I Just Wanted To Live but I Somehow Became Better Than the Protagonist

“Master Yong just sent me a message, advising you to be wise and not do anything foolish.”

Ye Mao had dealings with Bai Song’s people, and Ye Yong was well aware of it, though the distance was considerable, surrounded by cultivators, the noise was overwhelming, making it impossible to hear their conversation. If he went over personally, Ye Yong couldn’t be sure this spirited young man wouldn’t throw a fit, rebel against him, and act contrary. Moreover, if something were to happen during their interaction, and Long Tian suspected Ye Yong, it would backfire terribly. Who would Ye Yong turn to for help then? So, he simply had Ye Gou relay the message.

“Tell him not to underestimate me!”

Ye Gou nodded repeatedly, not daring to disturb him further.

Receiving Ye Gou’s echo, Ye Yong felt a lingering worry but was helpless, only able to hope that Ye Mao would remember to act like a person and not bring trouble to the family.

In the top fifty matches, everyone possessed considerable strength, and the battles lasted longer than before. After an hour, it was Ye Mao’s turn to take the stage. Clad in blue, wielding a precious sword, he appeared dignified and handsome, truly embodying the essence of a refined sword cultivator.

On the other side, Long Tian, dressed in simple black, carried his sword with a calm demeanor as he ascended the platform.

To make it easier for the audience to recognize the competitors, they wore their own casual attire for the duel; after all, the uniform robes could lead to confusion during the fight.

On one side stood the young master, on the other, a commoner; the cheers were overwhelmingly one-sided, as if no one held any regard for Long Tian.

Ye Mao’s gaze was sharp as he scrutinized Long Tian. Their first encounter had been at Ling You Mountain, where Ye Mao had found the fellow quite displeasing. Now, seeing him up close again, that feeling of distaste only intensified, causing him to grip his sword a little tighter.

Long Tian, too, regarded the well-groomed Ye Mao before him, recognizing him as the wealthy young man he had met at Ling You Mountain. Back then, he had ventured deep into danger to help Liu Bo with his illness. Now, the world had changed; Liu Bo was gone, yet the bad impression Ye Mao left lingered.

Though there was no overt animosity between them, the atmosphere crackled with a hint of hostility.

15 The Friendship of Gentlemen?

In the arena, there were no judges to declare the start; it was entirely up to the participating disciples. They could launch a surprise attack the moment they stepped onto the stage, seizing the initiative; or they could wait until both were ready, tacitly agreeing to begin; or they might exchange fierce words, gaining a psychological edge before the fight commenced.

A sneak attack could grant an advantage, and under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t earn one a bad reputation. After all, outside these walls, an enemy would never announce their intentions. Thus, if one fell victim to a surprise strike, it could only be blamed on their own lack of skill—no one else to fault. Consequently, some disciples would rush onto the stage, attacking the moment their opponent set foot upon it, catching them off guard.

Ye Mao scorned such tactics, and so did Long Tian. The two stood firmly in their designated positions, gazing at one another.

“Make your move; stop dawdling,” Ye Mao finally said, noticing Long Tian still standing there.

Long Tian was not one to be overly dramatic. Since Ye Mao had spoken, he would take the initiative.

The duel was not a fight to the death; lethal moves were forbidden. Initially, it was mostly about probing. Long Tian had learned the Earth-level sword techniques and footwork from the old Immortal, which were not suitable for public display. Instead, he employed the common, easily accessible Profound-level sword techniques that anyone in Tian Luo Sect could exchange for contribution points.

The same sword move, in different hands, bore vastly different power and presence.

Long Tian’s movements flowed like water, devoid of hesitation, with no apparent flaws.

Each strike radiated with searing crimson flames.

Ye Mao’s eyelids twitched; he thought to himself that Long Tian indeed had some skill. In just half a year since joining the sect, he had already mastered the Six Forms of Sand Fire to great perfection. Setting aside other considerations, at least he had talent in the sword. Rather than retreating, Ye Mao advanced, employing the Sand Blue Eight Forms, a technique slightly more advanced than the Six Forms of Sand Fire, also obtainable with contribution points.

