The moment the top thirty list was posted, the air in the plaza seemed to freeze, growing even more tense than in the previous days.
The names of all twelve Tiance Palace disciples were listed neatly on the board, not a single one missing.
This result fell like a clap of thunder, leaving the faces of many sect elders completely ashen.
Some slammed their teacups down on the spot, the porcelain clattering sharply. Others furrowed their brows and repeatedly flipped through the rosters in their hands, their knuckles turning white from their tight grips as if trying to find some error or loophole.
After a brief, dead silence, an elder dressed in deep brown robes could finally sit still no longer.
He suddenly stood up. His voice was not loud, but wrapped in spiritual energy, it was clear enough for everyone present to hear: “Has Tiance Palace gone too far this time? Look at these rankings—all twelve of them made the cut. Lin Zhiyue actively gave her markers to her fellow disciples. Does this not count as cheating?”
As soon as these words were spoken, the surrounding elders who had been taking a wait-and-see approach did not immediately chime in, but their gazes all swept toward the main platform, their eyes clearly harboring the same suspicion.
Standing in Tiance Palace's queue, Lin Zhiyue merely turned around calmly upon hearing this and took two steps in the elder's direction.
Her expression was serene and her tone steady. “The elder is mistaken. From beginning to end, I only gave markers to my junior brother, Jiang Yuezhan—and that was because he was ambushed and all his markers were taken. Aside from that, I have never actively given a single marker to anyone else. Furthermore, there are no explicit rules stating that one cannot gift their markers to fellow disciples.”
She paused, her gaze sweeping over the elder before she continued. “In the final scene, it was the disciples of the Sacred Sword Pavilion and the Piaoyin Sect who ambushed me first, and my senior brothers and sisters only came to help me break the encirclement. The markers in my hands were already more than enough for me to advance. Those confiscated from the attackers were naturally collected by them.”
“From start to finish, I did not actively gift them, nor did I use them for any transaction.”
At this point, she tilted her head slightly, a trace of subtle mockery entering her tone. “If even this counts as cheating, then I truly do not know what I must do to satisfy the ‘rules’ in the elders’ hearts.”
Just as she finished speaking, she seemed to suddenly recall something and added nonchalantly, “Besides, how was I to know your sects would send so many people to surround and hunt me down? Is that not also an uncontrollable factor?”
Upon hearing this, the brown-robed elder opened his mouth, his face flushing red as if he wanted to argue back.
Someone beside him quietly tugged at his sleeve, keeping their voice extremely low. “Shut up, do you want to die?” The person darted a quick glance into the distance, signaling for him to look in that direction.
He froze for a moment, subconsciously turning his head to follow the other's gaze. On the high platform, Qi Yan's eyes happened to be fixed right on him. Across half the arena, his gaze was direct and unwavering, as if he had been waiting there all along for him to look up.
His throat bobbed. The words at the tip of his tongue were choked back by that single glance, and he did not dare say another word.
Pursing his lips, he silently sat back down, his movements much gentler than before.
Seeing this, the other surrounding elders also withdrew their gazes and spoke no further.
The spectator stands fell silent for a moment. The recording personnel beside the main platform had already begun preparing for the next round of drawing lots, as if the interlude just now had never happened.
Standing beside Lin Zhiyue, Cen Xi'er did not interject the entire time.
Only when Lin Zhiyue finished speaking and turned around did she glance sideways at her, her lips curving up imperceptibly before she too turned back.
With her usual calm expression, Lin Zhiyue walked back into the queue and stood where she belonged.
The tournament for the top ten officially began the following morning.
The format reverted to one-on-one arena elimination. The thirty qualifying disciples would draw lots to match up; the winners would advance while the losers were eliminated, continuing until the top ten were decided.
When the list was posted, the disciples of various sects in the plaza all looked to see who their drawn opponents were.
All twelve from Tiance Palace made the cut, along with five from the Qingling Sect, three from the Piaoyin Sect, three from the Sacred Sword Pavilion, three from Luohong Valley, and four from the Biluo Immortal Sect. The remaining minor sects were completely wiped out.
