At the entrance to Falling Star Plateau, light shimmered within a massive stone at its center, sealing away a world identical to the one outside.
The triennial “New Moon Arrow Tournament” was held as usual, once again managed by the Ouyang family of Thousand Mist Town.
There was a time when the Ouyang family stood alone at the top, possessing immense wealth, with seven or eight out of every ten businesses in town belonging to them.
Ever since the old master passed away, people cursed him as deserving his fate while declaring that the great mansion was about to crumble.
Yet who would have guessed that the young master, now in charge, would completely change the old ways—distributing profits fairly, promoting agriculture, and improving irrigation. In just a few short years, he had brought prosperity to every resident of the town. Though the Ouyang family gates were no longer as grand as before, the townspeople’s lives had become far better than they used to be.
With life a bit more comfortable, everyone no longer had to labor day and night. With leisure time, they could watch this lively competition like tourists.
This year, news spread that Alchemist Ji from the Pure Bright Terrace had brought a special artifact capable of opening numerous water mirrors in the void.
Through these water mirrors, people outside Falling Star Plateau could see what was happening inside.
Crowds gathered thick and dark before each water mirror, their eyes fixed on the different participants’ scenes, buzzing with discussion.
The target for this “New Moon Arrow Tournament” was a spirit called the Glowing Sting. Such a spirit was as small as an ordinary firefly and could create countless illusions, making it extremely difficult to identify its true body.
Compared to previous years, the difficulty of this hunt was the highest ever, yet the prize was the shabbiest.
Outside, watching townsfolk couldn’t help grumbling:
“Looks like the Ouyang mansion is truly poor now—they can’t even offer any real treasure. The prize is just a painting! Tell me, is that proper? Last tournament’s prize, though just an emerald hairpin, was at least a magical artifact with spiritual power. And the tournament before that? The prize was the Ice Bow and Shadow Arrows—genuine ancient divine weapons! Now they’re fobbing us off with some tattered scroll. The fairy in the painting looks alive enough, but the edges of the scroll are scorched. If they can’t afford it, they should just stop holding the damn thing.”
“Don’t say that. We outsiders don’t know the full story. So many have joined this tournament, even drawing the Empress herself. Maybe that painting is some rare treasure, hiding secrets within!”
“Exactly—the scale here is unprecedented! Since Thousand Mist Town started hosting the ‘New Moon Arrow Tournament,’ there’s never been such a grand spectacle.”
As they spoke, their gazes swept toward the rows of solemn Imperial Guard formations standing before the stone grounds, here to protect the Empress. Yet before entering Falling Star Plateau, she had ordered that no one should follow her, and she would only team up with her recently confirmed betrothed husband.
The Imperial Guard soldiers stared intently at one of the many water mirrors, which showed Song Yueyao—the Empress of Liangya. She was accompanied by a strikingly handsome young man, the Young Master of Lingyu, Jiang Zhiyu, whom she had recently agreed to marry through diplomatic negotiations.
Word had it their wedding was set for half a month later.
He was all smiles, vigorously fanning the Empress with his folding fan and occasionally giving her a thoughtful shoulder rub. He had none of a young master’s authority left—frankly, he wasn’t much better than a lackey.
Most of the spectators were from Liangya, but there were also many who had traveled from Lingyu. Seeing this scene gnawed at their hearts like a hundred claws.
To make matters worse, nearby Liangya folks wore smug grins, their expressions clearly saying, “Look—your young master sure knows how to serve, huh.”
Anyone watching would think the Young Master of Lingyu had been sent as a hostage to Liangya, groveling before their Empress.
Finally, one Lingyu native couldn’t take it anymore and shouted at a water mirror: “Young Master! You must shoot that Glowing Sting! Show them your real manly strength!”
That shout lit a fuse, rousing other countrymen to join in yelling: “Go, Young Master! Prove to them what you’re made of!”
No way was this happening!
