The next morning, Yu Zhiling's door was knocked by Mo Zhu.
"Master, are you awake?"
Yu Zhiling opened her eyes and rubbed her tired brow. "Yes, I'm up."
"Immortal Zhaoyan is already prepared, and the sect leader and the others have arrived at Yingshan's gate to see us off. It's time for us to leave."
Yu Zhiling responded with a muffled sound, then pushed aside the blankets and sat up.
She still hadn’t dreamed last night. The 3,000 merit points had long been surpassed, yet the system seemed not to have activated the third phase of her memories. Was it malfunctioning, or was her assumption wrong? Perhaps the memories weren’t divided into five stages based on merit but followed some other pattern?
Yu Zhiling sighed inwardly, relieved that the system didn’t abruptly plunge her into unconsciousness to deliver memories. Instead, it usually waited until she naturally fell asleep before transmitting them. At least she didn’t have to worry about collapsing mid-step.
She quickly washed up. Mo Zhu had already packed everything the night before, so there wasn’t much to bring.
When Yu Zhiling stepped out of her room, Mo Zhu was standing neatly in the courtyard, his gaze lifting as soon as she appeared.
Her disciple had grown even more handsome—taller and more upright than when he had first returned two months ago.
Mo Zhu handed her a steamed bun. "Master, eat something to fill your stomach."
Yu Zhiling never skipped meals, and her disciple was thoughtful enough to prepare breakfast for her.
She took the food, nibbling as she walked. "I originally planned to wait until after your eighteenth birthday before leaving the mountain, but this matter is urgent. Don’t worry, though." She glanced at him and painted a grand promise. "We’ll probably be back in just a few days. I’ll make sure to arrange a proper coming-of-age celebration for you then."
Mo Zhu corrected her flatly, "Among demons, adulthood begins at sixteen. Even in the Central Continent, it’s the same for youths."
Yu Zhiling hurriedly amended, "Fine, I’ll arrange an eighteenth birthday feast for you, alright?"
Her disciple couldn’t help but feel a pang of frustration at her subconscious tendency to treat him like a child. He knew that much of her affection for him stemmed from an elder’s instinctive care for the young. His master was noble-hearted—respectful to her seniors and kind to juniors.
Not wanting to argue, Mo Zhu nodded stiffly. "Yes, thank you, Master."
Yu Zhiling exhaled in relief. She often slipped up and said things she shouldn’t, and her disciple particularly disliked hearing them. Teenagers were so hard to please, and it wasn’t easy for her to shake off her modern mindset.
Descending from Tingchun Cliff to Yingshan Sect’s main gate, Yu Zhiling stuffed the last bite of bun into her mouth and waved at the group waiting there.
"Senior Brother! Senior Sister!"
Yan Shanqing stood with his hands behind his back, turning at the sound of her voice. His little junior sister was skipping down the steps, three at a time, her robes fluttering.
The other senior brothers and sisters winced, their temples throbbing.
"Yu Xiao Wu, walk properly! What if you fall?"
Yu Xiao Wu would never fall. She knew every step of Yingshan Sect’s stairs like the back of her hand and soon reached the bottom.
She stood obediently in front of Ning Hengwu, tilting her head up so each senior could pat her head in turn.
Mo Zhu arrived moments later, cupping his hands in greeting. "Greetings to the Sect Leader, Senior Masters, and Immortal Zhaoyan."
Wu Zhaoyan narrowed his eyes. "Why are you coming along?"
Before Mo Zhu could answer, Yu Zhiling snapped back, "He’s my only disciple. Who else is going to take care of me? If I don’t bring him, are you volunteering?"
Wu Zhaoyan retorted, "A man shouldn’t be the one looking after you!"
Yu Zhiling shot back, "He’s more suitable than you!"
She had no inkling of Wu Zhaoyan’s feelings—only that he and the original Yu Zhiling had often quarreled. Even now, with her memories lost, she felt the urge to roll up her sleeves and fight him every time they met.
Yan Shanqing coldly pulled Wu Zhaoyan back, while Ning Hengwu clamped a hand over Yu Zhiling’s mouth. Over the years, the senior siblings had grown tragically adept at this routine.
A potential clash was quietly smothered before it could erupt.
Yu Zhiling glared at Wu Zhaoyan.
Ning Hengwu hugged her soothingly. "Be good, Xiao Wu. No fighting. You two are friends."
Yu Zhiling scoffed. "Friends? As if!"
