Luo Luo froze for a long moment before snapping back to reality.
This guy was trying to trick her into forming a pact again.
She turned her gaze out the window, ignoring him.
The finger he had bitten still throbbed faintly, slightly swollen, pulsing with her heartbeat—tiny prickles of numbness and tingling.
"Hey!" he called. "Do you really think I'm Li Zhaoye?"
Luo Luo's cheeks warmed. She curled her fingers and glanced at the crimson shadows of the trees in the courtyard, giving the tiniest nod.
He clicked his tongue silently. "Then if I'm not, wouldn't all your devotion be wasted on a dog?"
Luo Luo: "..."
Three words—and he nailed it perfectly. Wasted on a dog! All those drops of soul-blood she'd spilled might as well have been fed to a dog!
After a pause, she decided to correct him: "Most of my soul-blood scattered in the Abyssal Sea, so technically, it was fed to fish."
He burst into laughter, slapping the table. "So you're a bait-throwing immortal, huh?"
Luo Luo: "..."
If she responded again, she'd be the dog.
He leaned in with a grin. "So what you're saying is—I went out treasure hunting, stumbled upon a silly goose at my doorstep, thought I'd take it for a snack, but turns out this silly goose was the treasure I was looking for all along?"
He reached out, ruffling her hair mischievously before tugging a stubborn strand sticking up.
Luo Luo: "..."
She really wanted to drag Gu Meng over and show her what the real Li Zhaoye was like.
Cold, righteous, and kind-hearted? Hah.
She shifted further away on the windowsill, turning her whole body from him, not even sparing him a glance.
Even without memories, he was exactly the same as before—just as infuriating.
And she—still embarrassingly prone to blushing at his careless words.
...He'd called her a treasure.
Though Master Lingxue spoke harshly, he couldn't stand idly by as the Sealed God Palace crumbled.
Everyone pooled their strength to mend the damaged seal.
At a glance, the restored palace now resembled a splendid robe clumsily patched with rough cloth.
"This will have to do for now."
The Twelve Sealed God Palaces were originally formed from the sacrifice of the Three Ancient Sovereigns.
Later generations lacked such divine power.
All they could do was patch things up and make do.
"Aside from the Shadow Maiden, who knows how many other demons escaped?" True Lord Pangyue fretted. "Until they're all purged, we can't let junior disciples train in the Nether Realm anymore."
An elder sighed. "At least the Nether Realm still stands as a barrier."
Otherwise, ancient demons would invade the mortal world, bringing another calamity.
Pangyue sighed regretfully. "We'd carefully prepared another forbidden zone in the Nether Realm to determine the top fifty for the Ascendant Cloud Ranking. Now that's ruined—let them draw lots for duels instead."
Master Lingxue frowned. "The Ascendant Cloud Tournament is still proceeding?"
"What else?" Pangyue widened his eyes. "When we took on this event, I swore an oath—even if the heavens collapsed, the Ascendant Cloud Tournament must go on! If this centuries-old tradition fails under my watch, wouldn't I be remembered as a disgrace?"
The Master of Chongxing Sect stroked his beard. "We must report this to the Daoist Ancestors. As for the Divine Palace, we should arrange sacrificial rites soon to ensure peace."
The others nodded in agreement.
No matter the turmoil in the shadows, the bustling World Tree remained unaffected.
To outsiders, it was just gossip—some murders, a couple of unimportant deaths.
Sightseers, disciples seeking masters, love-seekers, merchants—life went on as usual.
A hundred Ascendant Cloud disciples gathered in the arena.
Two lines of attendants approached, carrying trays of red wooden lots.
The top fifty would draw opponents from the bottom fifty.
"Wasn't there supposed to be some special trial to eliminate half of us?" A lower-ranked disciple muttered nervously. "Why switch back to random duels?"
His companion grumbled, "Exactly! How are we bottom fifty supposed to fight the top fifty? This isn't fair!"
A bystander laughed. "What's unfair? Should we let the top-ranked fight all the strongest first, so some weakling can luck into a high rank?"
"You—!"
"Me what? I'm in the top half—maybe you'll draw me next."
The lower-ranked disciple immediately shut up, eyes darting away.
