Chapter Eighteen: A Contest and an Unexpected Reunion

“Luohua, is something troubling you?” Xuanqiong sensed his unease and immediately withdrew the ‘Ice Feather’.

“It’s nothing, I just suddenly felt a headache, but it passed quickly. Master, please don’t worry.”

“You may be overworked. Go rest for now; tomorrow you’ll practice again, and then the competition begins.”

“Master, I can continue cultivating.” He wanted to become stronger, to break through the barrier that stood before him, to see what lay on the other side.

“Cultivation cannot be achieved in one leap. Listen to me—go rest.”

“Alright.” Murong Luohua returned to his room, but whatever he tried, he could not calm his mind.

Late at night, with the world silent, Murong Luohua stepped out of his door. He gazed at the pink peach blossoms in the courtyard. People often said his courtyard did not suit a man’s style, but he loved it, as if destined.

His master seemed to harbor secrets as well; she was too mysterious, not like someone of the mortal world. Yet he trusted her completely, believing she would never harm him.

Murong Luohua quietly watched the peach blossoms, unaware that someone was leaning atop the roof, watching him.

So the night passed until dawn, sunlight brightening their faces with warmth.

“Is something weighing on your mind? I saw you standing beneath the tree for half an hour,” his master asked.

“I simply wish to know some things. Master, will you tell me?”

“Some matters will become clear in time. Since you’ll know eventually, what difference does it make if you learn sooner or later? So, for now, focus on strengthening your abilities.”

Murong Luohua agreed, returning alone to his room. Moments ago, he had smiled; now, with his back turned, his brows were knit in worry. Since his master did not wish to speak, he would abide by her wishes.

Time spent cultivating always passed swiftly. Nations and families sent their representatives to the Qionglin Jade Tree to participate in the Qionglin Tournament.

All the nations and families were busy preparing for the event, a grand affair in the world of cultivation.

The Qionglin Tournament was held every ten years; a disciple might only participate twice in their lifetime, competing by age and talent. Even wars would cease during this time.

Each nation and family sent their three most outstanding members. The purposes: to inspire diligence through competition, and to uphold family honor.

Matches were usually between cultivators of similar age and power. If someone wished to challenge a higher level opponent as guidance, they could, but the matches were meant to stop short of real harm.

If anyone injured the innocent, the punishment ranged from sealing their cultivation to outright crippling their abilities. Thus, most refrained from ruthless attacks.

The Qionglin Jade Tree sat at the crossroads of three nations, named for the tournament. Judges included esteemed ministers from the three nations, elders or heads of the three great families, and an elder from each of the three major sects, all to prevent schemes or murder.

When the six greatest powers of the cultivation world competed, it was a grand spectacle. Even if the young masters themselves did not come, their most valued kin would attend.

“Master, are you here as a tournament judge sent by the sect leader?” Murong Luohua, noticing the absence of Yunshu Sect’s judge, asked Xuanqiong.

“I requested it myself, to witness your progress.”

“Disciple will not disappoint Master.”

“Good.”

Murong Luohua returned to the Murong family’s designated area. Xuanqiong surveyed her surroundings—she had never seen such a scene and found it fascinating.

The divine realm was quiet and cold, with no tournaments—only each fulfilling their duties.

Xuanqiong’s white hair stood out, drawing attention. Shen Mufeng noticed her among the judges.

“Immortal Lord, you are also serving as a judge here?”

“Young Master Shen, so young and already a judge—it’s astonishing.” Xuanqiong was puzzled. His cultivation was so high, yet she had never sparred with him; his strength was unknown.

Such achievement in the mortal realm could only be due to one thing: he was the original Divine Lord, drawing upon the forces of heaven and earth, his talent rivaling hers. No wonder he was not bound by the three realms, nor did he know his own parents.

“My brother says I am not of this generation, lest I be accused of bullying juniors.”

“Young Master Shen, the younger generation is indeed formidable. I admire you greatly.”

“You flatter me, Immortal Lord.”

Participants arrived punctually; everything was organized. The judges’ names and rules were read aloud.

They were: Xuanqiong Immortal Lord of Yunshu Sect, Lady Chu Weiyi of Liuxian Sect, Elder Chu Ruo of Muming Sect, Shen Mufeng of the Shen family, Murong Qiyan of the Murong family, Yun Ze of the Yun family, Beiming Yun of North Yao Kingdom, Yan Wuqi of Qiong Kingdom, Ling Sishui of Lingyue Kingdom.

Every three judges oversaw a round of matches. First came the matches among those of the same age, then among those of similar talent, both chosen by the contestants for friendly sparring. The final matches were determined by draw, divided into three rounds by talent to ensure fairness.

The winner of each final round received prizes: the cultivation manual ‘Foundation Gathering’, the healing elixir ‘Heavenly Garments’, and the ‘Rain Blade’ dart forged by genius artifact master Shen Mufeng.

