The morning sun spilled golden light over the square at Dazhu Peak, casting long shadows of the early risers.
Today was no ordinary day.....it was the long-awaited Seven Clans Martial Competition, an event that drew the eyes of the entire Qingyun Sect.
Song Daren, along with several fellow disciples, stood ready in their gray Daoist robes.
Tian Ling'er, bright-eyed and impatient, scanned the gathering for a familiar face.
"Where's Xiaofan?" she finally asked, her tone carrying a mix of curiosity and mild annoyance.
Du Bishu, who was leaning lazily against a stone pillar, looked around before answering, "He's probably… cooking."
Sure enough, over in the kitchen, Zhang Xiaofan had just pulled a batch of steaming buns from the pot.
With a fire stick tucked at his waist, he emerged with the warmth of the kitchen still clinging to him.
"Here," he said cheerfully, handing out the buns. "Two for each of you. Fresh from the steamer."
Tian Ling'er's gaze immediately dropped to the fire stick. "Xiaofan… you're not seriously bringing that thing to the competition, are you?"
She didn't know the true nature of the weapon, only that he had spent the last few years tucked away in the ancestral halls of Dazhu and Tongtian Peak, apparently without finding a proper magic weapon.
"This fire stick is great," Zhang Xiaofan replied with an easy smile. "I'm used to it. I use it for cooking, for making fires—it never lets me down."
Before Tian Ling'er could press further, Du Bishu stepped forward, a sly grin on his face. With a flick of his wrist, three wooden dice appeared, tumbling to the ground.
"A fire stick can be a weapon if you know how to use it," he said smugly. "Look at my magic wood dice—aren't they the coolest?"
Tian Ling'er rolled her eyes. "Cool? More like hopeless. Didn't your father scold you?"
Du Bishu flinched, scanning the area in case Tian Buyi was nearby. Seeing the coast was clear, he muttered, "He did… but he also said I could keep using them."
"You're a lost cause, Sixth Brother," Tian Ling'er sighed, shaking her head.
Then she turned back to Zhang Xiaofan and pulled out a long sword. "Here. I picked this out for you. It's not top quality, but it's better than that… stick."
Zhang Xiaofan accepted it without argument. Against ordinary disciples, a spiritual sword would be enough. "Thank you, Senior Sister."
Tian Ling'er puffed her chest with mock pride. "We're in this together, after all."
A light cough interrupted their banter.
Tian Buyi approached with his usual swagger, Su Ru gliding gracefully at his side—a striking contrast of short and round beside tall and elegant. His eyes swept over the group, pausing on Zhang Xiaofan.
This year, he thought, Dazhu Peak would finally reclaim some honor. Last time, only Song Daren had reached the top eight. But now, with Zhang Xiaofan at the ninth level of Jade Purity and personally trained by Senior Brother Wan, even first place was within reach.
Tian Buyi's chest swelled with pride. "Daren, take a junior brother. Lao Liu, take a senior. We set off now."
A crimson streak of light erupted from his waist—the Red Flame Immortal Sword—carrying him skyward toward Tongtian Peak.
Su Ru followed in a flash of pure white, riding the Black Snow Sword, a famed Nine Heavens Divine Weapon once taken from the Demon Sect and gifted to her by Wan Jianyi.
Song Daren grabbed Lu Daxin, Du Bishu grabbed another senior brother, and they soared after their master.
Tian Ling'er's eyes lingered on Zhang Xiaofan, who still stood firmly on the ground. She assumed his cultivation had dropped after his past mishap, perhaps even below the fourth level of Jade Purity—too low to fly. She didn't want to wound his pride, so she simply smiled, unfurling her amber red silk ribbon.
"Come on, Xiaofan. I'll take you, like before."
"Alright," he said, stepping onto the silk without hesitation.
Xiao Hui, the little monkey, scampered from the kitchen and leapt onto his shoulder.
"Hold on tight to my waist," Tian Ling'er warned. "Don't fall."
Zhang Xiaofan did as told, noting absently that her waist felt so slim it was as if she hadn't eaten in centuries.
"Let's go!" Tian Ling'er called, and the silk surged upward.
Song Daren, watching from above, sighed. "Poor Junior Brother… can't even fly anymore."
Lu Daxin nodded sympathetically. "He must be miserable inside. He used to be so brilliant."
"Which is why," Song Daren added pointedly, "you'd better work harder. Old Six joined decades after you and can already fly."
Lu Daxin glanced enviously at Du Bishu's airborne dice, muttering, "That's not real sword flight. One day he'll lose even his pants mid-air."
Meanwhile, Zhang Xiaofan enjoyed the ride, arm resting around Tian Ling'er's waist, breathing in her subtle fragrance. She was beautiful—slender, spirited—but clearly not yet grown into her full charm.
If she were two years older, he mused, she'd be truly dangerous.
"What are you thinking about?" Tian Ling'er asked, catching his faraway look.
"That Senior Sister has gotten prettier," he said truthfully.
A blush touched her cheeks. "Two years gone, and you've grown sly."
He chuckled, and Xiao Hui chittered happily from his shoulder.
They flew for half an hour before the towering silhouette of Tongtian Peak rose ahead, shrouded in morning mist. Today, the mountain's protective restrictions were lifted, allowing disciples to land directly at the main square.
They descended into a sea of gray-robed disciples, each with a sword at their side.
Only Dazhu Peak's contingent stood out, their weapons an odd mix of staves, ribbons, and, of course, dice.
"Look! The Xiaozhu Peak disciples have arrived!" someone exclaimed from the crowd.
The atmosphere was electric. The competition was about to begin.
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