On the day the sect notice was posted, Bai Qingxue was at the Affairs Hall handing in her mission.
The deacon took her mission token and was about to register it when his gaze was drawn to the crowd flooding in through the door.
Several disciples gathered in front of the bulletin board, their discussions boiling over like scalding water.
“Have you heard? A spiritual vein fragment mystic realm was discovered on Tianshu Peak!”
“The flow of time inside is different from the outside. A month in there is only three days out here! And there's a cultivation restriction—only those below the Gold Core rank can enter...”
“Then isn't that an excellent place for us to cultivate...”
“The spots are limited. You have to pass the arena selection tournament first to get a spot.”
Bai Qingxue took her contribution token, not bothering to squeeze in for a look.
But when she heard “spiritual vein fragments” and “flow of time,” her fingers paused on the edge of the token for a brief moment.
If it's true, it would be the perfect opportunity to push for the late stage.
Currently, Bai Qingxue's cultivation was at the mid-stage of Foundation Establishment, still some distance away from the late stage.
With normal cultivation, it would take at least two years, if not five.
But in the mystic realm, a month was equal to three days outside. If she could stay inside for half a year, only a dozen or so days would have passed when she came out, yet her cultivation would have leaped past years of bitter training.
More importantly, if she could break through to late-stage Foundation Establishment or even the peak of Foundation Establishment inside, she might be able to re-enter the chamber of the ice coffin beneath the Nanhuai ruins and perhaps find more clues left behind by Suxue.
On her way back to Xueji Peak, the mountain wind swept down from the summit, blowing Bai Qingxue's silver-white hair back.
Bai Qingxue raised a hand to tuck it back. As her fingertips brushed against her hair, she suddenly remembered something.
The dark red pattern on her wrist was still there. Although its color was slightly lighter than a few days ago, it had never truly disappeared.
Ning Qinghan had said that dual cultivation could resolve the restriction.
Bai Qingxue did not believe it.
It wasn't that she didn't trust Ning Qinghan, but rather that she refused to believe a “quick-fix” method wouldn't come with a price.
Having lived two lifetimes, she knew that shortcuts were often the longest detours.
Thus, she would resolve this issue in her own way.
Three days later, in the early morning, disciples from various peaks who had signed up gathered on Qingyun Terrace.
Bai Qingxue stood at the edge of the crowd, the Shuanghua sword hanging at her waist and the Frost Moon Chant hidden in her sleeve.
In the first round of the draw, she faced a male disciple from Qingyun Peak who was also at the mid-stage of Foundation Establishment, forcing him off the stage within five moves.
The second round was just as easy; her opponent couldn't even force her to draw her sword.
After winning two matches, she smoothly entered the top sixteen, securing a spot in the arena tournament.
The real challenge lay in the third round.
She drew Lu Mingyuan from Tianshu Peak, who was at late-stage Foundation Establishment.
When the deacon called out the name, the surrounding disciples turned to look at Bai Qingxue. Someone murmured in a low voice, “Senior Brother Lu is the strongest Foundation Establishment disciple of this generation on Tianshu Peak. I heard he already has one foot in the peak of late-stage Foundation Establishment.”
“Although Martial Aunt Bai is a True Disciple of Xueji Peak, mid-stage Foundation Establishment against late-stage is a whole realm of difference...”
Bai Qingxue's expression remained calm as she walked toward the stage. On the opposite side, Lu Mingyuan was already standing. Clad in a Daoist robe, he had a handsome face, with a hint of scrutiny in his eyes.
He cupped his hands and said, “Junior Sister Bai, pardon my offense.”
Bai Qingxue returned the gesture.
At the deacon's command, Lu Mingyuan made the first move.
He unleashed three waves of sword qi that tore through the air at incredible speed, carrying the heavy pressure unique to a late-stage Foundation Establishment cultivator.
Seeing this, Bai Qingxue naturally did not take them head-on. She dodged two of them by stepping aside, while the third grazed her shoulder, slicing off a lock of her silver hair.
A collective gasp rose from the crowd below.
Lu Mingyuan's offensive did not stop. Three more waves of sword qi immediately followed, sealing off all of Bai Qingxue's paths of retreat.
Bai Qingxue drew her sword to block. As the Shuanghua sword clashed with the sword qi, ice shards splattered in all directions.
Though there was only a single small realm of difference between them, Bai Qingxue could feel a crushing pressure with every strike her opponent made.
As expected, I cannot underestimate anyone...
They clashed once more.
The Shuanghua sword was deflected. Bai Qingxue retreated several steps, her silver-white hair whipped back by the blast of air.
