Chapter 95

High above, the rift in the dark clouds tore open ever wider, the ink-black layers taking on an eerie sheen that shifted to a deep, majestic purple at the edges.

The vortex twisted like a giant eye—opening, closing—while thunder rent the sky with deafening force. Several elders, eyes shut in concentration, poured spiritual power into the formation, meticulously mending the shattered corner, racing against the next bolt of heavenly lightning.

Yue Changge's hand trembled slightly around her flute. After enduring two thunderbolts, it felt as though half the bones in her body were broken.

A faint healing light flickered around her. She turned her head slowly to find Liu Xunqin standing behind her. Liu Xunqin's knowledge of the human body was uncanny; her medical spiritual power precisely stitched every crack in Yue Changge's wounds.

Liu Xunqin seemed to look at her, yet not quite. Her calm, unwavering gaze swept the field before enveloping Yun Shuchen in a white spiritual glow.

She—

Though Yun Shuchen stood with grace, Liu Xunqin could smell the blood in every breath she took. Following that trail with her pure white spiritual power, she found injuries far more severe than Yue Changge's—wounds she had never seen in all her years of healing.

Yun Shuchen's dantian was already in chaos, barely held together by a portion of her spiritual power. The cold poison within her and the emotional poison from the pill she'd taken were no longer in balance, teetering on the brink of danger.

If this continued, disaster loomed, but stopping the formation now was no simple matter.

Liu Xunqin assessed the injuries of Yue Changge and Yun Shuchen internally. If they, with their cultivation, had been struck to such a state, then once the formation was withdrawn, those merely at the Golden Core stage crossing into Nascent Soul would likely be annihilated instantly.

But that child had a special constitution; perhaps she could endure it.

As things stood, Liu Xunqin closed her eyes, using her spiritual power as needles and threads to mend the crucial points around her as best she could.

The fifth thunderbolt came down with the force of a thousand tons, like a fierce tiger descending a mountain. It struck the formation with a resounding clang.

The repaired corner cracked open anew.

Qing Zhouxue, lying on the ground, stirred. After the thunder passed, her consciousness slowly returned. She felt something dormant beneath the earth, trembling faintly.

She lifted her eyelids and saw a pool of blood that had congealed dark not far in front of her. Her gaze rose slowly, and her heart jolted, then plummeted into boundless cold.

Her master had her eyes closed, brows slightly furrowed. Blood trickled from the corner of her lips, dripped down her chin, and struck the ground.

That beautiful face was stained with specks of blood, like a jade Guanyin statue shedding bloody tears.

Qing Zhouxue could sense herself, and the other elders nearby, but under the pressure of the thunder, she could barely open her eyes, let alone turn over.

The sixth lightning bolt tore across the sky like a silver serpent. Qing Zhouxue's eyes were momentarily blinded. When her vision cleared, her master spat out another mouthful of blood, her whole body trembling with pain.

Yun Shuchen could no longer stand. She sank to the ground, crossing her legs with difficulty, brows knit tight and face pale, as if enduring immense agony. But her hand seals did not yield an inch, as if she were determined to fight the heavens to the end.

Master...

Stop the thunder.

Qing Zhouxue's hands dug into the ground as she crawled an inch toward her, pausing, then another inch. When she finally reached the edge of the formation, she realized she couldn't get out, nor could she touch her master at all.

Yun Shuchen kept her eyes closed, never once looking at her.

The seventh heavenly thunderbolt was gathering its strength.

Don't strike.

Please, don't strike again.

I beg you... don't hurt her.

Qing Zhouxue strained to lift her eyes to the sky, unsure if the heavens could hear her, whispering weakly and pleadingly, over and over. If it truly wanted this fate of a lone star of calamity, let it take it, but why must it affect everyone around her?

The dark clouds above froze for a moment, and Qing Zhouxue thought she saw a glimmer of hope.

But then the thunder tribulation struck even more fiercely.

