Jiang Ke’er walked into the Registration Hall.
“Name.”
“Jiang Qingyi.”
Qingyi’s real name had not been exposed; only Yiqin Shifu, Luya-jie, and a few members of the Demon Race knew it… all the other informed parties were long dead.
Registering under the name Jiang Qingyi, Jiang Ke’er became a Black Iron-level cultivator and headed toward the city’s Arena.
“Matching or bring your own team?”
“Matching.”
“Hmm, then what’s your specialty?”
Jiang Ke’er’s mind blanked for a moment, and she blurted out, “…Free points?”
“What?”
“Support, support,” she hurriedly corrected herself.
“What kind of support?”
“Lock-on, instant kill, auto-positioning… I can do a bit of everything.”
“…I’m asking, is it control or defense!”
“Control, I suppose, the type that makes others unable to move.”
“Alright, then. Go wait under the Black Iron Arena. We’ll call you over when your team’s assembled.”
Ten minutes later—
She really shouldn’t have trusted the matching mechanism.
Jiang Ke’er glanced at the four teammates huddled in the corner by the wall and felt a headache coming on.
The moment they saw her Demon Race traits, the four instantly reached a consensus—standing in the Safe Surrender Zone and refusing to step out no matter what.
To make matters worse, they hung around the surrender zone idly, chattering nonstop: “Why’s a Demon Race coming here to mess around! What rotten luck, how are we supposed to win with a teammate like this?”
“You never know what kind of teammates you’ll get,” another muttered sarcastically.
“Just surrender, it’s not worth fighting, total waste of time.” The four kept urging her, glaring at Jiang Ke’er in dissatisfaction, “What are you waiting for? Hurry up and come over to surrender! Don’t waste everyone’s time!”
Jiang Ke’er didn’t go over.
If all five didn’t surrender together, they couldn’t leave the stage or match into the next round—they could only stay stuck here with her.
“What, you want to fight five alone?” The four gave her a look like she was insane, “If you want to get yourself killed, go ahead.”
Jiang Ke’er was starting to get annoyed.
Only then did she speak: “If you don’t want to fight, then shut up and hang out quietly. If you wake my daughter… I’ll kill all of you too!”
“Just you? You—”
Before they could retort, Jiang Ke’er vanished in a flash, sword light flaring at the other end of the Arena.
The five opponents were shocked, but only at Jiang Ke’er’s recklessness, not because they sensed any threat.
Five against one—did she think she could defy the heavens?
We… we’re veterans, known as the Black Iron Executioners, the terror of weaklings! The number of Black Iron cultivators who’ve died by our hands is at least fifty if not a hundred!
…Wait, where’s my head?
Jiang Ke’er had no intention of wasting time fighting at the Black Iron rank.
Her purpose for entering the tournament was to hone herself, improve her combat experience, and broaden her horizons…
This kind of slaughter match wasn’t worth her energy.
With the power she’d absorbed in the Secret Realm, plus the fighting skills honed in the System Space, defeating these Four Symbols Phase Black Iron cultivators took only a single breath.
On one side were pitiful souls stuck at Black Iron for years; on the other, herself, who’d even crossed blades with Thirty-two Strong teams.
To Jiang Ke’er, one-versus-five wasn’t something to brag about—she was only a bit stronger, nothing to be proud of.
Of course, that wasn’t how others saw it at all.
The stands were silent; the handful of spectators held their breath.
The four who’d been standing in the surrender zone tried to sneak out and give up the surrender, thinking that maybe their mysterious teammate was someone extraordinary, and that this was a chance to mooch some points.
But the moment one foot stepped out of the surrender zone, it went flying through the air.
“You’ve already surrendered, so don’t have the nerve to try and steal the points… This has nothing to do with you.” Jiang Ke’er pressed her sword tip to their faces, speaking coolly.
Swallowing hard, they shrank back, feeling the killing intent just inches away.
The match ended.
Light shone from the Badge on Jiang Ke’er’s chest, and gradually the emblem gained a bronze hue.
Because her four teammates surrendered, she took all the points for this victory, leaping straight from the lowest Black Iron rank up to Bronze.
Though it was still a lowly rank, at least it looked better than Black Iron.
“Continue matching?”
The arena attendant, seeing the growing audience, asked Jiang Ke’er with some anticipation.
Jiang Ke’er shook her head, put away her Badge, and quietly left the arena.
She didn’t want to match again. She now realized just how unfriendly the Matching Mechanism was for the Demon Race.
Although the Shenzhou Cup Grand Tournament didn’t forbid Demon Race participation, every year in both the Thirty-two Strong and even Sixty-four Strong, not a single Demon Race member ever appeared.
Was it because the Demon Race was weak in battle? Obviously not—this stifling environment was one of the reasons, plus the fact that killing wasn’t prohibited in the tournament.
Even if a Demon Race team achieved impressive results, they’d be murdered on the way by their enemies.
The whole event was hosted by the Human Sects—of course the Demon Race weren’t welcome.
If a Demon Race insisted on making a name for themselves… they’d only bring trouble on themselves.
And as for this kind of foolish troublemaking, Jiang Ke’er always liked to do it herself.
“Mommy, I’m hungry~”
Eggy’s call snapped Jiang Ke’er out of her thoughts, and she helplessly took out some milk.
“I don’t want milk anymore,” Eggy batted the straw away.
Jiang Ke’er, exasperated: “You said you wanted milk just yesterday, and now you’re tired of it?”
“I want to eat that! Eating that will help me grow!”
Eggy pointed her tiny beak toward the Prize Zone behind the Arena—the reward for Town Arena Tournament qualifiers, a Flame Stone Crystal.
Jiang Ke’er winced. “You really know how to eat, huh? I’ll go see if there’s any for sale.”
She ran to the Auction House, inquired everywhere, turned the latest listings upside down, and, unsurprisingly… found nothing.
How could a tournament qualification reward be so easily bought? Its very existence was meant to tempt cultivators desperate for materials into joining the tournament.
Jiang Ke’er had once secretly ridiculed those pitiful souls risking their lives for these prizes.
She hadn’t expected to become the next one herself.
Fine, then. For the sake of her so-called daughter, for the sake of the future Jin Wu Lord who would be such a powerful ally.
There was an Honored One guarding the prizes, so stealing would mean exposure.
She could only compete.
But Jiang Ke’er didn’t want to enter using this Matching Mechanism—it was too conspicuous, wasted time and effort, and made it easy for schemers to target her.
One careless move and she might lose her life.
She wanted a team—a team of Demon Race members, to see just how far they could get if they tried their utmost.
But she couldn’t find a team.
Emperor Taizong of Tang wouldn’t waste elite strength on something so seemingly meaningless, and Jiang Ke’er herself didn’t want to drag Tingyue, Mu Guoguo, and the others into this meat grinder.
She needed teammates who were both fearless and wouldn’t hold her back.
But being fearless meant… they were all already dead.
After thinking it over… she realized matching was her only option.
Glancing at the arena filled with hateful stares, Jiang Ke’er braced herself and turned back.
One versus five! Most likely, every match would be one versus five! She might even face one versus nine!
“Sigh…”
Jiang Ke’er, rolling her eyes like a dead fish, walked to the edge of the Arena.
The arena attendant looked at Jiang Ke’er with delight. “May I have your registered name, faction, and matching position?”
“Jiang Qingyi, Taiming Sect Demon Race disciple, position: support.”