The night had deepened once more.
Zhang Fan tossed and turned, unable to sleep. The monkey Hui, lying beside him, caught his restlessness and opened its eyes wide, blinking as it watched him. As for the other senior fellow disciples, they had long since been sawing logs, and even Da Huang was sprawled on the ground, dead to the world.
Moonlight flowed like water through the window, spilling across the floor like frost and snow.
Zhang Fan quietly rose, and Ash instantly darted into his arms. He held it close, gave its head a gentle pat, and headed outside.
The corridor lay quiet and still, not a whisper of human presence to be heard.
He smiled bitterly to himself. Since arriving at Tongfeng, he had barely managed a single peaceful night's sleep. The thought that tomorrow he would face Lu Xueqi in their contest still left him with an indescribable nervousness he could not shake from his heart.
Just then, the monkey Hui nestled in his arms stirred uneasily. Zhang Fan glanced down at it, and there in the moonlight, he saw that Hui's bright, clever eyes were fixed on the shadows ahead.
In the darkness, a figure seemed to flash past.
Something stirred in Zhang Fan's heart, and he followed.
The figure was not running fast; as she ran, her shoulders seemed to heave continuously, as though she were sobbing. Zhang Fan watched from a distance and recognized her as Tian Ling'er, which only deepened his puzzlement. At the same time, seeing his senior sister in tears, he felt an inexplicable pang of sorrow.
Tian Ling'er ran straight out onto the cloud sea, making her way to the edge of the central arena. Seeing no one around, as if she could no longer hold herself back, she crouched down on the ground and burst into tears.
Zhang Fan had never seen his senior sister so grief-stricken. His mind went blank for a moment. He slowly walked to her side and called out softly, "Senior Sister, you—"
Tian Ling'er was startled, leaping to her feet and spinning around. Seeing that it was Zhang Fan, she felt the tension leave her—only for a pang of grief to rise in her chest the very next moment. Unable to hold herself back, she threw herself into Zhang Fan's arms and wept loudly against his shoulder.
Zhang Fan's body went rigid in an instant, every inch of him petrified as though turned to stone, unable to move so much as a hair.
Her sobbing echoed in his ears, and from her shoulder he felt the faint warmth of her body—a scene he had visited so often in dreams had somehow, impossibly, come to life. A delicate fragrance, elusive as breath, drifted toward him.
Zhang Fan stood there just like that, gazing into the distance. Though a thousand impulses in his heart urged him to take the woman in his arms, in the end, he did not.
Perhaps, if I had truly held you in my arms, life would never have been the same again.
At that moment, Tian Ling'er left his shoulder. Zhang Fan felt a hollow emptiness in his heart, and vaguely sensed that he had lost something.
His shoulder had already been soaked with tears.
Tian Ling'er rubbed her reddened eyes with her hands. When she noticed that Zhang Fan's shoulder had been soaked with her tears, her face flushed crimson. "...Fan."
Zhang Fan shook his head. "Sister, what's wrong with you?"
Tian Ling'er was just about to speak when she heard something squeak twice beneath her feet. She looked down — it was Hui, who had followed her up as well. She quietly crouched down and gathered Hui into her arms.
"Never before, Fan, never before." The young woman stood in the moonlit darkness, hauntingly beautiful, her voice laced with quiet sorrow as she faced Zhang Fan. "Father and Mother have never spoken to me like that before."
Gazing at her beautiful face, grief-stricken as it was, Zhang Fan felt a tearing pain wrench through his heart—as though her sorrow were something he himself had brought upon her. He forced himself to steady his mind and said softly, "Senior Sister, what's wrong? Why did Master and Mistress scold you?"
Tian Ling'er hesitated, then looked up at Zhang Fan. From childhood to now, this junior brother of hers had always been her closest companion aside from her parents. At that moment, a faint and half-formed thought stirred somewhere in her heart: when exactly had Junior Brother Fan started being so gentle with her?
Yet the thought was no more than a fleeting flash. Her heart at that moment was brimming with sorrow, and at last she turned to Zhang Fan, her voice breaking with sobs: "Isn't it all for Big Brother Qi Hao!"
Zhang Fan's face drained white in an instant. He clenched his fists without thinking—gripping them so tight that his nails bit deep into his palms.
"You don't know yet, do you?" Once Tian Ling'er opened up on a topic, she let her guard down completely around this junior martial brother of hers — yet Zhang Fan was screaming inwardly: *I know, I know, I've known for ages!*
The moonlight fell cold, spilling across the mortal world.
