"Dear Junior Brother, thank you for giving me the chance to talk to you. Look, we've both achieved consecutive victories in our first two matches," Jaberg Fance began, his tone friendly. "Which means that in this upcoming third round, according to how the tournament structure works, you and I are scheduled to face each other directly. Now, I want to be completely honest with you about something: this particular Outer Sect Grand Competition preliminary round represents an extremely important opportunity for me personally. It carries significance that extends beyond just the immediate tournament rewards."
He paused deliberately, letting that statement hang in the air for a moment before continuing with his actual offer. "So here's what I'm proposing: if you would be willing to simply forfeit the match—just call out surrender immediately when we step onto the platform without actually fighting—I'm prepared to compensate you quite generously. I'll provide you with thirty five grand D-grade Spirit $tones as direct payment for this favor. Now, before you dismiss this out of hand, consider the economics of the situation rationally. The official reward for successfully advancing through the preliminary rounds? That's only 20,000 D-$tones total. By accepting my offer, you'd be earning more than double what you'd get from actually winning the entire preliminary of Grand Tournament, and you'd be getting it immediately with zero risk of injury or resource expenditure. It's objectively a better deal from a pure Spirit $tone perspective..."
Lordi felt genuine surprise register as he processed this unexpected proposition, his mind quickly confirming the financial details Jaberg had cited. The preliminary round victory reward was indeed limited to just twenty thousand D-$tones—a relatively modest sum considering the effort and danger involved. The subsequent competition rounds supposedly offered far more generous prizes, though the specifics varied from tournament to tournament and the exact rewards for this particular year hadn't been officially announced yet. Nobody knew precisely what awaited successful competitors who advanced beyond the preliminaries, though rumors suggested the prizes would be substantial for those who reached the upper brackets.
But setting aside those financial considerations, what really captured Lordi's attention was the sheer audacity of what was happening here. This was blatant match-fixing! Pre-competition bribery conducted openly without even basic attempts at discretion or subtlety! Jaberg was literally standing here in a semi-public location, casually proposing that Lordi throw their upcoming fight for money as though this were a completely normal and acceptable transaction. Did the sect administration genuinely not care about this kind of corruption? Did they simply not enforce any rules against such behavior? This was the Grand Outer Sect Tournament—a major competition involving the entire outer disciple population, supposedly a showcase for talent and a opportunity to identify promising young cultivators worthy of additional resources and attention. Yet apparently match-fixing was just... allowed? Tolerated as standard practice?
For Jaberg, he had approached this negotiation with confidence, the man absolutely certain that his offer would be accepted without serious hesitation. After all, thirty five thousand D-grade Spirit $tones represented a genuinely substantial sum for the vast majority of Outer Sect disciples. Most cultivators at this Qi refinement Stage level simply didn't have access to that kind of money—such wealth would take years or even decades of careful saving and resource management to accumulate through normal Outer Sect task work, or elixir refinement, Dao Fulu painting, Qi refinement stage or Foundation Stage Artifact forging.
And this conversation was taking place on Ghost Shade Peak, the absolute bottom of the Outer Sect hierarchy! The disciples assigned to this particular mountain were overwhelmingly from impoverished backgrounds—children of failed cultivation clans, mortals with no family connections, people from collapsed minor clans. They were universally cash-poor, constantly struggling just to afford basic cultivation resources.
Prior to seeking out Lordi for this conversation, Jaberg had done his homework and gathered intelligence about his opponent's background. According to the information he'd obtained, this Lordi Payne character hailed from the Payne clan of Deerspring Town—a borderland petty family so insignificant and declining that they barely qualified as a "cultivation clan" at all. They were essentially impoverished mortals with delusions of grandeur, a thoroughly pathetic excuse for a family that commanded zero respect or resources. And this is someone from such a background, someone who wasn't even the primary clan heir or favored son of that already-pathetic family but rather just some branch member. He couldn't possibly refuse an offer of so many Spirit $tones! The money alone would represent more wealth than this kid had probably seen in his entire life!
Lordi spent several seconds considering the situation from multiple angles, his mind working through the strategic calculus. Although he genuinely didn't believe he would lose to Jaberg Fance in legitimate combat, he'd learned through many transmigration novels that overconfidence could be fatal in any cultivation world. Playing things safe, maintaining conservative assumptions about opponents' capabilities, had kept him alive through multiple situations where reckless AllFullOS dragged him in that would have resulted in death. Moreover, he'd just won a substantial sum from betting on himself in previous rounds, so his immediate financial situation was quite comfortable. He could afford to take a somewhat risky approach here if the potential payoff justified it.
