As tensions and emotions ran high in one part of the competition, the second round of matches continued with fervor elsewhere. The cheers were incessant, and the atmosphere lively. Lu Fanzhi made it through the first round, but luck was not on her side in the second as she faced off against Yan Ying and suffered a crushing defeat.
With wobbly legs, she descended from the stage and leaned against Luo Jinxiao’s shoulder, wailing.
“Jinxiao, that Yan Ying is awful. She’s too strong, and her sword is a good one, too. It hurt my hands so much…” she whined.
Luo Jinxiao patted her consolingly, “It’s okay, we’ll go back and keep training. Someday, you’ll be able to beat her.”
“Beat me? In your next life, maybe,” a voice sneered from behind. Luo Jinxiao turned to see Yan Ying standing there, head held high, her expression contemptuous.
Her sword still emitted a faint heat, seemingly threatening.
Luo Jinxiao gently nudged Lu Fanzhi off her shoulder, turned to Yan Ying, and smiled, “I hope you remember your words.”
Yan Ying detested Luo Jinxiao’s indifferent demeanor. Anger flared within her, “What? Do you think you can take me on with such arrogance?”
Luo Jinxiao nonchalantly turned away, ignoring her.
Soon, it was Luo Jinxiao’s turn again, this time facing Baili Qingzhou. It took only a few moves for her to find his weakness and easily defeat him, knocking him off the platform.
She was careful not to overuse her spiritual power, wary of revealing too much, but even so, her performance sparked debate. Many doubted her ability to win two matches in a row, and skepticism abounded.
Luo Jinxiao, as usual, paid no attention to the chatter.
By noon, the sun hung high in the sky, scorching the spectators. The cheers dwindled, and many disciples, unable to bear the heat, left the jade platform to seek shade, thinning the crowd significantly.
After several rounds, only a few competitors remained, and Luo Jinxiao found herself pitted against Yan Ying. As they ascended the stage, Yan Ying shot her a disdainful glare.
“If you beg me to go easy on you now, I might spare you,” she whispered, ensuring only the two of them could hear.
Luo Jinxiao acted as if she hadn’t heard, focusing on loosening her wrists. Yan Ying seethed but couldn’t do much, clenching her teeth in frustration.
At the sound of the drum, Yan Ying charged, her sword enveloped in spiritual power, transforming into a powerful whip that lashed toward Luo Jinxiao. Startled, Luo Jinxiao quickly leaned back, narrowly dodging the attack.
“All you can do is dodge, coward!” Yan Ying had hoped to strike decisively, and seeing her attack evaded only fueled her anger, making her strike even harder.
Her aim was precise, and her cultivation level was not low. Luo Jinxiao realized that mere dodging wouldn’t suffice, so she extended her right hand. A flash of silver light appeared, like falling snow, covering the platform in a white sheen.
“That’s not… How do you have such a spiritual weapon?” Yan Ying was taken aback.
“Thanks for the concern,” Luo Jinxiao winked, taking a swift step forward. Yan Ying, adept at long-range attacks, hurriedly retreated.
Luo Jinxiao didn’t give her the chance. Whispering “Snow Fury,” she conjured a storm of ice needles from the sword’s tip, multiplying into thousands. The piercing cold was palpable, and Yan Ying, caught off guard, nearly found herself punctured.
Barely reacting in time, Yan Ying used spiritual power to form a barrier, deflecting most of the ice needles, but she still ended up looking quite bedraggled, her hair standing on end like a white porcupine.
Seeing this, Luo Jinxiao couldn’t help but smile. Yan Ying trembled with rage, calling her sword to the sky. She formed lotus flowers with her hands, sending them cascading down.
This technique, known as “Step by Step Lotus,” sounded elegant but was a deadly attack and notoriously difficult to master. The crowd gasped at the sight.
“Yan Ying is the most talented among the new disciples. This move will surely leave Luo Jinxiao in tatters,” a disciple remarked.
“She may know it, but she’s still a novice, full of flaws. What’s the use?” retorted Luo Ning, overhearing the conversation.
“Sister Luo Ning,” the disciple greeted awkwardly.
As word of the ongoing battle spread, more disciples flocked in, eager not to miss the spectacle, some even bringing their meals along.
“Is that the infamous Luo girl who joined the Wuhui Sect without spiritual veins? She doesn’t seem to be at a disadvantage,” someone commented between bites.
The disciple in front of him, annoyed, moved aside, replying, “Perhaps the rumors were wrong. She doesn’t look like someone without spiritual veins.”
On stage, Luo Jinxiao used her sword to form an ice shield above her, effortlessly blocking all attacks.
At the elders’ viewing stand, Qu Weiyin relaxed her grip on her robe, unaware she had been clutching it tightly.
“That child is Yan Ying? No wonder she’s Elder Mei’s disciple, capable of such techniques at a young age. Truly impressive,” Elder He marveled, stroking his beard.
Elder Mei, about to modestly respond, heard Elder Liu’s heavy sigh and saw him cross his arms in displeasure. “What’s the meaning of this, Elder Liu?” she demanded.
Elder Liu ignored her, eyes glued to the stage. The falling lotus flowers had wilted, and Luo Jinxiao, now airborne on her sword, was level with Yan Ying.
Yan Ying quickly lashed out with a spiritual whip, moving too fast for the eye to follow, seemingly about to strike Luo Jinxiao. The spectators held their breath.
Qu Weiyin, unable to contain her concern, took a step forward, her expression serious.