Wu Zhaoyan bristled. "Yu Xiao Wu, don’t forget how often you mooched meals off the Wu family when you were little!"
Mo Zhu stepped forward, gently pulling his master away before she could lunge. Bending slightly, he coaxed her, "Master, your injuries haven’t fully healed. Don’t get worked up. How about a snack?"
Yu Zhiling was easily pacified by her disciple’s treats.
Ning Hengwu shot Wu Zhaoyan a disapproving look.
Wu Zhaoyan: "?"
Ning Hengwu muttered, "Useless."
After all these years of pining, he’d somehow turned their relationship into a rivalry. Meanwhile, the little disciple had won his master’s stomach in two months—the heart would be next.
Yan Shanqing handed Mo Zhu a bundle of supplies. "These are medicinal pills and defensive talismans. The Lingyou Path is treacherous, so be cautious. Xiao Wu is still injured—protect her so she doesn’t have to fight unless necessary."
Mo Zhu stored the items in his qiankun pouch and bowed. "This disciple will remember."
Yan Shanqing watched as Yu Zhiling bid farewell to Mei Qiongge and Xiang Wuxue, sighing softly. "I can’t help but worry. Her temperament is too much like when she was young—impetuous. Stay close to her. Don’t let her wander off alone."
Mo Zhu understood his concern.
They feared Yu Zhiling might be cornered into using the third Frostblade Slash.
At her current cultivation level, brute force alone couldn’t defeat her. The only viable method was still that third strike.
Mo Zhu asked quietly, "Sect Leader, what about you and the Senior Masters…?"
Yan Shanqing shook his head. "We won’t leave Yingshan Sect during this time. You have my word."
Only then did Mo Zhu relax. As long as they remained within Yingshan—now the most heavily guarded place in the Central Continent—the demons couldn’t breach its defenses. Yu Zhiling’s vulnerabilities were all here. If the sect stayed safe, she could move forward without hesitation.
This was also why Yan Shanqing and the others weren’t accompanying her.
Right now, Yingshan was safer than by her side.
Mo Zhu clasped his hands in farewell. "Sect Leader, Senior Masters, this disciple will take good care of Master. Please rest assured."
Yan Shanqing nodded. "Very well. Stay safe."
Mo Zhu led Yu Zhiling away, gripping her wrist tightly, as if afraid she’d dart onto Wu Zhaoyan’s flying boat and start a brawl.
Only when they boarded Yingshan’s own vessel did Yu Zhiling shake free. "What’s the big idea? I wasn’t going to fight him! We’re adults now!"
Mo Zhu poured her tea, his voice calm. "Master, have some tea. I added rock sugar."
Yu Zhiling sat by the window, sipping sullenly before grudgingly praising him. "Your tea-making skills have improved."
"Things will be better in the future. This disciple will prepare everything Master likes to eat and drink."
Mo Zhu sat cross-legged on the floor across from her, his eyes curved into crescents, looking utterly obedient.
The master suppressed the urge to scratch her disciple’s chin like a cat. She coughed lightly, turning her face away to avoid his gaze, though the smile at the corners of her lips was impossible to hide.
Her anger had been doused in an instant. Secretly, she thought to herself—the books that described Mo Zhu as cold and reticent were utterly wrong.
He was, in fact, incredibly, unbearably adorable.
The flying vessels of Yingshan Sect and the Wu family sailed side by side toward the Unforgotten River.
Yun Zhi wiped the blood from his lips and rose to his feet, sword in hand, his expression icy. "Have we met before?"
The figure before him chuckled, the lips beneath the hood pale as frost.
"You don’t recognize me?"
Yun Zhi remained impassive. "If we’ve met, why hide behind a hood? Too cowardly to show your face?"
The man laughed softly, raising a ghostly pale hand—but he did not lift his hood. Instead, his fingertip pointed at Yun Zhi.
Tilting his head slightly, his thin lips curled into a smile. "Yun Zhi, do you even know why you’re still alive?"
Dark mist unfurled from his fingertip. Yun Zhi’s pupils constricted—he swung his sword to block, but in the next moment, the fog surged toward him from all directions.
"You seek the Skyward Lotus… isn’t it for her sake?"
"Only the Skyward Lotus can keep Yu Zhiling alive. Isn’t that right?"
Threads of black mist seeped into Yun Zhi’s consciousness. Then—darkness swallowed his vision.
