Lin Zhiyue did not rush Li Yueyao. She simply stood there quietly, the tip of her Azure Scale Sword hovering barely an inch above the ground.
The sunlight fell from overhead, stretching her shadow long and thin.
“I indeed have had many fortuitous encounters,” she spoke, her gaze levelly fixed on the woman opposite her. “As for how I did it, you can't guess, nor do you need to know. But what I can tell you is that my fortuitous encounters are far more than just these.”
She slightly raised her hand, her fingertips tracing an extremely faint trail of spiritual energy in the air. It looked like the starting stance of some spell, and though her movement was not fast, the other woman's gaze was involuntarily drawn to it.
“The Truth Spell,” Lin Zhiyue said in a very calm tone. “As the name suggests, it is a spell that forces one to speak the truth.”
After hearing this, Li Yueyao no longer dared to look at Lin Zhiyue.
She stood frozen in place, her spine stiff and straight. It felt as if an invisible hand were pressing down on her shoulders; she wanted to retreat, but could not.
The sun beat down on her face. Sweat slowly seeped from her forehead, sliding down the side of her temple and glistening faintly in the afternoon light.
Lin Zhiyue watched the shifts in her expression and slowly lowered her fingertips. She did not continue to exert pressure, nor did she take a single step forward.
Then she spoke. “You suppressed your fellow disciples at every turn in the Clear Creek Sect. Is that true or not?”
Her tone was absolute, every word sounding as if it had been rehearsed in advance.
Li Yueyao's lips twitched, but no sound came out. She was afraid. She feared her reputation would be ruined if she admitted it, and she feared even more that the Truth Spell would fall upon her if she denied it. Standing there in a dilemma, her breathing grew uneven.
Without waiting for her answer, Lin Zhiyue threw out another question. “You constantly bullied me and assigned the heaviest, most exhausting chores to me. Is that true or not?”
The wind blew past her ears from behind. Li Yueyao's cuffs trembled slightly, her knuckles turning white as she clutched her sleeves.
The two disciples behind her exchanged glances but remained silent.
“You secretly picked spiritual herbs in the herb garden yourself, drugged me until I was unconscious, and caused me to be punished. Is that true or not?”
“You knew perfectly well that I neglected my duty only because you drugged me, yet you exaggerated the story and claimed I was slacking off and sleeping. Is that true or not?”
“When I tried to defend myself, you added fuel to the fire, ruining my reputation. Is that true or not?”
“When I was expelled from the sect, you confiscated the last of my money and possessions, nearly causing me to die outside. Is that true or not?”
Every sentence fell like a nail being hammered into a wooden board, one after another, without any pause or gap for the other party to interrupt.
Though Lin Zhiyue's voice was not loud as she spoke these words, they carried an unstoppable momentum that made it impossible to break in.
After she finished speaking, she did not continue. She neither forced her to answer nor pressed her further.
Li Yueyao said nothing. She stood there as if pinned to the spot by those successive accusations.
The gazes of the two disciples behind her lingered on her back for a moment. The look in one of their eyes had already changed, shifting from initial observation to a complex expression, yet neither of them spoke.
Outside the secret realm, the spectators in front of the water mirrors fell silent for an instant, as if those accusations had traveled through the water mirror to land right before them.
Someone whispered, “This person is truly a piece of trash.” The person next to him did not respond, but did not object either.
...
Standing where she was, Lin Zhiyue looked at Li Yueyao's sweat-drenched face. Suddenly, she released her slightly raised hand, letting her fingertips fall back to her side, and said in a light tone, “I don't know the Truth Spell.”
Li Yueyao snapped her head up, as if stung by something. Her eyes widened as she stared at Lin Zhiyue, her lips twitching, her voice raspy and choked with disbelief. “You—you played me?”
Lin Zhiyue did not deny it. The corner of her mouth twitched slightly in a faint, ambiguous curve that resembled a smile but was not quite one. Her gaze rested on Li Yueyao's already pale face. “So what? If you didn't have a guilty conscience, would you have been bluffed by me?”
Li Yueyao froze on the spot, wanting to say something but unable to find the words. Her lips parted and closed, all her exits seemingly blocked by those few sentences.
Outside the secret realm, the silence in front of the water mirrors deepened further. No one gossiped anymore, for those accusations were already clear enough.
Li Yueyao did not dare to admit it, yet she did not dare to deny it either. Her silence was itself an answer.
The Clear Creek Sect elder sat in the very last seat, his face as white as paper that had just been soaked in water.
His gaze darted back and forth between the water mirror and Qi Yan, as if he did not know where to look to make himself seem less pathetic.
Sweat had broken out in layers on his forehead, and his cuffs were crumpled from his tight grip, yet he could not utter a single word of defense.
Because Zhanchen was hovering right in front of him.
Zhanchen had unsheathed itself at some point, its blade gleaming with a dark red light that made one's heart tighten just by looking at it.
The light was not blinding, yet it caused all surrounding gazes to involuntarily turn away. No one was willing to take a second look at it, nor did anyone wish to draw its attention.