Comparison among peers began.

A disciple of the Leng family stepped onto the stage, his attire similar to Xuanqiong’s—indeed, those with ice cultivation favored icy blue, though his was a deeper shade, hinting at uncommon status.

“I am Leng Ziyan of the Leng family, and wish to challenge Murong Luohua, eldest son of the Murong family.”

The Leng family—clearly related to Leng Shuyan. Xuanqiong’s attention was fixed on Murong Luohua, who could not refuse.

Murong Luohua answered the challenge, flying onto the stage. Both summoned their artifacts; Leng Ziyan’s cultivation was several levels lower, so the outcome was already determined.

Leng Ziyan wielded a short blade—dangerous in close quarters, especially when enhanced by spiritual power. After a few rounds, his weapon was knocked from his hand.

Murong Luohua won, but Xuanqiong’s expression showed no joy. Leng Ziyan’s blade had aimed for Luohua’s tendons; had his cultivation been lower, his hand would have been ruined.

Though she could easily heal him, the pain would be great, and she wished for him to suffer none.

When Murong Luohua left the stage, Xuanqiong vanished from her seat, unable to contain her concern.

“Luohua, I worry for your injury,” she said, though her words sounded cold to him.

“It’s merely a superficial wound, Master. No need to worry.”

“Come, let’s go to your room.” She pulled him away to the Murong family’s temporary quarters.

The remaining matches had other judges, so Xuanqiong’s presence was less needed. She saw blood on his wrist and took medicine from her spirit ring to treat him.

“Keep it rested. You’ll be healed in two days—just in time for the final match.”

“Master, it’s only a scratch; I don’t even feel pain.”

“Rest well.” With that, she kept watch from the tree outside, not letting him leave. Murong Luohua had no choice but to stay for two days.

When he ventured out again, Xuanqiong was nowhere to be seen. He glanced at his wrist—it had fully healed. As he looked up, she appeared before him.

“Now that you’re healed, let’s go.”

“Yes.”

The final tournament was divided into three rounds by talent: first the less gifted, evenly matched; then those of moderate talent; lastly, the highly talented—mostly young masters or valued family members.

They arrived just as the eleventh match among the moderately talented began: Lingyue Kingdom’s Ling Yuqing versus Chen Songhe of the Chen family.

On stage, Ling Yuqing wore a dark gown, wielding the ‘Cold Moon’ sword. Chen Songhe was dressed in stone-blue, holding the ‘Broken Edge’ saber.

They saluted each other, then began. The ‘Cold Moon’ sword was transparent, lunging at Chen Songhe, who blocked with ‘Broken Edge’. Though he defended, the chill from the sword was palpable.

After dozens of rounds, nothing was settled until Chen Songhe’s spiritual power surged, sending Ling Yuqing flying off the stage, coughing blood. Chen Songhe seemed intent on killing.

Xuanqiong saw it clearly. Recalling the earlier incident with Leng Ziyan, she sent an ice sword to block his attack. In the blink of an eye, she was on stage.

She forced out the pill from his abdomen, dissolving part of it. Though she did not know its nature, she saw his spiritual power surge after ingestion.

“This contestant has swallowed a pill, violating the rules,” Xuanqiong declared loudly, displaying the pill to the judges. Ling Yuqing’s powers were a dark red ice, impressive among her peers, so Xuanqiong watched her closely.

“Chen Songhe is eliminated.” The referee, seeing the judges nod, disqualified him.

Chen Songhe, who tried to kill, had his cultivation crippled by Lingyue Kingdom’s judge. Such corrupt cultivators only bring harm to others.

During their match, Ling Yuqing returned to her seat pale-faced. Her brother, Ling Yuhan, was greatly concerned.

“Yuqing, are you alright?” Ling Yuhan said, giving her a healing pill.

“No need to worry, royal brother. It’s just a minor injury.”

“Good. Rest and do not compete in the remaining matches.”

“Alright.” Ling Yuqing had hoped to win the championship to prove herself to her father, but it seemed impossible now.

“When you’re better, thank Immortal Lord Xuanqiong. Without her, you’d have died.” Ling Yuhan had noticed Chen Songhe’s murderous intent, but his speed couldn’t match Xuanqiong’s.

“Yes.”

…

The twenty-third match: Murong Nianchu versus Yun Siyi.

Murong Nianchu wielded the ‘Ruoshui’ whip, Yun Siyi the ‘Jinghua’ brush. Judging by their weapons, the outcome seemed clear.

Xuanqiong, shocked by the earlier incident, watched the match carefully. She expected an easy victory, but the ‘Ruoshui’ whip was flexible and versatile.

The duel proved exciting; Murong Nianchu’s whip struck straight for the face, Yun Siyi blocked with her brush, then quickly drew a talisman that flew toward Nianchu. They fought for dozens of rounds, ending in a draw.