"Senior Brother Qi Hao and I have feelings for each other. I've fallen for him — I truly, truly like him." Tian Ling'er had grown somewhat calmer, unaware that with each word she spoke, another shade of color drained from Zhang Fan's face.
But Father scolded me loudly, saying I had no sense — and even Mother, who had always doted on me, changed her expression and took his side. How could it be like this, Fan?
Zhang Fan lowered his head, keeping his face hidden from Tian Ling'er, and murmured, "How could Master and Mistress possibly know?"
Swept up in her surging emotions, Tian Ling'er failed to notice any slip or oddity in Zhang Fan's words. The corners of her mouth crumpled, and she was nearly in tears again: "I never would have imagined it myself—I only found out later that it was Senior Sister Wenmin and the others from Bamboo Peak who live with me; they told Martial Uncle Shuiyue, and Martial Uncle Shuiyue then told my mother. Senior Sister Wenmin and I were so close, and I had reminded them so many times, yet they still let it out."
Her eyes stung, and the tears finally spilled over.
Zhang Fan said in a hoarse voice, "Perhaps your Master and Mistress did it for your own good. They are your parents—they would never treat you badly!"
Tian Ling'er wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes and said loudly, "What do they know! All they understand is sectarian prejudice. They only know that Brother Qi Hao is the prized disciple of Elder Cangsung of Dragon Peak. They only know that if I were to be with Brother Qi Hao, they would never be able to hold their heads up again in Qingyun Sect. Not once have they ever thought of what I wanted."
She spoke with a touch of sorrow, a touch of anger, and even a touch of resolve: "What does all that face matter compared to my happiness? I truly wonder whether they care more about face or about me, their daughter?"
Zhang Fan jerked his head up, staring at this senior sister who had suddenly become a stranger to him.
What a heartbroken gaze that was!
Lost and helpless, like a bird bereft of its parents standing alone in wind and rain, a sorrow laced with a trace of panic pierced his very soul like a blade.
Zhang Fan was almost instantly undone by that look. A sorrow unlike anything he had ever felt rose from the depths of his heart. If only he could bear this moment's pain in her stead, he would have shouldered any hardship without a second thought—yet he did not know what to say or do, and could only call out softly:
"Senior Sister!"
"I want to be with him," Tian Ling'er said with absolute resolve—the words less addressed to Zhang Fan than to her own heart, and to the absent couple Tian Buyi and his wife. "I will be with Senior Brother Qi Hao. We have sworn our vows by mountain and sea. No matter how fiercely Father and Mother oppose it, even if we must wait until the seas run dry and the rocks crumble to dust, we will still be together."
She lifted her gaze to the night sky and swore her vow to the full moon above. The cold, pale moonlight fell silently upon her. She was as beautiful as a lily blooming in sorrow through the night — a beauty so dazzling it made one forget the desolate, hollow shadow that stood at her side.
※※※
Standing at the heights, the early morning sun cast its warmth across Zhang Fan's body — warming his flesh, yet unable to warm his heart. Expressionless, he stood upon the arena platform, facing Xueqi across from him, whose beauty rivaled that of an immortal.
The contempt in that ice-cold woman's eyes was unmistakable; everyone in the plaza knew that he had made it into the top four more by luck than by strength.
Behind her, a faint blue radiance emanated softly into the air. Zhang Fan gazed at this legendary divine object and thought, with quiet detachment: in a little while, would he be the one standing before it?
Then, in a matter of moments, he forgot the question entirely. Ever since returning last night, his mind had been drifting in and out of a daze.
Above the sea of clouds, only two grand arenas remained at this moment. Yet measured by the number of Qingyun disciples who had gathered to watch, the crowd observing the match between Qi Hao and Zeng Shushu on the western arena was barely a third of those assembled here. Nearly everyone had been drawn over by Lu Xueqi — who had been stealing all the limelight — and Zhang Fan, whose luck had been nothing short of extraordinary. Among the elders as well, the vast majority, including Sect Master True Person Daoxuan himself, had taken their seats beneath this arena.
Yet, when the crowd saw Lu Xueqi step onto the fighting stage, after a wave of cheers rippled through the crowd, most fell to debating whether Zhang Fan would be defeated in one breath or one instant.