The entire saber hovered barely an arm's length away from the Clear Creek Sect elder, showing absolutely no sign of being retracted.
The surrounding elders remained silent, their gazes tactfully moving past the blade without lingering.
Anyone could see that Venerable Yanchen's patience had been pushed to its absolute limit. The unsheathing of Zhanchen was itself a warning.
Qi Yan's voice fell from the high platform. It was not loud, yet it reached everyone's ears as clearly as if he were whispering right beside them. “If your Clear Creek Sect does not know how to discipline its disciples, then close your gates as soon as possible, lest you ruin more promising youths.”
He did not turn to look at anyone as he spoke, his gaze remaining on the water mirror, as if those words were merely a casual remark.
The saber hovering in front of the Clear Creek Sect elder vibrated slightly before being retracted in an instant, disappearing as if it had never been there in the first place.
The Clear Creek Sect elder finally let out a breath, but his voice was still raspy. He sat there, stiff all over as if he had just been dragged out of water. He opened his mouth several times before finally squeezing out, “It is... it is indeed this old man's failure in discipline...”
No one responded to him. The silence in the arena lingered far longer than his words.
...
After the storm of the Truth Spell, Li Yueyao's forced momentum collapsed by more than half.
Lin Zhiyue wasted no more words on her. Her movements were clean and decisive; within just a few exchanges, she subdued her and took the spiritual markers.
The actions were executed in one smooth motion, ending so quickly that the onlookers barely had time to register what had happened.
Li Yueyao stood in place, her weapon still gripped in her hand, but she had already lost.
The two disciples behind her exchanged a look and, without hesitating for long, stepped forward of their own accord to hand over several spiritual markers.
The amount was not small, roughly half of what they possessed.
Lin Zhiyue glanced at them as she took the markers. She did not ask any questions, only giving a slight nod. The way those two retreated carried a sense of relief.
Another day passed. Lin Zhiyue did not intentionally hunt down others, nor did she avoid battles; she simply moved through the secret realm at her own pace.
She took markers whenever she found them and collected them from solitary cultivators she encountered, wasting no extra effort. By the time the sky grew dark, she checked her spiritual energy imprint, and the number had stopped at thirty-five.
Thirty-five. The highest in the entire arena.
Outside the secret realm, the gazes in front of the water mirrors gradually gathered from all directions. Someone whispered the number, and the person next to him nodded silently.
“Thirty-five... Surely no one can surpass that.” The speaker's voice was quiet, but there was no doubt in his tone; it was more like stating an established fact.
“Tomorrow is the last day,” someone nearby chimed in. “If she can defend this many, first place is guaranteed.”
“Whether she can defend them is another matter, but simply being able to obtain this many already speaks volumes.”
Those words hung in the air, and no one refuted them.
Everyone's eyes were fixed on the figure leisurely traveling through the forest in the water mirror, waiting to see her performance on the final day.
...
“It's the last day.” When Lin Zhiyue stepped out of her temporary camp, a line of grayish-white had just appeared on the horizon. The morning mist was damp and cold, clinging to her skin like a layer of unmelting frost.
She had expected that this day would not be peaceful, but she had not anticipated that the crisis would arrive so quickly.
Just past the hour of Si, the first aura detected emerged from the forest to the southeast.
The aura was as sharp as a needle, closely followed by a second and a third—slowly closing in from different directions like a net that had been woven for most of the day, finally reaching the moment to tighten.
Standing on a high slope, Lin Zhiyue looked out through the layered leaves and could already recognize the patterns of their robes: white robes with gold trim, Sacred Sword Pavilion; blue and pink gauze garments, Piaoyin Sect.
Two sects, totaling seven people. Their breathing was long and steady; they had clearly come well-prepared.
She quickly ran through the numbers and positions in her mind, reaching a conclusion without much struggle: she could not beat them.
If she fought them head-on, she would be surrounded within three breaths, and by then, escape would be impossible.
Lin Zhiyue did not hesitate for a second. She turned and left.
A spiritual light flashed from her fingertips, and Honghong transformed into a stream of light, landing by her side. She leaped onto the spirit beast's back in a fluid motion and whispered, “Go.”
Honghong kicked off with all four legs, her body shooting into the forest like a green arrow.
The shadows of the trees receded wildly on both sides. The sound of the wind, wrapped in the cracking of broken branches, blended together like the chewing of some giant beast.
She threaded close to the tree trunks, using the spirit beast's agility to move freely among the branches. Every turn was made without any prior indication, as if she had merged with this mountain forest.
The presence of the pursuers behind her grew further and further away, yet they remained like maggots on a bone, never completely losing her.
The seven people had split into at least three routes to surround her, their directions so precise it seemed as if someone had calculated where she would go beforehand.
While moving swiftly, Lin Zhiyue tilted her head to scan the terrain. Her gaze swept over the dark bushes to the left, and she suddenly let out a short whistle.
The sound was extremely soft, yet it carried a specific rhythm—this was the signal she and Cen Xi'er had agreed upon long ago.
