Jaberg continued. "Additionally—and this is also extremely important, perhaps the most critical piece of our entire operation—I need you to personally reach out to Sun Elaine and convince her to cooperate actively with our plan. I'm aware that she's difficult to work with and has her own complicated agenda, but I don't care what you have to promise her, what favors we need to call in from mutual contacts, or what direct financial compensation we need to offer. Get her involved in this scheme however you have to. Her reputation and substantial social influence among both male and female Outer Sect disciples will lend tremendous credibility to our manipulation efforts in ways that random nobodies spreading rumors simply cannot match. She's known, she's connected, people pay attention to what she says and does. With her cooperation and her willingness to publicly bet on my victory while talking up my chances to anyone who'll listen, we can artificially inflate the betting odds on my match against Lordi, creating a situation where the bookmakers are offering much better returns."
"Marvellous plan! Absolutely brilliant!" The subordinate's admiration came through clearly in his tone.
"Once we've successfully manipulated public sentiment to the point where everyone believes I'm going to crush Lordi easily, once we've driven the betting odds to extremely favorable levels that make wagering on my supposed victory look like free money to anyone who doesn't know what we know about the actual arrangement, then we move to the final stage."
"At that point, I want you to immediately sell absolutely everything of significant value that we've been keeping in reserve for emergencies or future opportunities. All those backup cultivation resources we've been hoarding, those mid-level treasured elixirs we've been saving for potential breakthrough attempts, every Dao artifact and spirit tools and valuable materials we've accumulated—everything goes on the market immediately for whatever prices we can get. Convert every possible asset into liquid Spirit $tones as rapidly as you can manage, regardless of whether we're getting optimal prices or having to accept losses on items we overpaid for originally. I genuinely don't care if we have to sell things at thirty or forty percent below their actual value—just raise as much capital as humanly possible as quickly as possible while the betting window is still open. Liquidate everything. And then..."
"Yeah? Then what, senior brother?" The subordinate leaned forward physically.
Jaberg's eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "We take every single Spirit $tone we've raised through liquidating our assets, combine it with whatever operational funds we have available, and then we bet absolutely everything—our entire combined fortune, holding nothing back in reserve—on me LOSING to Lordi Payne!"
The words hung in the mental space between them for several long seconds of absolute stunned silence.
"Yeah...huh?! What!!!...?!" The black-robed cultivator's physical body stood completely frozen in shocked confusion, his mouth opening and closing several times like a fish gasping for air as his brain desperately struggled to process what he'd just heard and reconcile it with everything Jaberg had been explaining for the past several minutes.
"Captain... I don't... but you just... we're manipulating everyone to think you'll WIN, and then we're betting on you LOSING? But... you paid Lordi to let you win, didn't you? That was the whole point of your negotiation! I thought..."
"Of course I'm going to lose, just use your brain!" Jaberg interrupted the stammered man with a cold laugh. "You were there watching the arena just like I was. You saw with your own eyes how Lordi Payne cut Deane Doome in half with a single blade strike so fast most people couldn't even track the movement!"
"But, Captain Vance," the black-robed cultivator stammered, "you truly believe you cannot defeat Lord Payne?"
Jaberg scoffed, the sound sharp with annoyance. "Tch! What do you know?" He turned away, his gaze shifting to the middle distance. "In a true, lawless fight between two Ninth Layer powerhouse—no rules, no restrictions—where I could unleash every cursed technique and dirty trick without consequence? Perhaps, with enough desperation and a willingness to see us both destroyed, I could claw out a victory." He said the last part while looking elsewhere to hide the uncertainty in his eyes.
"But even in that best-case scenario, even if I somehow managed to win, I'd have to pay such an enormous price that I'd be crippled for months. I'd be so injured and depleted that there's no way I could continue participating in subsequent tournament rounds. My dash on the Grand Outer Sect Tournament would be over regardless."
Jaberg's expression grew more serious as he laid out his strategic reasoning. "So tell me: what's the point? Why would I risk permanent injury or death, why would I exhaust all my resources and trump cards, all for the sake of winning a preliminary round that only pays twenty thousand Spirit $tones? That's an absolutely terrible risk-reward ratio! On the other hand, if I deliberately lose while having secretly bet massive amounts on my own defeat? Then I can make a genuine fortune—potentially hundred thousands of Spirit $tones depending on how successfully we manipulate the odds! Far more than any legitimate tournament victory could possibly earn me!"
