Volume Two: Eternal Ascendancy
The sun had not yet risen, yet the entirety of Qingling Sect stirred with breathless anticipation.
Sects from across the continent had gathered within its sacred bounds. Majestic airships and beast-drawn chariots descended one after another as disciples, elders, and rulers arrived. The once serene mountain valleys of Qingling pulsed with foreign presence, vibrant banners, and veiled motives. Accommodations were prepared with meticulous hospitality—lavish pavilions, spirit-gathering formations, and ample supplies for daily cultivation. Every sect was respectfully assigned a residence.
But beneath the ceremonial courtesies… something dark simmered.
Qingling's defenses had been multiplied. Elite elders patrolled unseen perimeters, and protective formations shimmered faintly over the peaks like veils of divine silk. The air was tense, as if the mountain itself sensed coming strife.
Sect Master Lin Tianyan gave a single, firm command:
"Until the tournament begins, all Qingling participants are to remain grounded. No one leaves their quarters without a direct summons."
Even Ling Xuanye, his own son and the face of the sect's future, obeyed without question. He, Su Feilí, and their team quietly prepared within the inner sanctum.
The next morning arrived.
As morning mist parted, the Tournament Assembly Ground—a vast circular platform carved into the cliffs—was illuminated by the first light of dawn. Rows upon rows of marble seating surrounded the field like a stadium of gods. Spirit flags fluttered in the high mountain winds, bearing the sigils of every major sect and empire.
Elders took their seats. Sect Masters sat in order of hierarchy, with emperors and their ministers flanking the dais. At the very apex sat Sect Master Lin Tianyan, enthroned upon a divine dragon-shaped seat laced with thunder-forged crystal. Even seated, he exuded calm authority.
At his left sat the aloof and sharp-eyed Empress Feng Lanyi of the Crimson Jade Dynasty, her robes adorned with phoenix feathers and crimson firelotus embroidery. To his right, various sect masters glanced at each other with subtle tension.
As anticipation mounted, the host elder—司仪长老 (Sīyí Zhǎnglǎo)—stepped forth and announced in a steady voice:
"Let all chosen participants step forward. Pay respect to the honored guests present, and to one another. You are not enemies here—but brothers and sisters of the Dao."
One by one, disciples from various sects entered the central ground and bowed. Cloaked in various elemental auras—fire, wind, shadow, and water—they represented the future of their lineages.
But Qingling's representatives... did not appear.
Murmurs began.
"Is this a show of arrogance?"
"Hiding their own champions?"
Then, Empress Feng Lanyi rose slowly and smiled, her voice deliberately mocking:
"Respected Sect Master Lin… is something wrong? Surely, your son—Qingling's Young Master—won't miss his own tournament? Or is he too precious to risk a scrape?"
Her voice echoed through the ground.
And then—
BOOM.
A thunderclap split the sky.
Dark clouds surged above the assembly. A golden-blue lightning bolt crashed into the center of the stage, blasting light and smoke across the arena. Winds howled, dust stormed, and even Soul Ascension elders narrowed their eyes in caution.
"这...发生了什么?" (Zhè... fāshēng le shénme?)"What… what's happening?"
"天雷?" (Tiānléi?)"Heavenly thunder?"
From the heart of the smoke, a figure stood calmly.
Clad in black robes lined with deep navy and golden thunder emblems, his silver-white hair fluttered. A divine seal shimmered at his chest. Lightning pulsed beneath his feet.
Ling Xuanye.
To his left—Su Feilí, her robes woven with celestial pink and black lotus patterns.
To his right—Shui Lin, calm and sharp-eyed, blue-black attire flowing like a still lake.
Then came Yue Chányīn, sword at her waist, frost glinting from her robes.
Feng Ruo, crimson flame trailing behind his fluttering sleeves.
Huo Shan, silent as stone, aura like an immovable mountain.
And behind them, the remaining elite disciples of Qingling stood tall.
Their coordinated uniforms all bore the black of Qingling, infused with hints of their elemental essence—fire, water, frost, earth, and spirit. And yet, Xuanye's aura dominated them all.
Middle Core Formation Stage—yet the weight behind his presence felt far greater.
For a brief instant, the entire crowd went silent.
Even the mocking smile on Empress Feng's face faltered.
From his throne, Lin Tianyan gave a subtle nod, hiding a knowing smile.
Without bowing. Without hesitation. The Qingling disciples walked forth—not with arrogance, but unshakable confidence.
When they reached the platform's center, Xuanye turned and offered a single respectful bow—not to appease the crowd, but to honor the Dao.
Then, the host elder stepped forward again, this time with a golden tray.
"Let all participants receive their entry tokens."
One by one, tokens glowing with the sect's insignia were distributed.
To be continued...