Chapter 94

Ruan Mingzhu's flames erupted again, and Chen Lianqing and Yi Xing, caught in the scorching blast, involuntarily slowed.

In that opening, she coughed up blood and hurled her blade forward, searing Xiao Hong's thigh. He flinched, cursed, and rolled on the ground, the sword thrust meant for Qing Zhouxue going wide.

There was no time to hesitate. He scrambled for his sword—broken leg or arm, he didn't care. His second strike, wrapped in howling gales, drove straight for Qing Zhouxue's face.

Ruan Mingzhu was at her wit's end, her eyes locked on that descending sword. She could only pray for a miracle—that Qing Zhouxue would complete a cultivation cycle and replenish her depleted power just in time.

Two inches. One.

A lock of hair fell, cleanly sheared.

Qing Zhouxue, who had been sitting motionless like a statue of Guanyin, suddenly opened her eyes—just as the sword tip was about to pierce her.

Xiao Hong met that gaze. No longer pure black, her pupils bloomed with intricate frost patterns, spreading visibly before flashing bright, like an emotionless god.

A chill crept up his spine.

The Qingshuang Sword lashed out like a white rainbow, deflecting his strike. A burst of bone-chilling cold erupted, hurling Xiao Hong back several zhang.

Qing Zhouxue rose, dark hair streaming behind her. The icy blue in her eyes intensified as she advanced slowly. Her left hand curved as if gripping something, and a sword of formless mist condensed in her palm.

Still too slow—she'd missed the perfect moment.

Xiao Hong cursed inwardly, slapping his thigh.

Ruan Mingzhu froze, then joy surged—but something felt wrong. Her flames had all died; the air itself seemed frozen, biting to the bone.

Cold mist wreathed the blade in Qing Zhouxue's hand. She raised it slowly, the tip level with the enemy.

At that instant, Xiao Hong, Chen Lianqing, and Yi Xing stood rooted.

Not because they chose to, but because frost had bound their lower bodies tight, locking them in place.

Why... why was she suddenly this powerful?

Xiao Hong couldn't fathom it. Just sitting to recover a little spirit power couldn't have made her so terrifying.

On the high viewing platform, the Sect Leader's expression darkened. He looked at the thick clouds gathering over Qing Zhouxue's head, his heart clenching. "...It can't be."

"She's about to break through."

Yun Shuchen frowned, recognizing the danger.

Qing Zhouxue still held her sword aloft, seemingly unaware, overwhelmed by a tidal surge of spiritual power.

A thin layer of frost formed on her skin. Layer after layer of mist swirled around her, scattering with each step.

Ruan Mingzhu felt an inexplicable dread, a conviction that if Qing Zhouxue brought that sword down, someone would die.

"Stop."

The Sect Leader immediately halted the match and ordered all disciples to evacuate, to scatter far and wide.

The training ground dissolved into chaos.

Elder Zhong appeared on the field in an instant, alarmed by the violent fluctuations. He first called Qing Zhouxue's name several times, but she didn't respond, as if unconscious, still advancing step by step.

He had no choice but to drag Xiao Hong, Chen Lianqing, and the others out of the ice, sending them away with a teleportation array.

Ruan Mingzhu stammered, "What... what's happening?"

Elder Zhong snapped, "No time to explain—take your senior sisters and go now!"

Ruan Mingzhu clutched her wounded shoulder, only now feeling the pain. She staggered to her feet, pulling Bai Su along. Bai Su shot a backward glance at Qing Zhouxue, saw several elders already descending, and felt a measure of relief. She held the unconscious Lin Xunzhen, and the group quickly retreated, leaping onto their flying swords and vanishing at the training ground's edge.

Today was, after all, the inner sect competition, so few disciples attended. Now they were all ordered back to their peaks for shelter. Soon, only the six elders and Qing Zhouxue, sword in hand, remained.

Where was the breakthrough pill?

Qing Zhouxue had worn no jewelry for the match; her jade bangle was absent. Yun Shuchen guessed she'd stored it in her storage ring.

With a tendril of water, she hooked the ring, pulling it from Qing Zhouxue's finger—

The cold light in Qing Zhouxue's eyes flared, a sign her power had reached its zenith.

The ethereal sword in her hand swept down without hesitation, as if to split heaven and earth.

Yun Shuchen had anticipated this. Her form dissolved into starlight, only to reappear behind Qing Zhouxue.

As Qing Zhouxue thrust her sword, frost bloomed from her feet, freezing the entire training ground.

Yun Shuchen decisively struck a palm to her shoulder, and a ring of frost quickly formed around her wrist.

She closed her eyes, suppressing the chaotic spiritual power around Qing Zhouxue like a rider reining in a runaway horse. If Qing Zhouxue's dantian was an ocean, it now raged with towering waves.

Not a single calm spot; everything churned in the storm.

In her daze, Qing Zhouxue felt a familiar aura flow through her—gentle yet forceful, taming the rampant power within.

But halting that momentum so abruptly made her throat tighten, and she spat a mouthful of blood.

