Sage Qing Xuan’s declaration fell like a sledgehammer striking the surface of a frozen lake, shattering the remnants of arrogance still clinging to the chests of the Yao Gu practitioners. His words were not merely an admission; they were a profound acknowledgment of a competitor who had fought with absolute dignity.

  On the other side of the courtyard, Yan Fenghuang, newly conscious thanks to a miraculous pill, could only stare blankly at the crowd. His Heavenly Eye, which usually radiated the fire of conceit, was now dimmed, leaving behind a stinging hollowness. He saw how the heavens, which had moments ago sought to devour Zhi Xuan, were now calm, as if even the sky felt a sense of dread for what it had witnessed.

  "Sixteen..." Yan Fenghuang whispered, fresh blood seeping from his trembling lips. "I staked my bloodline just to touch the number fifteen, but he... he invited the Wrath of Heaven and remained standing for the final blow."

  Mu Chen, the pride of Yao Gu, could only squeeze his eyes shut. The golden ink paintings he prided himself on now felt like children's toys compared to the portrait of blood and rebellion Zhi Xuan had etched upon that altar of death.

  "He did not cheat; he simply believed in himself—that his path is himself, continuously moving forward," said the Holy Woman of Yao Gu, her face radiating admiration and a measure of recognition. "The Heavenly Laws in Yao Gu shall, at least this time, allow a seed to pass that will shake the Heavens and the Earth."

  With a graceful wave of her hand, the Holy Woman unfurled her sacred shawl. The Empire Elder, understanding her intent, released Zhi Xuan’s severely wounded body. It floated toward the Holy Woman’s shawl, as if they were all gazing upon the grand geniuses of legend who held the record of sixteen strikes.

  Zhi Xuan’s helpless, slumped body now lay atop the white silk shawl, hovering between heaven and earth like an offering recently returned from the gates of annihilation. The moonlight creeping over the eastern horizon reflected off his pale face, highlighting an exhaustion beyond words.

  The Holy Woman stepped forward, her footfalls creating lotuses of light that bloomed in the air. She extended a slender finger, letting a drop of Soul-Purifying Dew fall upon Zhi Xuan’s forehead. Instantly, an emerald glow enveloped the youth, soothing the meridians that screamed from the friction of Xuan-Huang energy and the remnants of black lightning.

  "You all saw him as a threat, a stain, or a devil," the Holy Woman’s voice echoed softly, yet it permeated the inner spirits of every practitioner present. "But the Night Rain Bell never lies. It only resonates with a Dao Heart of equal weight. If he reached sixteen, it means his soul carries a burden as heavy as the history of these plains."

  "Yao Gu has no right over the life and death of practitioners from other plains," she continued, exhaling slowly as she draped her shawl over Zhi Xuan. "Despite his path being filled with the cruelty of the Devil Path, the Ancient Hua and Zhu Clans behind him surely had their reasons for sending this youth to the Three Plains Competition."

  Sage Qing Xuan remained silent, his eyes—which had witnessed hundreds of autumns—staring at Zhi Xuan’s frame with a depth that was hard to decipher. Silence once again blanketed the Square of Holy Light, but this time it was not a harrowing silence, but one of bitter reflection.

  "Heavenly Justice may be blind, but the eyes of men are not," Sage Qing Xuan spoke, his voice sounding older, as if the weight of the sixteen tolls now pressed upon his own shoulders. He turned toward the rows of practitioners who were still frozen. "The victory of this Three Plains Competition... falls to the Xing Luo Plains."

  The words fell like thunder from a clear sky. Thousands of Yao Gu practitioners hung their heads in dejection; the dignity they had built for centuries as the central plain of divine law now had to share its place with a land they had long considered barren of talent.

  On the silk shawl, Zhi Xuan’s chest rose and fell very slowly. Although his frame had been stabilized by the Holy Woman's dew, a spiritual war still raged within his Sea of Consciousness. The Heavenly Dao fragments he had plundered from the bell began to fuse with his soul essence, reforging the foundation of his cultivation in a process both agonizing and sublime.

