Chapter 173 Minghong lost.

Several more rounds passed in succession.

For those on the field, although the game was intense, many matches actually ended in no time at all.

Since what had just happened, Shen Lixia's attention had been focused on Luo You. The competition on the Nascent Soul stage was slightly different from that on the Golden Core stage, as it was decided in two rounds, so she would definitely have to fight someone else again.

But after waiting two or three rounds, Luo You still didn't appear. Instead, there was some commotion on the Golden Core stage. The immortals on the stage were in an uproar. Shen Lixia turned her gaze in surprise and realized that it was Wu Zhuyue standing on the stage.

Their battle was clearly nearing its end, as both women's protective spiritual energy had begun to show signs of damage, indicating they were roughly equal in severity. On Wu Zhuyue's hand, which held the sword, a wound ran from her shoulder to her upper arm, blood dripping like rain, soaking the hilt. The young man, however, remained remarkably calm, his fingers unwavering, spiritual energy swirling around his longsword, sparkling with the brilliance of lightning.

Opposite her stood a tall, slender young man. He wielded not the common swords or knives, but a dagger bound with a thin chain. Her spiritual energy possessed a gentle, watery hue, yet it emanated a chilling aura from afar. This aura differed from that of other water-elemental cultivators; it was like illusory smoke, ethereal and indistinct, a faint mist spreading around her.

The two men breathed heavily, their eyes locked on each other, exchanging silent blows in the air, each seeing the other as prey, like a tiger and a snake locked in a battle.

There was a lot of discussion in the stands. Many students were watching the competition for the first time. They had already been amazed by Chu Mingxin's brutal fighting style, and now seeing the two of them fighting so bloodily, they were truly terrified.

It's just too... impactful.

The immortals invited to jointly make the judgment had all seen many grand occasions and remained calm. However, a few of them sighed in a low voice, "Why do these disciples always seem to be either trying to kill their opponents or to torture themselves to death?"

"Good, he has guts. If the world falls into chaos in the future, he can hold up a piece of the sky." The Wuji Sword Sect Master, who had been impoverished earlier, leaned back in his chair with a smile. "I support everyone learning from the Kuanglan Sect and throwing the little guy into the wolf den, raising him like a wolf cub."

The person who was used to arguing with her smiled and said mercilessly, "I heard that Yue Qifeng was trapped in a secret realm for several years. Someone was so anxious that he almost destroyed the entire secret realm to go in and look for him?"

"Hehe, who was it that took a piece of bone from her own body to reconstruct her body when her life was hanging by a thread? Who was it again?"

Many of them were close friends, so even the most painful experiences were recounted long ago, as if in jest. Hearing this, Chi Yueying glanced at them, half-surprised and half-amused, thinking: Isn't this just showing off? They want the whole world to know how good they are to their disciple...

But to say it in such a mocking tone is really awkward.

I wonder what their disciples think about this, and it seems that the two disciples have even formed a contract. I imagine the scene of the two drinking together at the contract-forming ceremony was quite chaotic.

Yi Xiaohan rested his chin on his hand, smiling as he looked down at the arena, and nudged Yan Xueya with his elbow: "Have I ever said that my disciple is quite similar to yours?"

“You repeat every sentence ten times.” Yan Xueya sighed. “It’s not a good thing. They are all too harsh on themselves and have too high expectations.” They want to take on responsibilities that are not commensurate with their abilities, and thus always end up with a lot of scars.

She could see it clearly, and Shen Lixia was particularly evident in this—it was a kind of ruthless willingness to rather die than surrender.

“Young people are always proud and arrogant,” Yi Xiaohan casually picked up a lychee soaking in the ice bucket, peeled it and put it to her mouth, “but I think they have grown up. Zhu Yue is a little different. She seems to have learned to be a little softer. I don’t know if she was influenced by someone or if she has come to her senses... I may no longer have to worry about her being too rigid and easily broken, and she may not have to be afraid of letting me down.”

"Our greatest hope for these children is that they live peacefully and safely. They themselves know how to handle most things."

"Come on, open your mouth. This is the freshest batch from the Southern Region."

“There’s still a long way to go.” Yan Xueya frowned and pushed away the lychees she was offered. “Eat them yourself, and you won’t feel disgusted no matter how much I feed you.”

“Mingji Zhenjun’s words are as unpleasant as ever.” Yi Xiaohan tactfully turned his hand, removed the pit from the lychee, and stuffed it into Chi Yueying’s mouth, who had just turned her face away.

Chi Yueying chewed quietly for a moment, then whispered, "Thank you."

Yi Xiaohan paused for a moment, then suddenly turned around and scooped up most of the lychees, peeling them one by one and feeding them to Chi Yueying, quickly turning her into a hamster-like creature. Yan Xueya, seeing that one of them dared to feed the other and the other dared to eat, couldn't help but raise her hand to her forehead and turn her gaze away.

It's unbearable to look at.

