Chapter 42: Turmoil After the Competition

As Bai Yueqing descended from the arena, her steps appeared steady, yet with every stride, the emptiness of her meridians and her unhealed wounds throbbed beneath the surface. The crowd below instinctively parted to either side, opening a path for her. Countless gazes clung to her back—or more precisely, to the long sword now sheathed in its simple, worn scabbard.

To have severed a shield of black iron and shattered the defensive aura of a cultivator at the peak of the eighth Qi Refining stage—such feats were beyond the reach of any ordinary blade.

“Tch, look at them—like starving wolves scenting fresh meat,” Ye Ming muttered, his voice tinged with clear irritation and wariness. “Their eyes are about to pop out. Have they never seen anything of worth before?”

Despite his usual tone, Bai Yueqing could clearly sense the tension radiating from him. He, too, realized the trouble that came from such exposure.

Lowering her eyes, Bai Yueqing quickened her pace, eager to escape the suffocating focus of so many eyes. She could feel several powerful spiritual senses sweeping over her, lingering most intently on the sword at her back, probing and scrutinizing.

“Senior Sister Bai, congratulations!”

“Junior Sister Bai, that sword of yours…”

“Yueqing!”

Familiar and unfamiliar disciples alike tried to approach her, their voices brimming with curiosity and probing intent. Bai Yueqing only nodded slightly and did not pause, heading straight for a remote corner of the candidates’ area.

Liu Lingyun squeezed through the crowd, her round face alight with excitement and worry. “Yueqing, you were incredible! To break through Senior Brother Qi’s aura—the power of your sword…”

She couldn’t help but glance at the sword, words hesitating on her lips.

Zhou Qingwan also approached, her expression more grave than usual. She first examined Bai Yueqing’s pale face, then pressed a healing pill into her hand, whispering, “Take a moment to recover. After today, peace will be rare for you and your sword.”

Bai Yueqing accepted the pill and thanked her quietly. She understood all too well the truth that a cherished treasure invites trouble—especially in the cultivation world, where this law was even more merciless.

Around her, the murmurs grew ever louder, nearly drowning out the sounds of the other matches.

“What kind of sword is that? A spirit artifact? Perhaps even a magical treasure?”

“Impossible! How could an outer disciple have such a thing?”

“Could it be sheer luck—found in some ancient ruin?”

“An ancient ruin? I doubt it. Maybe she practiced some demonic ritual to forge the blade…”

“Watch your tongue! Still, that sword is indeed strange—unnaturally sharp.”

Speculation ran wild, growing more fantastical by the minute and veering toward the sinister. Some gazes now brimmed with malice.

Bai Yueqing clenched her fists so tightly her knuckles whitened, an invisible pressure closing in from all directions.

“Hmph, demonic ways? They’re the ones who look ravenous enough to eat us,” Ye Ming grumbled. “If only I could take on a true form—I’d pluck out their eyes and stomp them flat!”

At that moment, a calm yet overwhelming pressure descended, not tyrannical, but instantly silencing the commotion. All eyes turned toward its source.

Elder Li Qifeng, steward of the outer sect, had arrived without warning, his face composed as his gaze swept over the disciples—finally settling on Bai Yueqing and the sword at her back.

“Silence.”

“A sect tournament should not be so raucous—what a disgrace.”

At once, the crowd fell quiet and all disciples bowed in respect.

Li Qifeng turned to Bai Yueqing, his tone cool and measured. “Bai Yueqing, your sword is most unusual. Where did it come from? What secrets does it hold? Explain yourself once more.”

The inevitable had come. Uncle Li clearly meant for her to give an acceptable account in front of the gathering, to appease the doubts of the crowd.

Bai Yueqing drew a slow breath, recalling the story she had crafted earlier, and replied respectfully:

“Reporting to Uncle Li: I chanced upon this sword in an abandoned mine in the rear mountains. Beside it was a fragment of a tattered scroll, which recorded an ancient art called ‘Spirit Nourishment.’ It claimed that with certain beast materials or spirit ores, one could nurture and repair a broken blade, perhaps even awaken minor divine abilities. When I obtained items like the armored rhinoceros horn from previous tasks, I attempted the method and, by great luck, succeeded in restoring the sword—and it seems to have gained some odd properties. The details, I confess, are beyond my understanding.”

“How troublesome,” Ye Ming grumbled inwardly, “but this made-up tale sounds convincing enough now.” At the same time, he suppressed his spiritual presence as much as possible, making the sword appear merely tough but otherwise unremarkable.

Li Qifeng listened in silence, his gaze profound, and made no immediate comment. He extended his hand. “Let me see the sword.”

Bai Yueqing’s heart tightened, but she dared not refuse. She unslung the sword and presented it with both hands.

Li Qifeng gripped the hilt, his fingers brushing over the blade, lingering especially over the blue-black pattern, sensing intently for a long moment.

A fleeting, nearly imperceptible change crossed his eyes. The pattern’s profound energy bore a subtle resemblance to certain ancient forging techniques he knew—yet it was even more obscure and mysterious. The blade’s material, as he sensed, clearly surpassed common iron, and was not wrought by typical means. Most crucially, he detected no clear spirit presence or sinister aura from within.

After returning the sword to Bai Yueqing, Li Qifeng spoke, his voice carrying across the courtyard:

“The world is vast, and wondrous arts and secret skills abound. That this sword is an ancient relic, restored and thus awakened, is not impossible.”

His gaze swept the listening disciples, his tone sharpening:

“Since it came to her by fortune, and she has defeated powerful foes with her own strength in the tournament, there is nothing suspicious here. You need not conjecture wildly, and must not harbor covetous intent. The sect’s laws are strict—those who harm their fellows or forcibly seize another’s fortune will be punished without mercy!”

The final words were a clear warning.

The disciples all lowered their heads. “We abide by Elder Li’s instruction.”

Li Qifeng turned back to Bai Yueqing. “Prepare yourself for the coming matches. Do not squander this rare opportunity.”

“Yes, thank you, Uncle Li.” Bai Yueqing let out a silent sigh of relief as she took back her sword and slung it over her back once more.

She knew that Uncle Li’s words had, at least for now, shielded her from the most immediate dangers.

Yet, high above, on a platform with a commanding view, inner disciple Zhu Yu stood by the railing, taking in the entire scene below. A faint, mocking smile played at his lips as his fingers toyed with a jade ring.

“Spirit Nourishment, repairing a broken sword?” he murmured, tone laced with derision. “Uncle Li certainly knows how to smooth things over—enough to fool those ignorant outer disciples.”

“Interesting. Truly interesting.” Zhu Yu’s eyes burned with keen interest. “An ancient sword embryo, with the potential for growth and perhaps even a nascent sword spirit, now in the hands of an outer disciple? What a waste.”

He paid no heed to Li Qifeng’s warning. As a nephew of the Discipline Hall elder, he possessed means and confidence beyond most. If open action was forbidden, there were always shadows to work in. The sect’s rules always had loopholes.

“Bai Yueqing…” Zhu Yu whispered her name. “Take good care of it for me.”

He turned and vanished into the shadows of the platform.

Below, Bai Yueqing suddenly felt a chill crawl up her spine. She looked up instinctively toward the high platform, but saw only empty railings.