The time limit for the spiritual vein contention ended the moment the sun sank completely into the west.
The spiritual vein aura released from the tokens withdrew at that very same instant.
With a slight tremor in the air, the fluctuations of spiritual power converging toward the depths of the spiritual vein from all directions abruptly ceased. Like snapped lute strings, their lingering echoes were swallowed up before they could even disperse.
Teleportation halos emerged from various parts of the valley floor, returning the disciples scattered across Canglan Island to the assembly point one by one.
A pale halo lit up beneath Bai Qingxue's feet. She felt her body being lifted upward by that force, and the trees and rock walls in her field of vision began to blur, resembling ink slowly bleeding into water-soaked paper.
When she landed, the familiar and solid touch of bluestone slabs came from beneath her feet.
Bai Qingxue raised her eyes to look around.
She was already standing at the edge of the Dao Discourse stage.
Twilight blanketed the entire Dao Discourse stage, and spirit light lanterns lit up one after another, weaving a warm line of light through the dusk.
The teams from each sect were gradually converging from all directions of the stage. The colors of their robes merged once more into familiar blocks of color in the twilight: frost-white, ink-black, and moon-white.
Lu Xueqing stood by the low wall at the edge of the square. Her frost-white Daoist robe was stained with a few streaks of mud and a brown spot where it had been corroded by some kind of liquid, and there was a tiny tear at her left cuff. However, her posture was steady, and her breathing showed no signs of disorder.
She saw Bai Qingxue emerge from the teleportation halo and quickly walked over to meet her. Her gaze fell first on Bai Qingxue's face before rapidly shifting downward, sweeping over the fingers holding the Frost Moon Chant and the storage bag at her waist.
“How did it go?” Lu Xueqing asked, keeping her voice very low. “Junior Sister Bai, are you alright?”
Bai Qingxue shook her head and pointed at the storage bag at her waist. “I got the golden token.”
Lu Xueqing's brow relaxed slightly. “It's good that you're fine. The golden token is worth three times the points of a normal one. Combined with the blue token you got earlier and the ones we have...”
“In total, we have three ordinary tokens and one golden one,” Bai Qingxue said.
Lu Xueqing was slightly startled for a moment, then gave an acknowledging grunt.
Han Muchun's Falling Star Pavilion team walked in from the east side.
Han Muchun walked in the middle of the group. The hem of her moon-white Daoist robe was stained with a bit of dirt, and her hair was slightly loose, yet her posture remained calm and composed.
She held that volume of old records in one hand and a half-rolled sheet of parchment in the other. The edges of the parchment curled slightly, and it was already filled with writing, the characters faintly legible under the glow of the spirit light lanterns.
Zhao Yue's Northern Underworld Sword Sect team entered from the south side of the square.
Zhao Yue walked at the very front, his ink-black Daoist robe showing no obvious signs of wear. His sword hung at his waist, the dark patterns on the scabbard gleaming under the lamplight.
His expression was as cold as when they had set out, revealing nothing of victory, defeat, or scores. As he passed the registration desk, he did not even stop to glance at the numbers displayed on the score-recording jade slip, walking straight toward the Northern Underworld Sword Sect's rest area.
The points for each sect's team began to be tallied.
The deacon at the registration desk took the tokens from the disciples' hands, embedding them one by one into the corresponding grooves in the jade slip. Lines of clear numbers emerged on the surface of the jade slip, and the rankings shifted slowly but surely in the twilight. With the insertion of the final token, the leaderboard was finally set.
Bai Qingxue's team stood at the very top of the leaderboard with the combined points of three ordinary tokens and one golden token.
The Northern Underworld Sword Sect ranked second with four ordinary tokens.
Han Muchun's Falling Star Pavilion took third place.
The Xuantian Sect's Tianshu Peak team ranked fourth.
...
As time passed, the ranking numbers on the jade slip stabilized in the twilight, no longer fluctuating.
Bai Qingxue glanced at the line of numbers and said nothing more.
Her gaze fell back to her fingers holding the Frost Moon Chant, as if confirming that no unwanted residue had stained the flute.
On the other side of the square, the disciples of Tianshu Peak stood together, their group slightly quieter than when they had departed.