The Grand Tournament of Heroes was held once every decade, selecting young talents from the three great sects and four noble families. The champion of the tournament would not only gain fame across the Central Continent but also receive a grand prize.
The thirtieth tournament was held in the 450th year of the Xiqing Era.
When Yun Zhi arrived, the main hall was already in chaos—voices clashed, the loudest among them a young woman’s.
"You old man have no sense of fairness! He was the one who acted dishonorably first! A spar between disciples is a fair match—the loser admits defeat, yet he dared to shatter my senior sister’s earring and leave a cut on her face!"
Yun Zhi pushed open the doors. The hall was packed, a sea of people crowding inside.
Yu Zhiling stood at the center, while Ning Hengwu tugged at her sleeve, whispering, "Little Five, it’s fine. Senior Sister is unharmed."
Yu Zhiling grabbed her wrist and pushed aside the hair at her temple, revealing a fresh cut on her cheek and the shattered remains of a pearl earring.
"Yi Ting did this on purpose! A fair match means accepting defeat—my senior sister already won, so why did he sneak in a strike when he should’ve sheathed his sword?"
Yi Ting’s face was cold. "The match isn’t over until the bell rings. Was it wrong for me to attack?"
Yu Zhiling jabbed a finger at him. "Bullshit! You were knocked out of the ring three times! By the tournament’s rules, you were already disqualified! The match was over—my Second Senior Sister won! You just wanted to humiliate her! She treasures her beauty more than anything!"
Before Yi Ting could retort, the Blade Sect’s patriarch cut in with a laugh. "Young disciples sparring is all in good fun. A-Ting is participating for the first time—he’s just overly competitive. He didn’t realize the match had ended when he struck. How about this? I’ll apologize on his behalf and compensate Yingshan Sect with ten thousand spirit stones. What do you say?"
Yu Zhiling scoffed. "Who wants your money, you old—"
"Enough!" Jing Wei’s voice cut through the hall from the high platform. "The tournament still has two days left. Tomorrow is the finals. Since you’ve already qualified, focus on preparing instead of stirring trouble. It was just a spar."
Without giving Yu Zhiling a chance to argue, Jing Wei turned to the Blade Sect’s patriarch with a diplomatic smile. "Let’s handle this as the patriarch suggested. A heated match between disciples—some spirit stones as an apology will suffice."
The patriarch clasped his hands. "A reasonable solution."
The Blade Sect disciples filed out in orderly fashion. As he left, Yi Ting glanced back at Ning Hengwu’s stony expression, pointed at his own cheek, and smirked—infuriatingly smug.
Ning Hengwu clenched her fists, her gaze frosty.
Strangely, Yu Zhiling—who had been the most furious—fell silent. She watched him leave without another outburst.
Jing Wei massaged his temples, exhausted by the mess. He waved dismissively at Yu Zhiling and Ning Hengwu. "Disperse, all of you. Since Fuchun Sect isn’t attending this year, you juniors better behave. Spars between disciples shouldn’t be taken so seriously."
Yu Zhiling ignored him, grabbing Ning Hengwu’s hand and striding out without a backward glance—her departure so brazen it made Jing Wei fume.
"First time at the Grand Tournament, and she’s already this arrogant! Let’s see what rank she actually earns!"
Yun Zhi watched them go but didn’t intervene. Having grown up with them, he knew this matter wasn’t over—he just wasn’t sure what Yu Zhiling would do next.
With a quiet sigh, he approached the hall.
"Elder Jing Wei."
Jing Wei turned, his stern expression melting into a smile. "Young Master Yun! I hadn’t heard you were participating this year."
Yun Zhi shook his head. "I’m not here for the tournament. I came without the Yun family’s knowledge—to inquire about the Scale Reed Grass."
Jing Wei’s face paled. He sighed heavily. "I know your health has been declining. If the Yun family needed the grass, of course I’d hand it over. But… no one can harvest it. It grows alongside the Fire Deceivers in the Ruins of Dust—past champions never dared to seek it. The risk is too great."
Yun Zhi remained calm. "I understand. I’ll go alone."
Jing Wei protested, "Absolutely not! You’re the Yun family’s heir. If anything happens to you, the Immortal Alliance will have a feud on its hands!"
Yun Zhi met his gaze. "If I don’t go, I die. If I go, there’s a chance I live."
Jing Wei stared at his increasingly pallid complexion, lips parting before he finally fell silent.
