Chapter Eighteen: Battle Within the Cage

On the open ground, a raised stage was surrounded by black iron pillars. The pillars were engraved with inscriptions that emitted a peculiar glow—flickering and deeply mysterious. For the martial artists participating in this selection, everything about the Demon Suppression Department was an enigma, all of it novel. Yet the ever-present sense of danger made them understand one thing: if they did not take this seriously, they would die.

In the eyes of those from the Demon Suppression Department, the dead held no value. Dead was dead. No one would receive special treatment because of their background. After all, they knew that demons and monsters cared nothing for who you were. In the future, some among these candidates would become their comrades-in-arms. They could not reject the Warden’s order to lower recruitment standards for apprentices, but they would never choose a useless teammate to join their ranks. Their own survival and future battles depended on it.

“Number One, Luo Jinglin, enter the beast cage.”

Zheng Yishan narrowed his eyes, looking at the young man holding the number one token. The youth’s face was pale, his expression tense and nervous. His talent was not bad. If he could awaken his potential in the beast cage, he might succeed. But his willpower was poor—even before stepping onto the field, he was already timid.

Luo Jinglin took a deep breath, feeling his legs tremble. Gritting his teeth, he circulated his blood energy, feeling the power surge through his body, regaining some confidence before stepping into the cage.

Beast cage combat.

Rule one: Slay the demon beast, earn ten Essence Blood Pills.
Rule two: Endure for the time it takes an incense stick to burn, and you become an apprentice of the Demon Suppression Department.
Rule three: If you forfeit within the allotted time, you give up the right to become an apprentice.

Simple, straightforward rules.

Luo Jinglin gripped his sword sheath so tightly his knuckles turned white. Thankfully, he’d brought his weapon. He entered the beast cage at the center of the underground prison’s open ground.

A metallic clank sounded as the cage door was locked. Luo Jinglin’s heart skipped a beat. The mysterious patterns carved into the cage glowed with strange light. Crimson mist began to spread, and within it appeared the looming outline of a massive beast. A low, guttural growl echoed from the smoke.

As the mist dissipated, a giant wolf covered in scars from blades and swords emerged before him. It was twice the size of an ordinary wolf, shrouded in a faint aura of blood, its eyes burning scarlet. Its fangs gleamed as it stared at Luo Jinglin, saliva dripping, drawn to the blood and flesh of the youth.

Luo Jinglin backed away, retreating until his back pressed against the cage bars. The demon wolf advanced, step by step.

“This is an ordinary jungle wolf, but after being invaded by demonic energy, it has undergone bizarre changes. It can no longer be called a wild beast, but a demon beast. Though weak, if a martial artist with four blood rivers encounters it, they might barely hold their own; those with only three blood rivers would depend on their performance in battle,” Zheng Yishan explained, a faint smile on his lips.

The demon wolf crouched, hindquarters tensed, claws gripping the ground. Suddenly, it pounced at Luo Jinglin, exuding a murderous aura unlike anything he’d ever faced. Luo Jinglin’s breath quickened as he nervously drew his sword, instinctively unleashing his family’s sword technique.

A flash of cold light, and the massive wolf was cleanly severed in two by the treasured blade. The crowd erupted in astonishment. Even Zheng Yishan looked at Luo Jinglin in surprise—especially at the sword in his hand.

“The demon wolf’s defenses are strong, and its speed fierce. Ordinary weapons can barely scratch it. The wounds on its body were left by martial artists of at least six blood rivers,” Zheng Yishan remarked.

With a wave, he ordered the cage opened.

“Is that allowed?”
“He relied purely on the sharpness of his sword to slay the demon wolf.”
“Without that sword, Luo Jinglin might not have made it out alive.”
“Isn’t this cheating?” Those without weapons grumbled in discontent.

“Idiots!” someone cursed under their breath.

Whether it counted or not was for the Demon Suppression Department to decide. Why make such a fuss? This was an individual assessment, not a competition. Could they not stand to see another succeed?

Luo Jinglin stared blankly at his sword, hardly believing it. He had obtained this blade by chance—so sharp it could cut iron like mud. Yet he never imagined it would sever a demon wolf with a single stroke. The sword’s terrifying edge left him shaken. At the same time, he realized that revealing such a treasure before the Demon Suppression Department might put it at risk of being seized.

“Warden, there’s something unusual about that sword,” Iron Wuya said, frowning slightly.

“It is his fortune, his asset—part of his strength,” Gongyang Yan replied calmly, not giving the sword another glance. The sword’s edge did not come from its blade, but from its intent. Its former owner was a swordsman of great attainment. For Luo Jinglin to have been acknowledged by the sword’s spirit meant he possessed the qualifications to wield such intent. For the Demon Suppression Department, he was a seed worth cultivating.

Gongyang Yan had been watching a handful of candidates among the remaining forty-eight. Those who could fool the talent-detecting crystal ball possessed some unusual power. Though they could not deceive her eyes, which were born of talent, she still could not uncover the nature of the force that shielded them from demonic aura.

“One selection, and I’ve reaped unexpected rewards,” she mused. A swordsmanship prodigy and a demon delivered to her door—a fine return for her efforts.

“Reward him with Essence Blood Pills,” Gongyang Yan ordered.

The martial artists could not hear her, but Zheng Yishan did.

With a wave of his hand, he declared Luo Jinglin had passed. Only then did Luo Jinglin, overjoyed, come to his senses, sheathing his sword and bowing gratefully to Zheng Yishan. He received his Essence Blood Pills on the spot, along with a Clawless Python Robe and a token—thus formally joining the Demon Suppression Department.

Immediately, he drew the burning gazes of the others. The next few combatants entered the cage with heightened enthusiasm. Luo Jinglin’s swift victory had filled many with confidence. For three consecutive rounds, not a single one chose to forfeit—they all fell to the demon beasts’ maws. The bloody spectacle was enough to make one retch.

Those who remained turned pale. It was too cruel, too brutal. Right before their eyes, people were devoured. The members of the Demon Suppression Department did nothing, as if, from the moment the rules were set, their only duty was to enforce them. Compassion was alien to them; they watched coldly as young martial artists were eaten alive.

Baili Feihong closed his eyes, unwilling to watch any longer. In the cage, there were only three rules. If the trial was beyond you, forfeiting at the first sign of danger was the way to survive. Yet some harbored false hope—and died for it.

“Why is intelligence part of the selection? Where is it tested?” After a few more straightforward battles, one candidate suddenly erupted with unexpected strength, killing the demon beast.

Intelligence.

“Is deception a form of intelligence?”
“Is exaggerating your own strength a kind of wisdom?”
Baili Feihong’s lips curled. But was it really just a matter of hiding one’s power? No—when Zheng Yishan explained the rules, he had already noticed that some could be exploited.

How were the demon beasts assigned for the cage battles? If they were too strong, no worthy apprentices would be chosen; too weak, and the test would be meaningless. Thus, the opponents’ strength was determined during the initial examination.

Fortunately, he had concealed part of his abilities. And—

Baili Feihong glanced at his Blood River Blade Technique: Proficient (2198/2000). The fifth strand of blood energy he had refined with this technique was already at its peak. As soon as he decided to advance, the sixth strand would be born.

“Number Eighteen, Baili Feihong.”