"Come now," someone mediated. "It's not unfair. Strength speaks for itself. If a lower-ranked wins, wouldn't that be an underdog story? Instant fame!"
"Right, right!"
The crowd rallied, hyping themselves up.
A burly cultivator boomed, "Then let me be that underdog! Bring me a lot!"
He swaggered forward, drew a red stick—and flipped it over.
One.
He was fighting the first-ranked Luo Luo.
His face darkened—then brightened. The top rank wasn't the formidable Chen Xuanyi, but Luo Luo, who'd won through rescue points.
A glint of hope flickered in his eyes.
What if...?
What if he defeated the number one? Instant glory!
The thought made him grin.
Li Zhaoye nudged Luo Luo.
"Hey," he smirked. "That guy looks down on you."
Luo Luo: "Oh."
A large hand landed on her head.
He leaned in. "Three moves. Humiliate him."
Luo Luo: "Oh."
He tilted his head, studying her deadpan expression—then felt the sudden urge to bite her cheek.
His gaze burned.
Luo Luo's face warmed under his stare. She cleared her throat softly. "I'm going up."
He gave her a light push. "Go."
Luo Luo stepped onto the platform.
Her opponent seemed lost in a daydream—flushed, grinning, eyeing her like she was a stepping stone to glory.
She silently drew Autumn Water.
A booming voice echoed above: "Though the Ascendant Cloud Tournament permits lethal force, wanton slaughter is forbidden. Remember this!"
The crowd acknowledged.
"Falling off the platform means defeat! Surrendering means defeat! If the incense burns out without a victor, both lose!"
A golden bell chimed.
Luo Luo and her opponent bowed.
"Begin." "Begin!"
Clang—swish! Swish!
Luo Luo's first two strikes missed.
The crowd jeered.
"See? Pure luck getting first place!" The cultivator's eyes gleamed. He lunged, swinging his heavy sword in a flashy combo, already envisioning victory—
"HYAH—!"
—until he felt the wind.
Huh?
Before he could process it, he was airborne. Only then did he register the overwhelming force reverberating through his blade.
His hand trembled violently, barely able to grip the sword.
With a loud "bang," he was blasted off the platform, stumbling back several steps before barely managing to steady himself.
A stern voice echoed from above: "Contestant 93, defeated!"
He looked up in shock, only to see Luo Luo standing there as calm as ever, sheathing her sword.
"You!" The cultivator spat out, face burning with humiliation. "Your first two moves were so weak! How could you suddenly become this strong? You must be cheating! Did you take some kind of pill?"
Luo Luo had already reached the edge of the platform. Hearing this, she turned her head slowly and cast him a glance.
With an earnest and somewhat helpless tone, she explained, "You couldn’t even withstand one move from me. But I promised Li Zhaoye I’d finish you in three."
She really had no choice.
The crowd: "..."
Damn, she just had to show off like that—this "Luo Three Moves"!
The results of the first elimination round were quickly announced.
The top fifty versus the bottom fifty—there wasn’t much suspense. Most matches were complete domination.
Li Zhaoye, Chen Xuanyi, Feng Baiyan, and others advanced smoothly.
But when it came to the match between Contestant 44 and Contestant 57, an unexpected twist occurred.
A cultivator from the Murong family stepped onto the stage, sweat beading on his forehead from nervousness.
No matter how much he refused to admit it, his ranking at 57th had been artificially boosted by his clan’s efforts—it was hollow.
He waited, but Contestant 44 never appeared.
Instead, an unremarkable-looking cultivator approached the referee, eyes downcast, and murmured, "Contestant 44 is our junior sister, Jiang Ling. She’s unconscious and can’t compete."
Hearing this, the Murong clan members in the audience couldn’t hide their delight.
"The young master’s luck is incredible!"
He wouldn’t even have to fight to advance.
The referee sighed and glanced at the incense stick. "We’ll wait until the incense burns out."
On the stage, Murong Guangzong’s nervousness vanished instantly, replaced by smug confidence.
"Tch." He sneered loudly. "Too scared to face the might of Murong Guangzong, so she faked an illness, huh? What a shame! I was just about to stage my grand comeback today, reclaiming the glory that’s rightfully mine! And now my opponent doesn’t even dare to show up? Pathetic, truly pathetic!"