This one plunged the world into darkness, thunder roaring endlessly. Above the vast sky, many cracks split open, but not a single ray of heavenly light could shine through.

Qing Zhouxue lay prostrate on the ground. She could no longer see her master, but she could clearly feel that half of the formation above her had shattered. It seemed Senior Yue cried out in the darkness, "Yun Shuchen!"

Qing Zhouxue did not move.

She heard the call, and her heart, which should have been empty, felt as if that heavy thunderbolt had struck it directly, tearing open a crack.

From that crack, grief was the first to flow out.

For the first time, she felt her heart tighten with pain, her nose stinging, her body trembling uncontrollably—

A line of clear tears slowly rolled down from the corners of her eyes.

Then they accumulated, wetting her entire face.

She raised a hand with difficulty, wiping away the tears, looking at them with utter unfamiliarity.

Then, what flowed out was anger.

She had felt annoyance before, but never such distinct, fierce fury, as if tearing through a fog.

Anger made her tremble even more violently. She experienced these strong emotions, and this impulse seemed to serve as the very bone and blood of her human body. Against the pressure of the myriad thunder tribulations, with the frail body of a late Golden Core stage cultivator, she slowly stood up. Even as every inch of bone was crushed, she straightened her body beneath the thunder, gradually lifting her head high.

The last missing emotion was hatred.

She had never understood hate. As a child, people avoided her or bullied and insulted her, but she held no grudges. Later, encountering injustices, she did not take them to heart.

If a momentary surge of blood had made her stand, the intense hatred now chilled her completely.

At this moment, she finally understood what it meant to eliminate a threat.

And the Heavenly Dao—

Why did it fear her so much?

If it had to kill her, didn't that prove she was enough of a threat? If slaying the Heavenly Dao was the last way to stop the tribulation and prevent further danger to her master—

Or if she died under the thunder, Yun Shuchen and the other elders would no longer have to bear this tribulation for her.

Even if it was a desperate gamble, she would not hesitate to raise her sword.

The Sect Leader, outside the formation, suddenly opened his eyes. After a moment of shock, he bellowed, "Qing Zhouxue! What are you doing?"

Qing Zhouxue ignored him, looking up at the sky instead. Grief, anger, and hatred intermingled within her. Like a butterfly just breaking from its cocoon, her wings were tender and fragile, but under the fierce gale, they gradually grew tough and strong until she stood firm.

The pressure of the Ninefold Thunder Tribulation could no longer force her to her knees.

Qing Zhouxue closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, they revealed a frosty color, devoid of emotion or desire.

With difficulty, she raised her right hand inch by inch, calling out in her heart.

The cold winds sweeping over a thousand mountains in the north—

The accumulated snow hundreds of feet deep on the ridges—

The eternal ice of frozen lakes that never melts—

All things in heaven and earth revolve in regular cycles; heed my call and assist me, a mortal, to strike a blow at the heavens!

The air around Qing Zhouxue began to stagnate, dropping to freezing, until even the wind could not move. Perhaps because her will was so strong, or perhaps because she was the sole Ice Spiritual Root for thousands of miles, this spell was extraordinarily powerful. Snow and wind, as if carrying the entire might of winter, swirled around her and condensed in her trembling palm.

The sword, wreathed in cold mist and glowing with nascent light, was once again gripped in her hand.

Qing Zhouxue did not strike rashly; she waited for the thunderbolt to descend. The pressure of the tribulation made her chest ache, and she clutched the sword tightly.

The Sect Leader and the other elders suddenly sensed something wrong. Every sword carried by their sides began to hum and tremble, as if desperately trying to leap from its sheath.

The dark clouds swirled overhead, as if cautiously sizing up this opponent before them.

This time, the tribulation took an especially long time, as if gathering strength.

But it finally struck.

As lightning flashed and thunder roared, the formation could not withstand the desperate blow and shattered completely. All the elders were struck by the aftershock, spitting blood and stumbling back several steps.