  "Take him to the Heavenly Dragon Pool," Sage Qing Xuan commanded the courtyard guards who immediately appeared in the air. "We cannot let history record that the winner of this competition perished on our soil due to the host's negligence."

  "In accordance with the centuries-old competition agreement," the Holy Woman of Yao Gu added, allowing the guards to carry Zhi Xuan away as she turned her gaze toward the Empire Elder and the Feng Mie Elders. "Each plain grants three realms as a prize for the competition winner: Xing Luo with the Second Great Constellation, Feng Mie with the Valley of the Eternal Phoenix Fire, and Yao Gu with the Immortal Garden of the Seven Suns."

  The Holy Woman shifted her gaze toward Ye Ming and Ling Huo, who stood in silence. In their eyes lay a flicker of joy and hope directed toward the fallen Eighth Prince of the collapsed Empire, as well as Liu Feng, whose Dao Heart was fractured.

  "Do not worry, you two," the Holy Woman continued, her voice soothing and carrying the scent of blooming lotuses. "Every winner of the competition will have the opportunity to choose from the three sites to reach Soul Transformation. And your two comrades will receive the same treatment."

  Upon hearing the Holy Woman’s decree, the atmosphere in the Square of Holy Light gradually shifted from lethal tension to a sacred aura of ancient authority. The Elders of various clans began to retract their killing intent, realizing that before the highest authority of Yao Gu, the decision was final.

  Ye Ming and Ling Huo looked at each other. On Ye Ming’s face was a look of profound relief, while Ling Huo, though her body still trembled from the previous shocks, wiped the remaining blood from the corner of her lip with a thin smile of pride.

  For them, the long journey through storms and insults had been repaid in full by the figure now sleeping in his wounds. They both bowed deeply, feeling hope grow for the resources of the three sacred lands offered to the competition victors.

  "This prize..." Ye Ming murmured, his voice raspy yet steady. "Is not merely a luxury of resources, but hope for us and our comrades."

  The Xing Luo Empire Elder stepped forward, his ceremonial robes now billowing with a new sense of authority. He bowed calmly toward the Holy Woman and Sage Qing Xuan. "The generosity of Yao Gu will be remembered by the stars in the Xing Luo horizon. We accept this blessing not as conquerors, but as brothers seeking the same essence of the Dao."

  Yet, behind those diplomatic words, the Empire Elder’s gaze remained fixed on the procession of guards carrying Zhi Xuan toward the Heavenly Dragon Pool. He knew well that what Zhi Xuan had achieved was not just a victory, but a Theft of Fate that would trigger a massive ripple throughout the entire cultivation world.

  "The Immortal Garden of the Seven Suns..." Ling Huo whispered, her eyes sparkling despite her exhaustion. "It is said that pure solar essence exists there, capable of mending a shattered Dao Heart. Liu Feng... he has a chance to rise again."

  Zhu Yanghai and Hua Tianming could not hide the tremor in their voices either. As sons of Ancient Clans, they understood that access to these three sacred lands was the key to leaping over the Soul Transformation gate that had long been an eternal barrier for geniuses.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  "Do not just focus on the prizes," Hua Tianming interrupted with his returning cold tone. "Look around you. Yao Gu grants this not just because of the rules, but because they are afraid. They fear that if a seed like Zhi Xuan is not embraced, in the future, he will become a storm that levels their mountains."

  Hua Tianming’s assessment was correct. Around them, the Yao Gu practitioners still watched with veiled hatred. Xing Luo’s victory was a sharp slap to those who felt themselves holy. However, the Holy Woman’s decree was a law that could not be contested.

  Slowly, one by one, the Yao Gu practitioners left the courtyard with snorts of resentment, though a few left with a shred of recognition. Only the grand figures remained: the Ancient Han Clan, the Holy Woman of Yao Gu, Sage Qing Xuan, and Elder Qing He from the Heavenly Leaf Sacred Pavilion.

  "Today, my descent from eternal meditation was not in vain," said Elder Qing He, her face calm and radiating admiration. "Witnessing an envoy so brilliant, I hope that one day the youth named Zhi Xuan will visit the Heavenly Leaf Sacred Pavilion."