Below the stage, Tian Buyi's brow was deeply furrowed. Though he knew Zhang Fan's background quite well, the contemptuous whispers from the crowd behind him still left him unsettled. Beside him, Su Ru was glancing around in search of her daughter. The night before had ended in a fierce quarrel, with Tian Ling'er fleeing in tears, and by early morning she was nowhere to be found. As a mother who knew her daughter's nature, Su Ru feared the stubborn girl had gone straight to Qi Hao's sparring arena.
She shook her head. Though she adored this one and only daughter of hers, this time she stood wholly on her husband's side. Perhaps it was a mother's instinct — she had always felt that the people of Longfeng were not to be trusted.
She turned her head toward the stage. At that same moment, Zhang Fan stood there looking back at her, his face expressionless. Their gazes met briefly in the air; then Zhang Fan glanced around beside her, as though he had not found the person he was looking for, and quietly withdrew his eyes.
Su Ru frowned slightly and said to Tian Buyi, "Fan Jin's expression seems off—like there's no life left in him at all."
Tian Buyi said mildly, "He's just nervous. The child has never seen much of the world—nothing remarkable about that."
Su Ru fell silent and said no more.
Zhang Fan withdrew his gaze and let it fall upon Lu Xueqi's face across from him — that exquisitely beautiful countenance glowing with radiance in the early morning sunlight, luminous and captivating. Before long, Lu Xueqi sensed Zhang Fan's eyes upon her, and once again a look of disdain surfaced in her own.
But this time, Zhang Fan did not look away. He barely registered the mocking gaze from across the way; that beautiful face held no meaning for him now. Deep within his heart, a single thought echoed low and anguished: *She isn't here. She went to watch Qi Hao's match.*
Clever as Xue Qi was, she quickly noticed that this opponent was merely looking at her while his hollow gaze was clearly fixed on something else entirely, oblivious to her very existence. It was almost the first time in her life she had experienced such a thing, and a faint trace of surprise seemed to flicker in her eyes.
*Clang!*
Bells and cauldrons pealed in unison, their echoes rolling across Tongfeng. All around, silence swiftly fell.
Xueqi straightened her back and drew a deep breath. Just two more wins — only two — and she could realize her own dream and live up to her master's expectations. Behind her, Ya's blue radiance slowly began to glow.
"Bamboo Peak disciple Xueqi — I humbly seek your guidance."
Zhang Fan jolted awake as if from a dream. His first instinct was not to return the salute, but to gaze down into the audience below, carrying a hope weighted with a thousand unspoken longings — a sea of heads surging, ten thousand eyes fixed upon him, yet nowhere among them was the face he had wished to see.
Lu Xueqi's expression shifted, and the Qingyun disciples below the stage broke into an uproar. This was the first person who had ever shown such disrespect toward Lu Xueqi. Tian Buyi and Su Ru exchanged a glance, both sensing it at the same moment—something was truly off about this disciple of theirs today.
Zhang Fan slowly turned his head, his complexion ashen as death, and said with quiet indifference: "I am Zhang Fan of Big Bamboo Peak. Senior Sister, please show no mercy whatsoever."
Xueqi was taken aback. Though words exchanged before a match were usually nothing more than pleasantries, this Zhang Fan struck her as decidedly odd. Who on earth would say something like "don't hold back"? It sounded like mockery—yet looking at him, he didn't seem to mean it that way at all.
Qi was, after all, Master Shuiyue's most prized disciple—her resolve was steadfast, and not a flicker of emotion crossed her face. Without another word, she raised her right hand in a slight gesture, and the "Ya" behind her slowly rose.
Zhang Fan watched the blue radiance grow ever deeper, ever more vast, until its glow bathed his entire body in azure—yet nowhere within him could he find the slightest trace of tension. Instead, deep in the recesses of his heart, a faint, wordless anticipation quietly stirred.
He took out that black, unsightly fire-stoking stick.
A roar of laughter swept through the crowd below. Set against the "Ye" on the opposite side — towering, noble, and radiating immortal grandeur in every direction — the fire-stoking stick looked like nothing more than a wretched worm crawling in the dirt.
Yet at this very moment, still nothing but a worm with a heart dead to despair.
The icy sensation flooded his entire body once more. For some reason, today the fire-poking stick seemed almost to possess a spirit of its own, stirring with unusual excitement—the chill coursed through him far faster than on any previous day. Zhang Fan even felt that were it not for the bond of flesh and blood he shared with this fire-poking stick, were it not for the grip he kept upon it, the stick would long since have lunged toward Lu Xueqi of its own accord.
It shouldn't have been directed at Lu Xueqi, but rather at Ye — that inexplicable feeling, as though they were two enemies bound by deep, irreconcilable hatred.