To test the man right in front of him, an idea began forming in Lordi's mind—one that brought a slight smile to his lips despite his best efforts to maintain a neutral expression. Reaching into his storage pouch with unhurried movements, Lordi extracted a notably larger money pouch than what Jaberg had likely expected to see. He hefted the substantial weight of D-grade Spirit $tones in his palm before setting them down between himself and Jaberg with a solid thump that conveyed their quantity clearly.
"You know, Senior Brother Jaberg," Lordi said with sincerity, his tone matching the friendly openness that Jaberg had used moments before, "I find myself in complete agreement with your assessment about the importance of these preliminary rounds. They're actually critically significant for my own advancement prospects as well—perhaps even more so than you realize."
"So here's my proposal: if you're willing to forfeit our upcoming match, then this pouch containing fifty thousand D-grade Spirit $tones becomes yours. That's nearly more than double what you were offering me, Senior Brother. Surely you can see this is an excellent deal from your perspective?"
After brief moment of surprise where his expectations about this negotiation had been completely upended by an offer far exceeding anything he'd anticipated, Jaberg's mind rapidly adjusted to this new situation. His facial expression, which had momentarily registered genuine shock at the scope of Lordi's counter-offer, smoothly transitioned back to careful neutrality and then into something approaching pleased enthusiasm as the implications of fifty thousand Spirit $tones fully registered in his calculations.
Dang! What a rich country bumpkin this kid turned out to be!
Jaberg's internal assessment shifted dramatically, his earlier dismissive assumptions about Lordi being some nobody with limited resources evaporating entirely in the face of someone casually offering amounts that even moderately successful Inner Sect disciples would consider substantial fortunes. Where the hell did this unassuming young cultivator get access to that kind of liquid wealth?
"Oh uh... fantastic! Absolutely fantastic offer, truly generous beyond expectations!" Jaberg's voice emerged with carefully calibrated enthusiasm that sounded genuine while remaining controlled, projecting delight. "Esteemed brother, your offer is far more generous than anything this silly senior brother had any right to expect—you honor me with such consideration! Hahaa!" He accompanied his words with a deep, respectful bow that bent his spine considerably, the kind of formal gesture typically reserved for acknowledging cultivators of significantly higher status.
Lordi's visibly uncomfortable with the sudden dramatic shift in enthusiasm and the unexpectedly respectful mode of address coming from this nearly forty-year-old mustachioed middle-aged man who'd been speaking with casual superiority just moments earlier but was now treating him like some important personage deserving of formal courtesies. It just felt wrong somehow that someone old enough to be his father back on Earth was bowing and scraping and calling him "esteemed senior brother".
Still, despite his internal strange feeling with the situation, Lordi's demonic world-trained instincts kicked in and he quickly cupped his hands together in the reciprocal gesture of returning respect.
Seeing at a glance with the perceptiveness that came from years of reading social situations, recognizing immediately that his own excessively enthusiastic politeness had somehow been misdirected in ways that were making his young benefactor uncomfortable rather than pleased, Jaberg quickly adjusted his approach yet again. He straightened from his bow and spoke with a tone shifting toward something more genuine and less performatively formal, aiming for warmth and directness rather than elaborate courtesy.
"Senior Brother Payne, I must apologize—I was blind and inconsiderate in my earlier attitude and I fear I've offended you with my presumptions and lack of proper respect. Please don't stand on ceremony with me going forward or feel you need to maintain excessive formality in our interactions. From now on, just call me Big Jamer; that's what my friends call me, and I would be honored if you'd consider me worthy of similar casual address."
He paused briefly, then continued with what sounded like sincere conviction underlying his words. "Senior Brother Payne, I shall respectfully address you with proper titles because in our Holy Sect, strength is absolutely paramount above all other considerations—the stronger you are, the more senior in status you are, the higher your position in our hierarchy regardless of any other factors. Age means nothing compared to cultivation capability and martial prowess. Please don't stand on ceremony about age differences at all or feel awkward that I'm older—you've clearly proven your superior strength, and that's what determines our relative positions according to sect principles."
The smile on Jaberg's face spread wider and took on qualities of genuine pleasure as he moved with practiced efficiency to collect his own original stake of thirty-five thousand Spirit $tones before reaching out with both hands to accept Lordi's substantially larger counter-offer with the reverence usually reserved for receiving sacred artifacts from sect elders.