It was precisely with the help of this rebound that Qing Zhouxue stepped on the fragments of the formation, her sword pointing directly at the sky.

The ninth great tribulation, the final one, descended with lightning speed.

Thunder roared, the world lost its color, and the electric light illuminated the white figure leaping upward.

By now, the formation was useless. The elders below withdrew their hand seals and looked up at her. The disciples on the peak also could not help but look toward the deep purple horizon. Cultivators facing thunder tribulation either dodged or endured, and some even gritted their teeth and bore it, but never had anyone dared to raise their head under the pressure of thunder and point their sword at the heavens. They stared intently at that patch of white.

That figure that might become a legend in the future.

Qing Zhouxue's sword, filled with cold mist and carrying a blizzard, stabbed unhesitatingly into the "giant eye" of the low-hanging dark clouds. Behind her, all kinds of flying swords followed, as if they had all leaped from their sheaths. Three thousand spiritual swords gathered behind her like a rainbow of stars.

The Sect Leader and the elders seemed to be calling something below, but Qing Zhouxue could no longer hear them. All she heard was the roar and howl of thunder.

She could see nothing either. All before her was a vast expanse of white.

But when she thrust her sword, the sky trembled, and the giant eye widened in shock, then quickly shrank.

The spiritual swords floating behind her sank into the heavenly eye one by one. The thunder grew louder at first, then gradually subsided.

Qing Zhouxue smelled a burnt stench and the blood dripping from her own body. But by now, the pain was almost numbing. She relied on sheer will to drive the icy sword to the hilt—

When she was struck by the thunderbolt once more, her consciousness gradually drifted away, and she felt as if this were all a dream.

If only it were a dream.

*

In her dream, she drifted in a haze, recalling many memories: the square courtyard she lived in as a child, a corner of the sky, her father's silhouette; the cave, the pool, the beautiful woman in purple; and then the distinct seasons of the Taichu Sect, the birds and clouds above Heyi Peak, the gentle and affectionate dusk, the heavy snowfall of winter.

Qing Zhouxue skimmed through it all. She thought with some regret that she might be dead.

If she were dead, that would be fine. Her master and the other elders would no longer have to maintain the formation. Everyone would be safe and sound.

Would her master... be sad?

No matter how sad, after a few years, or a few hundred years, it would become less sad.

That was also good.

Qing Zhouxue had thought that with the red string, she could stay with her master for a long time. But unexpectedly, she had miscalculated. She could not help but sigh inwardly at the uncertainty of life.

She thought that if Yun Shuchen were to take another disciple, she would have to carefully calculate their birth characters and never again accept a lone star of calamity like her, who destroyed her peak and nearly cost her life.

With these thoughts drifting, she felt a bit more resigned.

Well, since she was already dead, even if she wanted to resurrect and warn her master, there was no way.

Better to die peacefully.

"Junior sister? Junior sister?"

Someone was pressing on her shoulder, seemingly Bai Su.

"Her hand moved!" came Ruan Mingzhu's anxious voice. "Qing Zhouxue, open your eyes quickly. Don't scare us."

Qing Zhouxue suddenly felt something amiss. She slowly opened her eyes, and the familiar decor of Lingsu Peak met her sight.

Then came the faces of Bai Su and Ruan Mingzhu, both overjoyed at seeing her awake. Bai Su let out a sigh of relief. "Master said that if you wake up, you've passed this trial, and there's no longer any danger to your life."

Qing Zhouxue moved her fingers and found her entire body wrapped in white cloth. She sat up and tore it off in a few pulls. Bai Su moved to stop her but found that the flesh that had been bloodied and torn last night had already healed smooth as new, with only faint scars remaining in a few places.

Bai Su stood frozen.

Qing Zhouxue, her voice hoarse, coughed a few times while leaning over the bed, then raised her head. "My... where is my master?"