At that moment, Lu Xueqi's expression shifted as well — the radiance of Ye blazed far too fiercely, as though even she herself found it rather strange.
But Zhang Fan had no desire to dwell on it further. He gazed at the beautiful woman wreathed in blue radiance, and suddenly realized she resembled his senior sister — yet this "senior sister" regarded him with cold, icy eyes.
On the arena stage, something unexpected occurred — Zhang Fan and Lu Xueqi simply stood there, staring at each other without moving, neither one making a move.
The crowd below erupted in an uproar, voices buzzing with heated discussion.
Xueqi jolted awake. Ya, which had always been spiritually attuned to her, had suddenly shown a stirring unlike anything it had ever displayed before, leaving her baffled. Yet when she probed Ya with her mind force, nothing seemed amiss — only that Ya appeared to harbor a faint, restless eagerness, as though it were itching to act.
Sensing the countless strange gazes from the crowd below, Lu Xueqi's brow furrowed. She steadied herself, let out a cold snort, and swept all errant thoughts from her mind. With a sharp cry, the Sinister Blue blazed to life and surged upward—yet it remained unsheathed.
Since the Seven Veins Martial Competition began, Ya had become the center of everyone's attention. Yet up until now, Xue Qi had defeated every opponent one by one without once drawing her blade from its sheath—which only set the onlookers to wondering: who could possibly force her to unsheathe her divine sword? At this moment, everyone assumed it would have to wait until the final decisive battle, and only someone of Dragon Peak's Qi Hao's level of cultivation could hope to accomplish such a feat.
The blue light fell upon Zhang Fan's face, yet betrayed no expression there. The black fire-stoking rod emanated a faint cyan glow as it slowly drifted away from his palm, coming to rest before him.
Though the fire-tending staff had long since been brought out for inspection, everyone on Big Bamboo Peak—including most of the onlookers gathered around—was witnessing Zhang Fan perform a technique for the very first time. Du Bi remarked: "If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I truly would never have believed that the dim-witted junior brother from two years ago could have suddenly turned into such a remarkable talent."
On the stage, Xueqi's expression was grave, her hand seals clenched with the weight of a mountain. The radiant Ya, blazing with boundless light as it hovered in midair, suddenly wheeled around and shot forth like lightning, surging toward Zhang Fan with a momentum that could cleave mountains and sever seas.
The fire-stoking staff shot forward without hesitation, its dark cerulean radiance meeting that towering blue light head-on in midair—and the display of force it presented showed not the slightest trace of fear.
The next moment, to the stunned disbelief of all onlookers, Zhang Fan looked as though he could not withstand even a single blow — as if dealt a devastating wound, his entire body went flying backward. The fire poker, too, lost its radiance, spinning darkly through the air as it tumbled back toward its master.
In an instant, everyone on Big Bamboo Peak was on their feet; the more hot-tempered among them, Du Bishu included, had already cried out before they could stop themselves.
Zhang Fan was hurled backward into the pillar of the fighting stage and crashed to the ground. A sweetness surged in his throat, and a mouthful of fresh blood sprayed out, spattering across the fire poker as it flew back toward him, staining it a deep crimson—then, unseen by anyone, Zhang Fan's blood swiftly seeped into it.
Such overwhelming might — every single person stood there utterly stunned!
Xueqi's expression was cold as frost. Without the slightest hesitation, a flash of blue light blazed — Ya slashed down mercilessly through the air. Just at that moment, dark qi suddenly began to billow from the fire-stoking staff, surging most intensely at the top of the shaft, where the azure light blazed with renewed brilliance. Zhang Fan rose slowly to his feet, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, his complexion deathly pale yet his eye sockets suffused with crimson — his features had taken on a distinctly savage cast.
In that very instant, the fire stick charged toward Xie once more through the swirling black vapor and cyan light. The moment the two Artifacts met in midair, they repelled each other violently, sending powerful shockwaves through the bodies of Lu Xueqi and Zhang Fan, who stood behind.
In midair, blue light flickered and azure radiance blazed, the two streaking back and forth across the sky in a frenzy of crossing arcs. Wherever they passed, the massive timbers of the arena—once solid beyond measure—were sent scattering like scraps of paper, each thunderous impact cracking out like lightning from a clear sky, utterly deafening. The nearly thousand Qingyun Sect disciples watching from the sidelines all went pale. Since the Grand Trials had begun, no match had opened with such ferocity, nor had any scene approached today's grandeur: in mere moments, the two Artifacts of matchless power had reduced the vast arena to seven or eight parts ruin.