His movements were deliberate and respectful, treating the transfer of wealth as a formal ceremony deserving of proper gravity. As he secured the magnificent sum of fifty grand safely in his storage pouch, Jaberg spoke with solemn commitment that carried overtones of oath-making, his voice dropping slightly in register and taking on absolute conviction. "Esteemed Senior Brother Payne! You have my complete and unwavering word of honor as a holy sect cultivator who's walked the holy path for decades—I fully understand how critically important this tournament is for your advancement prospects and your standing within our sect's competitive hierarchy. When we step onto that platform later in front of all those witnesses and officials, I'll surrender immediately before any real fighting begins, absolutely no genuine combat that might result in injury to either of us. One hundred percent danger-free outcome, guaranteed! You'll advance to the next round with a clean, uncomplicated victory that makes you look strong without requiring you to expend resources or risk damage to your cultivation foundation."
The man's eyes swept over Lordi with an appraising look with appreciation. "Senior Brother Payne, just look at you! So remarkably young yet already at Ninth Layer cultivation with combat capabilities that let you dominate opponents who should theoretically be your equals. While handsome features that will serve you well in social advancement and attracting potential allies or sponsors—you're absolutely certain to have an incredibly bright future ahead of you in our holy sect! I can recognize genuine talent and potential when I see it, and you possess both in abundance that marks you as someone destined for great things."
"Hahaa, Senior... uh, Jamer bro," Lordi responded with a somewhat awkward laugh, still clearly uncomfortable with the effusive praise being heaped on him by this middle-aged cultivator. "You flatter me, really. You're far too kind with your assessment—I'm just a lucky outer sect disciple trying to survive and advance like everyone else. Thanks for the kind words, but you definitely flatter me beyond what I deserve."
"Yo, Senior Brother Payne, please hear me out—I'm speaking the absolute truth here, every single word comes straight from the bottom of my heart with complete sincerity, and I'm genuinely not just flattering you or engaging in empty social pleasantries!" Jaberg protested with earnestness, his expression shifting to wounded sincerity as if Lordi's dismissal of his compliments had hurt his feelings by suggesting he was being insincere. "Frankly speaking, senior brother, and I hope you'll believe me when I say this because I truly mean it—I felt an instant, profound connection with you from the moment we began this conversation. There was something in your bearing and manner that resonated with me on a deep level, and I genuinely wished I had known you much sooner, years ago when we both might have been at earlier stages of cultivation."
"Amigo, If we'd met back then, we could have joined hands as sworn brothers or close squad companions and diligently progressed together on the arduous path of enlightenment, supporting each other through tribulations and sharing resources and insights in ways that would have benefited us both immeasurably. It's a genuine tragedy that fate didn't arrange for us to cross paths until now, when our relationship must necessarily be somewhat transactional rather than the deep brotherhood that could have developed over years of shared struggle and mutual advancement!"
The flattery continued for several more exchanges in peaceful way. Eventually, after another more rounds of mutual compliments and protestations of friendship, they separated after this joyful talk.
Under the dappled shade of a large tree whose branches spread wide, an early thirties cultivator in dark black robes had been pacing back and forth for the past several minutes, clearly waiting anxiously for someone specific to arrive.
His movements were restless and repetitive—three steps in one direction, pivot, three steps back, pivot again. When he finally spotted Jaberg's distinctive figure approaching through the scattered crowds, the man in black immediately hurried over with quick steps.
The man's voice emerged pitched deliberately low as he leaned in close to Jaberg.
"Captain Fance! Did it work out the way we hoped?" His words came rapidly. "Did that Lordi Payne character agree to forfeit the match like you were going to propose? Are we set up for the easy advancement we planned, or do we need to start working on alternative strategies?"
Jaberg neglected the question with a confident smile. He glanced around carefully and calmly. Satisfied after his surveillance sweep that they had reasonable privacy, Jaberg still wasn't willing to risk speaking aloud. Instead, he activated a sound-dampening formation technique that created a subtle sphere of spiritual energy manipulation around the two of them, ensuring that any words spoken would be contained beyond recognition to anyone outside that boundary.
"Listen very carefully to what I'm about to tell you, because we're only going to go through this once and timing will be absolutely critical for success," Jaberg's mental voice carried tones of authority and confidence that projected complete certainty about whatever plan he'd formulated. "Here's exactly what we're going to do, step by step, and I need you to follow these instructions precisely without deviation or creative interpretation."
"Aye sir!" The response came immediately.
"First and most immediately, you need to go and personally gather together several of our most quick-witted and socially skilled men from among our sqaud members—I'm talking about people who genuinely understand how to work a crowd, who can read social dynamics and manipulate opinion effectively through strategic conversation and rumor-spreading, not just random disciples who happen to owe us favors. I need natural talkers, people who can make lies sound like earnest truth and who won't get flustered or contradict themselves if questioned about their sources." Jaberg's mental instructions came with remarkable clarity and specificity, suggesting he'd been thinking through this plan carefully during his walk back from the negotiation.