…

Finally, the highly talented contestants drew lots to decide their opponents—all paragons, the pride of their families.

Xuanqiong watched intently, determined to prevent any further incidents or deaths.

First match: Beiming Ling of North Yao Kingdom versus Yun Qize of the Yun family.

Beiming Ling wore a lotus-hued, tight-sleeved dress, her hair pinned with a couple of hairpins to keep it neat. Her presence on stage was commanding. Yun Qize, in cloud-grey sleeves and a matching hair crown, likely for harmony.

Each summoned their weapons; Beiming Ling held the same sword she’d used in previous trials—silver, with visible purple lightning. Yun Qize wielded ‘Xi Ruo’, the twin swords worn by generations of Yun family heirs, bearing a touch of verdant green.

Beiming Ling’s cultivation was one level higher, but Yun Qize’s wood spirit power countered her lightning.

Beiming Ling sent purple lightning, but it was weakened by his sword, making victory difficult. She switched to close combat, sword against sword, spiritual power clashing.

In the end, Beiming Ling narrowly won, thanks to years of challenging higher levels and varied training.

“Thank you for yielding,” Beiming Ling saluted; Yun Qize returned the gesture.

Second match: Yan Tingxuan of Qiong Kingdom versus Su Xinghe of the Su family.

Though the Su family was small, Su Xinghe was a prodigy. She wielded two short blades, called ‘Spirit Severing Twins’. Yan Tingxuan held his own ‘Yanxiao’. Xuanqiong already anticipated the outcome.

But Su Xinghe’s cultivation had broken through to the green stage—just a few more steps to Yuan stage. At her age, it was remarkable; what could be the reason?

Yan Tingxuan wielded ‘Yanxiao’, but her cultivation was superior, and he ultimately lost.

Xuanqiong noticed Su Xinghe’s ruthless technique and cold, sharp gaze—she could kill without batting an eye.

Third match: Shen Cixi of the Shen family versus Ling Yuhan of Lingyue Kingdom.

Shen Cixi, the Shen family’s young master, wore a pale yellow dress, holding the ‘Yinqi’ sword. Ling Yuhan, crown prince of Lingyue, wore a sapphire robe, surrounded by the ‘Eight Gates’ blades.

Both attacked simultaneously. Shen Cixi struck from various angles, but the ‘Eight Gates’ blocked every move, the other seven blades flying toward Shen Cixi. After several rounds, one blade aimed straight for her throat, stopping an inch away.

Ling Yuhan’s victory was clear. After the announcement, Ling Yuhan saluted.

“Thank you for yielding.”

…

Eighth match: Murong Luohua versus Yan Feng of Qiong Kingdom.

Yan Feng, eldest prince of Qiong Kingdom, had excellent cultivation and talent. He wore a silver-grey robe, wielding the ‘Black Iron’ fan; his tall figure matched Murong Luohua’s. Luohua summoned ‘Phantom’.

They began at once. Though Yan Feng’s cultivation was half a level higher, Luohua had learned from Xuanqiong the intricacies of fan weapons—even the ‘Ice Feather’ had minor weaknesses, and a mortal fan even more so. Within a dozen rounds, Yan Feng was defeated.

After nearly seven days, the Qionglin Tournament finally concluded. The last segment was not a match, but guidance from the judges.

Xuanqiong thought, given her lack of fame, no one would seek her guidance, but unexpectedly someone called her name. She turned to see Lady Chu Weiyi of Liuxian Sect.

“I am curious about Immortal Lord’s cultivation and wish to learn from you,” Chu Weiyi said, revealing her ‘Demon Remnant’ whip.

Seeing the ‘Demon Remnant’, Xuanqiong instantly understood—what she thought was mere resemblance was now confirmed.

Chu Weiyi attacked first; Xuanqiong observed the whip’s movements, found its weaknesses, and easily blocked or dodged.

Seeing her whip powerless, Chu Weiyi condensed it into a sword. After hundreds more moves, Chu Weiyi grew tired, but Xuanqiong remained relaxed; those watching below felt she was toying with her. Yet Xuanqiong’s eyes had turned red, her hand gripping Chu Weiyi’s throat, and if one listened closely, her voice trembled.

“Do you realize I could end your life right now?”

“Then why don’t you do it?” Chu Weiyi sneered, her gaze full of provocation.

Were it not for the rule against harming others at will, these people would already be dead. The title of Ruler of the Three Realms, though backed by immense power, was also a burden and a shackle.

“Though I cannot kill you, I can cripple you.”

“And what right do you have to cripple me? I am a princess of the demon realm—aren’t you afraid of inciting conflict between our realms?”

“When I discover the truth, your death will come.”

Xuanqiong prepared to throw her off the stage, but someone below rushed out, pleading,

“Immortal Lord, please show mercy!”