The spectators below retreated several paces. Zhang Fan and Lu Xueqi had both risen into the air—Lu Xueqi held her hand seals with both hands, controlling her power with total focus, her bearing serious yet effortlessly graceful. Zhang Fan, however, cut a peculiar figure by comparison. Though the fire poker's might far exceeded everyone's expectations, he had not formed hand seals as Lu Xueqi had done. Instead, there he was, suspended in midair, arms and legs flailing wildly—and yet the fire poker answered his every whim, darting swift as lightning, trading blows with his opponent in what seemed like sheer exuberant delight.
Despite this, Zhang Fan harbored a bitterness he could not voice. The power of Sinister Spirit far exceeded his imagination. Each time the fire-poking stick clashed with Sinister Spirit, every meridian in his body shuddered violently. Had he not secretly cultivated the "Maha Prajna" technique of the Brahma Sound Temple alongside his Tai Ji Xuan Qing Dao practice — fortifying his meridians and shielding himself with the Maha Prajna to barely withstand Sinister Spirit's divine power — he would have long since vomited blood and perished in defeat. Yet gazing ahead, Lu Xueqi showed not the slightest sign of strain. Under her control, Sinister Spirit's blue light grew ever more brilliant, its might ever more imposing, gradually suppressing the azure glow and dark energy emanating from the fire-poking stick.
On this side, Zhang Fan was crying out in bitter distress; on the other, Xueqi's heart was no less shaken. Her opponent's plain-looking fire-poker Artifact actually possessed Spiritual Energy potent enough to rival her own Ya—and beyond that, it seemed to harbor a faint, persistent suction force, one that at every moment drew upon the Spiritual Energy and essence blood within her body. Had her foundation not been so solid, she feared she would have already failed to suppress the churning heat surging through her blood.
At the thought of this, Lu Xueqi felt another surge of qi and blood roiling through her, and her body, hovering in midair, nearly lost its balance. Shocked, furious, and gripped by anxiety, she had sensed through the exchange of blows that her opponent's cultivation in the Taiji Profound Clarity Dao was in truth not particularly deep — far inferior to her own. Yet for reasons she could not fathom, the power he channeled through that strange Artifact was devastatingly immense, and even so, he could only manage to gain the upper hand on the surface.
6 Xueqi bit down on her silver teeth, her rosy face turning fierce, her robes billowing without a breath of wind. In the next instant, Ye struck the fire-stoking rod with a thunderous clash in midair—Zhang Fan's whole body shuddered, and the fire-stoking rod faltered for a brief moment.
Seizing the moment, Ya came flying back. Lu Xueqi swiftly reached out her right hand and grasped it. The instant her jade-like palm made contact with Ya, countless rays of blue light erupted in a flash, swallowing her silhouette whole. The blade of Ya shuddered, releasing a thunderous roar like a dragon's cry. Riding the rising winds, Lu Xueqi seemed to merge with Ya into one—person and sword united—and surged upward, shooting straight into the azure sky.
At this moment, Zhang Fan had long cast aside all worldly concerns. All he could feel was the bond between himself and the fire poker hovering in the air before him—a connection of flesh and blood that grew ever more intense by the second. He even sensed that the fire poker was like a living creature, trembling with excitement, as a nameless killing aura surged straight into his mind.
He stood suspended in mid-air and let out a long, resounding roar.
The sound shook the four wilds, and the very earth changed color!
Black-green radiance shot straight to the heavens; violent winds howled and the clouds churned into a raging boil!
Suddenly, a flash of blue blazed across the sky. A piercing shriek tore through the air, swelling from the barest whisper at the edge of hearing to a thunderous roar that drowned out every other sound in the world. In that instant, ten thousand streams of blue light converged into a single colossal pillar, hammering down from above with a force that seemed poised to cleave the Qingyu Mountains in two.
Zhang Fan's face contorted, blood streaming suddenly from all seven orifices — yet his expression held not a trace of fear. His eyes blazed as he reached out and seized the fire poker; in that instant, azure light and black miasma surged and coiled around his grip as though they were his own, driving straight to meet the blue pillar of light that came crashing down.
On the outer perimeter, the young Qingyu disciples all held their breath, eyes wide and unblinking, and not one among them still harbored the slightest contempt for Zhang Fan. Even among the seats of the elder generation, expressions had shifted one by one.