However, it would probably be even more lively if Si Changxi and Ruan Luoying were there. Ruan Luoying would ask Yi Xiaohan with a smile why he didn't give her one too... The sect leader has changed a lot since she took on a great responsibility, but she still jokes with people. However, after returning last time, she seemed to have lost her youthful spirit and become like her, with several more wrinkles under her eyes.

I remember Si Changxi loved lychees. She had a great fondness for sweet things, like red bean paste pastries and juicy fruits... she even preferred the cuisine of the water towns. Although they prepared a lot of lychees, they would still fight over the same ones in the ice bucket—they weren't so blatant now, but they would still secretly snatch them.

Now I feel there are a lot of lychees.

Yi Xiaohan was like that; he monopolized an ice bucket, sharing it only with the three of them.

The past is gone and will never return, but fortunately, these women are still together, having remained connected through countless battles, big and small, which is a great blessing in itself. Silent and invisible longing quietly lingers among the three.

As they were talking, in the blink of an eye, two figures on the arena moved again.

Wu Zhuyue couldn't quite pinpoint whether she felt more nervous or exhilarated. Her opponent this time seemed to be ordained by fate; she was a cultivator extremely skilled in illusionary magic. The wound on her hand was from when she was momentarily captivated by the illusion and was slashed by that dagger.

The Minghong Blade hummed incessantly, showing no fear despite its master's dwindling spiritual power. Instead, it seemed to be excited by the blood flowing from Wu Zhuyue, like a wild beast that had caught a whiff of blood.

It was a vicious blade that devoured its master, becoming even more ferocious after shedding blood. Sharp currents of energy constantly emanated from its blade, both intimidating enemies and leaving Wu Zhuyue's hands covered in cuts. A spirit, gradually emerging within the blade and identical to its original form, clamored in Wu Zhuyue's mind in the voice of a heartless child:

"Give me your blood, your flesh, your heart! Offer me everything you possess, even your divine consciousness, and I will kill that person for you!"

"You want to win, you really want to win, don't you? I know, we're on the same page—"

"Moon, pierce my heart! From now on, we will be one! I will fulfill all your desires!"

After slaying his inner demons, the white-clad youth seemed to cower within the blade, devoured by its spirit, thus learning everything about Wu Zhuyue. Unbeknownst to him, the piercing screams gradually became indistinguishable from those of the young Wu Zhuyue, and countless ghostly figures, like howling cold winds, wept blood and wailed.

Wu Zhuyue lowered his eyes, gave a cold snort, and suddenly tightened his grip on the hilt of the knife. The muscles that were being pulled apart throbbed with pain from the slight tearing of the wound, but the boy used this to stay awake, his eyes resolute and determined.

"I won't listen to you, no matter how many times you say it... I won't listen."

The blood-drinking knife in her hand was like a beast chained to its limits. She would not allow it to wreak havoc.

Wu Zhuyue leaped forward, seeing the cultivator opposite her with spiritual energy ignited at his fingertips, and happily moved. With just one step, the scenery shifted, and the surrounding crowd changed completely—

All around her was darkness, with only the relentless whistling of wind and snow. She could even feel her wounds freezing, the blood instantly turning into tiny, slender branches that clung to her arms. Then, dark blue frostbite bloomed on her skin like lotus blossoms, drawing life from her to flourish.

The color gradually changed from blue to red, leaving the boy's body covered in shocking fine marks. Figures appeared, obscuring her vision. Wu Zhuyue's breath turned to ice, her eyelashes seemed frozen, preventing her from blinking, as she watched the distraught figures rush towards her, screaming in agony.

—But the refugees she had seen before were even more pitiful and heartbreaking in winter. She remembered her little finger almost freezing off, her mother's shivering figure during their escape, and someone lying unconscious in the desolate, thin snow. Winter was cold, very cold, and there was no water to heat on the stove.

If all of this was the most cruel and moving scene that the cultivator on the other side could imagine, then she must have grown up in the warm spring.

All of these are illusions.

Illuminate the emptiness of all things, and dispel all suffering.

Wu Zhuyue took a deep breath. The surrounding illusion continued to shift, and a cold light lurked within, drawing ever closer. She saw the icy hell transform into raging fire, and from within the fire emerged a familiar face, calling her name again and again—Little Wu.

Spiritual energy surged and gathered on the blade. Pure golden light surged and flashed violently, condensing into four enormous and sharp blade energies the moment Wu Zhuiyue drew his sword, fiercely tearing apart the heavens and earth.

The roars of tigers and the clear sounds of metal clashing mingled together, shattering all illusions and illusions.

After the strike, Wu Zhuyue's hair flew wildly, her high ponytail resembling willow branches, swaying in the aftershocks. However, her bright eyes could not be concealed; they remained fixed on the approaching youth.

She seemed too vulnerable to the surging sword energy, momentarily panicking and dropping the dagger. She was then struck by a tiger's claw, her skin torn and bleeding profusely.

In an instant, his bones broke and his dantian shattered, and he died on the spot!