  "An invitation from the Heavenly Leaf Sacred Pavilion..." Sage Qing Xuan murmured, his eyes flashing for a moment. He knew well that the Pavilion was not a place that accepted guests lightly; only those with a Dao understanding that touched the roots of heaven were permitted to set foot upon its jade-leaf carpets.

  Elder Qing He merely smiled thinly, her green robes seeming to merge with the breath of the night wind. "The Devil and Heavenly Paths in one vessel... that is something that only appears once in ten thousand years. I wish to see whether he will become a sword that protects the world, or the storm that sweeps away this entire order."

  After uttering that prophetic sentence, Elder Qing He’s body slowly faded into grains of fragrant green light, returning to the mountain peak hidden in eternal mist.

  Meanwhile, Han Shanshan, the Holy Son of the Ancient Han Clan, still stood frozen in the distance. His handsome face was now stiff, as if he had just swallowed the bitterest filth. He stared toward the Heavenly Dragon Pool, where golden light was beginning to soar into the sky—a sign that Zhi Xuan’s recovery ritual had begun.

  "Holy Son," a clan guard called in a low voice, trying to catch the attention of his still-frozen master.

  "Be quiet," Han Shanshan hissed. His hand, hidden behind his long robe sleeve, clenched until his nails bit into his palm. "Three sacred lands... three opportunities to cross the Soul Transformation gate that should have belonged to Mu Chen. That barren Xing Luo has just obtained the keys to heaven."

  He turned away with a harsh motion, his blue robes sweeping the dust over the cracked marble. "We are leaving. Tell the ancestors... that tonight, the Yao Gu Heavens are no longer silent. A silver wolf has stolen the dawn from our hands."

  Below the courtyard, in the depths of Yao Gu’s underground palace, the Heavenly Dragon Pool emitted steam carrying the scent of pure earth essence. Zhi Xuan’s body was laid in the center of the pool, atop a jade altar surrounded by dragon statues vomiting silver spiritual fluid.

  As soon as Zhi Xuan’s frame touched the pool’s fluid, a chain reaction occurred. The blood-red light from his wounds began to be sucked out, replaced by a silver glow that seeped into the pores of his skin.

  Within his subconscious, Zhi Xuan felt as if he were drowning at the bottom of a boundless ocean of essence. The pain that had just pulverized every joint now began to recede, replaced by an unfamiliar warmth.

  “Feeling comfortable, are we?” A feminine voice, full of mockery yet carrying ancient authority, echoed in the darkness of his mind. Ruo Xianxue appeared, this time sitting gracefully atop a root of the Devil Tree of Life, which was beginning to pulse again. “Enjoy the remnants of their generosity, brat. For that Heavenly Dao fragment you swallowed... it is now beginning to seek a place to take root within your soul.”

  Zhi Xuan did not answer. His consciousness was still too weak to form words. However, he could feel a new seed of light at the center of his meridians—a seed emitting a cold yet grand vibration, clashing with the darkness of the Devil Seed he had long carried.

  Back at the Square of Holy Light, the moon had reached its zenith. Sage Qing Xuan and the Holy Woman of Yao Gu stood side by side, staring at the crater where the ground had been leveled.

  "Sister," Sage Qing Xuan said in a very low voice. "Do you think... those sixteen tolls are a sign that the seals binding these three plains are beginning to weaken?"

  The Holy Woman of Yao Gu took a deep breath, letting her veil dance in the night wind. Her clear eyes stared at the stars, which seemed to be whispering. "I do not know, Senior Brother. But one thing is certain... that boy has planted fear in the hearts of the mortal gods of this world. And fear... is the beginning of destruction, or rebirth."

  She turned, walking away toward the main temple with a sorrowful grace. "Let them rest. Mu Chen and the others truly cannot be compared to that youth."

  On the other side, the Feng Mie Elders merely nodded vaguely to the Empire Elder. They slowly headed toward the pavilion prepared by Yao Gu as the host, to focus on healing and ensuring Yan Fenghuang did not suffer too many lasting wounds.