When they were formulating the plan, Cen Xi'er had specifically emphasized: "If you are alone and in danger, send a signal immediately. The disciples of Tiance Palace will surely respond—"
The sound pierced through the white mist of the forest, like a pebble thrown into water, carried outward layer by layer by the leaves.
A moment later, the bushes on the front left rustled, and a Tiance Palace disciple slipped out from the shadows.
Upon seeing the figure on Honghong's back, he wasted no words, instantly changing direction and silently falling in behind her, like a quiet shadow.
In less than half a cup of tea's time, another figure swept down from the treetops.
Soon after, Chu Zhixun charged out from an angle. His long sword unsheathed, and the moment he landed, his sword qi spread out to clear a small space, forcing back several strands of searching divine sense that tried to approach.
Xiao Yuan and Cen Xi'er followed closely behind him. As the three of them took their positions, they managed to block a shortcut for the pursuers, forming a temporary barrier.
Lin Zhiyue leaped down from Honghong's back, bending her knees slightly to absorb the impact. She had not consumed much spiritual energy, and only her cuff had been sliced open with a small tear by the leaves.
She glanced back at the approaching encirclement, then at Chu Zhixun and the others, who had already taken their positions with solemn expressions. She did not pause for long. “Don't engage them head-on. Lead them to that dense forest in the east. The terrain there is complex, perfect for splitting the battlefield.”
The figures did not ask any questions, nor did they look back. They scattered in different directions and swept into the forest.
The rustling of leaves dispersed, soon blending into the sound of the wind, as if no one had ever been there.
Behind them, the pursuers had just stepped onto the edge of this forest.
The wind blew the treetops down slightly, revealing a sliver of open sky.
In that instant, no one spoke. Everyone had already moved.
Lin Zhiyue stood firm in the forest, her spine straight as a pine tree. She turned around to sweep a glance over the pursuers who had already closed in.
Her gaze was as cold as if she were counting prey, and she immediately raised her hand to make a gesture.
Chu Zhixun understood instantly. His figure cut in from the left like lightning, his sword qi freezing cold as he immediately sealed off the retreat. Xiao Yuan circled around from the right, his spiritual energy surging to block the final gap. Meanwhile, Cen Xi'er led the other two Tiance Palace disciples to press forward from the front, their offensive fierce, leaving the opponents no room to breathe.
The originally unified seven-person encirclement was instantly divided into three segments, and their communication was completely severed in less than three breaths.
Lin Zhiyue did not strike directly. She simply stood on the high ground, her eyes burning like torches.
Once she confirmed that every step was going even smoother than expected, she leaped down from the high slope, her body light as she patched the final loophole.
The last Sacred Sword Pavilion disciple attempted to break through. Just as his sword light flared, he was forced back three steps by a sharp gust of her sword wind.
He stumbled backward, colliding right into the sword formation Chu Zhixun had already set up. With his path ahead blocked and his retreat sealed, he had no way out.
In less than the time it took to burn an incense stick, all seven were defeated.
The spiritual markers were surrendered one by one, counted by the Tiance Palace disciples, and stored together.
After their markers were confiscated, the seven people stood in place for a moment, looking dazed. They seemed not to have processed how this encirclement had been completely reversed in such a short amount of time.
But the result was right before them. No one spoke again; there was only silence.
Not long after, the light of the secret realm's exit emerged from a clearing not far away, like a slowly opening door emitting a soft glow.
The crowd passed through the rift one after another, standing once again on the open plaza outside Wanxian City.
The rankings were quickly tallied and displayed above the main platform:
Lin Zhiyue, 35; Cen Xi'er, 11; Chu Zhixun, 10; Xiao Yuan, 8; Qiao Ennuo, Song Mu, and Jiang Yuezhan tied for fifth with 6 each. Those behind them had at most two or three, some only one, and the lucky ones had three.
And beneath Li Yueyao's name was a glaring zero.
The moment the rankings were posted on the main platform, the crowd below the water mirrors fell silent for a brief moment, followed immediately by a moderate commotion.
Someone whispered a quick calculation of the total score, confirming that Tiance Palace's overall points far exceeded all other sects combined. Lin Zhiyue's 35 alone surpassed the sum of most others. There was no longer any suspense about Tiance Palace securing the first place.
Standing among the disciples of the Qingling Sect, Song Mu's gaze lingered on the row of names for a moment before shifting away. He said nothing, but the emotion in his eyes was dark and unreadable.
Jiang Yuezhan stood beside him, staring at the number thirty-five. He remained silent for two breaths, thinking to himself, Senior Sister is still ridiculously strong...
Cen Xi'er walked over to Lin Zhiyue, glanced at the rankings on the main platform, and then at her. “You alone are worth several of us combined,” she said, her tone proud and triumphant.
Lin Zhiyue also looked at the rankings. “Just good luck, just good luck.” She waved her hand. Indeed, it was just good luck—people kept delivering them to her, so what could she do?
The wind blew from the edge of the plaza, brushing away a fragment of a leaf caught in the tip of her hair.
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