Just as the whip neared Luo Jinxiao’s face, someone screamed. In that moment, Luo Jinxiao raised her hand, catching the spiritual whip.
The crowd gasped collectively.
Luo Jinxiao showed no sign of pain, flipping midair and yanking Yan Ying forward, pulling her off her sword.
No one saw what happened next. When they looked again, Luo Jinxiao had one hand on Yan Ying’s neck, pinning her to the ground.
Yan Ying, stunned, only felt the pain after a beat, then began struggling fiercely.
Gui Jiu hurried over to stop the fight, prompting Luo Jinxiao to release her grip and return to her usual smile, winking at the coughing Yan Ying.
Her once-calm demeanor now brimmed with youthful exuberance and confidence. Her playful grin was radiant, her eyes sparkling with a lively brilliance.
Qu Weiyin lowered her gaze, lost in thought, then suddenly vanished from her spot.
Today’s competition had been full of surprises. No one expected Luo Jinxiao to emerge victorious. As people dispersed, they continued to chatter about the unexpected turn of events.
On the elders’ platform, Elder Liu’s stern expression softened into a broad grin. He stood up, saluting the disgruntled Elder Mei with satisfaction.
“The one who won earlier, Luo Jinxiao, is my disciple!” he declared proudly.
“What a great day; I can enjoy two extra bowls of rice,” he laughed heartily, striding away.
Elder Mei’s face flushed a deep shade of purple.
Before Luo Jinxiao could leave the stage, she was tackled by the overjoyed Luo Ning and Lu Fanzhi, both seemingly more excited than she was.
“Jinxiao, you won! You can go to the Celestial Realm! Elder He said all the new disciples can go for the experience. People say the Celestial Realm is the gods’ relics. I’ve dreamed of going,” Lu Fanzhi exclaimed.
Luo Ning pulled Luo Jinxiao aside, her joy tinged with worry, “Sister, I’m concerned. Let me come along to protect you.”
“Am I your sister, or are you mine? It seems our roles are reversed,” Luo Jinxiao laughed, ruffling Luo Ning’s hair.
This girl always seemed determined to protect her sister, warming Luo Jinxiao’s heart.
Though happy about her victory, Luo Jinxiao remained calm, having anticipated it. However, the Wuhui Sect buzzed with news of her win, with some claiming it was luck, others saying she was secretly skilled. Either way, her name was now widely known.
After the competition, due to injuries, the Wuhui Sect granted the new disciples a few days of rest before preparing for departure. Luo Jinxiao, not having much to pack, spent the time refining her cultivation.
On the morning of departure, a gentle rain turned into a downpour. It was early, and feeling too lazy to fly her sword, Luo Jinxiao borrowed a plain oiled-paper umbrella from Elder Liu, slung her belongings over her shoulder, and strolled down the mountain.
The rain fell like silk threads, drumming softly on the umbrella, splashing onto her skirt and making the path slippery. She tied up her skirt, rolled up her pants, and revealed a sliver of her pale, straight legs for easier walking.
The rain shrouded the mountains in mist, veiling the world in a delicate haze. As she walked, she noticed a solitary figure in the distance, moving with a lonely grace.
Dressed all in white, the rain had plastered the clothing to the person’s slender frame.
Not wanting to see someone caught in the rain, Luo Jinxiao thought to herself that all cultivators in the Wuhui Sect could easily avoid getting wet with a simple spell. Why endure the rain like this?
Perhaps it was a new disciple unfamiliar with the spell. Ever kind-hearted, Luo Jinxiao couldn’t ignore it and quickened her pace to share her umbrella.
“Fellow disciple, did you forget an umbrella?” she asked, and froze when the person turned, nearly tripping herself.
The person steadied her with a subtle gesture, speaking coldly, “No need.”
Luo Jinxiao was momentarily confused—did they mean they didn’t need an umbrella or didn’t need her help?
Qu Weiyin frowned slightly but said no more, continuing onward.
Luo Jinxiao hadn’t expected this poetic moment to bring her face-to-face with Qu Weiyin. Perhaps it was destiny. But taking the umbrella back and leaving her in the rain seemed wrong.
She resolved to follow, holding the umbrella over both of them.
They walked in silence, only the rain accompanying them. Unable to resist, Luo Jinxiao glanced sideways. The demoness, usually clad in red and black, seemed fierce, but today, in white, she exuded a serene detachment.
The rain-soaked strands of hair on her face gave her a hint of vulnerability.
The silence stretched unbearably, and Luo Jinxiao, feeling awkward, searched for words. “Why not avoid the rain, Senior Aunt?”
“Rain, snow, wind, and moon are all commonplace. Why avoid them?” Qu Weiyin replied, her expression unchanged.
Experiencing the elements was how she felt connected to the world, though she left that part unsaid.
Luo Jinxiao felt an inexplicable heaviness in her heart, watching a raindrop run down Qu Weiyin’s slender neck.
She averted her eyes, feeling that this version of Qu Weiyin was chilling—not in body, but in spirit.
Scratching her head, Luo Jinxiao added, “The rain is cold, Senior Aunt.”
Qu Weiyin ignored her, murmuring only, “Annoying.”
At least she didn’t deny the cold, Luo Jinxiao thought wryly. She reached out, touching Qu Weiyin’s shoulder, silently casting a water-repelling spell. Instantly, warmth enveloped Qu Weiyin, who stopped in her tracks, eyes widening slightly.
“Dry and warm is common too,” Luo Jinxiao said softly.
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