Slash!
Clang!
The fight for the miracle water that could heal injuries continued and soon turned bloody. Those who were injured the most severely were being pushed out or straight-up killed by the others in better condition.
The fight went on for a while before sothing unexpected happened.
"Silence maggots!"
The voice that erupted from behind the elevated platform was like thunder cracking through the cavern, shaking dust from the stalactites above.
Yuan Ming's head snapped toward the source.
From a small cave opening carved into the wall behind the platform, one he had failed to even notice before, a figure erged, moving with the irritated sluggishness of soone rudely awakened from sleep.
Supervisor Gui stumbled out, his scarred face twisted in annoyance. His robes were disheveled, his hair sticking up at odd angles. He yawned widely, showing those filed teeth, then fixed the fighting participants with a baleful glare.
"I was sleeping," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Do you insects have any idea how rare peaceful sleep is in this damned cave?"
The fighting continued for a mont—those desperate for the healing water were too focused on their struggles to imdiately register the threat.
That was their mistake.
Supervisor Gui's expression darkened. Without any visible movent, without any warning, his hand blurred.
Slash!
Yuan Ming's eyes widened as he barely tracked the motion.
A crescent of dark qi—sohow unaffected by the formation that locked everyone else's cultivation—shot through the crowd of fighters.
Woosh!
Thud!
Ten heads flew in the air, one by one.
"Kyaaa!" one of the young won in the crowd scread in fear when she saw that the heads flying in the air had been stripped of all at and organs.
They were simply skulls detached from the body while the rest were lying on the ground or inside the pond. Blood sprayed across the green pond, turning its healing waters crimson.
The cavern fell absolutely silent.
The survivors froze mid-punch, mid-grapple, their faces pale with shock and terror as they stared at the corpses of their fellow participants.
"There," Supervisor Gui said with satisfaction, scratching his stomach lazily. "Much better. Now I can think."
He yawned again, louder this ti, and conjured a chair from seemingly nowhere.
It was a grotesque thing made entirely of bones that clattered into existence behind him. He flopped into it with the grace of a drunk falling into bed, the bones creaking under his weight.
"Continue your healing," he said with a dismissive wave.
"But quietly. If I hear one more shout, one more scream, one more sound above a whisper..." He smiled that terrible smile. "I'll kill twenty next ti."
The participants didn't need to be told twice.
Those still in the pond quickly made room for others, their earlier aggression evaporating like morning dew.
They moved with extra care, as if they were afraid their movents would cause the water to splash. Despite how single they were, none of them wanted to court death.
Those waiting their turn stood in silent, orderly lines. Even if that ant bleeding to death, they did not dare make a sound.
The whole atmosphere had transford from a chaotic brawl into sothing resembling disciplined efficiency—all because of ten deaths and one lazy threat.
Yuan Ming watched this transformation with a mixture of horror and understanding.
'He didn't kill randomly,' Yuan Ming realized, his analytical mind working despite his disgust.
He studied the ten corpses still bleeding out into the pond. Each one had been among the most severely injured: broken bones jutting through skin, deep gashes that would have taken hours to heal even with the miraculous water, and internal injuries that showed in the way they'd been moving.
'He culled the weakest. Those who would have slowed down the group, who would have taken too long to heal, who had the least chance of surviving whatever cos next.'
It was ruthlessly efficient. Brutally practical.
And exactly what Yuan Ming would expect from the Demonic Cult.
Supervisor Gui settled deeper into his bone chair, eyes half-closed, looking for all the world like he might fall back asleep at any mont.
But Yuan Ming noticed the way his fingers drumd against the armrest, the way his gaze occasionally flicked across the participants.
The healing process continued in near-silence. Participants took turns in the pond, each staying only as long as necessary before making way for the next group.
Those already healed stood to the side, keeping their distance from the pond, careful not to make any noise that might disturb the supervisor's rest.
And soon, everyone was healed, at least physically. The pond was miraculous, but even that could not heal the ntal strain.
The supervisor himself had been sitting motionless for so long that so participants had begun to wonder if he'd actually fallen back asleep.
Then his eyes snapped open.
He stretched lazily, the bone chair creaking and groaning beneath him. With an exaggerated yawn, he stood up, the chair dissolving back into nothingness behind him.
"Well, well," he said, his voice carrying that sa mocking amusent as before. "It seems so of you maggots managed to survive after all."
He began to pace along the elevated platform, his movents still languid and unhurried, but there was a predatory quality to them now—like a cat that had finished napping and was ready to play with its prey.
"The healing pond was a gift," he continued. "A small rcy to ensure you're all in proper condition for what cos next." His smile widened. "After all, it's no fun if you're already half-dead before the real trial begins."
A chill ran through the assembled participants.
Before the real trial begins?
"Look at your dumb faces. Did you really think that the walk in the cave was your trial?! How laughable!" The man suddenly exploded in a fit of demonic laughter that made even the strongest of hearts tremble. "To think such weaklings dare to enter the demonic cult."
"Listen! And listen well. You have five years to get out of this cave. The starting line of the trial is right here." Supervisor Gui stopped pacing and turned to face them fully. He flicked his hands, and several streaks of blood shot out of his sleeves, aiming towards the heads of the participants.
Yuan Ming tensed as he watched the light approach his head. After what he had witnessed ever since he entered the cult, he feared that there was no way that the supervisor was giving them sothing that could be of help to them.
Just as fear started to grip his heart and he wanted to release his cultivation, he froze.
'Don't move or you are dead.'
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