The finals began.
Luo Qingci’s opponent was Zhang Heng, the universally acknowledged top disciple of the Outer Sect.
He was at the Qi Refining Peak, having spent six years in the Outer Sect, just one step away from Foundation Establishment.
He had a burly build and wielded two short-handled axes, favoring an aggressive and domineering style.
Before the match began, Zhang Heng cupped his fists toward Luo Qingci.
“Junior Sister Luo, I won’t hold back.”
Luo Qingci returned the gesture with a smile.
“Senior Brother, please.”
The referee gave the order.
Zhang Heng struck with both axes simultaneously, channeling his spiritual power into the blades, creating two fierce gales that attacked Luo Qingci from both sides.
His speed was a notch faster than her previous opponents, and his moves were seamlessly connected, leaving almost no openings.
Luo Qingci drew her sword.
The blade tip angled upward, tapping the side of the left axe and using the force to deflect it.
She spun her body, and the right axe grazed past her hair, slicing off three strands.
Taking advantage of the momentum, she closed in, her sword veering off-center and thrusting straight at Zhang Heng’s ribs.
Zhang Heng swung his axe horizontally to block; metal clashed, sparks flew.
The two exchanged blows in the arena, and in the blink of an eye, they had traded over thirty moves.
The watching disciples were dazzled, gasping from time to time.
On the viewing platform, Xiao Yan finally sat up straight.
He was no longer slouching, no longer yawning.
His eyes were bright as two stars, locked onto every move of the gray-robed girl in the arena.
Her swordsmanship wasn’t exquisite—some parts even seemed raw—but her instinct for the sword, her ability to make the right judgment at a critical moment, surprised him.
This wasn’t taught.
This was innate.
Sword cultivator talent.
Real sword cultivator talent.
“Interesting,” Xiao Yan murmured to himself, the smile on his lips deepening.
“Very interesting.”
In the arena, Luo Qingci suddenly changed her tactic.
Until now, she had been fighting defensively, giving Zhang Heng the illusion that if he just pushed a little harder, he would win.
Just as Zhang Heng swung both axes with full force—his old strength expended but new power not yet generated—she moved.
A flash of sword light.
So fast it was nearly invisible.
Zhang Heng only felt a chill on his wrists; both short-handled axes simultaneously left his hands, spinning into the air before clattering to the ground with two loud thuds.
Luo Qingci’s sword tip stopped three inches from Zhang Heng’s throat, unmoving.
Silence.
A deathly silence.
Then, thunderous applause and cheers erupted from the three hundred-plus Outer Sect disciples.
“Junior Sister Luo won!”
“Oh my god, she even defeated Senior Brother Zhang!”
“Outer Sect First! Outer Sect First!”
Luo Qingci withdrew her sword and gave a slight bow toward Zhang Heng.
“You yielded.”
Zhang Heng was stunned for a long moment, then bent down to pick up his axes and returned the courtesy.
“Junior Sister, your skills are impressive. I am inferior in technique.”
The referee announced loudly: “The first place of this Outer Sect Grand Competition goes to—Luo Qingci!”
The cheers of the finals still echoed in her ears as Luo Qingci was surrounded by the crowd and escorted to the sidelines.
Some congratulated her, some tried to ingratiate themselves, some handed her water, some offered handkerchiefs.
She accepted everything with a smile, her tone gentle and her demeanor considerate, like a well-bred young lady from a distinguished family.
Sect Leader Shen Yuan stood up.
His voice was not loud, but it carried clearly throughout the entire training ground.
“The Outer Sect Grand Competition is now concluded. The top ten disciples will enter the Inner Sect and report to their respective peaks in three days.”
He paused, his gaze sweeping across the arena, passing over the expectant faces before landing on a gray-robed girl.
“Luo Qingci.”
“This disciple is here.”
“Come with me.”
Luo Qingci was momentarily startled, then responded and stepped out of line.
She followed the Sect Leader across the training ground and entered a side hall facing north.
The hall was spacious and bright.
Several Peak Lords were already seated, their gazes all fixed on her.
The Danxia Peak Lord smiled kindly, the Tiangong Peak Lord stroked his beard and looked her up and down, and the other Peak Lords had expressions of either admiration or curiosity.
Only one person was different.
That person sat in the chair at the edge, one leg propped on the armrest, his whole body twisted as if he might slip off at any moment.
his robe was wrinkled, his collar open, revealing a fierce old scar below his collarbone—shaped as if torn by a demon beast’s claw.
He was looking at Luo Qingci, his eyes very bright.
Shen Yuan sat in the main seat, picked up his teacup, took a sip, and spoke slowly.
“Luo Qingci, as first place in the Outer Sect Grand Competition, you may directly enter the Inner Sect and choose any peak to cultivate at. All the Peak Lords have taken a liking to you and wish to hear your thoughts.”
Luo Qingci stood with her hands at her sides, neither servile nor arrogant.
“This disciple will abide by the sect’s arrangements.”
“Don’t just abide by the sect’s arrangements,” Danxia Peak Lord said with a smile.
