novelraw Chapter 988: Sowing Discord
Chapter 988: Sowing Discord
The elders whose descendants had died now carried murderous expressions wherever they went. Yet the deaths were not even the worst part anymore. Suspicion had spread through the sect like poison and disciples looked at each other with wariness.
Friends separated.
Groups shrank.
People stopped sharing wine.
Stopped cultivating together.
Stopped sleeping in common caves near each other. Even ordinary greetings became tense. A disciple staring too long would cause others to back away. Someone smiling unexpectedly invited suspicion.
People checked food, pills, and even mirrors repeatedly.
Han Yu watched all this from his pavilion and almost admired how quickly fear multiplied. He had barely acted after the first week. The sect was doing the work itself now. The night the Outer Court division fights officially ended proved it.
Han Yu did nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
Yet deaths still happened.
Two groups of disciples got into an argument near one of the food districts. Someone accused another of acting strangely during a fight, the accused became angry, words escalated and weapons appeared.
By the time elders arrived... Three disciples were dead.
Another incident happened near the eastern storehouses.
A disciple merely glanced at another one for too long.
The second disciple attacked first.
Both died.
The monitoring arrays recorded everything.
Witnesses confirmed it.
No manipulation.
No poison.
Just suspicion.
The elders investigated anyway.
Nothing.
The conflicts were genuine.
Minor grievances.
Small resentments.
Fear amplifying everything.
The victims were weak outer disciples.
No one important.
Still...
The fire had already started.
The next day the Inner Court division began.
Peak Core Condensation disciples stepped onto the arenas.
The quality rose immediately.
Techniques became stronger.
Battles fiercer.
The disciples were valuable now.
And Han Yu finally acted again.
He moved quietly.
Not for killing alone.
This time he sowed hatred.
He entered bodies briefly.
Whispered words.
Provoked reactions.
Forced misunderstandings.
One disciple suddenly accused another of poisoning him, another claimed someone tampered with their weapon, one competitor attacked after hearing a fabricated insult and conflicts erupted everywhere.
The atmosphere worsened.
The deaths climbed again.
By sunset dozens had fallen.
Not through battle alone.
Outside the rings too.
The sect finally reached its limit.
The tournament stopped.
For the first time in many years, the once in a decade assessment paused midway.
Emergency meetings filled the Heart Peak.
High Elders gathered.
Peak Heads argued.
The issue had grown too large and rumors spread even among ordinary disciples. Some whispered that the sect had been cursed. Others thought hidden enemies infiltrated them. A few even suggested following orthodox methods.
Prohibit killing.
Introduce restrictions.
Protect disciples.
That proposal died immediately.
The elders rejected it outright.
The traditions of the sect came from the founder himself.
Culling the weak was sacred.
Changing it meant challenging the foundation of the sect.
No one dared.
So they chose another route.
Security.
More elders.
More inspections.
More monitoring.
Every disciple entering a ring was checked.
Spirit sense scans.
Body inspections.
Soul examinations.
Weapons verified.
Spatial tools catalogued.
Formation arrays strengthened.
The tournament resumed.
Han Yu watched.
Deaths continued.
Hundreds.
Every day.
The victims had changed now.
Inner Court disciples.
Core Condensation cultivators.
People with real value.
The elders felt increasingly uneasy.
These were no longer expendable outer disciples.
These people mattered.
And worse... Everyone knew what came later: Nascent Soul disciples.
The true elites.
The foundation of future strength.
Those losses would be unbearable.
Even within the monstrous scale of the Blood Sect, Nascent Soul cultivators were precious. Around a hundred thousand existed in total and while the number sounded absurd, it had been accumulated over countless years.
Resources.
Wars.
Competition.
Endless deaths.
For every Nascent Soul disciple... Thousands likely perished.
Many never reached that step.
Many died trying.
Every loss hurt.
And now the elders looked toward the future rounds with growing dread.
Day three of the Inner Court division arrived.
The elders introduced harsher measures.
Spatial storage treasures were banned.
Disciples surrendered rings.
Bracelets.
Pouches.
Everything.
Only one weapon allowed.
Limited healing pills.
Nothing else.
The arenas looked emptier.
People grumbled but obeyed.
Han Yu observed the changes with amusement.
It changed nothing.
Soul Projection needed no treasures.
No pills.
No weapons.
Only opportunity.
The deaths continued.
A disciple used bare hands to crush another’s throat after surrender. Another snapped and attacked spectators. One talented genius stabbed his closest friend during victory celebrations.
The elders killed him immediately.
The friend still died.
Panic spread further.
The Inner Court dormitories became fortresses.
People slept armed.
Groups watched each other.
Mirrors became flooded with discussions.
"My roommate looked strange."
"Mine too."
"Someone laughed alone last night."
"My mirror says paranoia is unhealthy."
"Shut up."
Han Yu almost laughed hearing the mirrors.
Even his creations had become part of the chaos.
Meanwhile...
The elders gathered again.
Their faces looked worse each day.
Statistics appeared.
Loss reports.
Damage assessments.
The numbers climbed steadily.
One elder slammed the table.
"This cannot continue!"
Another growled.
"Then explain it!"
No answer came.
Because there was none.
They had checked everything.
Poisons.
Curses.
Soul methods.
Blood arts.
Charms.
Artifacts.
Nothing.
The sect had encountered countless strange methods throughout history.
Yet this one left no traces.
No clues.
No explanation.
And far away...
In his pavilion...
Han Yu sat quietly.
Tea in hand.
Watching the arenas.
Watching the fear spread.
Watching suspicion consume the sect.
The first phase had succeeded.
The sect had begun hurting itself.
And the truly valuable disciples had not even entered yet.
As such the sect reacted.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Each day new measures appeared. Each day the elders became more desperate. Every arena now had additional overseeing elders. Formation arrays were strengthened until the battle rings glowed visibly even during the day.
Monitoring formations multiplied several times over. Soul detecting arrays were buried beneath arenas. Curse checking formations rotated constantly around contestants. Poison Hall elders personally inspected every disciple before entry.
Nothing worked.
The deaths continued.
The Inner Court disciples had already become fearful, nobody smiled anymore and nobody celebrated victories. Winning only meant surviving one more day and people entered arenas as if walking toward execution grounds.