076 Those Who Watch the Battle

Upon the vast, boundless expanse of the sea—

A woman in a simple blue dress walked atop the waves.

She was tall, her eyes almond-shaped, her cheeks tinged with the delicate flush of spring, her beauty as refined as an orchid blooming in a secluded valley—breathtaking beyond compare.

With light, floating steps, she condensed frost beneath her feet, forming plates of ice just over a foot wide to bear her across the water. Though she seemed to move leisurely, her speed rivaled that of flight.

Suddenly, a flash of sword-light streaked across the sky, descending to land before her.

“Junior Sister Zhao, I didn’t expect to find you here!”

The newcomer was another beautiful cultivator, standing atop a three-foot sword, aura sharp and commanding, her gaze bright with amusement.

“Greetings, Senior Sister Mengyuan,” the woman replied, pausing to offer a respectful bow.

This was none other than Zhao Mengyuan, once an outer disciple, now successfully admitted to the inner sect and apprenticed to the Hall of Frost Demons.

With lively wit, Zhao Mengyuan asked, “Is Senior Sister also here to witness the True Disciple’s trial?”

Her companion smiled and nodded. “Indeed. Nearly every inner disciple without pressing duties has gathered to watch.”

Zhao Mengyuan agreed, “Yes, seeing the True Disciples in action is a rare chance to learn.”

Her fellow cultivator cast her an amused, meaningful look. “But I’ve heard that the one from the Flame Demon Hall once saved your life. Surely you’re not here simply to observe the trial?”

Zhao Mengyuan’s expression remained serene. “Elder Xu—no, Senior Brother Pang—did save me. I’m here to support him.”

Her companion sighed, “Alas, he’s already become Dao partners with the beauty from the Luo family. You were… just a step too late.”

“Senior Sister, you’re speaking nonsense!” Zhao Mengyuan’s composure faltered, and she protested with a hint of reproach.

The other woman laughed. “My Icejade Heart Mirror art is especially attuned to the feelings of others—you can’t hide from me.”

“I’m done talking to you!” Zhao Mengyuan’s snowy cheeks flushed with embarrassment. In a flash of icy blue, she soared into the sky, flying off into the distance.

“Wait for me, Junior Sister!” her friend called, twisting her slender waist as she hurried after on her own sword-light.

Together, the pair sped across the sky, covering dozens of miles in moments.

…

Three thousand miles south of Mount Zhuoguang, there lay a desolate stretch of sea—eight hundred miles with not a single island in sight.

On this day, the sky was radiant, the horizon a seamless blend of blue.

A single cloud, pure white, floated above the waves, bearing a crimson pavilion—the signature structure of the Xu clan: the Floating Immortal House.

Inside, Xu Wentian and the elders of his family sat in silence, awaiting the coming event. With their clan founder present, the elders were visibly restrained, a faint tension hanging in the air.

Xu Wentian spoke in a calm, measured tone, “Regardless of Pang’s performance in the trial today, from this year forward, our clan will offer him thirty percent of our annual harvest. Unless the family faces a true crisis, no one is to request his aid.”

The elders exchanged incredulous looks.

“Founder, did I hear you right? You want us to give thirty percent of our income to Liming?”

Xu Wentian’s gaze swept over them, sharp as a blade. “You heard correctly. This is not a discussion—it’s an order. Anyone who disagrees will answer to the clan’s rules. Is that clear?”

“We obey, Founder!” the elders replied, bowing their heads.

Xu Wentian turned to the window, a cold smile on his lips. “The Ning clan has arrived.”

In the distance, a splendid flying vessel approached, carrying more than a dozen cultivators, all foundation establishment level, clad in fine robes and exuding distinguished auras.

By the side of the clan head stood a beautiful woman in a trailing gown, her expression bitter as she gazed at the Floating Immortal House. “That old ghost Xu isn’t dead yet…”

This was Ning Shuang, who had witnessed Ning Daoyu’s fall with her own eyes and had personally retrieved her nephew’s body from Starfall Lake. Today, another nephew would finally take revenge for her brother!

At the helm of the Ning family was a tall, bearded man, his features stern, his demeanor grave. His voice was cool. “The Xu clan has peaked and will now decline. Once Xu Wentian is gone, the family will not last a century.”

“We once feared that old ghost, but today he comes to us of his own accord. I look forward to his miserable end,” Ning Shuang spat, her eyes burning with vengeance.

As they spoke, streaks of light began to appear at the horizon—cultivators arriving, some hovering in the air, others flying directly toward the Ning clan’s vessel.

The bearded man went out to greet them. “Daoist Kui, Daoist Zhuang! You’ve come as well!”

One was short and stout, inner disciple’s robe cinched with a wine gourd at his waist—the ever-boisterous Kui Shanshui. The other was tall, robed in wide sleeves, with a sinister expression—Zhuang Buxiu.

Kui Shanshui laughed heartily. “Master Ning, long time no see! We’re here to support Brother Daozhen—may we stand on your boat?”

“It would be my honor! Please, both of you, come aboard!” the Ning patriarch replied warmly.

Suddenly, a dazzling green flame blazed across the sky overhead, drawing their attention.