The carnage was right before her eyes, and Wu Zhuyue's pupils suddenly contracted, her hand waving the knife slightly hesitant. She seemed to see again the scene of her senior sister's figure disappearing in her out-of-control blade light.

Has she lost control again?

wrong.

A splatter of blood, as if by some premonition, splashed onto Wu Zhuyue's face, making her eyes appear even brighter. The young man frowned, hesitated for only a moment, and then fearlessly swung his sword again!

Through the hazy mist, she seemed to hear Yi Xiaohan's loud laughter coming from the stands.

Everything vanished like smoke, but the next moment, a series of illusions reappeared. Wu Zhuyue knew that her spiritual power was on the verge of exhaustion, making her more susceptible to the invasion of this soft yet unpredictable water. She bit her lip and saw the figure of the shattered youth solidify before her.

Her consciousness trembled. The angry cries, screams, and laughter of the Minghong Blade, along with the countless lingering souls that had perished under its name, wailed and coiled upwards. It forced Wu Zhuyue to merge with this illusion, transforming into chilling skeletal hands that grabbed the boy's trouser legs, winding upwards, gently pressing against her ear, like uninvited death singing the melodious ferry song of the River Styx.

The chilling, bloody stench sealed her mouth and nose, while the Minghong Blade gleefully drank the large gushes of hot blood flowing from its master's wound, intending to devour her bit by bit.

Cut down, now, swing the blade.

Kill her.

Eradicate this figure, crush all enemies on the road ahead, and slay them all.

In this way, you can get everything you want.

The monstrous blade that devoured its master chuckled softly. What seemed like an instant to outsiders was a tormenting experience for Wu Zhuyue, who trembled uncontrollably as she was caught in the crossfire.

I once thought that if I ever gained extraordinary power, I would definitely take revenge. I would make those people taste the bitterness of being displaced. In my most painful moments, I even wished for natural disasters to befall the luxurious city, so that those glamorous people could also experience the feeling of being scattered and wandering.

But.

Wu Zhuyue felt the jade pendant, warmed by her body heat, shimmer with a lustrous jade color and emit waves of warmth.

She remembered a quiet night. It was when she took the Gu poison to Guyu Peak, and Lu Changqing asked her to stay overnight. The young man must have heard something in her dream; the candlelight flickered between the teacups, and a wisp of bitter yet gentle fragrance spread, overpowering the intense scent of the crabapple blossoms, softly embracing Wu Zhuyue.

She could hardly have a good dream anymore, but each time she was by Lu Changqing's side, she could sleep a little better. Even during that nightmare, she finally shed the tears that had been bottled up inside for so long, and no longer felt the sorrow that was stuck in her throat.

At that time, the two lay facing each other. Lu Changqing gently stroked her cheek, his fingertips touching her face, from her brow to the corner of her eye, then her nose, and finally her lips.

Finally, slowly slide it down to the collarbone.

Her heart pounded like a drum, wanting to break free from the constraints in her chest, leap to Lu Changqing's eyes, and cry out for her to stop. But Lu Changqing's gentle eyes rendered her powerless to refuse. After only a moment of mutual gazing, Wu Zhuyue could only let her continue. She was finding it increasingly impossible to refuse this bright and beautiful young man before her.

Even if she was once a cluster of begonias in a secluded courtyard, destined to wither and fall.

But in every aspect of life that changed after that, Wu Zhuyue's shadow remained. From the beginning of her time in the sect until now...

Are they really capable of being separated?

Lu Changqing gently placed his hand on her chest.

With the hem of my shirt open, I could directly touch that soft and fragile part. A strange feeling began to spread.

Then, he grasped the peace pendant.

She smiled gently and said, "Xiao Wu, you don't need to hate anything to survive."

"You can try to love... to like. There's nothing wrong with that. We don't have to exchange the right to live for hatred, nor are we anyone's living grave."

Therefore, the Minghong Blade is wrong.

She is no longer the fearful and terrified teenager she once was.

even--

I'm not that keen on winning.

So what if we don't win? Is losing a permanent disgrace?

The sound of metal striking the ground echoed throughout the arena, like a drop of water falling into a lake, creating ripples. Yi Xiaohan, however, seemed to have sensed this beforehand, and amidst the gasps of the crowd, he nodded with satisfaction.

Under the gentle guidance of the Minghong Blade and the illusion, Wu Zhuyue stopped attacking and put down the blade.

With the last bit of spiritual energy gone, the outcome was decided.

But she knew that many people cared about her winning or losing... but many others didn't. If Minghong Dao wanted her to kill, she would refuse to comply.

What does it matter how powerful a blade that devours its master is, or how unfortunate its fate?

Wu Zhuyue didn't want anything; she was content.

Everything as it is now is for the best.

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Author's Note: I was planning to save up some chapters, but that fell through. I've been hospitalized recently, and I feel like I'm going to get sick from being cooped up in the ward. I need some interaction...

I've corrected a few words. Sometimes I don't pay attention to my language habits and occasionally I miss something. Please remind me if you have any suggestions, and I'll pay more attention!