He waved a hand, too weary to argue. "After the tournament ends, I’ll open the Ruins of Dust. Enter in secret—but keep this quiet. Only the champion is permitted inside."
Yun Zhi bowed slightly. "My thanks, Elder."
That night, he stayed at the Immortal Alliance’s quarters instead of returning to the Yun family’s residence.
The Grand Tournament spanned several days. Tomorrow’s finals would determine the champion through a series of elimination matches.
Late that evening, just as Yun Zhi removed his outer robe to rest, a commotion erupted outside.
Frowning, he dressed and followed the noise to the main hall.
Yi Ting knelt on the floor, robes disheveled, wailing, "Elders, you must uphold justice! Yu Zhiling—Yu Zhiling has gone too far!"
Jing Wei arrived in haste, trailed by several drowsy elders rudely awakened. "What now?!"
The Blade Sect’s patriarch rushed in with his disciples.
"A-Ting, what happened?"
Yi Ting seemed to have found his pillar of support as he rushed forward, crying out, "Sect Leader! That Yu Zhiling actually... she barged into my room!"
His hair, neatly tied into a ponytail that morning, now looked as if it had been chewed by a dog, unevenly chopped off. His face was bruised purple and blue, swollen from the beating.
"Sect Leader! Our bodies and hair are gifts from our parents—how dare she damage them! Yu Zhiling broke into my quarters at night, claiming she wanted a sparring match, but then... in the middle of it, she slashed off my hair with her sword and beat my face!"
The grand hall fell into silence. The flickering candlelight illuminated Yi Ting’s disheveled hair and battered face, making the sight almost comical.
Yun Zhi, observing the dog-chewed mess of his hair, suddenly burst into laughter. He coughed lightly, turning his head away, his pale complexion flushing slightly.
Yu Zhiling swaggered in from outside, casually tossing a bundle of hair at Yi Ting’s feet.
"Here, take it. See if you can reattach it."
Yi Ting trembled with rage. "How dare you do this?! I’ll make you pay!"
Yu Zhiling rolled her eyes.
From the high platform, Jing Wei roared, "You insolent brat, kneel!"
Yu Zhiling dropped to her knees with practiced ease—clearly no stranger to this punishment—and shoved Yi Ting aside with her foot.
"Move. You’re taking up too much space."
Yi Ting: "Sect Leader, she’s gone too far!"
The Blade Sect’s leader was so furious his hands shook as he raised one to strike Yu Zhiling. But before the blow could land, his wrist was caught.
"What do you think you’re doing?"
A man in blue robes stood protectively in front of Yu Zhiling, his expression icy.
"My master may not be here, but Xiao Wu is the sect leader’s disciple. Do you, a mere sect leader, dare to discipline her in my master’s stead?"
Yan Shanqing flung the man’s hand away as a group of people crowded in behind him—Ning Hengwu, Xiang Wuxue, Mei Qiongge—everyone from the Yingshan Sect except for Fu Chun, who was away on a mission.
The Blade Sect leader fumed. "Your junior sister is utterly lawless! Breaking into a disciple’s quarters at night, assaulting him—how do you intend to handle this?!"
Yan Shanqing glanced back at Yu Zhiling. "Why did you barge into his room? What if he hadn’t been dressed? Disgusting."
Yu Zhiling hastily defended her honor. "He was dressed! I wouldn’t waste my time looking at him."
Yi Ting grew even angrier. "You—!"
The Blade Sect leader bellowed, "You insolent wretch!"
Yan Shanqing took a seat in an empty chair nearby, his face cold. "I’m leading the Yingshan delegation this time. That makes me the authority here. How does the Blade Sect propose we settle this?"
Yi Ting snarled, "Such vile behavior deserves punishment—she should have her hair cut and her face ruined!"
Yan Shanqing’s gaze turned frosty. "You dare?"
Yu Zhiling scoffed at Yi Ting. "It was just a little scuffle, a friendly spar. Things got a bit out of hand, that’s all. How about we compensate you with some spirit stones?"
She grinned at Yan Shanqing. "Eldest Brother, did you bring any money?"
Mei Qiongge immediately tossed her money pouch onto the table. "Here. There’s a hundred thousand spirit stones inside."
Yu Zhiling grabbed it and hurled it at Yi Ting.
"Take it. Your hair and face must be the most valuable in the Central Continent. Consider yourself lucky, kid."