Luo Luo frowned. "This guy… really needs a beating."
Contestant 44, Jiang Ling, remained unconscious.
Her senior brother sat by her side, struggling to hold back his emotions until his ears turned red. Finally, he blurted out what had been weighing on his heart.
"I… I’ve always… really liked you, junior sister. I just never dared to say it. Never even let myself think about it."
"Junior sister, when you wake up, I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. If you want to make sword tassels, make ten or twenty—I won’t complain, I promise…"
His voice cracked slightly. "You can’t just let me know how you feel and then… just leave like this…"
He couldn’t continue.
The second senior brother approached with heavy steps. "I informed them."
"Yeah." The senior brother nodded. "Making it past the preliminaries is already an achievement."
The second senior brother sighed. "That Murong Guangzong is all talk. If junior sister hadn’t been injured, she’d have won easily! But once the incense burns out, she’ll be disqualified by default."
The senior brother smiled bitterly. "Right."
Suddenly, a hand clamped down on his wrist.
"Help… me up!" Jiang Ling, who had been unconscious for so long, jerked upright like a corpse reanimated, eyes still closed as she shouted, "I can still fight!"
Senior brother: "..."
Second senior brother: "..."
Before the incense could burn out, the two brothers reluctantly carried Jiang Ling to the stage, their faces full of worry.
"Junior sister, your injuries—"
Jiang Ling pushed him away. "I feel perfectly fine!"
With a light leap, she landed on the platform.
"Whatever Feng Baiyan gave her must have been top-grade medicine," the second senior brother mused. "If I had to guess, she’s probably even stronger now."
No sooner had he spoken than Jiang Ling’s legs gave out, and she face-planted onto the stage.
"..."
Jiang Ling pushed herself up with her sword, wiping a trail of blood from her nose.
Having just returned from death’s doorstep, her expression was eerie, her face smeared with blood—more than a little terrifying.
Murong Guangzong looked as if he’d been struck by lightning.
"You! You were supposed to forfeit!" He shrieked, jumping back. "Referee, she already forfeited! What’s she doing here?!"
The crowd erupted in jeers.
Luo Luo cupped her hands around her mouth and mimicked his earlier tone: "Tch, now that your opponent’s here, you’re too scared to fight? Pathetic, truly pathetic!"
Jiang Ling turned and spotted Luo Luo, waving at her enthusiastically.
Golden bells chimed.
Murong Guangzong was, indeed, all bark and no bite.
In the end, the still-injured Jiang Ling barely scraped out a victory.
Luo Luo happily poked Li Zhaoye. "I’m even happier about this than if I’d won myself!"
He glanced down at her. "Winning against small fry like this is nothing to celebrate."
Luo Luo: "...Right."
She lifted her gaze, scanning the arena for bigger prey.
Chen Xuanyi and Gu Meng both advanced, but the atmosphere between them was tense.
Gu Meng kept tugging at Chen Xuanyi’s sleeve, only for him to shake her off every time.
"Me and Yue Ranchen—there’s really nothing between us!" she insisted. "I don’t know why Master Lingxue said that, but I never gave any false testimony for Yue Ranchen… You’d believe him over me?"
Chen Xuanyi scoffed. "Do whatever you want. I don’t care."
Gu Meng pressed on, frustrated. "If you hadn’t suddenly turned on me and abandoned me in the middle of nowhere, I never would’ve needed Yue Ranchen to guide me! And even when he said he liked me, I ignored him!"
Chen Xuanyi’s patience wore thin. "I don’t want to hear it."
"Right, of course," Gu Meng snapped sarcastically. "My feelings, my innocence—none of that matters compared to your precious matches! All you care about are your opponents, winning, winning, winning!"
Chen Xuanyi smirked.
His gaze cut through the crowd, locking onto Luo Luo in the distance.
These small fry meant nothing.
There was only one prey that held his interest—her.
Their eyes met.
The determination, coldness, and killing intent in her gaze dragged him back into the nightmares of his visions.
Memories might fade, but the betrayal, humiliation, and torment he’d endured only fermented in his heart, turning into poison.
He stared at her and slowly mouthed: "I will kill you."
Luo Luo smiled.
"Funny. So will I."
"I will end you."