This contest had already become, without warning, a fight to the death.
But for some reason, no one stepped forward to stop it?
A thunderclap split the heavens and detonated across the mortal world—it was as if the entire Tong Peak shuddered violently. The blue light bent back and reversed; Lu Xueqi appeared at that instant, gripping Ya tightly, yet a thin trail of fresh blood slowly trickled from the corner of her lips.
Below the stage, Master Shuiyue abruptly rose to his feet.
Midair, only the howling of the fierce wind remained in Zhang Fan's ears; his vision was a blur, and the deep crimson blood all but blinded him. Had he been able to hear the cries from beyond, he would have caught the startled shouts of the Big Bamboo Peak disciples far below.
Su Ru's lips had drained of all color. She stared at her disciple suspended in midair—a figure now soaked almost entirely in blood—and spoke to Tian Buyi in a low, urgent voice: "Buyi, have Fan concede. Tell him to concede, quickly."
Tian Buyi's body gave a slight shudder. He stared fixedly at the empty air before him, then slowly shook his head.
The pain was gone. Tumbling through that ever-shifting sky, Zhang Fan felt a thought flash across his mind out of nowhere—he even found himself wondering: after I die, will Shijie come to see me? And years from now, when she is living a happy life, will she have forgotten me too?
He reached up and wiped the blood from the corner of his eye.
Xueqi felt only searing pain through every inch of her body—the qi and blood within her surged wildly through her violently trembling Meridians, clashing in every direction as if ready to burst free from her flesh, roaring with savage eagerness as they charged toward the hideous demon lurking within that terrifying cyan light and black miasma ahead.
This was already a matter of life and death!
This is already an eternal moment!
This beautiful woman stood proudly in the raging wind, letting the gale cut at her like blades, yet she refused to yield even half a step. She lifted her chin. And gazed.
then stopped, frozen in midair.
The earth suddenly fell silent, frozen in this moment.
*Boom!* A deep, reverberating roar seemed to roll in from the distant horizon, echoing across the vast expanse of land.
6 Xueqi reversed her grip and drew the Yashen Sword.
In an instant, the spreading blue light dispersed and contracted, as though a great dragon were drinking it all in, every last glimmer drawn into that blade — calm and clear as autumn water.
Atop Tong Peak, all was silent!
The Ya, passed down through a thousand years, has finally been unsheathed!
Xueqi's face was cold as frost. Hand locked in the sword seal, she trod the Seven Stars formation in midair — seven steps walked through empty air one after another. The long sword stabbed out in a single fierce motion, and in that same instant every last trace of color vanished from her jade-white face as her lips began to intone the incantation:
Nine Mystic Extinction, transform into Divine Thunder.
Resplendent might, summoned forth by the sword!"
In mere moments, the once-clear sky turned a deep, ominous black. Churning storm clouds surged up from the horizon without warning, and rolling thunder shook the air. Lightning flashed ceaselessly along the edges of the dark clouds, streaking across heaven and earth—a desolate, murderous stillness fell over all, as fierce winds began to howl.
A great wind swept across their faces. Zhang Fan parted his lips slightly — this scene felt as though it had appeared once before, in some distant, half-forgotten memory. On the ground below, from True Person Daoxuan down to the seat-elders of every peak, each and every face wore an expression of utter, inexplicable shock; they rose to their feet as one, then turned their gazes toward Master Shuiyue of Bamboo Peak.
After a long silence, Tian Buyi said in a hoarse voice: "What a fine disciple you've raised!"
Master Shuiyue paid no heed to the crowd whatsoever. On her habitually aloof face, worry appeared for the first time, as her gaze fixed upon the two figures suspended in the air.
"Divine Sword Thunder-Commanding True Formula!" True Person Daoxuan slowly withdrew his gaze, his heart greatly shaken. He had never expected that among the younger generation beneath Qingyu Sect, a talent so extraordinary would have emerged.
Yet, watching the female disciple's countenance—though she had forced herself to execute such a world-defying technique—her body trembled and her face was white as paper. It was plain that her strength could no longer keep pace with her will.
In the void above, the thunder grew ever more urgent. From the moment Ya left its sheath, Zhang Fan clearly felt a boundless surge of power rise up from the fire-poker in his hand—as if this Artifact, bound to him by flesh and blood, was crying out from the very depths of its soul.
As if it had been waiting for this very moment for a thousand years!
The sky grew darker still, black clouds bearing down from above, and within their heavy mass, a colossal vortex slowly took shape.