Yi Ting looked ready to cry. "Sect Leader, justice for your disciple!"
The Blade Sect leader fumed. "Yu Zhiling, do you really think money can solve this?!"
Yu Zhiling arched a brow, turning to Jing Wei on the platform. "Didn’t the elder say minor scuffles among disciples are normal? It was just a spar. I didn’t seriously hurt him—he just couldn’t keep up, and I lost control a little. We’ve paid compensation, and tomorrow’s tournament is more important. Surely the elder has no time for trivial matters like this."
She threw his own words from noon right back at him.
Jing Wei’s face twisted with rage. "Silver-tongued and shameless!"
Yu Zhiling smiled. "The elder’s own words: ‘Disciples sparring might get injured.’ Who knew my sword had a mind of its own and shaved Yi Ting’s hair? And those punches were just an accident. Paying him off is a fair resolution."
Jing Wei choked on his fury, unable to retort. His gaze swept over the crowd—many of whom had witnessed the earlier incident—before accidentally locking eyes with Yun Zhi. The pale-faced young master was hiding a laugh, clearly enjoying the spectacle.
Jing Wei’s face darkened further as Yu Zhiling and Yi Ting continued bickering.
Yi Ting: "Elder! Elder, give me justice!"
Yu Zhiling egged him on: "Elder! Elder, say something!"
Yi Ting turned on her. "Yu Xiao Wu!"
Yu Zhiling shot back, "Who gave you the right to call me that? Don’t flatter yourself."
The hall descended into chaos as disciples from both sects began arguing, some even coming to blows.
Jing Wei flung his sleeve and stormed out. "All of you, get out! I wash my hands of this!"
If he intervened now, he’d only confirm his earlier bias toward the Blade Sect.
In the end, the matter was settled with the Yingshan Sect paying a hundred thousand spirit stones, while Yi Ting was left with half his hair missing and a swollen face.
Yun Zhi watched from the shadows as the farce concluded. Yi Ting was dragged away by his fellow disciples, vowing that the Blade Sect would make Yu Zhiling regret this tomorrow.
Yu Zhiling stood up carelessly, her eyes meeting Yun Zhi’s in the corner. She flashed him a sly grin.
Yun Zhi chuckled.
Yu Xiao Wu had always been fiercely protective. The moment he saw Jing Wei favoring the Blade Sect at noon, he knew she wouldn’t let it slide.
And perhaps she still hadn’t.
Because the next morning, Yun Zhi heard that Yi Ting had been ambushed and beaten again in the night.
The Blade Sect demanded answers from the Yingshan Sect, whose five disciples sat in a neat row.
Yan Shanqing: "No idea. We were playing cards all night."
Yu Zhiling nodded. "Right. I even went to find Yun Zhi. He can vouch for me."
All eyes turned to Yun Zhi, who raised a brow.
"Indeed. Yu Xiao Wu came to chat and took me to play cards. We played all night."
Favoritism? He could play that game too.
Wasn’t it natural to side with those you were close to?
After all, when they were children, Yu Zhiling had often stood up for him. She had always been this way—unwavering in her loyalty, unapologetic in her boldness.
Yu Zhiling’s audacity left the entire Blade Sect seething, determined to teach her a lesson in the tournament’s final round.
That year, the most likely candidate to win the championship was the Blade Sect’s top inner disciple—Yi Xunzhou.
The Blade Sect rigged the final draw, ensuring their young master would face Yu Zhiling in the last match.
After fighting her way to the finals, Yu Zhiling’s final opponent would be Yi Xunzhou—a cultivator at the peak of the Nascent Soul stage.
At that time, Yu Zhiling was only in her twenties, her cultivation merely at the early stage of the Divine Transformation realm. By the finals, she had already fought several opponents, her stamina greatly depleted—the Blade Sect’s tactics were truly underhanded.
A nearby cultivator, failing to recognize Yun Zhi’s identity, challenged him to a wager: "Fellow Daoist, care to place a bet? I’ll stake five hundred spirit stones on Yi Xunzhou’s victory."
The disciples below overwhelmingly favored Yi Xunzhou—unsurprising, given that the Blade Sect’s young master had already claimed the title of Champion of the Gathering of Heroes three times in a row. A newcomer like Yu Zhiling, participating in the tournament for the first time, stood no chance.
Yet, at that moment, Yun Zhi emptied his entire fortune onto the table.
"I’m betting on Yu Zhiling."
