sided the challenge had been.

A hush fell over the crowd as everyone watched with bated breath, thinking the infamous Emei Sect had surely lost their minds when one of their Juniors had a nail—arguably their primary weapon—cleanly broken by a Kunlun disciple's deft strike.

In a fit of rage that hung in the air like a suffocating miasma, the Emei Sect arrogantly challenged the remaining female Kunlun representatives to a fight—a brazen one against four.

Who could have predicted that Xing Shufen, an Emei Senior Disciple of unparalleled skill and beauty, would emerge victorious so easily?

And no one expected the four Kunlun representatives to be so stubbornly defiant, refusing to admit defeat.

...

Back at the scene, the Official Disciples who had been watching anxiously, gulping audibly as they witnessed the unfolding events that would surely scar Kunlun's reputation, weren't angry at the four female Kunlun representatives.

Instead, they immediately rushed forward with urgency in their steps, eager to help their fallen sisters and salvage what little honor remained.

Wu Gao, Hao Hanying, and the rest of the Official Disciples, who had been waiting for this moment with dread coiling in their guts, hurried to heal their Martial Sisters.

But to everyone's surprise, a young man with long white hair that spilled over his shoulders like liquid moonlight and strikingly handsome features that could easily entrance any maiden, was already on the stage beside the battered forms.

He knelt beside the shocked and ashamed Lian Rougang, gently caressing her bruised cheeks with a tenderness as she lay crumpled on the ground, her ragged breaths the only sound in the sudden stillness that had descended.