The disciple standing at the very front stared at the rankings on the leaderboard, then looked toward Bai Qingxue. His fingers repeatedly tightened and loosened around his sword hilt before finally letting go, his hand hanging limp at his side.
One of his fellow Tianshu Peak disciples whispered something to him, but he did not respond.
He merely stared at Bai Qingxue, his expression neither ugly nor particularly pleasant.
It was only when another disciple beside him nudged him with an elbow that he withdrew his gaze and lowered his head, pretending he had seen nothing.
His lips moved slightly, a motion so faint that even the companion standing right next to him could not hear what he said.
At this moment, Han Muchun was not looking at the leaderboard.
She sat on the stone railing at the edge of the Falling Star Pavilion's rest area, the volume of old records spread across her knees, flipped to a page slightly past the middle.
The parchment was layered over the edge of the right page of the book, its margins already filled with columns of fine handwriting. She continued writing at an unhurried pace, the tip of her brush making almost no sound as it glided across the paper.
Her gaze occasionally rose from the paper, landing on the frost-white figure on the other side of the square.
Then she lowered it again, her brush tip continuing its movement.
The corners of her mouth remained curled in that extremely faint arc.
At some point, Bai Qingxue felt that gaze.
She turned her head, her gaze piercing through the dispersing crowd on the square, passing through the intersecting shadows of several spirit light lanterns, and landing in Han Muchun's direction.
At that moment, Han Muchun was looking down, writing something.
But just as Bai Qingxue was about to withdraw her gaze, Han Muchun raised her head.
Their eyes met across the distance of half the square, like two leaves blown by the wind from different directions onto the same water surface, touching unexpectedly before drifting apart.
The corners of Han Muchun's mouth curved slightly in a gentle and composed smile, and then she lowered her head to continue writing.
Bai Qingxue withdrew her gaze and looked no further.
An elder's announcement rang out at this moment, not loud, but clearly and steadily blanketing the entire square.
“The points for the spiritual vein contention have been settled. At sunrise tomorrow, the second round of ruins exploration will begin. At that time, what you enter will be the most intact ancient ruins preserved on the island. The spiritual treasures within the ruins belong to various categories and may be obtained at your own discretion, but any friction between the teams of different sects will be at your own risk. Everyone, please make your preparations.”
The crowd began to disperse toward the exit of the square.
The spirit light lanterns in the twilight swayed gently in the wind, stretching and shortening the shadows of the departing people on the ground.
Bai Qingxue walked back to her lodging.
The courtyard door let out a thin, drawn-out creak as she pushed it open, just as before. The door to the main room was slightly ajar, a dim yellow light filtering through the window lattice paper. She walked inside and sat down by the edge of the bed, the Frost Moon Chant resting across her knees.
The courtyard door clicked, followed by the sound of footsteps crossing the courtyard, very light.
The door was pushed open only slightly, as if the newcomer was acting with caution, not wishing to make too much noise.
It was Lu Xueqing.
By now, she had changed her robes. The mud stains and the corroded spot from the daytime were gone, and her hair had been tied up again, making her look a bit tidier than she had just now on the square.
“You're back,” Bai Qingxue said without raising her head, her hands not stopping as she wiped her flute.
“That group from Tianshu Peak ran quite fast,” Lu Xueqing said. “I pursued them for a distance but didn't manage to chase them to their core position. However, that was indeed the only token they had.”
Bai Qingxue's hands did not stop. She flipped the body of the flute over, her finger pad pressing against the jade surface of the other side, sliding from the end of the flute to the head, covering the area she had not wiped just now.
Then she set the flute down and raised her head to glance at Lu Xueqing.
“It is good that you are fine. In the second round, we will need to pay attention to scouting from high ground.”
Lu Xueqing nodded, asking nothing more.
Her gaze drifted away from Bai Qingxue's flute and fell onto the hand resting at her knee. When that hand had stopped its movement, her finger pad was still pressed against the flute's body, as if she were not entirely ready to pull away from the jade surface.
“Rest early,” Lu Xueqing said. “There is serious business tomorrow.”
Bai Qingxue did not respond, but her fingers withdrew from the flute and rested on her knee, as if concluding her actions.
Lu Xueqing stood by the threshold for a moment longer before turning around. Her footsteps crossed the courtyard, cut short by the sound of the door closing.
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