The disciple gaped in shock. "Why? This is her first time competing in the Gathering of Heroes. Though her talent is remarkable, her realm is still lacking—a single realm’s difference is like heaven and earth!"
Yun Zhi merely smiled, his eyes curving. "Because Yu Zhiling can accomplish anything. I’m betting on her."
It was Yun Zhi’s first time gambling with anyone. Amidst the lopsided odds, he placed his faith in the one no one else believed in.
Even after her opponent was switched at the last moment, Yu Zhiling stepped onto the stage with unshaken composure, Zhu Qing sword in hand.
She cupped her fist in greeting and grinned. "I can let you have three moves, if you’d like."
Her words drew a scoff from her adversary. "Little girl, don’t be so arrogant. If you end up crying in defeat, the entire Central Continent will hear of it."
Yu Zhiling raised a brow. "You don’t want the handicap?"
Yi Xunzhou leveled his blade. "Brazen words."
Yu Zhiling sighed. "Pity."
The moment the starting gong sounded, her expression turned icy. As Yi Xunzhou’s longsword slashed toward her, she dodged with lightning speed, her sword weaving a deadly flourish. Sword energy cascaded like a storm.
Yi Xunzhou blocked her strikes, and the two clashed relentlessly. Gradually, the tide seemed to turn in his favor—Yu Zhiling’s movements slowed, her attacks losing their edge.
The Blade Sect disciples roared in triumph, while the Yingshan Sect members remained seated, unfazed.
The disciple beside Yun Zhi smirked. "Fellow Daoist, care to change your bet?"
Yun Zhi shook his head. "No."
"Still betting on Yu Zhiling?"
"On her."
As his words faded, the battle raged for two quarters of an hour, the crowd riveted.
Then—
A blinding flash erupted from the stage, sword light exploding like a supernova. The air filled with smoke and dust.
A crisp clang rang out.
The disciples held their breaths.
As the smoke cleared, Yi Xunzhou’s blade trembled in his grip—then, unbelievably, it began to shatter.
Yu Zhiling stood lazily atop the platform, Zhu Qing in hand, tilting her head with a playful grin. "Ah, my apologies. My sword happens to be the Central Continent’s most vicious blade. It doesn’t know restraint. But your weapon hasn’t even awakened a spirit—hardly a loss if it breaks."
And there, hovering in the air, was another Zhu Qing—the one that had struck Yi Xunzhou’s blade from the side.
Yi Xunzhou’s face paled as he watched his sword splinter into pieces, leaving only the hilt in his grasp.
He muttered in disbelief, "A Sword Heart… You’ve awakened a Sword Heart. To manifest a second blade with your mind… How…?"
While he had grown complacent, mistaking her fatigue for weakness, she had already set her trap—using her Sword Heart to conjure a second Zhu Qing and strike from his blind spot.
Yu Zhiling waved her hand, dispersing the phantom sword. She brandished the true Zhu Qing. "I awakened my Sword Heart at sixteen. What about you? At the peak of Divine Transformation, have you even forged a Blade Heart yet?"
Yi Xunzhou’s pride lay in ruins. "No… Impossible. Even my master never achieved a Blade Heart!"
"Just because you failed doesn’t mean others can’t succeed."
Though her robes were torn and blood streaked her skin, Yu Zhiling stood tall, her voice cold.
"You only have one blade. But my swords—"
Behind her, a single sword shadow materialized. Then it split into two, then four, then eight—until thousands upon thousands of Zhu Qing replicas filled the sky.
Yun Zhi looked up at the sea of blades, listening to the awed murmurs of the crowd.
"Such formidable mental power at the early Divine Transformation stage… Monstrous."
The Way of the Heart dictated that with enough willpower, one could unleash the Central Continent’s deadliest techniques—or manifest an army of weapons.
The victory drum boomed.
"Yingshan Sect’s Yu Zhiling defeats Blade Sect’s Yi Xunzhou—Yingshan wins!"
Instantly, Yu Zhiling’s stern demeanor vanished. The sword shadows dissipated as she leaped down from the stage.
"Senior brothers and sisters—I WON! Feast tonight!!"
The Yingshan disciples rushed forward, catching her and tossing her into the air amidst cheers.
"Junior Sister Yu, number one!"
"Senior Sister Yu, undefeated!"
As she soared at the peak of their throws, Yun Zhi heard their voices pierce the heavens.
"Number one under the skies, Champion of the Gathering of Heroes—Yingshan’s Yu Zhiling!"
