Chapter 65

The flourishing vines took root in the wilderness and even bloomed with pristine white flowers, encircling the group—a spectacle in itself. The vast root system inadvertently stabilized the soil beneath Ruan Mingzhu and the sword cultivator's scuffle, the earthen spikes slowing until they halted completely. When flames licked the snow-white petals, climbed past the slender stems, and truly engulfed the wood, the fire blazed ever fiercer.

Consumed by the inferno's heat, the opponent found it hard to breathe, and a large swath of hair was scorched in an instant.

Within the raging flames, a fire-attribute spirit root fears nothing, like a phoenix reborn from ashes. As the foe weakened, Ruan Mingzhu pressed her advantage step by step, landing an uppercut that dazed him. She wrenched his arm around, snatched the token, and hurled it backward—caught cleanly by Qing Zhouxue.

Another arrow shot toward Qing Zhouxue, grazing her snow-white sleeve and leaving several gashes in the fabric nearby—quite sharp indeed.

Meanwhile, the sword cultivator still standing had already moved. Unable to intervene in Ruan Mingzhu's brawl, he now lunged straight for Qing Zhouxue, eyeing the glittering jade in her hand.

Lin Xunzhen watched the battle intently, calculating silently. With comparable cultivation levels and her own and Bai Su's ineptitude at close combat—their spirit roots unsuited to this terrain—they'd effectively be sidelined, leaving two fighters out of the fight.

The opposition, by contrast, had two earth-attribute sword cultivators fighting at full strength and an archer harassing with constant arrows, having sacrificed only one spell-focused cultivator. That left three of them.

They were at a disadvantage, and would remain so.

Their side defended; the other sought to seize.

Wood feeds fire, and Bai Su could assist her. Ruan Mingzhu's flames were growing, so even unarmed against that sword cultivator, she'd be a formidable foe. The two were still grappling on the ground, but she seemed to have the upper hand. Lin Xunzhen watched, her heart easing slightly—at least one was subdued.

But her gaze shifted to Qing Zhouxue, and her heart clenched. It was clear that in a two-on-one fight, wielding a broken sword while protecting the precious jade token, she was stretched thin, reduced to dodging.

This couldn't go on. At the very least, she needed a decent blade.

Wood feeds fire, and ice comes from water. She looked around blankly. The wind-blown sand stung her face; the ground was scorching and dry. Where could she find water... water?

Her gaze finally settled on a few half-dead, yellowed shrubs in the wasteland.

A thought struck her—if plants could grow, even to this middling height, then water must be present.

Perhaps... water, like earth, lay underground?

She couldn't intervene anyway; she'd only get in the way.

With a trial-and-error mindset, she ducked behind a spot where the fighting wouldn't reach her, sat cross-legged, closed her eyes, and let her spiritual energy circulate in her dantian, sending a tendril of longing deep beneath the yellow sands—

It wasn't like casting a stone into the sea.

Indeed, faintly, there seemed to be a response.

That strand of spiritual power, like a mighty root system, penetrated deep into the earth, gathering water droplets one by one from the sand grains below, drawing them together.

Eventually, it coalesced into a ball, poised to strike.

Now.

Qing Zhouxue's white robes were rent with countless tears; she dodged left and right, awkward and increasingly sluggish.

The opposing sword cultivator, confident in her lack of a proper weapon, thrust with a sword that split the air, aimed at her vital points. Qing Zhouxue raised the half-broken blade to guard her chest, meeting the strike—the already deep cracks spiderwebbed further.

It was about to shatter.

The sword the foe had fabricated was crude too, but far sturdier than hers. Another thrust followed immediately. Knowing she couldn't withstand this one, Qing Zhouxue shielded the token, bracing for the sword to pierce her flesh.

Something seemed to weigh down her hand. She froze as several threads of pure, pristine water adhered to the blade's cracks, freezing into a sheet that healed them like wounds.

A long ice sword suddenly extended, and the chill dispersing from her finally found a focus, condensing into a vast ice shield emanating cold.

The opposing sword cultivator was stunned, but his blade couldn't be retracted in time—it slammed into the shield and stuck fast.

Qing Zhouxue finally had a sword to wield. The air around her grew moist, and a layer of white frost crept over her brows and eyes.

Where the blade pointed, there lay a field of cold light.

Ruan Mingzhu, meanwhile, had finally scrambled to her feet, holding the soot-smeared sword cultivator by the scruff like a chick, and kicked him away, sending him tumbling over several times. The senior brother groaned, clutching his arm as he rose. Seeing Qing Zhouxue and Ruan Mingzhu standing side by side, he realized—

They knew they had only the advantage of their spirit roots. In real skill, the earlier fight had shown they were a step above.

Now, with the tide turned, there was no gain to be had. In the secret realm, the priority remained seizing treasures, not winning fights.

