Ye Tuo and Qin Mo acted instantly the moment the order was given. Their blades ripped free from their sheaths with a piercing, brutal sound. Without a word, they separated swiftly, erasing any hope of retreat. One lunged from the left, the other from the right, crafting a deadly pincer.
Neither of them bothered to circulate qi. Their spiritual reserves were nearly depleted, yet they pressed on without hesitation. After all, they had been pressing Ye Qingfeng for a long time now.
From the moment Ling Yuexin—the Rank Eight remnant soul and Ye Qingfeng’s master—possessed his body, she had been recovering her spiritual reserves at a terrifying speed. She drew in the mountain’s natural spiritual energy while simultaneously draining a middle-grade spirit stone hidden from their sight.
The process was so fast that, within just a few minutes, her reserves were already nearly half restored, and seeing the two Qi Condensation cultivators moving toward her with clear killing intent, Ling Yuexin finally stopped recovering her spiritual reserves.
That was enough; instead of recovering, she shifted her attention to her surroundings. Ling Yuexin glanced around silently. The mountain, the air, the ground beneath their feet—everything was still the same on the surface. But inside her mind, she began reciting ancient scriptures, slow and steady, each line deeply familiar to her.
The dao marks in the surrounding area began to react. The response was subtle, buried too deep for cultivators at their level to notice. Mo, Ye Tuo, and Qin Mo saw nothing unusual.
Ling Yuexin just lifted her hand. The instant they stepped into her domain, the atmosphere grew tense and oppressive. Without warning, two invisible wind blades shot forward towards them at lightning speed.
Two heads struck the ground, eyes still open, expressions frozen mid-motion. Their bodies continued forward for another step, blades slipping from lifeless fingers as blood spread quietly across the stone.
The air around her shifted. A small air domain formed around her—no more than five meters wide. That was her limit right now. In a possessed body, she couldn’t push it any further without risk. Any greater force would start tearing at Ye Qingfeng’s soul.
Unless, of course, she chose to kill him. If she took full control of the body, the restriction would disappear entirely.
Mo didn’t move. For a brief moment, his eyes remained fixed on the empty space ahead, as if the attack was still unfolding in his mind. Then his gaze lowered, stopping on the bodies behind Ling Yuexin, on the blood slowly darkening the stone. His grip on the sword tightened—then eased. He drew in a slow breath, controlled and deliberate, and adjusted his stance by instinct. When he finally looked up again, his expression was a bit clumsy.
"This junior... has eyes but failed to see Mount Tai—"
Her impatience finally snapped. She didn’t bother listening to this trash anymore. Another wind blade was released instent. Mo’s head fell to the ground before another word could leave his mouth. His eyes remained open, fixed on nothing, while his body stood frozen for a breath before collapsing heavily onto the blood-stained stone.
Ling Yuexin stared at the corpse for a few seconds, then let out a long breath. Her divine sense turned inward, quickly checking the strain on the body.
A few hours at most she can easily maintain this form, that would be enough she thought. Ling Yuexin turned away and started moving toward the Silver Bamboo Meal House.
---
Elsewhere —
The arena cleared out faster than usual after the last elimination round. With the final scheduled for tomorrow, no one lingered to watch the grounds reset, and there were no arguments about the upcoming match. Groups broke apart almost immediately, voices lowering as Ning Ruyan’s presence faded, leaving behind an almost tangible sense of relief.
By the time the disciples reached the outer paths, people were already talking over one another.
"Did you see that?" I blinked, and it was over.
"No, that’s not what happened. She tried to force it. I swear I felt the backlash."
"Backlash from what? That was Stage Nine. You don’t just collapse like that."
Someone scoffed. "You do if you mess up a Heaven Grade technique."
"That’s just something you heard."
"So? Everyone heard something."
The details shifted as they walked. What one person insisted on, another brushed aside. Certainty grew even as accuracy slipped away.
"She froze."
"No, she hesitated."
"I heard her meridians were damaged."
"That’s ridiculous."
"Then why was she carried off?"
Near the weapon pavilion, a few disciples stopped around a stone bench, the shock finally giving way to irritation.
"I lost three hundred spirit stones," one of them muttered, kicking at the ground. "Three hundred. I don’t care what anyone says, that wasn’t supposed to happen."
"You bet on reputation," someone replied flatly. "That’s on you."
"Still," another said, lowering his voice, "she didn’t look weak. Just... off."
"What about Lingling then?" someone added. "She didn’t even fight. Just accepted defeat after the group stage."
"Maybe she was injured before the match," someone said, unsure.
"If she were, the elders would’ve stopped it."
"Unless they didn’t want to." A silence followed for a moment. "I also heard she finally has a dao partner," another voice added, quieter than before.
No one responded to that, Then someone laughed, sharp and dismissive. "Weak or not, both lost. That’s all anyone’s going to remember."
By evening, the talk had spread inward. Servants whispered while scrubbing dried blood from the stone, careful not to linger in one place for too long. Junior disciples repeated exaggerated versions just to sound informed.
Outer sect members argued over what should happen next—recruitment, punishment, or whether it would all be quietly forgotten.
One name kept coming up.
Bai Shaoyue.
By nightfall, the story had settled into something simple and ugly. "She wasn’t as strong as everyone thought." Far above the noise, on Ning Ruyan’s mountain peak, the voices of the sect could no longer reach—but the damage had already taken root.