  The Empire Elder descended from the air and stepped toward Ling Huo and Ye Ming, patting the shoulders of the two young figures. "You and your comrades have brought a very meaningful victory to the Xing Luo Plains. The Hongmeng Empire will pour full resources into you upon our return to Xing Luo."

  Hua Lian Xi was holding Mei Hua; the little girl appeared fast asleep. Even when the chaos arrived earlier, she had not woken or felt the tremors, as if she knew her brother would not suffer and would surely win. Mei Hua only curled up in Hua Lian Xi’s arms like a peaceful infant.

  The Empire Elder looked at Mei Hua for a moment, a rare thin smile appearing on his stiff face. Amidst the destruction of the courtyard—symbolizing the collapse of the old order—the little girl's innocence was the only thing untouched by the dust of karma.

  "Take her to a more proper resting place," the Empire Elder said in a softening tone. "Tonight has ended, but the dawn that greets us tomorrow will carry a much heavier burden."

  Hua Lian Xi nodded, clutching Mei Hua tighter, as if wanting to protect her from the remnants of the deathly chill still hanging in the air. Together with Ling Huo, Ye Ming, and the others, they walked away from the cracked marble courtyard, escorted by rows of Yao Gu guards who now bowed their heads—not out of respect, but out of spiritual exhaustion.

  In the distance, atop the Peak that served as the heart of Yao Gu’s power, a small bell in Sage Qing Xuan’s private pavilion chimed once. Its sound was clear, as if trying to purify the echoes of sorrow left by the Heavenly Night Rain Bell.

  Meanwhile, in the grand medical hall, Yan Fenghuang sat cross-legged upon a bed of Phoenix feathers. Before him, several senior Feng Mie healers were channeling purification energy to close the cracks in his meridians. However, his deepest wound was not in the flesh.

  "Elder," Yan Fenghuang’s voice sounded raspy, his momentarily blind eyes beginning to catch dim shadows again. "Is it true... that he possesses a Devil Path?"

  The Feng Mie Elder overseeing the treatment paused for a moment before exhaling heavily. "Devil Path, Heavenly Path... Yan Fenghuang, do not let this defeat extinguish your fire. Remember, a Phoenix is only reborn after it has been truly scorched to ash."

  Yan Fenghuang did not answer, clenching his fists until his nails bit into his palms. "Ash... yes. I will burn more fiercely than this."

  On the other side of the palace complex, in the Ivory Moon Pavilion, Mu Chen stood on the balcony, staring toward the glowing Heavenly Dragon Pool in the distance. His destroyed fan had been replaced with a new one, yet his fingers still trembled as he held it.

  "Sixteen," he murmured to the moon’s reflection on the surface of the decorative pond. "Zhi Xuan... you did not just win the competition. You shattered the ceiling we have long considered a sacred limit. If you can swallow a Heavenly Dao fragment, then I too must find a way to paint a law higher than this."

  The night grew deeper, leaving a peaceful dimness on the surface but roiling beneath. The undercurrents of power in the Three Plains began to shift. News of Xing Luo’s victory, of the sixteen tolls, and of the emergence of the Heavenly Devil Path would spread like fire across dry grasslands.

  The next day, as the first light of the sun touched the peaks of the Yao Gu mountains, the official announcement regarding the opening of the three sacred lands was disseminated. However, the main attention remained on the underground palace, where a silver-haired youth was gambling with his life to absorb what he had stolen from Heaven.

  The fragments of dawn light piercing the ventilation slits of the Heavenly Dragon Pool seemed to carry the message that the world was no longer the same as yesterday. Within the silence of that underground palace, Zhi Xuan’s frame began to show changes both terrifying and wondrous. The silver spiritual fluid from the pool swirled, forming a small vortex around his navel, while half of his blackened body glowed in a dense darkness.

  Zhi Xuan groaned softly in his faint. Inside his mind, he was no longer at the bottom of a warm ocean, but stood in the middle of a vast field split in two. On the left side was an abyss of darkness vomiting a slaughterous aura, and on the right side was a pillar of light that was cold yet pure. Both pulled at him, trying to turn Zhi Xuan’s frame into an eternal battlefield.