Holding the Sword to Carry Away Senior Sister (Transmigration) - Chapter 48

Fu Yan stared at the plaque before her, repeating the four large characters in her mind. She could feel that this was no ordinary place.

Noticing Fu Yan’s contemplative look, Shui Liuqing explained, “I heard that two hundred years ago, this was a notorious black market. Back then, it wasn’t under the jurisdiction of Chaoyang City. Any underground transactions—from trading stolen treasures to hiring assassins—happened here.”

Fu Yan nodded in agreement. Though called a “Martial Market,” the heavy air made it feel more like a black market that “ate people without spitting out the bones.”

“Later, as Chaoyang City grew stronger, the market was incorporated into the city. Now managed by a specialized organization, it’s been renamed the Martial Market, and the atmosphere has improved over the years,” Shui Liuqing added, detailing the legends of the place.

Fu Yan watched the hurried crowds at the entrance and stepped inside. “Let’s go take a look.”

The market was divided into two sections: a free-trade zone and the Arena. While the trading area was quiet due to the late hour, the Arena was packed and illuminated as brightly as day. Fu Yan’s eyes quickly adjusted to the brilliant light.

The Arena was structured with a massive sunken stage at the center, surrounded by rising tiers of spectator stands, reminiscent of a modern wrestling arena but many times larger.

“As you can see, Master, the Arena is divided by cultivation stages. The area below us is for the Opening Light stage. The other side is for the Hedo stage,” Shui Liuqing noted.

Fu Yan looked at the Opening Light section. Here, sect status and family background meant nothing; only raw strength commanded respect. The rules were simple: it was a “King of the Hill” format. Anyone at the Opening Light stage could challenge the current defender. The loser stepped down, while the winner stayed to face the next challenger immediately, with no time for rest.

In this format, victory was measured by consecutive wins. Shui Liuqing mentioned that winning five in a row made one an elite; ten in a row marked one as a future talent of the Northern Region.

Beside the stage stood a massive stone wall—the Ranking Wall—displaying the best consecutive win records. Fu Yan walked up to read the top names.

1st: Xue Hu — 18 consecutive wins!

2nd: Bing Lingyi — 15 consecutive wins!

3rd: 14 consecutive wins…

Fu Yan was staggered. In a gauntlet where you fight back-to-back without recovery, managing nearly twenty wins required an unbelievable amount of True Essence. Her eyes scanned down the list of twenty names until one caught her eye.

8th: Bai Yueli — 12 consecutive wins.

Fu Yan’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t known Bai Yueli had fought here, let alone achieved such a high rank.

“Senior Sister Bai came here last year when she was at the Late Opening Light stage,” Shui Liuqing explained. “It caused quite a stir in Chaoyang City. The top five records were set over a century ago by monstrous geniuses and haven’t been broken since. For our generation, being 8th is essentially being in the top tier.”

Fu Yan smiled. She knew how high Bai Yueli’s standard was. If she didn’t work hard, the gap between them would only widen. A fire of competitive spirit ignited in her chest; she wanted to walk the same path and leave her name on that wall.

“Let’s find a seat and watch,” Fu Yan said, her eyes resolute.

They found a quiet spot with a broad view. A match had just ended, and a disciple named Zhou Chenbai from the Zilan Sect had just secured his fifth win. He was panting heavily, but the next challenger—a man with twin hammers—stepped up immediately.

“Heh, five wins is impressive, but you stop here today,” the hammer-wielder sneered.

Zhou Chenbai gripped his saber. “Begin.”

The clash was brutal. Zhou Chenbai was technically more skilled, but after five fights, his True Essence was depleted. He was forced into a defensive posture. Eventually, a hammer strike shattered his protective aura and sent him flying, coughing blood. The match was over.

Fu Yan frowned. She realized the cruelty of the Arena. To climb the rankings, one needed at least eight wins, but by the fifth match, everyone in the audience knew your style and your weaknesses. Challengers would grow increasingly stronger just to stop your streak.

After watching several more rounds—where most failed at their fourth or fifth match—Fu Yan finally stood up, gripping her Ling Long broken sword.

She stepped onto the stage. Her first opponent was Lin Qingbiao, who had already won four matches and was at the Middle Opening Light stage, same as Fu Yan.

“Luck is on my side,” Lin laughed, seeing a new face at the same stage as him. “I’ll be breaking my four-win record today.”

“We are the same stage, but you’ve fought four times already,” Fu Yan replied with a calm smile. “Don’t be overconfident.”

Fu Yan didn’t waste time. She unleashed her mastered Wind-Shadow Steps, closing the distance instantly. She knew that in a gauntlet, every second wasted was True Essence lost. She didn’t use a specialized sword style yet, but her raw speed and precision were overwhelming. Within two breaths, Lin was sent sprawling.

“I concede!” Lin scrambled up, glad he hadn’t provoked her further.

Fu Yan waited for the next. A man with a giant axe stepped up, then a third, then a fourth—all Middle-stage challengers. Fu Yan used her superior movement to avoid head-on clashes, winning through attrition and precision.

By the fifth match, she faced her first Late Opening Light opponent. Fu Yan had to use every sword technique in her arsenal. The opponent’s foundation was a bit shaky—likely built on pills rather than training—and after a grueling fifteen-minute battle, Fu Yan emerged victorious.

Five consecutive wins.

She was exhausted. Her True Essence was nearly dry. But the sixth challenger was already walking up: Lu You, a solid Late-stage cultivator.

The crowd finally began to take notice.

“Who is she? Five wins on her first try is rare.”

“She’s from the Shui Ling Sect. I saw her at their inner ranking tournament.”

“Shui Ling Sect? Like Fairy Bai Yueli? I still remember her fight last year.”

Lu You heard the murmurs. He looked at Fu Yan. “You’re from the same sect as her? Your strength is nothing compared to hers. Will you admit defeat, or do I have to throw you off the stage?”

Fu Yan raised her broken sword. “Begin.”

She poured her remaining True Essence into a final defense, but it was futile. Lu You struck once. The force vibrated through the Ling Long sword, knocking it from her hand and sending Fu Yan flying out of the Arena.

Bang! She landed in the dust.

“Ah, five wins is good for a first timer,” a spectator remarked. “But she’s still no match for Fairy Bai Yueli. Didn’t the Fairy win nine in a row on her first attempt?”

Fu Yan lay in the dust, the words echoing in her ears. From the very beginning, it seemed there was an insurmountable gap between them.