Some screamed while pounding their chests—their young master had studied since childhood under the world-famous Alchemist Ji, rumored to be a master swordsman whose demon-expelling magic struck like lightning. He had once been the moonlit sweetness in many a young maiden’s heart back in Lingyu.
How did he end up in this water mirror, looking like nothing more than a tea-serving, shoulder-rubbing, fan-waving… perfect homemaker?
If this scene ever reached Lingyu, it would shatter a legion of maidens’ hearts.
Just as the Lingyu crowd’s spirit rose, the Imperial Guard on the other side were also ready.
After all, this was Liangya territory, with sheer numbers on their side. The Imperial Guard commander bellowed in a raspy voice:
“The Empress is heroic!”
“Heroic!” the soldiers behind him roared in unison.
“The Empress is fearless!”
“Fearless!”
“The Empress is the strongest!”
“Strongest!”
Every time he yelled, a thunderous echo followed.
These were trained warriors, not ordinary civilians—their momentum felt like mountains and rivers crashing down, rumbling across the entire field.
A few rounds later, the scattered shouts of the Lingyu natives were swallowed up without a trace.
Just as the Imperial Guard soldiers were basking in pride, an even louder and clearer wave of voices drowned them out.
“Shaming others breaks harmony—cheering builds your glory! Grow stronger and greater—may glory be your story!”
Those shouting even unfurled a banner.
The contrast in class couldn’t be clearer.
The Guards turned to look: a group of spirited young women, wearing cheering headbands, raised their fists high. Though their voices were softer, their energy was no less fierce.
The Guard soldiers’ faces flushed red, like boiled shrimp, and fell silent.
On the other side, after the cheer ended, their leader Zhu Yu sighed in frustration, and the girls behind her wore faint smiles.
Seeing this, Yan Xingxiao stepped forward to comfort her: “Miss Zhu, don’t be sad. They couldn’t make it back this year, but they’ll return next year.”
In years past, around every Lantern Festival, Xiaomi and Wu Li would come back to the Pure Bright Terrace, inviting friends to gather there.
But this year, Xiaomi said she was busy with something called a TV station newcomer host competition—no one fully understood it, but they knew she was competing and incredibly occupied.
Since Xiaomi didn’t come back, Wu Li naturally didn’t either.
Everyone knew: wherever Xiaomi went, there he went, as if wanting to watch over her every single moment.
During the last New Moon Arrow Tournament, they had attended, and everyone had gone together.
That year’s prize fell into Wu Li’s hands as expected. But just when everyone thought he would place the emerald hairpin he’d won into Xiaomi’s hair, he—before their eyes, surrounded by a chill wind—slowly conjured dark flames in his palm and melted that hairpin… instant ashes.
At the time, White Cat was terrified, thinking the murderous aura had surfaced in him again.
This year’s tournament was missing two old friends, so everyone’s enthusiasm was dampened. Yet when they saw the prize, they all stared wide-eyed at each other: wasn’t the woman in that painting awfully familiar?
Jiang Zhiyu insisted on participating no matter what, even tossing out a line: "If I don't get my hands on this painting, once my junior brother returns next year, he'll definitely kill me."
Even Song Yueyao nodded vigorously beside him.
Before entering the Fallen Star Plains, the two of them glanced toward the temporary viewing platform set up at the edge of the square, their gazes piercing like invisible swords, sweeping over sharply.
On the platform lay a luxurious long couch, where a young master in fine robes lounged sideways. Five or six concubines surrounded him—some massaging his legs, others fanning him.
He held a wine flask aloft in his own hand, letting the liquor pour from its spout straight down his throat. Any stray drops that trickled down his lips were promptly wiped away by one of the concubines.
This man was none other than Ouyang Rui, the current head of the Ouyang family. His reputation was far better than his father's had been back in the day, with the sole exception that his marriage remained perpetually unsettled. He drowned himself in wine and women each day, while the position of his lawful wife stayed conspicuously vacant.
