The morning of the Great Five-Sect Competition arrived with a sky so blue it looked painted. To the common people of the Blue River Province, the Cloud Mist Sect was a paradise on earth. White cranes flew between mist-covered peaks, and the sound of silver bells echoed through the valleys. But beneath the beauty, the mountain was a nest of vipers.
In the Phoenix Pavilion, Lin Yue sat before a mirror made of thousand-year-old ice. Her handmaidens moved around her in a blur, dressing her in a gown woven from the silk of Moonlight Spiders. The fabric shimmered with every breath she took, making her look like a goddess who had descended to the mortal realm.
"Junior Sister is truly the pride of our generation," one handmaiden whispered, her voice full of forced flattery. "With the Phoenix Root fully awakened, those other sects won't even be able to stand in your presence."
Lin Yue looked at her reflection. She looked perfect. Her skin was like jade, and her eyes were bright. But deep inside her Dantian, she felt a cold, hollow ache. The stolen spiritual root was powerful, but it was restless. Every night for the past month, she had dreamed of the Abyss—of cold, black hands reaching up to pull her down.
"Where is Senior Brother Ye Chen?" Lin Yue asked, her voice sharp.
"He is at the Main Gate, Junior Sister," the maid replied quickly. "He is welcoming the Leaders of the other four sects. Master Qinghe has instructed him to show the full strength of our elite disciples."
Lin Yue nodded, trying to settle her nerves. Su Lan is dead, she told herself for the thousandth time. I saw her fall. No one survives the Soul-Eaters without a spiritual root. I am the Saintess now. The past is buried.
She stood up, and as she moved, a faint emerald light flickered beneath her skin—the stolen power of Su Lan, now serving a thief.
At the Main Plaza, the atmosphere was electric. Thousands of disciples had gathered, creating a sea of different colored robes. The four visiting sects—the Iron Sword Sect, the Myriad Flowers Valley, the Thunder Hall, and the Ocean Spirit Sect—had brought their best geniuses.
Sect Leader Qinghe sat on the highest throne, his expression one of calm, detached arrogance. He watched as the other Sect Leaders took their seats. They were all Nascent Soul experts, men and women who could level mountains with a wave of their hands.
"Brother Qinghe," the Leader of the Iron Sword Sect, a scarred man with a massive blade on his back, spoke up. "I heard a rumor that your sect suffered a break-in last week. A thief supposedly split your front gate and took half your treasury. Surely, that was just a tall tale spread by wine-shop gossips?"
The other Leaders leaned in, their eyes sharp. In the world of cultivation, weakness was an invitation to be devoured.
Qinghe's grip tightened on his armrest, but his face remained a mask of stone. "A minor incident. A crazed rogue cultivator attempted a robbery. We executed him on the spot and used the opportunity to test our new defensive arrays. If anything, the sect is stronger now."
"Is that so?" the Madam of Myriad Flowers Valley asked, her silk fan fluttering. "I also heard the thief left a message. Something about a debt? And the name of a dead disciple?"
Qinghe let out a dry, forced laugh. "Superstition and nonsense, Madam. Today, you will see the true strength of the Cloud Mist Sect. My disciple, Lin Yue, has reached the peak of what a youth can achieve. Let the results speak for themselves."
While the drums began to roar in the plaza, a silent shadow was moving through the dense pine forest on the outskirts of the sect.
Su Lan stood on a high branch, her black robes blending perfectly with the dark needles of the trees. Through the gaps in the leaves, she could see the glittering spectacle of the competition. She could hear the cheers for Lin Yue. She could see the flags of the Cloud Mist Sect flying high, symbols of a "righteousness" that was bought with her blood.
[Ding! Current Hatred Resonance: 98%.]
[System Note: The 'Stolen Root' is reacting to your proximity. The target, Lin Yue, is experiencing 'Soul Tremors'.]
"Let her tremble," Su Lan whispered.
She opened the storage ring she had plundered. Inside, the thousands of spirit stones she had refined over the past "year" in the Void had left her body in a state of terrifying density. Her meridians were no longer like those of a human; they were like channels of dark lightning.
She reached into her robe and pulled out a simple silver mask. She didn't want to reveal her face just yet. She wanted them to feel the fear first. She wanted them to wonder who was dismantling their pride, piece by piece.
"System, how many points do I have in the 'Bank'?"
[Answer: 25,000 Points.]
"Keep 10,000 for emergency healing. Put the rest into 'Void Concealment'. I want to walk into that plaza and stand right under Qinghe's nose without a single soul noticing me until it's too late."
[Ding! Acknowledged. 'Void Ghost' mode activated. Duration: 30 minutes.]
Su Lan stepped off the branch. She didn't fall; she glided. Her feet didn't touch the grass, and the wind didn't move her hair. She was a ghost in the world of the living.
Back at the arena, the first matches had begun. These were the "warm-up" rounds, where outer-sect disciples fought for a chance to be noticed. It was a display of fireballs, water whips, and basic swordplay. To the masters on the balcony, it was a puppet show.
"Enough of these children," Ye Chen said, standing up from his seat beside Lin Yue. He leapt onto the jade arena, his Solar Sword glowing with a brilliant, arrogant light. "If the other sects are finished playing, let the real competition begin. I, Ye Chen of the Cloud Mist Sect, challenge any genius from the four provinces to a match. One against ten, if you like!"
The crowd erupted in cheers. Ye Chen's arrogance was backed by his Foundation Establishment Level 5 cultivation. For a man under thirty, he was indeed a monster.
One by one, disciples from the Iron Sword Sect and Thunder Hall leapt up to face him.
Clang! Bang! Boom!
Ye Chen moved like a golden streak. Within ten minutes, five challengers had been thrown off the stage, their weapons broken and their chests bruised. He didn't just win; he humiliated them, stepping on their hands or mocking their techniques as they fell.
"Is this all?" Ye Chen shouted, his voice filled with disdain. "Is there no one in the five provinces who can make me draw my sword fully?"
He looked toward Lin Yue and winked. She smiled back, her confidence finally returning. See? she thought. We are the strongest. Nothing can touch us.
But then, a cold chill swept across the jade.
The torches around the arena flickered and died, despite there being no wind. A thick, grey mist began to crawl over the edges of the jade platform, swallowing the sunlight.
The laughter in the plaza stopped. The drums went silent.
In the center of the mist, a figure was standing. No one had seen her arrive. One moment the stage was empty, and the next, she was there—a girl in black, wearing a silver mask that reflected the terrified faces of the crowd.
She didn't have a flashy aura. She didn't have a glowing sword. But the pressure she radiated was so heavy that the disciples in the front rows felt their noses begin to bleed.
Ye Chen's smile vanished. He gripped his Solar Sword so hard his knuckles turned white. "Who are you? This is the Five-Sect Competition! Random rogues aren't allowed!"
The girl in the mask slowly turned her head toward the high balcony, looking directly at Sect Leader Qinghe.
"I'm not a rogue," she said, her voice sounding like the cracking of ice on a winter lake. "I'm a debt collector. And today, the Cloud Mist Sect is going bankrupt."
She turned back to Ye Chen, the purple glow of her eyes visible through the mask.
"Senior Brother... you said you wanted someone to make you draw your sword? I'm here. But I should warn you—once that blade comes out, you won't have a hand left to hold it."