A few minor sects silently packed up their belongings after the list was posted, leaving Wanxian City early.
The Clear Creek Sect, where Li Yueyao belonged, was among them. Upon leaving, several disciples kept their heads low as they exited through the side gate, drawing little attention.
For her first match, Lin Zhiyue drew the chief disciple of the Sacred Sword Pavilion, Gong Yuan.
She had seen him once from afar in the spectator stands. At that time, he was sitting in the Sacred Sword Pavilion's seats, and even across half the martial arts field, one could see that his build was two sizes larger than that of an ordinary cultivator.
Now, as he stood on the arena, his sword rested on the ground, its height almost level with his shoulders.
Which meant it was as tall as she was...
She shifted her gaze from him to her own Azure Scale Sword. Placed together, her sword was only about half the width of his blade.
At this moment, Qi Yan was sitting in the Tiance Palace elders' seats. His expression showed no visible change, but those close to him could see his brow furrow almost imperceptibly.
Cen Xi'er sat in the adjacent preparation area. She cast a glance her way, her lips moving as if she wanted to say, “Be careful.”
Lin Zhiyue pondered for a moment before switching to the Mist-shrouded Verdure without hesitation. This dress only looked slightly more exquisite than an ordinary dharma robe; others would merely mistake it for a defensive dharma robe of slightly better quality.
Walking to the edge of the arena, she confirmed the difference in height and build between herself and Gong Yuan.
Instead of drawing her sword, she willed the bow and arrow of Forest Spirit's Verses out from her Wardrobe with a thought. It landed in her left hand, its body light and its string fine and resilient, and she nocked an arrow in one fluid motion.
She looked up at Gong Yuan on the opposite side of the arena. He was gripping the hilt of his sword, the width of the blade almost enough to cover half his body.
She did not wait for him to make the first move and shot an arrow first.
The arrow shot off the bowstring carrying wind-attribute spiritual energy, its speed through the air nearly twice as fast as a normal arrow.
Gong Yuan raised his broadsword to block the first arrow. The blade of the broadsword let out a dull metallic ring under the impact, and his stance sank slightly as he stabilized his center of gravity.
Lin Zhiyue gave him no room to breathe. She moved rapidly across the arena. Enhanced by the Mist-shrouded Steps, her speed was so fast that she left only afterimages. She shot a second and third arrow in quick succession, cutting in from different directions with different arcs. They curved through the gaps of his sword blocks before looping back toward his side.
He raised his sword to pursue, but under Lin Zhiyue's control, the arrows constantly adjusted their trajectories, always landing outside his footing. This forced him to defend exhaustedly, completely unable to find an opportunity to close the distance.
On the spectator stands, an elder from the Sacred Sword Pavilion slammed his hand onto the table when the fourth arrow missed. “Is this not bullying an honest man! Her fighting style—”
The second half of his sentence was interrupted by an extremely soft tap on a saber hilt.
Qi Yan had turned his gaze at some point, his eyes resting on the hilt of the saber at his side. Zhanchen was not unsheathed, but the end of its wood-wrapped hilt gleamed with a heavy, dark light under the sun.
The elder's voice cut off mid-air. He swallowed the rest of his words, sitting back down in his chair much faster than before, and did not make another sound.
Lin Zhiyue did not notice the commotion in the stands.
Maintaining her distance, she kept shooting arrows, weaving a loose but seamless wind net around Gong Yuan. Every wind arrow slipped into the gaps of his sword movements like water seeping into rock crevices.
After his sixth major swing and block, Gong Yuan's sword momentum faltered for a split second.
Taking advantage of that brief opening, Lin Zhiyue closed in from the flank. Just as the final arrow forced him back a step, the bowstring vibrated slightly in her hand. A precise wind arrow shot from the string, landing on the ground right in front of his feet and kicking up a cloud of dust that blocked his vision.
He stopped. Lowering his sword, he propped the blade against the ground and cupped his fists to Lin Zhiyue, conceding the match.
Lin Zhiyue recalled the bow and arrow back into her Wardrobe. As she turned and walked down the arena, she heard low murmurs from the stands, though she could not tell which sect they came from.
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