The five elements countered one another; the essence of the Six Forms of Sand Fire was fire, while the Sand Blue Eight Forms drew from water.

Though Ye Mao possessed a Wind Spirit Root, as an accomplished swordsman, he naturally learned some elemental sword techniques to counter his opponents. The Sand Blue Eight Forms perfectly suppressed Long Tian’s Six Forms of Sand Fire.

For a brief moment, Long Tian found himself at a disadvantage, but it wasn’t long before he shifted his sword technique, and the two exchanged blows with vigor.

The longer the battle dragged on, the more alarmed Ye Mao became. Long Tian had nearly forced out all the sword techniques he had learned from Tian Luo Sect, and the transitions between his moves were seamless, as if he were more familiar with the sword than Ye Mao himself. The thought that he might be outmatched by this unassuming, impoverished youth filled Ye Mao with mounting displeasure and rage, as if a voice echoed incessantly in his mind, urging him to tear Long Tian to shreds.

“Clang!” A sharp sound sliced through the air as Ye Mao unleashed the masterful Layered Waves Sword.

Though it bore the character for ‘waves,’ it had no connection to water; it was a wind-based sword technique.

One strike followed another, like surging tides, layers upon layers, Ye Mao’s movements were so swift that they left only afterimages in the eyes of ordinary cultivators.

“This young man shows some promise,” the old Immortal remarked casually. “However, his mindset is unstable; he is too eager for victory. His attacks are becoming increasingly fierce and filled with killing intent. Be cautious; don’t let yourself get hurt.”

No need for reminders; Long Tian could sense the rising fury in Ye Mao’s strikes, which became increasingly cunning, occasionally aimed at vital points. Were it not for Long Tian’s exceptional skills, he might have already been down.

Seated in the stands, Ye Yong shook his head, a mix of disappointment and concern washing over him. At first, he had felt a flicker of pride for Ye Mao, believing he had grown, that he had fully escaped the clutches of death. But now, it was clear: even the most ordinary of villains, when faced with the protagonist up close, could not withstand the taunting aura and the dulling effects of the battle.

The arena was ablaze with intensity, the clashes growing fiercer by the moment. Many of the watching disciples held their breath; this was undoubtedly the most thrilling bout they had witnessed, a spectacle of pure adrenaline.

“Kill him! At the very least, cripple him!” Bai Song watched with blood boiling, wishing he could take Ye Mao’s place and personally eliminate Long Tian.

Ye Mao’s murderous intent began to surface, and neither the overseers nor the elders intervened. They were confident they could stop him just before he struck the fatal blow. After all, a duel was not only a test of strength but also of character. If Ye Mao remained obstinate, they would impose certain penalties afterward.

Though reluctant to interfere, they found themselves compelled to act.

Ye Yong sent a thought to Ye Mao.

“Are you here to spar, or to kill?”

His words fell like a bucket of cold water, dousing Ye Mao’s fury by half. Though the urge to slay Long Tian still simmered within him, it had diminished significantly, allowing for a flicker of rational thought to emerge.

With the momentary pause granted by Ye Yong’s message, Long Tian seized the opportunity, knocking the sword from Ye Mao’s grasp and sending him sprawling off the arena with a swift kick.

Fury ignited once more in Ye Mao’s heart. Just as he prepared to retrieve a new sword from his storage ring and recklessly charge back onto the stage to finish Long Tian, Ye Yong appeared silently at his side, his speed so swift that many failed to notice when he had drawn near.

“You have already lost.” With a flick of his finger, the previously dislodged sword flew back into his hand. Ye Yong then tossed it aside, the blade embedding itself into the ground. “No matter the circumstance, maintain your composure. Lose your calm, and defeat will be nigh.”

Ye Yong did not wish to steal the spotlight or assume the role of a lecturing elder, but he knew that without intervention, Ye Mao would spiral into madness, forging a deep enmity with Long Tian.

“I… have not lost. If it weren’t for you just now…”

“Think carefully before you speak to me again.” With that, Ye Yong transformed into a gust of wind, returning to his place.