Chapter Twenty-Four: Judgment

Xiner, without a hint of restraint, rummaged through her jade pouch and dumped out a mountain of delicacies. She found a tender, glossy peach and bit into it with a loud chomp; juice burst forth, making Wu Luohua unconsciously lick his lips, his throat suddenly parched.

"What are you staring at? Eat, unless you want me to feed you, pretty boy," Xiner said, blunt and carefree, biting into the peach again.

Wu Luohua looked at the peach, then at the witch’s chest, and to his own bewilderment, his cheeks flushed red. He moved closer to her, took out his own jade pouch, and said, "I won’t just take your food for free. Let’s trade."

She tossed her head. "I wouldn’t touch your junk food."

A cold sweat broke out on Wu Luohua’s forehead. "But this is all food from your Cloud Sky Sect!"

Xiner replied, perfectly logically, "It’s delicious, yes, but once it’s spent time in your earthy pouch, it picks up all sorts of grime."

This girl, he thought, eats other people’s food as if it’s her birthright.

Their ridiculous exchange drew no reprimand from the elders; only Yun Fa’s brow twitched slightly before he returned his focus to the young disciples, who had just been divided into groups.

Yu Fei had not been matched with the dashing disciple as Wu Luohua had hoped, leaving him disappointed. It seemed the real drama would have to wait for the third round—after all, only one could be accepted as Master Yun Zui’s disciple. There was no need to rush to see who would stand out just yet.

Still, Yu Fei proved formidable. Facing an inner disciple armed with a sword, and empty-handed himself, Yu Fei was undaunted. That disciple had clearly exhausted himself ascending the peak—now, under Yu Fei’s fierce assault, he struggled to keep up. Yet stubbornness kept him from surrendering; as an ordinary inner disciple, such an opportunity was too precious to abandon lightly. The disciple named Jiu Zhi swung his treasured sword with all his might. Suddenly, the sword flashed sideways through the air, and Jiu Zhi shouted, "Nine Sword Technique!" The blade split into three, three into five, five into seven, and finally, as Jiu Zhi’s hands trembled uncontrollably, into nine swords, which he could no longer command. With a whoosh, the swords darted straight for Yu Fei.

Yunkong smiled. "Who would have thought someone’s already learning the technique Jiu Xi created himself? Jiu Xi, your future is limitless."

Jiu Xi blushed faintly. "Second Uncle, you’re teasing me. Jiu Zhi’s grasp of the Nine Sword Technique is still shallow; he can’t yet draw out its full power."

Wu Luohua, a drumstick in his mouth, found it suddenly hard to swallow. He hadn’t expected Jiu Xi, the eldest disciple, to invent his own spiritual technique—truly impressive. He glanced at Mo Bai, wondering silently whether Brother Mo, too, had his own unique skills.

The Nine Sword Technique whistled through the air in a formation, splitting three ways toward Yu Fei. The flying swords hummed with spiritual energy. Yu Fei’s expression turned solemn; anyone who had fought through over a hundred disciples to reach this far was certainly no ordinary figure. Besides the elders’ array formations, the path had been fraught with intrigue and ambushes among disciples.

Yu Fei braced himself, unwilling to confront the swords head-on. He summoned a crimson vortex, sending it toward the nine swords. Yun Fa’s eyes narrowed; this was that disciple’s unique red spirit shield. Who would have thought an outer disciple could reach such a level? Yet Yu Fei remained cautious, dodging swiftly even after releasing the shield, slipping free of the swords’ control. Then, his eyes flashed; a wisp of spiritual energy shot silently from his hand. Mo Bai smiled faintly, while Jiu Zhi cried out, clutching his abdomen in pain.

Jiu Xi flew over, waved his hand to deflect another shot of energy from Yu Fei, and nodded to Yun Fa. "Yu Fei wins this round. Brother Yu, please rest awhile and await the third trial."

Next to compete was the dashing disciple named Jiu Ling—a name as bold and free-spirited as the man himself. His opponent was a bedraggled disciple, his clothes disheveled from the arduous climb. Jiu Ling smiled, gentle as a spring breeze. "Brother Jiu Ju, why not let your junior pass this round?"

Jiu Ju managed a bitter smile. "Thirteen years cultivating the spiritual path, and this is as far as I’ve come. Today, in front of the masters, I’ll lose face at last. But forgive me, junior—I can’t let you win by default. Even if I lose, I won’t lose so cheaply." Though he knew he was outmatched, Jiu Ju’s spirit was undiminished. Yun Fa nodded approvingly.

Watching, Mo Bai suddenly recalled hardships of his own, feeling a sense of kinship. Yet what he had endured surely outstripped Jiu Ju’s tribulations.

While Mo Bai was lost in thought, Jiu Ling raised both hands, tracing a barely visible pattern in the air. As his spiritual power surged, the pattern grew, unfolding into a net that swept down toward Jiu Ju.

Yun Ling snorted. "As expected, Sister Qishui’s clan’s supreme formation is formidable."

Wu Luohua suddenly understood—Luo Qishui, her surname Luo—could she be from the River Sun Luo family? He tapped his forehead. Of course! Why else would my third uncle do business with a woman if not for the Luo family?

The River Sun Luo clan was also a family of spiritual cultivators, though their methods were unique. They specialized in spiritual formations, setting themselves apart and ensuring their lasting prominence on the Linglong Continent.

Sure enough, as Jiu Ju watched the formation unleash, panic flashed across his face. Instinctively, he fired a few blasts of spiritual energy in resistance, but could only surrender. Watching Jiu Ling’s display, Wu Luohua was struck. He glanced at Mo Bai and whispered, "Brother, did you see that?"

Mo Bai smiled. "The Luo clan’s formation. Why?"

Wu Luohua was taken aback. "So you already knew? Why didn’t you say so?"

Mo Bai replied, "I thought since you knew your beautiful senior’s name, you’d know her family too."

Wu Luohua gave a wry smile. "Brother Mo, do you think I could learn to use these formations? Seems like you don’t need spiritual power?"

Mo Bai knew exactly what Wu Luohua was thinking and sighed. "Xiao Hua, you’re mistaken. These formations are not easily controlled; it takes a vast amount of spiritual energy to form a proper array."

Wu Luohua slumped to the side, even his chicken drumstick drooping, utterly dejected.

Suddenly, Master Yun Fa announced, "Today’s three chosen disciples have emerged. Each of you will select a judge. Whoever withstands the most moves from their chosen judge will be accepted as Master Yun Zui’s disciple." With that, he seated himself among the judges.

A shock! So the third trial was to be like this—and wasn’t Mo Bai one of the judges? The others were Yun Fa, Yun Tong, and Yun Ling, while only the vice-abbot, Master Yunkong, sat savoring his tea. Mo Bai felt as though he had stumbled into a game, yet could not fathom what lay hidden within.