Kui Shanshui craned his neck and exclaimed, “Senior Brother Huang Luxi is here as well!”

“Is that the first True Disciple of the Flame Demon Hall?” the Ning patriarch asked, watching the fading tail of green fire.

Zhuang Buxiu snorted, “Who else but the scion of the Huang family?”

The Ning patriarch’s gaze was complex. “A few years back, Daozhen lost to him by a single move. He must be here to see how Daozhen has improved.”

“Huang never liked crowds. If he’s come, it must be for that reason,” Kui Shanshui analyzed.

The green flame swept across the sky, then faded to reveal a young man in white, sitting cross-legged in midair, silent and meditative.

Moments later, two figures arrived together, stopping before Huang Luxi.

“Huang, I’ve heard you’ve been in closed-door cultivation these years. Now that you’re finally out, you owe us a drink!” said one, folding fan in hand, dashing and elegant.

His companion, an elder with an immortal bearing, nodded a greeting. These were Meng Zitao and Hong Ren.

Huang Luxi opened his eyes, ignored Meng Zitao, and addressed Hong Ren, “Senior Brother Hong, how did you get mixed up with this layabout? Did he bribe you somehow?”

The Huang and Meng families, both among the six great Jindan clans of Mo Fu, had been close for generations. Meng Zitao and Huang Luxi were peers and childhood friends.

Hong Ren chuckled, changing the subject. “Did you come for Brother Ning?”

Huang Luxi nodded. “I heard he has forged the Vermillion Sparrow Array with both Pure Yang and Liyan True Flames. I had to see for myself.”

Meng Zitao was about to speak when he caught sight of a familiar, icy aura approaching—a figure he’d dreamed of night and day. He exclaimed with excitement, “Ye Xue is here too!”

“It’s Senior Sister Ye! I never imagined even she would come,” Zhao Mengyuan and her friend murmured in awe among the gathering crowd.

Ye Xue was a True Disciple of the Hall of Frost Demons, personally taught by its master—an unattainable figure to the inner disciples.

Her arrival drew countless stares, most of them from men like Meng Zitao, for Ye Xue’s beauty was simply ethereal—mysterious, cold, and pure, like a celestial maiden untouchable by the mundane world.

Suddenly, a raspy voice echoed in the sky.

“Junior Sister Ye, I hear you’ve inherited the ancient legacy of the Nine Nether Demon Sect. Shouldn’t you be cultivating at Mount Zhuoguang? What brings you here?”

All eyes turned to see an old woman, leaning on a cane, drifting over on a cloud.

“That’s Senior Sister Lü from the Hall of Wind Demons…” someone whispered.

No one knew whether her animosity was directed at the Hall of Frost Demons or at Ye Xue herself, but her tone was cold enough to make the onlookers expect drama.

Ye Xue replied coolly, “I am here to support Daoist Pang. Whom have you come for, Senior Sister Lü?”

The crowd erupted in whispers. Ye Xue had come for that Pang? What was their relationship? Wasn’t he the Luo family’s son-in-law? Could there truly be such romance in the world…

“I am here for the Xu family,” the old woman chuckled, giving Ye Xue a long, meaningful look before descending to the Floating Immortal House.

“Xu Wentian, you’re not dead yet?” she called.

Xu Wentian laughed. “You’re still alive—why should I be in any hurry?”

The two exchanged a smile, and Xu Wentian personally escorted her into the pavilion.

At that moment, a golden light surged in the sky. A giant golden toad, a hundred feet long, leapt into view with a resonant croak. Two figures stood upon its head.

One of them emanated an aura as deep and vast as an ocean, a pressure so overwhelming that none could resist—it was a Jindan cultivator!

Those who recognized the beast, like Meng Zitao, identified it at once. “That’s the Moon-Swallowing Golden Toad of the Luo family…the Luo clan’s elder has arrived.”

“They must take this event very seriously!”

“After all, he’s Luo Qingyuan’s Dao partner, and a contender for the golden core himself… Alas, the one who suffers is from the Ping family. If it were anyone else, they’d have to swallow the insult!”

“Poor fellow, his fiancée was snatched away and already wed—what rotten luck!”

“Silence! Do you want to die, mocking someone from the Ping family?”

“Smack!”

“I really should be more careful with my tongue!”

Upon the golden toad’s head stood Elder Luo Zhiyao and Luo Qingyuan herself.

With their arrival, only a single incense stick’s time remained before the True Disciple’s trial.

Just then, a figure materialized in the sky, calling out, “All unrelated persons, withdraw a thousand feet!”

A mighty golden core aura swept over the crowd, driving everyone back and clearing a vast space in the air.

“I am Li Xian, of the True Demon Hall, appointed to preside over the trial. Where is Pang Yue of the Flame Demon Hall?” he announced.

Li Xian, a golden core elder from the True Demon Hall, exuded an imposing presence. At his appearance, silence fell over the sea—no one dared make a sound.

Suddenly, a clear sword cry rang out, echoing between sea and sky as if the heavens themselves answered.

A stream of ethereal sword light streaked down with a rolling thunderclap.

“Pang Yue is here!”

As the sword light faded, a tall, elegant figure appeared.

At that moment, countless gazes turned toward him.