After that, her eyes cleared somewhat. Strength ebbed from her like silk drawing out, and the sword energy faded from her hand.

Then someone seemed to pry open her mouth and press a pill to her tongue. It dissolved instantly, its power racing through her, and at last the spiritual power inside her settled completely.

The storm had passed.

The Sect Leader's face was grim. "Last time she faced Core Formation tribulation, it rivaled a ninefold heavenly punishment. Now she's crossing into Nascent Soul—what kind of storm will that bring?"

Yun Shuchen held the barely conscious Qing Zhouxue, looking skyward. The first thunderbolt was slow to come, but the clouds piled thick as ink, pressing low as if the heavens might cave in.

The world darkened; no light penetrated.

The other elders were shaken. Years of cultivation had never shown them such a fierce tribulation. Even ascension tribulations paled in comparison—

It felt like the moment Pangu split heaven from earth, or Nuwa fashioned the world—tragic, vast, awe-inspiring.

"This must be the Heavenly Dao's final chance."

Yun Shuchen murmured words the others couldn't grasp.

She looked up at the crack tearing slowly across the sky, and thought of her disciple's recovery; it only strengthened with each rise in cultivation.

Once Qing Zhouxue crossed into Nascent Soul, her power would soar, and even the Heavenly Dao might find her beyond its reach.

No longer bound by the six realms or any constraint.

Her fingertip traced Qing Zhouxue's sweat-sheened face, her gaze tender, and she released an inaudible sigh.

And precisely because of that, this tribulation would differ from others.

This was no test.

This was a killing—an execution—and thus its ferocity.

Yun Shuchen knew that today she would have to wrest a sliver of a chance from the Heavenly Dao itself.

In the darkness, she cast a formation, its complexity rivaling the mountain-protecting array.

Around it, faint lights flickered like candle flames, bobbing unsteadily.

Elder Zhou gasped. "Senior sister, tribulation is a personal trial. If you block it for her, you'll suffer heavenly retribution, and it won't benefit her future."

But the Sect Leader said, "Yun Shuchen alone won't succeed. We must all lend our hands."

"Never have we interfered with tribulation. Why now?"

"Because this time is different. If this child faces it alone—" The Sect Leader closed his eyes, knowing more than most. "She has no chance of survival. One in ten thousand."

"In that case, since Qing Zhouxue is a disciple of Taichu Sect, and I am an elder of Taichu Sect, saving a life is no excuse for refusal." Elder Zhong stepped forward without hesitation, raised his hand, and spiritual power surged from him, reinforcing the formation with a layer.

Elder Zhou sighed and placed his hand on it. "Heaven envies geniuses; we can hardly stand idly by."

Yue Changge drew her horizontal flute, and a clear, lonely note pierced the darkness, ethereal and eerie. As the melody swelled, another barrier rose above the formation.

She glanced aside at Liu Xunqin and paused. "You mustn't go. If heavenly retribution falls, even a Tribulation Transcendence elder would have to lay low for a while. Taichu Sect needs someone to hold things together."

Liu Xunqin frowned, and the Sect Leader added, "She's right. We may have need of Lingsu Peak then."

Liu Xunqin lowered her eyes and stayed put, saying nothing more.

The five Mahayana elders took their positions in the formation, with Qing Zhouxue lying half-reclined at the center. When Yun Shuchen released her, Qing Zhouxue seemed to regain some awareness, her eyes fluttering open just in time to see the monstrous eye in the sky split open.

The first thunderbolt fell before she could register it. Heaven and earth blazed white, the ground shuddered.

The barrier above her flickered, cracks spidering across it. Her consciousness faded again, a white flash flooding her vision, and she slipped back into darkness.

The second thunderbolt struck, shattering the upper barrier entirely. Yue Changge coughed blood, her flute faltering into silence.

The third thunderbolt descended like a pouncing leopard, slamming into the formation—the one tied to Yun Shuchen. If it broke, she'd suffer severe backlash.

Even with the other Mahayana cultivators' help, the formation could only be made so strong. The backlash from its destruction would fall solely on its caster.

Fourth.

Yun Shuchen kept forming hand seals, motionless. Her heart pounded violently, a sweetness rising in her throat, threatening to spill as blood at any moment.

She closed her eyes, a faint smile curling at her lips as she calmly awaited the next strike.

Heaven's decree? A fallacy.

It wasn't just for Qing Zhouxue; she had always liked defying heaven.

When the fourth thunderbolt crashed down, the world could no longer be called day. Amid the nearly apocalyptic light, the entire Nine Provinces seemed to melt into one searing bolt.

The formation flickered in the electric glow, and after a deafening roar, a corner shattered.

Yun Shuchen's blood surged, her heart faltered, but her hand-seal posture remained unbroken. A thin trickle of red traced from the corner of her lips.

A drop fell, staining the dark soil crimson.

Just then, she opened her beautiful eyes, gaze lifted to the sky, the cold mockery in them growing ever more pronounced.