"Moreover, do you seriously think advancing through the preliminary rounds is actually some kind of blessing? Have you thought about what happens in the later competition stages? Those sect comrades with powerful backing and influential Inner Sect family connections will be fine—they've got resources, protective treasures, and people watching out for them. But what about us? We're from this fucking Ghost Shade Peak! Everyone assigned here is either a complete nobody from peasant backgrounds or a minor clan member from families so insignificant they might as well not exist. We've struggled and sacrificed for years just to reach late-phase of Qi Refinement cultivation, and now you want me to throw all that away by continuing to fight in a tournament where one careless mistake could get me killed by some Inner Sect senior's favorite pet project? Where I might die without even understanding what happened or why I was targeted?"
His voice took on a note of bitter self-awareness as he continued. "Originally, yes, I wanted to defeat Lordi Payne and advance successfully through the preliminaries. But that goal was never really about the tournament itself—it was about using those victories as evidence to present to my family. I wanted to prove to my clan elders that their current investment strategy was wrong, that backing my older brother was a complete mistake when they could be supporting me instead. I wanted them to see my tournament performance and recalculate who deserved their limited resources. But here's the thing: ultimately, what does my family's support actually provide me? Spirit $tones. That's it—just money. They're not offering me profound techniques or divine treasures or life-saving connections. They're giving me money."
A grin crossed his features as he drove toward his conclusion. "So why the hell should I jump through hoops trying to impress them, trying to earn money through their approval, when I've just been handed a golden opportunity to earn far more money directly through my own cunning? Why should I beg for scraps from my family when I can make myself independently wealthy through one smart bet? The whole point of family support was financial security—well, I can create my own financial security right here, right now, without depending on anyone else! This is a much better opportunity than what I was originally chasing!"
Understanding finally dawned across the black-robed cultivator's face as he grasped the full scope and logic of Jaberg's scheme. His expression shifted from confusion to admiration, genuinely impressed by the ruthless but undeniably clever plan his squad captain had developed.
"Boss, I understand completely now! This… is just brilliant! I'll get started on implementation immediately—the rumor spreading, contacting Sun Elaine, liquidating assets, everything!"
With a respectful bow, he turned and practically sprinted away to begin organizing their plan.
——
BWOOOONG!
One resonant gong strike echoed across the competition grounds once more, the familiar signal indicating that officials had completed their administrative preparations. The third round of preliminary matches was about to commence, with brackets finalized and competitors assigned to the waiting area of their arenas.
Lordi had been waiting patiently in the spectator areas, observing other matches and generally staying out of trouble while the second round concluded while eating a pear in his hand, one of the spirit fruits he packed. But now, as he returned his attention to the conversations happening around him and really listened to what people were saying, he noticed that the tenor and content of crowd discussions had shifted dramatically from what he'd been hearing earlier. Something had changed in the collective mood and perception.
"The captain of Fancyman Squad, Jaberg Fance is in serious danger this round! His opponent turned out to be that Lordi Payne character—you know, the one who supposedly killed Deane Doome! I'm definitely betting on Lordi to win this one!" one voice declared with confident certainty.
But almost immediately, another voice countered with dismissive laughter and completely contradictory analysis. "Ha! It's obvious you haven't heard the real story yet, the actual truth behind what happened in that previous match. Let me enlighten you: the only reason Lordi Payne managed to win against Deane Doome was pure luck combined with his opponent's massive tactical errors. Deane was far too arrogant and careless, seriously underestimating someone he thought was a nobody. He let his guard down completely, which allowed that Lordi kid to land one lucky strike before Deane realized the fight had even started! But if they'd actually fought seriously? If it had been a real life-or-death battle where both sides were trying from the beginning? Some branch clan member from a tiny nowhere family in Deerspring Town couldn't possibly match someone of Deane Doome's caliber! The outcome would have been completely different!"
More voices began chiming in, each one building on this alternative narrative and reinforcing the dismissive assessment of Lordi's capabilities. "That's absolutely correct! I'm betting on Senior Brother Fance to win easily! Think about it logically: the chief of that Payne clan of Deerspring Town is only at the Seventh Layer of Qi Refinement! That's their family head—their strongest member! What kind of quality cultivator could possibly emerge from such a pathetic bloodline? They're genetic bunch of losers!"
"Deane Doome's death was a abyss-damned farce," another voice cut in, thick with hatred. "Word in the shadows is he'd just crawled back from some hellish Outer Sect task in the wastes—torn up inside, barely patched together. Could hardly stand on his own two feet. But pride's a fool's master, so he stepped into the ring."
