"I'm going to introduce someone to you. He'll explain the rules and precautions for the upcoming matches." Drake Long said, though he was inwardly reluctant—he had no choice but to comply.
The fifteen contestants were delighted to hear this, suspecting nothing. They followed Drake Long into a room—inside, it was pitch-dark and strangely eerie.
Feeling uneasy, one of the fifteen asked, "Sect Master Drake, why is it so dark in here?"
"Just wait here. He'll be here soon," Drake Long replied, then turned and left, leaving the fifteen of them standing around, looking suspiciously at their surroundings.
"Welcome to you all." Suddenly, a figure appeared. A strange aura radiated from him, though his robe seemed designed to suppress it.
Not only that, but there was a flame-shaped mark on his forehead, his hair and eyebrows were blue, and he smiled broadly as he looked at everyone.
"Who are you?" Seeing how odd he looked, a peak Immortal-Lord expert asked suspiciously.
"Who am I? Let's put it this way—since you're all here, I'll tell you. I'm from the Devil Realm. People in the Immortal Realm call me the Devil Realm Emissary." Envoy Dusk said with a smile.
The fifteen had all heard rumors about Devil Realm Emissaries. Just days ago, word spread that ten sects had nearly been taken over by one.
Even if they were slow, they now understood what was happening: Sect Master Drake Long had betrayed the Immortal Realm and was colluding with the Devil Realm.
The fifteen looked warily at the Devil Realm Emissary.
The Devil Realm Emissary glanced at them and laughed, "Save your strength for the matches. Before me, you're nothing."
"What are you planning?" someone asked bravely.
"Isn't it obvious? Of course I have something important for you to do," the Devil Realm Emissary replied with a smile.
"You won't succeed. Let's go," someone declared, leading the group.
The fifteen immediately retreated toward the door, but when they reached it, they found it had vanished.
"A barrier!" someone exclaimed in shock. Only an Emperor could create such a barrier.
"Well? Can't leave now, can you? Since you can't escape, just stay and let me teach you what you need to know for the contest." The Devil Realm Emissary smirked, then extended his hand. Fifteen wisps of pale blue gas, streaked with black, floated out—one for each person—and spread toward them.
The fifteen tried to dodge, but it was too late. Each was immobilized, unable to escape no matter how hard they struggled. "Stop resisting—it's useless. Just let me demonize you," the Devil Realm Emissary sneered.
"Demonize?" someone exclaimed in horror.
"What is demonization?" a few weaker Earth-Immortal cultivators asked, confused.
Those who understood explained fearfully, "Demonization means becoming an involuntary puppet. No matter what happens, you'll only obey your master; otherwise, the demonic qi will instantly consume you, leaving you no chance to even speak."
The others were horrified and struggled desperately, but the Devil Realm Emissary smirked, "Not bad—someone actually understands demonization."
"I've heard demonization vanished from the Devil Realm years ago. Why has it reappeared?" the knowledgeable cultivator asked, still terrified.
"You're asking questions at a time like this? Well, I suppose you can't move, so you might as well ask what you want. Since you're all becoming my puppets, I have no reason not to tell you. Listen carefully: the demonization technique was rediscovered by our Devil Realm, and several emissaries have cultivated it. But it consumes a lot of power—otherwise, I'd have no problem demonizing everyone in the Immortal Realm. Wouldn't that be great?" The Devil Realm Emissary laughed.
Hearing this, the fifteen despaired, knowing they were about to become puppets. No matter how they struggled, escape was impossible.
They could only be slowly demonized. There was no pain or discomfort; when the gas had fully entered their bodies, the Devil Realm Emissary said, "You've now been demonized. You know what to do."
A compulsion filled their minds; they could not rebel. If they tried, they'd instantly demonize—becoming a rampaging Great Demon, hunted by all, or dying outright if their bodies were weak.
The fifteen exchanged glances, knowing that no matter how righteous or unwilling they were, they had no choice but to obey.
"Master." the fifteen said in unison.