Her expression did not waver, but her fingertips grew slightly cold. Her spiritual power was depleting faster than she had anticipated.
“Junior Sister Bai, concede,” Lu Mingyuan's voice came from across the stage. His tone was polite but firm. “A mid-stage Foundation Establishment cultivator has no chance of winning against a late-stage one.”
Bai Qingxue did not reply.
She lowered her head and looked at her slightly trembling fingers.
In that case...
Bai Qingxue looked up at Lu Mingyuan.
Then, she released her grip on her sword.
The Shuanghua sword lowered, its tip pointing to the ground.
She drew the Frost Moon Chant from her sleeve.
The flute's body was translucent white, gleaming with a cold light under the sun.
The discussions below fell silent for a moment. Clearly, no one knew what it was.
Bai Qingxue brought the Frost Moon Chant to her lips, her finger pads pressing down on the holes.
Her spiritual power circulated through her meridians, flowing according to the melody of 《Ice Condensation》.
When the first note sounded, Lu Mingyuan froze for a second.
The sound did not resemble flute music; instead, it sounded like ice cracking in extreme cold—clear and biting.
Immediately after, the temperature began to plummet. With Bai Qingxue at the center, the moisture in the air condensed into fine ice crystals, suspending themselves in midair.
The second note, the third note... Bai Qingxue's fingers flew over the holes, and the ice crystals began to spin—one, two, a hundred, refracting a blinding cold light under the sun.
Lu Mingyuan's expression changed. He sensed that something was wrong.
Without further hesitation, he gathered all his spiritual power into a single sword wave and slashed toward Bai Qingxue.
The sword wave surged like a rainbow, tearing through the air with the full power of a late-stage Foundation Establishment cultivator.
But just as the sword wave was about to strike Bai Qingxue, she blew the final note.
All the ice crystals detonated simultaneously, transforming into a spinning ice blade storm that shredded the sword wave to pieces and continued to sweep toward Lu Mingyuan.
Dense sounds of collision echoed within the storm. Hair-thin ice blades sliced through the air, producing a high-pitched, shrieking hum.
Lu Mingyuan conjured his protective spiritual power, but when the ice blades slammed into it, his barrier cracked. He retreated several steps, stumbling. The final ice blade grazed past his shoulder, and the residual force swept him completely off the stage.
Lu Mingyuan landed outside the stage on one knee. His robe at the shoulder was sliced open, seeping a thin line of blood.
He looked up at Bai Qingxue, who stood in the center of the stage, his eyes filled with utter disbelief.
“You...”
Bai Qingxue lowered the flute, her face pale.
Her breathing was shallower than usual, and her fingers holding the flute trembled slightly. In her meridians, that single strike had drained most of her spiritual power. The dark red restriction began to stir at the edge of her dantian, yet it seemed to be forcibly suppressed by the lingering resonance of the Ice Condensation.
Thanks to this, Bai Qingxue managed to remain standing.
The entire arena fell silent. Then, applause erupted from a corner—scattered at first, but quickly turning into a roaring wave.
When the deacon announced Bai Qingxue's victory, she tucked the Frost Moon Chant away and walked off the stage.
Only as she passed by Lu Mingyuan did she pause for a step, speaking in a low voice.
“Thank you for the match.”
Then, she continued forward.
The discussions behind her swelled like a tide.
“What kind of cultivation technique was that?”
“A flute... What kind of treasure is that flute? Isn't that against the rules?”
“A mid-stage Foundation Establishment cultivator defeating a late-stage one in an instant! Martial Aunt Bai is way too strong...”
Bai Qingxue walked through the crowd to the rest area and sat down on a bench in the corner.
Her spiritual power slowly recovered within her meridians, and the heat of the restriction gradually receded.
Suddenly, a set of footsteps approached from a distance, stopping in front of her.
Lu Xueqing stood there, holding a cup of hot water with thin wisps of steam rising from the rim.
Without speaking, she simply handed the cup over.
Bai Qingxue took the cup and took a sip. The hot water slid down her throat, dispersing the residual cold in her dantian.
Lu Xueqing sat down beside her, remaining silent as well.
The two sat side by side, watching the next match unfold on the distant stage as sword light clashed.
“That flute...” Lu Xueqing paused. “If I remember correctly, it has something to do with the restriction, right?”
Bai Qingxue did not deny it.
Lu Xueqing's fingers tightened slightly over the back of her hand, then released.
“Junior Sister Bai,” Lu Xueqing's voice dropped even lower.
With that, she gently rested her head against Bai Qingxue's shoulder.
“I know you have your own path to walk. I just...”
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