“Choose for yourself. Come to my Danxia Peak, and I will personally teach you alchemy. With your talent and comprehension, you can reach Foundation Establishment within three years and Golden Core within ten. Alchemists are respected everywhere—spirit stones, pills, connections—they have everything.”
Tiangong Peak Lord snorted.
“What’s so interesting about alchemy? Come to Tiangong Peak. I’ll forge you a high-grade magic artifact flying sword and teach you the way of artifact refining. A sword cultivator not only needs a good sword but also must know how to care for and forge it.”
“Stop arguing, you two,” another Peak Lord interjected.
“The young lady hasn’t spoken yet.”
Luo Qingci listened quietly, her gaze sweeping over the faces of the Peak Lords before finally settling on that twisted figure in the corner.
“That is…”
“Lingyun Peak, Xiao Yan.”
Shen Yuan’s tone carried a hint of helplessness.
“Golden Core Sword Cultivator.”
Xiao Yan finally put his leg down from the armrest, sat up straight, and grinned at Luo Qingci.
“Hello.”
“Peak Lord Xiao,” Luo Qingci gave a proper bow.
Xiao Yan waved his hand.
“Don’t call me Peak Lord, that’s too distant. Just call me Master.”
The Danxia Peak Lord beside him couldn’t help it.
“Xiao Yan, can you be serious?”
“I am serious,” Xiao Yan said innocently.
“Lingyun Peak may be a bit poor, but I can teach her real skills. Ask everyone here—whose sword is the fastest in Cangwu Sect?”
No one answered.
The truth was clear—among Golden Core cultivators, Xiao Yan’s sword was indeed the fastest and strongest.
Although Luo Qingci didn’t know the details, she could read something from the silence of the Peak Lords.
She re-evaluated this unkempt sword cultivator before her, trying to discern some “expert” traits from him.
She couldn’t see anything at all, but she did notice a few patches on his clothes.
“Luo Qingci,” Xiao Yan spoke, his tone suddenly becoming a few degrees more serious.
“I’m not going to make empty promises to you. If you ask around about the situation on Lingyun Peak, you’ll know—we’re poor, really poor. No spirit springs, no pills, no magic artifacts, not even a cultivation room. So if you cultivate with me, you’ll have to endure hardship.”
He paused, his gaze fixed directly on her.
“But if you can endure this hardship, I can make you the strongest Foundation Establishment in the Qingyun Sect.”
He said this plainly, without passion or grand promises, as if stating a fact.
The hall was silent for a moment.
‘Strongest…’
She withdrew her gaze and performed a formal disciple-bowing ceremony to Xiao Yan.
“Disciple Luo Qingci pays respects to Master.”
Xiao Yan was taken aback for a moment, then smiled.
“Good.”
He stood up, walked over to Luo Qingci, fished around in his storage pouch for a while, and pulled something out to hand to her.
A sword manual.
“A meeting gift,” Xiao Yan scratched his head, rare awkwardness in his voice.
“I don’t have anything else. This sword manual is something I compiled myself. What’s inside is enough for you to learn up to Golden Core.”
Luo Qingci took the sword manual and opened the first page.
It was densely covered with annotations—move analysis, spirit power circulation routes, and various real-combat adaptations and counters.
The handwriting was scrawled but not messy; it was clearly something compiled with a lot of effort.
She closed the sword manual and bowed again.
“Thank you, Master.”
“Alright, alright, stop bowing all the time,” Xiao Yan waved his hand.
“Go back, pack your things, and move to Lingyun Peak tomorrow. Oh, and—”
He remembered something and took out a token from his pocket, engraved with the character “Ling.”
“This is the access token for a personal disciple of Lingyun Peak. Take it.”
Luo Qingci received the token with both hands.
The moment her fingertips touched its surface, she felt a faint sword intent emanating from within… the sword intent of a Golden Core Sword Cultivator.
She put the token away and withdrew from the side hall.
The next morning, Luo Qingci carried a small bundle on her back.
From afar, she saw a person standing at the foot of Lingyun Peak.
The person wore a green robe, leaned against a gate pillar, held a blade of dog’s-tail grass in his mouth, and closed his eyes to the wind.
A sword was tucked at his waist.
He looked somewhat melancholic.
“Senior Brother?”
Luo Qingci approached uncertainly and asked.
As soon as she spoke, the young man with the melancholic expression suddenly opened his eyes and looked at her.
His face then burst into a smile brighter than the sun.
He rubbed his hands together, stepped forward, and his eyes gleamed.
“Ah! You must be the junior sister that Master mentioned! I am Yun Jinzhou. I just turned eighteen, Foundation Establishment Late Stage.”
“My name is Luo Qingci. Greetings, Senior Brother Yun.”
Luo Qingci bowed, then paused.
Eighteen?
Foundation Establishment Late Stage?
Yun Jinzhou’s face lit up with joy.
He looked at Luo Qingci and rubbed his hands together.
“Um, could you say that a couple more times?”
‘What kind of strange request is this?’
Luo Qingci was stunned for a moment, but still spoke up.
“Greetings, Senior Brother Yun.”
‘So satisfying~’
‘Now it’s finally my turn to be the senior brother! Finally, I’m not the only one being a junior disciple!’