"Good, good, excellent. Here are fifteen treasures—each of you pick one. They'll be very useful in the contest." The Devil Realm Emissary tossed out fifteen weapons.
The fifteen stepped forward to choose. Afterward, the Devil Realm Emissary said, "Your task is simple: whoever you face, kill them."
"But won't people soon notice something's wrong with us?" someone exclaimed.
"Don't worry. I'll have Sect Master Drake cooperate with you; you'll be fine. If anything happens, it'll be to others," the Devil Realm Emissary said with a smile.
Hearing Sect Master Drake's name, they could only sigh. After receiving instructions from the Devil Realm Emissary, they left the room.
In the main hall, Drake Long saw the fifteen emerge and said, "I had no choice. Don't blame me."
Though furious, the fifteen were now in the same boat. They left together, resigned, and kept the secret to themselves.
Alas, is the Immortal Realm truly doomed?' Drake Long sighed helplessly. Sometimes he wished to destroy himself, but even then, his puppets would continue serving the Devil Realm Emissary, making no difference at all.
Meanwhile, the Devil Realm Emissary, feeling resigned, took out a black stone—similar to the Immortal Realm's transmission stone.
He spoke, "Aaron Proud, how are things over there?"
"Envoy Dusk, since my last failure, I've isolated that planet from the outside world," came the reply.
"Last time you failed, which alerted the Immortal Realm. Clean up all traces there quickly and leave. Come meet me," ordered the Devil Realm Emissary.
"Yes, Envoy Dusk," came the reply, then the connection was cut.
After disconnecting, Envoy Dusk frowned, "Who was that young man last time? How did he break my barrier and free those people?"
If Han Yang had overheard, he'd be shocked to learn there was an even stronger Devil Realm Emissary orchestrating things here.
The Battle for the Disk Tournament always involves both open and covert struggles. There's a rule: outside the arena, no contestant may be seriously injured, or their group will be disqualified and their planet stripped.
Before the contest, all participants are protected; but during the matches, there are no such rules. Many battles are fought to the death unless someone yields.
When groups meet, tensions rise—sometimes fueled by years of grudges. Deaths have occurred in past tournaments, so disputes and fights are common.
Thus, the Battle for the Disk Tournament has become a major conflict besides the wars with other realms.
Han Yang had no idea; he was still cultivating and comprehending. Those pursuing him couldn't find his whereabouts.
Meanwhile, at the Spirit Sage Sect, the three were puzzled. Their curse worked at first, then stopped. They wondered if Han Yang had used a method to break it, unaware he'd accidentally entered his own tower, making the curse unusable.
Everything seemed calm until the day before the tournament—the opening ceremony. It was held in a spacious area within a formation, crowded with people, and the arena at the center was enormous.
Inside, two fighters could freely battle—flying high or burrowing underground. It was the only arena, so matches were held one at a time.
Seats filled the venue. The front rows were for sect masters and leaders of the ten forces; behind them sat contestants and notable figures, and finally patrolling guards.
Besides guards, there were rogue cultivators. Altogether, the opening ceremony drew tens of thousands—a sea of people.
At the Evil Moon household, Xiao Yuan noticed fewer guards outside, realizing most had gone to patrol the tournament. It was a good opportunity, since Evil Moon was representing the eighth force at the ceremony.
Only Xiao Yuan and a few experts remained.
The moment came—time to slip away. Xiao Yuan seized the chance and sneaked out from a corner of the castle.
Once safely out of range, she patted her chest, "That was close! Thank goodness."
She left happily, heading for the opening ceremony. But as she passed through an empty area, a bandaged figure appeared, as if wounded all over.
"Who are you? Why block my way?" Xiao Yuan asked unhappily.
"Hello, Miss Xiao," the man said. He was Yang Tian's personal guard, who had waited many days for this chance to catch Xiao Yuan.
"You know me? But I don't know you. Move aside," Xiao Yuan said.
"Don't be in such a hurry, Xiao Yuan. You'll be able to leave soon," the man said. With a flash, he appeared behind her and touched her neck.
Xiao Yuan felt a chill on her neck, but when she reacted, the man had vanished.