Their choice was pragmatic: concede and move on.

Qing Zhouxue watched them walk away, no one giving chase. They packed up their gear and confirmed the token was intact. Rubbing the hilt of her ice sword, she understood what had transpired and turned to Lin Xunzhen. "Thank you."

"In a team battle, helping you benefits me too. No need for such formality."

Lin Xunzhen sighed inwardly. Junior Sister Qing truly seemed unable to get close to anyone—no matter how dear, she'd thank them with utter seriousness, polite yet distant.

But Lin Xunzhen could tell it wasn't deliberate. It seemed to be her very nature, odd for someone her age.

She glanced at Ruan Mingzhu, and the contrast was stark. That girl was spinning Bai Su around in joyful circles, boasting that she'd bring Senior Sister Bai along for every fight from now on. Bai Su hastily pushed her away, insisting she had no interest in fighting—please, no.

The battle had taken its toll, especially on Qing Zhouxue, whose robes were now tattered and dust-covered, while Ruan Mingzhu was entirely gray.

To avoid being caught off guard by another ambush mid-flight, they sat cross-legged in the shade of the vines Bai Su had grown to rest a moment. Though their bodies rested, their lips—thanks to Junior Sister Ruan—did not.

They idly discussed what they'd seen in the illusions.

"How tedious. It just made me relive the hardships of my childhood." Ruan Mingzhu sighed. "It felt like a great dream; in it, I couldn't recall anything from the waking world."

"I could barely recall a little," Lin Xunzhen mused. "Perhaps that's why I got out faster than you."

Qing Zhouxue's mind wandered involuntarily. Lately, she'd felt off-kilter—dreaming of her master in bed, and again in the Dreamweaver Spider's illusion. And in both, the actions were nearly identical, somewhat akin to what the storybooks described.

She felt she and her master shouldn't be compared to such tales, but she couldn't articulate why.

A rustling sound reached her ears. Her arm tensed instinctively as she looked up to see a few small black dots appearing on the dune top ahead.

"More people."

She kept her voice low. The other senior and junior sisters noticed too, and the atmosphere tensed.

The group drew closer. Qing Zhouxue squinted—it was Xiao Hong and Chen Lianqing, with a few others trailing behind. The secret realm's jade token hung ostentatiously from Xiao Hong's waist, dazzling as it swayed with each step, as if he had no fear of it being stolen.

They glanced over from afar, then strode past without stopping.

Lin Xunzhen exhaled in relief. "Every extra moment brings more danger. It's time we moved on."

Ruan Mingzhu stood. "Right. Let's get this thing turned in quickly; having it on me makes me uneasy."

Thanks to the wooden boat, they unrolled the map and saw they'd slid remarkably close to the exit. Each team arrived at different points and left from different ones, so there was little worry about running into others.

They walked on, feeling the surroundings grow familiar, until they crossed a thin barrier—and the scene abruptly changed, returning them to the little boat on the lake where they'd entered.

* * *

At the Main Peak of the Taichu Sect.

"Another half of the children were eliminated."

The tea bowl before the Sect Leader had gone cold, the green foam fully dissolved. He let out a soft sigh. "If not for the limited slots at the Immortal Ascension Assembly, it might do them good to all have a chance."

"The Immortal Ascension Assembly is, after all, but a name. The young still have long roads ahead." Elder Zhong shook his head. "How could we let fleeting clouds blind their eyes? That would defeat the purpose of the trials."

Yet many had come for that very name from the start—whether to roam the six realms, be revered by millions, or hold life and death over the nine provinces. Who wouldn't be tempted? It was hardly nobler than mortals chasing fame and fortune.

Yun Shuchen thought this and smiled silently. Perhaps only her disciple stood apart—picked up on the mountain in a daze, cultivating without quite knowing why. Though back then, the little apprentice had held some humble desires, like having food to eat.

Counting on her fingers, she calculated that her disciple should be emerging from the secret realm by now.

Qing Zhouxue and her group left the secret realm, handed the token to the Sect Leader, and, weary in body and mind, exchanged brief farewells before returning to their peaks to rest.

Qing Zhouxue went back and stripped off her outer robe, tattered and caked with yellow dust and grime. Anticipating seeing her master soon, she bathed as usual, noticing that the cuts on her body and the bruises from her fall had already healed completely on the walk back.

She'd had such an ability since childhood. Now, with her cultivation steadily advancing, this constitution grew ever more pronounced.

She drew a fine ice blade and sliced her fingertip, then watched the wound close before her eyes.

The drop of blood hadn't even flowed out before its source was cut off entirely.

She rubbed it with her thumb, letting the single drop fall into the water, spreading a faint water-red stain that dispersed into the vast pool until it was too pale to find at all.