Chapter Forty-Eight: Truly Sending One’s Head a Thousand Miles

Ning Xianyu still couldn’t understand why Xuanyuan Tunhan forbade her from drinking recklessly. After thinking about it for a while, she suspected that perhaps she became a little wild after drinking. Unfortunately, not even the system could answer this question, leaving it an unsolved mystery.

However, when she went out, she found Yi Tianling and asked him how they got home last night. Yi Tianling was feeling rather gloomy, slumping to the side, but at her question, he visibly jolted, his expression becoming a mix of excitement and anxiety, as if he’d just heard the juiciest gossip but didn’t dare share it.

Seeing him silent for so long, Ning Xianyu slapped him on the back. “I asked you a question. Speak.”

Yi Tianling nearly crashed into the wall from the force of her blow. After a moment’s hesitation, he whispered, “Were you that exhausted last night?”

To be able to black out from drinking, Senior Ning was truly every man’s nemesis.

Ning Xianyu didn’t understand what he meant. She thought for a moment and replied, “I suppose so? How did I get back last night?”

Seeing her genuine curiosity, Yi Tianling finally explained, “Senior Xuanyuan carried you home last night. You looked completely worn out, but Senior Xuanyuan was radiant—and he even advanced a level.”

He advanced all the way to the peak of Golden Core in one go, a speed that was truly astonishing.

Yi Tianling suspected that Ning Xianyu had somehow assisted Xuanyuan Tunhan in advancing so quickly.

The “Senior Xuanyuan” in front of them nodded approvingly. “Such rapid advancement—impressive indeed.” With that, he strode away.

Seeing how happy she looked, Yi Tianling became certain that everything had happened with her full consent.

Both parties willing, feelings running deep—how enviable.

Thinking again of what the system had told him, Yi Tianling’s expression gradually grew resolute, and at last, he made his decision.

While they were still chatting inside the room, a commotion broke out outside.

Those in the Demon Palace had set up a stage for a free-for-all match. Anyone could go up and challenge anyone else; as long as you managed to be the last one standing, you would be the victor. Alternatively, if you managed to make the Saintess happy during the fight, you’d win as well.

The stage was large, but certainly not big enough for everyone, so guards were sent to divide the demon cultivators into groups.

Ning Xianyu mused that, no matter how big the stage was, there could only be twenty or thirty people on it at once. With so many demon cultivators fighting, it would surely be chaotic.

But the organizers were truly extravagant—five hundred people would compete at once.

Ning Xianyu rubbed her ears, thinking she must have misheard.

“That stage can hold so many people?”

Five hundred at a time—were they insane?

Surely the stage couldn’t accommodate that many.

Saba, meanwhile, was quite excited, rallying his brothers to go give it a try. “Now this is interesting! If you can’t even get up on the stage, what face have you got to compete?”

He led his brothers off to join the fun, seeming even happier than if he’d found treasure.

Ning Xianyu couldn’t understand the demonfolk’s way of thinking, but since they enjoyed the chaos, she was content to be a spectator.

The grouping was done quickly, with everyone scrambling to join. Ning Xianyu counted and noticed the groups weren’t even—some had well over five hundred people, but no one seemed to mind.

At the judge’s signal, the demon cultivators surged forward, using every trick to leap onto the stage.

It turned out that getting on the stage itself was a challenge: only those who made it up had the right to fight, and those who failed were simply eliminated.

Those who got up immediately began fighting in a frenzy, while many others tried desperately to climb or fly up. Few succeeded in joining later; most who were knocked down never managed to get back up, left only to watch the others battle.

The demon cultivators fought with real ferocity, each blow intended to kill. No one called “foul” if they were beaten; it was kill or be killed.

Ning Xianyu found it curious. “Does the demon realm always fight like this? Do they have a large population?”

If they fought like this all the time, how big would their population have to be to sustain it?

Watching their seemingly suicidal fighting style, anyone would think they were trying to reduce their own numbers on purpose.

Xuanyuan Tunhan watched as well. “They have a large population and many children. Each time, demonfolk can have three or four at once, and their survival rate is high.”

Ning Xianyu looked at him in surprise. “They’re that prolific?”

Humans usually had one child at a time; twins or triplets were rare. For demonfolk, three or four at a time was the norm. That was impressive.

“But even if they have many children, with demon cultivators being so violent, how do the children grow up?” she wondered. “Wouldn’t they just be killed?”

Xuanyuan Tunhan shook his head. “There are rules in the demon realm. They only challenge the strong and never attack the weak or young. Anyone who dares harm younglings will die by spontaneous combustion.”

Yi Tianling added, “I heard the previous Demon King placed a curse forbidding demon cultivators from harming children. Anyone who tries will explode and die.”

Ning Xianyu mused that the former Demon King was farsighted—probably afraid that if things went on like this, the demon realm would be left empty.

Looking at it this way, demon cultivators were quite principled, and rather interesting.

The fighting on the stage was fierce, but results came quickly.

Because they had been chosen by the Saintess, Ning Xianyu and her group did not have to participate in the fighting.

However, as the matches continued, more demon cultivators were selected by the Saintess and taken aside to await the ceremony.

Soon enough, Saba and his group returned.

They had made it onto the stage, but were quickly knocked off, so they came back.

Even in defeat, they were in high spirits.

Before long, a demon messenger came to summon them, instructing them to wait for the ceremony.

Ning Xianyu and her companions had never participated in such a ritual before; they imagined it would take place in a mysterious chamber, with a bloodstone at the center and everyone gathered around. The Saintess would then cast a spell to draw out their demonic energy.

But when they arrived, they found themselves in a vast, empty courtyard. In the center was something fenced off, though they couldn’t yet see what it was.

Already, many demon cultivators were gathered around, most bearing wounds from the earlier matches—they were the chosen ones.

Now, all of them stood here, staring excitedly toward the center.

Ning Xianyu noticed how large the ceremonial area was and how many demon cultivators were gathered. She thought that if she tried to snatch the bloodstone and run, it wouldn’t be easy.

With so many opponents, what could she do?

With so many demon cultivators packed together, there’d be no time to open a path for escape.

After a while, more demon cultivators arrived.

This time, they were powerhouses, all standing in mid-air, looking down from above.

Ning Xianyu looked up and counted more than a dozen, including Akali’s own father. His position was clearly the most prominent, at the very center.

It seemed this ceremony was truly important—so many bigwigs had gathered.

What to do now?

They were surrounded on all sides—how could they possibly escape?

Subconsciously, she edged closer to Xuanyuan Tunhan, feeling like she was just a drag on the team. Perhaps she shouldn’t have come at all; being here was just courting death.

But just as she thought things couldn’t get any worse, the courtyard walls began to rumble and retracted into the ground, vanishing completely.

Outside the courtyard, all the demon cultivators who had survived the earlier matches stood expectantly, waiting for the ceremony.

Looking out, to call it an army of thousands would be an understatement.

Ning Xianyu nearly fainted.

Were they really supposed to steal the bloodstone and the Saintess from under the eyes of these tens of thousands of eager demon cultivators and a dozen demon lords?

They weren’t here to steal anything—this was what you’d call marching a thousand miles just to hand yourself over on a platter.