The dueling ground sprawled wide, its surface paved with dark stone that shimmered faintly under the sun.
Every slab bore carving‑marks of a forgotten script — the writing of a Great Sage — forming a self‑mending barrier that could withstand the aftermath of any battle within.
Nan Huairen stood beside the field, his breath caught.
"This … is a venue of Great Sage caliber."
Brother Zhang, proud of his heritage, smiled faintly.
"Forged by our ancestor himself. Even champions of that realm can clash here without harm to the land."
Huairen nodded, hiding a sigh. "Our sect once had such a stage too — a mythic arena forged by the Emperor's own hand."
He stopped before the memories grew bitter.
The Celestial Battlestage, pulled once from the stars by Mingren Immortal Emperor himself, now sealed and forgotten.
The Four Statues
While they spoke, Li Qiye's gaze fell on the four colossal stones standing at the corners of the field — each a hundred feet high, scarred and ancient.
War‑marks crisscrossed their bodies; the air around them trembled with silent presence.
Each felt like a sleeping war god awaiting its summons.
"The Four Symbols Statues…" he whispered, eyes glinting.
He had not seen them since the passing of the Nine Saint Sage.
Unbelievable that after thousands of years, they still stood.
Others saw mere stone. He saw his own craftsmanship.
These statues were the very guardians he had designed with the Sage himself — anchors of a vast formation that channeled the sect's four directional veins.
### Ridicule
"What is that idiot doing?" Brother Zhang muttered.
To their astonishment, Li Qiye was walking toward the eastern statue — and climbing it.
Palms pressed to ancient stone, he murmured quiet phrases, inspecting old seals.
A crowd gathered quickly.
Laughter broke out.
"Ha! The bumpkin from Cleansing Dust thinks the statue is a treasure!"
"Disgraceful! Doesn't he know reverence?"
Nan Huairen stood frozen, unable to persuade or defend.
Then Li Qiye looked back and waved casually.
"This stone is too high. Help me up."
"Uh—" Huairen's face twitched. Surely his senior brother was mad.
But Li Qiye smiled lightly. "If you won't help, I'll just stay here. Let them enjoy the show longer then."
Caught between mockery and obedience, Huairen sighed and jumped.
Together they rose onto the statue's shoulder.
Wind howled across the height.
Li Qiye sat there cross‑legged, looking down over the Demon Gate's valleys as though at his own domain — calm, poised, unmoved.
Huairen, scarlet with embarrassment, hopped down again to stand guard below.
Brother Zhang left without a word, anger and contempt masking his retreat.
"Arrogant!"
"Who does he think he is?"
"Get down! That place is not for insects!"
Shouts and jeers echoed across the grounds.
Li Qiye did not answer.
Elbow on knee, he rested his chin and whispered still — speaking not to the crowd, but to the stone itself.
He was testing the array lines within. The formation remained — weak, but alive.
Faded though it was, the pattern still breathed.
### The Taunts
Time passed.
Huairen shifted uneasily until Li Qiye finally stood, patting the stone as one might a sleeping giant.
"Enough. Down."
They descended.
The moment his feet touched earth, the mockery surged again.
"Pathetic Cleansing Dust fool!"
"A mortal dare lift his eyes to our saintess?"
"Does he dream of marrying our Lady Li? A toad after a swan!"
Huairen's face drained of color.
But Li Qiye turned slowly, his gaze cold as starlight.
"To marry your saintess?" His voice was soft but each word cut.
"You overpraise her. Even if an immortal maiden begged for my hand, I'd still weigh the worth."
The square roared in fury.
"Arrogant worm!"
"Blasphemy!"
Huairen nearly wept. He grabbed Li Qiye's arm.
"Please, Senior Brother — enough! Peace!"
He pulled him away through the crowd, their backs pelted by shouts and curses.
"Coward! Come back and fight if you dare!"
The arena shook with rage, but Li Qiye walked on, steps slow and steady, as though he heard only distant wind.
### Whispers and Storm
Back at the guest courtyard, Huairen let out a rushed breath.
"Senior Brother, please, the Nine Saint Demon Gate is not ours to provoke."
Li Qiye's answer was a gentle laugh.
"Then let them provoke me. When the water rises, the earth should stand. That's all."
Huairen could only groan.
Every word his senior spoke smelled of trouble.
Rumor spread like fire beneath wind.
A single day was enough.
Every disciple of the Demon Gate now spoke his name — dripping with scorn and fury.
How dare a mortal claim indifference toward Li Shuangyan, the sect's peerless goddess?
The princess of a thousand dreams — and he called her just a woman.
Among them, one name surfaced again and again: Du Yuanguang.
An outer‑hall genius of startling talent, already at the Palace Stage's peak within five years, and favored by Li Shuangyan herself when she had chosen her personal students.
From that day, he had devoted his life to her.
Now that devotion was mocked by one insolent foreign boy.
When news reached him — that Li Qiye had stood on their sacred statues and declared,
"Even an immortal would beg in vain" —
his fingers bent until bones cracked.
"Let him laugh now," Du Yuanguang whispered, eyes glinting red.
"He'll learn why the Demon Gate bows to none."
From the shadows of his chamber, murderous intent rose like smoke.
The storm within the Nine Saint Demon Gate had only just begun.