The Blade Sect’s three-time champion had been dethroned by a first-time contender.
Yun Zhi returned to his quarters with a bag of spirit stones, his winnings from the bet.
Gazing at the pile on his table, he rubbed his temples and smiled all night.
With the tournament concluded, it was time to prepare for his journey into the Dustborne Immortal Realm to retrieve the Scale Reed Grass. Given his frail health, venturing there might mean death—but without the herb, his fate was sealed regardless.
The poison in his veins since birth had only one cure.
At dawn the next day, he opened his door to find someone waiting in his courtyard.
She sat there, munching on a pancake larger than her face. Spotting him, she gestured to another on the table, mumbling through a full mouth, "Got one for you too. Still warm."
Yun Zhi stared. "Xiao Wu? What are you doing here?"
Then his gaze sharpened. "You’re injured?"
Burns marred her face, neck—every exposed patch of skin.
Yu Zhiling swallowed, took a swig of water, and pulled a wooden box from her qiankun pouch.
"Freshly picked. Eat it while it’s still potent."
Yun Zhi opened the box. Inside lay a single stalk of Scale Reed Grass.
His throat tightened. "Xiao Wu… The Dustborne Immortal Realm holds only one of these. You…"
She took another bite, grinning. "Well, as the champion, I got to pick a treasure from the realm. That Scale Reed had some fire-breathing beast guarding it—scared everyone off till now. Lucky me, huh?"
His grip on the box tightened. "You never bothered with the tournament before. This time, was it…?"
She clapped his shoulder. "What’s between us needs no explanation. If I’d known this herb could cure you, I’d have won a decade ago. Your servant let it slip—good thing I made it in time."
She patted her chest again, tilting her chin up proudly and declaring, "Yun, my dear friend, from now on, address me as the 'Champion of Heroes'—this feeling is absolutely exhilarating!"
That scale-reed herb had saved Yun Zhi's life, suppressing the poison within him.
His gaze fixed on Yu Zhiling's face, his lips pressed into a thin line as he accepted the flatbread she offered. He took a bite, only to nearly choke on it. Gulping down a cup of water to wash it down, he turned to see Yu Zhiling doubled over with laughter beside him.
"Yu Xiao Wu," Yun Zhi murmured.
Yu Zhiling chuckled and replied, "Alright, alright, I’ll stop laughing, okay?"
Yun Zhi lowered his long lashes and said, "If you ever have need of me in the future, I will go through fire and water without hesitation."
Because they were sworn friends.
For a sworn friend, he would brave any danger.
And never regret it.
The black-robed youth crouched down lightly and remarked, "He’s lost in memories. Go extract his [Sleepless Soul]. The identity of the Yun family head brings too much trouble in the Central Continent, and it’ll make approaching Yu Zhiling easier."
The woman nodded. "Understood."
She raised her hand, closed her eyes, and focused her energy. Dark demonic power swirled in her palm as crimson spiritual energy seeped into the unconscious young man’s brow, seeking out the Sleepless Soul among his seven spirits and six souls. She grasped the wisp of his soul and began pulling it out.
The black-robed youth leisurely rose to his feet.
A faint golden light flickered weakly, as if resisting the crimson demonic force, but it was gradually extracted nonetheless.
Just as the soul was about to be fully drawn out, the unconscious man suddenly opened his eyes.
His gaze was icy as he swung his sword horizontally, severing the female demon cultivator’s wrist in one clean strike.
The suddenness of the attack left no room for reaction. In the blink of an eye, Yun Zhi flipped to his feet, water vapor swirling around him as he channeled it into his blade.
The black-robed youth froze for a moment before yanking the woman beside him into a swift retreat.
"Yun Zhi?"
"My lord, how did he wake up?" The woman clutched her wrist, showing no sign of pain, only disbelief. "What did he see? Shouldn’t it have been an inner demon? Why did he awaken?"
The black-robed youth replied coldly, "No. He has no inner demon. He’s not like Yu Zhiling."
Without suffering or torment in his past, only cherished memories and an unshakable resolve—how could he harbor an inner demon?
Yun Zhi’s robes fluttered, his white hair and pristine robes untouched by chaos. The water vapor condensed into a storm around him, his eyes calm yet indifferent, as though all existence beneath heaven was beneath his notice.
"I am going to retrieve the Skyward Lotus. Those who stand in my way—will die."