"Once you've assembled this team of propagandists, have them spread out strategically through the various spectator areas around the tournament platforms—don't cluster them all together where it'll be obvious they're working in coordination, but scatter them throughout different sections so it seems like independent observers are all naturally coming to similar conclusions about the upcoming matches."
"Yes sir, I understand completely!"
"Their primary job is to start manufacturing favorable sentiment toward me and my supposed determination to win. It's a cognitive warfare." Jaberg continued in detail. "They should be strategically inserting themselves into conversations, casually mentioning to people around them things like: 'You know, I heard that Jaberg Fance—the mighty Captain of Fancyman Squad they call him because of his reputation for both fancy beautiful and powerful martial techniques—is absolutely determined to win this particular match coming up tomorrow. Apparently Senior Brother Fance, who's a peak Ninth Layer powerhouse that most people don't fully appreciate because he keeps a low profile, has been training intensively and specifically for this tournament, considers it absolutely crucial for his advancement prospects and has been preparing special techniques just for these matches.' Make it sound like insider information they happened to overhear or learned from reliable sources, not like obvious propaganda being pushed by my supporters."
"Right, got it!"
"But simultaneously—and this is equally important—they need to systematically undermine this Lordi Payne's reputation and credibility in ways that make people question whether his victories so far have been legitimate or just flukes and fortunate circumstances,"
Seeing the younger man nod in respect, Jaberg continued, "Start spreading the narrative that this Lordi was nothing particularly special as a cultivator, just some worthless clan brother from that pathetic Payne clan who happens to be distantly related to that complete rubbish Honine Payne, you know, the one who everyone in the sect makes jokes about because he's so incompetent and annoying? Just tell truth that this Lordi was coming from the same inferior bloodline, just a country bumpkin from some insignificant backwater mortal town that nobody's ever heard of, someone who doesn't deserve his current winning streak and certainly doesn't deserve to be taken seriously as competition for cultivators of real quality and training like myself."
"So true! That makes perfect sense!" The subordinate's agreement came instantly, apparently finding this characterization both believable and satisfying.
"Most importantly—and this is where we really undermine confidence in his capabilities—our people need to provide alternative explanations for how he supposedly defeated and killed Deane Doome in that first-round match that everyone witnessed. We can't deny that the victory happened since hundreds of people watched it, but we can absolutely reframe how people interpret what they saw. Suggest there were hidden circumstances that observers didn't know about, that something extremely suspicious was going on behind the scenes, that the victory wasn't legitimate at all but rather the result of deception or exploitation of specific weaknesses."
"Right!"
"They should be saying things like: 'You know, I heard from someone who knows Doome's training partners that Lordi Payne won only by using filthy underhanded schemes rather than honest martial skill. He won by completely neglecting martial virtue and fighting dishonorably. Most importantly, he took shameless advantage of the fact that Deane Doome was actually deadly ill and seriously injured going into that match—apparently Doome had sustained internal injuries during training just days before and hadn't fully recovered, but he entered the tournament anyway out of pride and Lordi exploited that weakness ruthlessly.'"
"Yeah!"
"Do you understand the truth we're trying to let people know here? Deane Doome was deadly ill before the match even started. People don't currently know about this illness, but they're going to know about it very soon because you and our team are going to make absolutely certain they believe it. We need to completely shift public perception away from 'Lordi is strong and dangerous' toward 'Lordi the bumpkin just got extremely lucky and maybe cheated somehow to beat an opponent who was already compromised.'"
"Yeah, absolutely! I see exactly where you're going with this!"
The man in black robe was at sixth layer Qi Refinement Stage, adequate cultivation talent at this age. He had been listening with absolute focused attention.
Jaberg's tone shifted to confident. "Now, this next part is crucial: don't be stingy or hesitant with spending small amounts of Spirit $tones during this propaganda phase. I want you to spend whatever amounts are necessary to properly bribe people and get our narrative circulating widely and convincingly throughout the spectator population. If you need to pay disciples to repeat our talking points in their social circles, do it. If you need to buy drinks at the taverns to loosen tongues and create environments where our rumors spread naturally through alcohol-fueled gossip, do it. Hire additional rumor spreaders if needed to ensure absolutely thorough coverage across all the major social networks and gathering places. I don't care if we spend a few hundred or even a thousand $tones on this preparatory work—it's an investment that will pay off enormously if executed properly."
"Yes senior brother! I'll make sure we saturate the social environment completely!" The subordinate's commitment was absolute.