The trajectory of her sword tip traced a new arc in the air. As Song Mu retracted his blade, she twisted her wrist and executed the starting stance of the first form of the Nine Forms of the Wandering Dragon, a technique from the Dragon-Riding Dreamscape. The sword light swept low to the ground like a dragon's spine gliding over grass. Instead of clashing directly with his blade, it sliced in from the flank at the very tail end of his momentum.
Song Mu's parry was thrown off by half an inch by that diagonal slash, and his recovery of balance was half a step slower than usual.
Lin Zhiyue gave him no time to regroup, immediately following up with the second form.
The transitions between the Nine Forms of the Wandering Dragon were even more seamless and compact than those of the Tiance Sword Art.
After the two-form combo, Song Mu's footwork shifted slightly, an almost imperceptible lapse.
Twisting her wrist, Lin Zhiyue flowed into the third and fourth forms. The transitions in her sword strikes grew sharper than before. The boost in spiritual energy from her scale armor made her sword speed at every juncture slightly faster than usual. These tiny advantages accumulated over consecutive strikes, eventually widening into a visible gap.
Song Mu's path of retreat was compressed to the absolute limit. When he attempted a side parry, she used his own momentum to press down on the spine of his blade. The Azure Scale Sword slid along that force toward the opening at his shoulder, its tip stopping less than half an inch above the fabric of his clothes.
Song Mu froze.
He looked down at the faint mark left on his shoulder by her sword qi, then looked back up at her.
He didn't strike again. With a crisp, metallic click, he sheathed his sword, then bent down to untie his marker bag and held it out to her. His tone was calm, yet carried a hint of genuine admiration. “You win.”
As Lin Zhiyue took the marker bag, her fingers brushed against the rim of the opening. She gave a slight nod in response.
Song Mu turned and walked back the way he had come. After a few paces, he looked back over his shoulder, his tone holding a bit more serious scrutiny than before. “I hope to face you again in the finals, Junior Sister Lin.”
With that, he continued on his way.
The wind began to rustle through the bamboo forest once more, stirring the leaves into a soft, whispering murmur.
Standing where she was, Lin Zhiyue weighed the marker bag in her hand, placed it alongside her own, and tied them both securely back to her waist.
She lingered until her breathing steadied before setting off again toward the far side of the bamboo forest.
Dappled sunlight filtered through the bamboo leaves, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow across her shoulders.
By the third day, the situation inside the secret realm had largely stabilized.
The voice from above rang out as usual in the morning, announcing the current point rankings.
Lin Zhiyue remained in first place with twenty-one markers, establishing a clear lead over second place.
Song Mu had dropped to fifth, a few spots lower than yesterday. Having lost eight markers to Lin Zhiyue, he had to rebuild his score from scratch, so his drop in the rankings was entirely expected.
When the spectators in the stands saw these rankings, the buzz of conversation hushed for a brief moment.
News traveled even faster inside the secret realm than outside. The fact that Lin Zhiyue had defeated Song Mu and taken all his marker talismans quickly spread among the competitors.
Those who had been scheming to ambush her promptly discarded the idea.
If even Song Mu had been defeated, challenging her would be nothing short of handing over free points. It was better to play it safe and head in a different direction.
Lin Zhiyue was entirely unaware of this.
She simply kept to her rhythm from the previous days. While crossing a rocky slope, she found two markers in a crevice and another in a dried-up creek bed at the bottom.
She bent down to pick up the marker talisman, brushed off the dirt, and was about to slip it into her bag when she heard footsteps approaching from the bushes nearby.
Turning her head, she saw Jiang Yuezhan emerging from the underbrush. His face was paler than usual, his hem was covered in crushed leaves and dust, and there was a slash on his left shoulder. Though it had stopped bleeding, the tear remained.
His eyes narrowed slightly as he spotted her, and his steps faltered. Clearly, he hadn't expected to run into her here either. He stood his ground without fleeing or advancing, trying hard to maintain his stubborn pride, though a hint of embarrassment still slipped through.
“Who did this?” Lin Zhiyue asked.
“A few disciples from smaller sects ganged up on me,” he explained. “I was evenly matched with a female cultivator dressed in green, but then two others hiding in the rear launched a sudden sneak attack from the flank.”
“I couldn't handle them all at once. I never expected anyone to strike from behind.”
Lin Zhiyue didn't press him for the names of their sects.
She reached into her bracelet, pulled out a few spiritual fruits, and handed them to him.
Jiang Yuezhan stared at the fresh, dew-kissed spiritual fruits. He took them, sat down on a nearby boulder, and took a bite.
Lin Zhiyue was in no hurry to leave either. She sat down on another boulder nearby, waiting for him to finish eating one of the fruits.
As the wind swept across the rocky slope, Lin Zhiyue asked if he could still keep going. He nodded, squeezed the fruit pit in his hand, and then stood up, brushing the dust off his robes. “I can,” he said.
She handed him five marker talismans without offering any explanation.
Her reasoning was simple: she wanted more Tiance Palace disciples to advance. The more of their own people on the semi-finalist list, the better.
Jiang Yuezhan glanced at her but didn't pry. He offered a word of thanks, took the markers, and tucked them into his bag.
The two didn't talk any further, parting ways in different directions.
Just as Lin Zhiyue was about to bypass the rocky slope and continue forward, she caught sight of three figures standing at the fork ahead.
Leading them was a female cultivator in green, followed by another disciple in the same uniform and one in a different robe. The three of them stood in a position that blocked most of the path.
Lin Zhiyue slowed her pace, her gaze sweeping over the green-robed woman and her companions. These three must be the ones her junior brother had accused of playing dirty.
She was currently calculating how to win back the spiritual markers they had taken from him—
—but the female cultivator's opening words made her pause. “Lin Zhiyue?”
She called out Lin Zhiyue's name in a steady voice. It didn't sound like she was reading it off a leaderboard; rather, she spoke as if she had known the name for a long time.
Standing a few paces away, Lin Zhiyue didn't answer, letting her gaze linger on the other woman's face.
She did recognize that face. To be precise, the original owner of this body recognized it. In the memories from before she transmigrated, this face had appeared a few times, always wearing a patronizing expression, and every appearance was accompanied by a sneering tone.
The Clear Creek Sect—the very sect the original owner of her body had once belonged to.
The green-robed woman was an inner sect disciple of the Clear Creek Sect who had entered a few years before the original owner. When the original owner was expelled from the sect, she had been present. In fact, she was the true instigator behind the whole incident.
After piecing together these fragmented memories, Lin Zhiyue had a clear grasp of the situation.
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