The voice dropped to a seething growl. "And that bastard Lordi Payne? No honor. No spine. Saw a wounded man swaying on his feet and went in like a back-alley knife-job. A coward's strike against a man who couldn't raise a guard. That wasn't a fight. That was a filthy murder."
Another voice interrupted with a completely different "inside information" story that contradicted the first while still reaching the same conclusion about Lordi being unworthy. "Wait, wait—that's not accurate at all! I got the real truth about Deane Doome's situation from someone very close to the source. You want to know what I heard? Senior Brother Doome's immediate neighbor—the senior sister living in the cave dwelling right next to his—she has a cousin, and that cousin has a household servant, and that servant's maternal uncle works in the sect's administrative division. According to what filtered through those channels, here's what actually happened: the truth is that Deane was not only injured from any external mission! but also, he was desperately trying to force a breakthrough to reach peak ninth-layer cultivation, pushed himself way too hard while practicing a forbidden martial move, and suffered catastrophic cultivation deviation as a result! His cultivation base actually collapsed backward, dropping from ninth layer down to eighth or even seventh! He was significantly weakened, barely hanging onto his former power level. That's why Lordi Payne was able to kill him—the kid just got incredibly lucky to face an opponent who was in the middle of a severe cultivation crisis! It was pure luck, not skill!"
Yet another speaker jumped into the mix with what claimed to be the most authoritative and complete explanation, one that allegedly revealed the entire conspiracy. "You're all repeating secondhand rumors without understanding the full picture! Let me tell you what really happened, because I've got connections that give me access to the truth. You all know Honine Payne, right? That pathetic waste of a cultivator who spends all his time following Sun Elaine around like a trained puppy dog, desperately trying to win her affection while she treats him like garbage? Well, this Lordi Payne is Honine's clan brother—they're from the same family! Now, Honine has been obsessively pursuing Sun Elaine for years without getting anywhere, constantly being ignored or dismissed. He's been competing desperately with people like Zhao Yen and the other simps in her orbit, trying to stand out somehow and earn her favor. You guys know what did he do? He didn't hesitate to pimp out his own clan younger brother! He introduced Lordi to Sun Elaine, essentially offering him up as a gift!"
The man's voice dropped to a whisper that somehow still carried clearly through the crowd. "And Sun Elaine, being the kind of person she is? She took one look at this Lordi character—saw that he's young, reasonably handsome, and completely inexperienced—and decided he'd make an entertaining new fuck toy. A fresh conquest to amuse herself with. So naturally she's been providing him special treatment and protection, the way she does with all her current favorites. Now, in order to make this new boy toy famous, in order to give him a reputation he didn't earn, she went to Deane Doome privately and convinced him to throw their match! She got him to agree to deliberately lose to Lordi to manufacture a impressive debut! But here's where it gets really disgusting: they'd agreed that Deane would make it look good, that he'd put on a show of fighting before eventually 'losing' in a way that seemed plausible. Except that shameless Lordi Payne? This filthy rat completely ignored the arrangement! When Deane lowered his defenses—when he was cooperating with the fixed match like agreed—Lordi actually killed him! Murdered someone who was helping him! Can you imagine being that ungrateful and vicious?"
The man delivered his supposed evidence with an air of unassailable truth. "If you don't believe me, if you think I'm just making this up, go verify it for yourselves! Check with the bookmakers! Sun Elaine placed a substantial bet on Lordi Payne winning his first match—she did that immediately before the very start of the competition! This was when Lordi was a complete unknown, when nobody had ever heard his name and he had zero reputation. Now ask yourselves: would Sun Elaine risk throwing away Spirit $tones on random bets? Would someone with her personality and financial situation gamble on unknowns unless she knew the outcome was fixed? Of course not! She bet on him because she knew it was rigged! That's proof right there!"
This particular narrative seemed to gain serious traction with the crowd in a way the earlier, simpler rumors hadn't managed. The real thing was, although the match between Lordi Payne and Deane Doome had technically occurred in full public view on the Category A Arena platform, Ghost Shade Peak housed an absolutely enormous disciple population—thousands upon thousands of cultivators spread across the mountain. Moreover, multiple arena platforms had been conducting simultaneous matches throughout the first round, dividing spectator attention across numerous venues. The result was that aside from disciples who'd happened to be standing near Category A Arena and who'd witnessed that specific match with their own eyes, the vast majority of people genuinely had no idea what had actually happened during the combat. They hadn't seen it themselves; they'd only heard fragmentary secondhand reports.
Furthermore, Lordi Payne had possessed absolutely zero reputation or name recognition before this Grand Outer Sect Tournament began. He was a complete nobody. Meanwhile, Deane Doome had been a famous figure on Ghost Shade Peak for years—a cultivator whose name everyone knew and whose combat capabilities had been demonstrated repeatedly. When people heard these elaborate conspiracy theories suggesting secret arrangements and hidden circumstances, when they were told that Deane's defeat hadn't been legitimate, their natural inclination was to believe it. After all, the alternative—accepting that some random unknown young brat had genuinely killed a famous powerhouse in seconds—seemed far less plausible than elaborate schemes. Within minutes, seventy percent or more of the crowd had accepted these rumors as truth, their certainty growing with each repetition.
As more and more people began spreading variations of these stories, as the rumors gained momentum and social proof through sheer repetition, the original narrative about Lordi instantly killing Deane through overwhelming superiority was rapidly suppressed and displaced by these alternative explanations. The "truth" about Deane's defeat involving special circumstances—whether injury, cultivation deviation, or a rigged match—became the dominant interpretation.
The final piece that really cemented belief in this revised story was when multiple people apparently confirmed through independent verification that Sun Elaine really did have placed crazy ten thousand Spirit $tone bet on Lordi Payne right at the tournament's opening. Somebody had checked with the bookmakers or bribed someone for information, and that detail was factual.
Once that piece was confirmed, once people could verify at least one element of the conspiracy theory, they extrapolated backward and assumed the rest must also be true.
After all, everyone who knew Sun Elaine's character understood she was meticulous about money—she would never casually throw away that vast amount of Spirit $tones on random gambling unless she had inside information or certainty about the outcome. Her betting on Lordi when he was unknown could only mean the match was fixed! With that "proof" established, disciples began stampeding toward the betting stations to revise their wagers.
"I'm betting on Senior Brother Jaberg Fance to win!"
"Put me down for Jaberg the captain of Fancyman Squad!"
"Me too on jaberg! Maximum bet!"
"Wait, wait! Give me back my Spirit $tones! I changed my mind—I don't want to bet on Lordi Payne anymore! Switch me to Senior Brother Fance instead!"
Voices calling out corrections and reversals filled the air nearby the betting station.
Lordi stood in the midst of this chaos feeling utterly baffled, unable to comprehend where all these insane rumors had suddenly materialized from or why public perception had shifted so dramatically. But even more concerning than the bizarre stories was being accused of becoming Sun Elaine's fuck toy...
The betting odds adjusted quickly. Lordi's enhanced hearing picked up conversations near the bookmaking stations, and he realized his odds were changing with shocking rapidity—shifting from the initial 250-to-1 payout ratio that Kay Gool had established after first round, suddenly starting to improve dramatically.
180-to-1...
130-to-1...
80-to-1...
50-to-1...
The progression continued accelerating as more and more money poured in on Jaberg while bets on Lordi dried up.
Finally, incredibly, the odds reached a point that seemed almost too good to be real!
1-to-3!!!
Holy abyss mama hell?!
That meant if Lordi bet on himself now and won, he'd multiply his stake by whole damn threefold!
PS:
P.S.
I woke up this morning with tubes in my arms and the ghost of my 36D still warm against my chest—like the bed remembered them even if my body doesn't. Ten days gone. Six of them in a black coma that tasted like the worst unwanted raping I never actually had. I came back gasping, half-hoping the dream had kept me, half-terrified it almost did.
They took my tits. Gone. left two flat scars
But I laughed anyway. Well the dream—the fevered, ten-day orgasm that cooked inside my skull while I was under—gave me filthier ideas than any healthy body ever did. I woke up wet, wrecked, and absolutely starving to write again. Starving to give you the kind of brain fuck that makes you forget your own name, because right now I need to forget mine.
So yes, this chapter is late. Yes, I might vanish again—more needles, more drugs, more nights where I beg the dark to just finish the job or let me finish the story, whichever comes first. But I swear on whatever's left of me, I will crawl through every treatment with a laptop balanced on my tray until the last page is done.
I'm not ready to leave you unsatisfied. Not when I still have so many ideas to make my lewd characters cum screaming.
See you on the other side of the next dose… or the next chapter.
Whichever hurts less.