Martial Aunt Wei, ever the lover of refinement and beauty, had changed into a completely new set of robes before reappearing in the public eye, despite having only taken a brief afternoon nap. Her opponent, the petite and doll-like He Hong, looked no more than fifteen or sixteen. She remained in the same Tianjun Sect disciple uniform; the gash Yan Mingqiu had carved into her shoulder that morning—at the cost of shattering a famous ancient blade—remained unrepaired. She seemed utterly indifferent to it, leaving the tear exactly as it was.
As this was the final, Wei Qingming followed protocol and announced her name and title, even though she knew He Hong had little patience for such things. This time, He Hong acted differently than in her previous matches. She stood perfectly still, her body unmoving, and simply raised her slender arm. Holding her unsheathed bronze blade, she pointed the tip directly at Wei Qingming in a level, steady line. It was a silent, tranquil declaration of war.
A solitary, beautiful snowflake drifted from an unknown source, landing lightly upon the tip of her blade.
In an instant, a heavy snow began to fall between heaven and earth. The unremarkable, bronze-colored, broad-backed blade in He Hong’s hand began to shed its earthy red hue from the point where the snowflake had touched. It was dyed a refined, frost-white color that seemed to carry the chill of a thousand years. This was the legendary ancient blade—Suzhi!
The audience gasped in shock. Until now, He Hong had relied solely on martial techniques to defeat her enemies; she had never once manifested her fundamental elemental cultivation.
Wei Qingming smiled at the sight, though her expression remained somewhat casual, as if she were playfully remarking that it was an honor for her opponent to finally reveal her true hand. She summoned her own Zhishui Blade, which shimmered with the golden light of the sun. As the snowflakes drifted near her, they melted away, turning into droplets that slid down the protective barrier of light surrounding her body before they could even touch her.
In the brief moments of preparation, the arena had been transformed into a world of pure white. The snow on the ground was already over three inches deep, and the swirling blizzard made it nearly impossible to discern the figures of the two women. Fortunately, the formation left by Perfected Man Zhang remained steadfast; the snow possessed a slight transparency, allowing the spectators to track their movements.
I was suddenly reminded of our days in Hanzhou. The snow there had been just as violent, but never this dense. He Hong’s technique seemed to condense three months of Hanzhou’s winter snowfall into a single moment. Even with her superior cultivation protecting her, the snow inevitably pierced through Wei Qingming’s light barrier, landing on her shoulders and arms until she was gradually coated in frost.
Normally, when the spring sun rises, ice and snow should melt. Wei Qingming’s cultivation should have been the perfect counter to He Hong’s, yet it felt as though a great flood were dousing a candle. The golden sunlight faded, becoming the weak, pale, and desolate light of a winter sun.
The Zhishui Blade, slender as a swan’s feather, looked thin, brittle, and frail against the broad Suzhi blade. Yet, it met the heavy weapon without hesitation, parrying He Hong’s first strike—a blow that carried the weight of a thousand pounds.
I couldn't tell if it was because the morning match had exhausted her spirit, but Wei Qingming’s speed and strength seemed slightly diminished, and they appeared to be weakening further. Even Zhu Yixin noticed, subconsciously muttering, "Did Qing-di not wake up properly...?" She immediately covered her mouth, as everyone’s gaze shifted toward me—the only person who knew exactly what had happened during the noon break.
I, however, could think of nothing else but her safety, my eyes glued to the stage.
Lu Kaifeng had descended from the peak where Perfected Man Canxia resided at some point. There were matches between the masters as well, though they were closed to outsiders. He must have given up the chance to observe a battle at his own level just to watch the Tunyun Realm finals for Wei Qingming’s sake. Seeing He Hong’s ice and snow techniques, he smiled faintly and asked me, "Does this remind you of anything, A-Zhi?"
The connection was immediate. "It looks like the snow east of Mount Tutai... like our Yifeng Mountain." Among those present, the only ones who had truly been to that frigid northern land were my Master and my Eldest Senior Brother, who had once escorted me home to visit my family.
"Exactly," Lu Kaifeng said. "This girl possesses both Yao and Divine bloodlines. I suspect she is the offspring of an Eastern Snow Maiden mountain goddess and a member of the Yao tribe."
Everyone was stunned. Truly, money could make even the devil turn the millstone; the Tianjun Sect had actually managed to recruit such a disciple!
"In other words, He Hong’s ice and snow arts are both a Yao innate talent and a Divine supernatural power," I sighed. "No wonder they can penetrate even Qingming's protective golden light."
No one questioned whether Wei Qingming was fully awake anymore. Such ice and snow did more than just cause damage; they reduced attack speed. In a state of extreme cold, the body becomes stiff, making it impossible to exert force freely. Furthermore, because the blizzard was so dense, simply staying airborne consumed a massive amount of spiritual energy. While the Tianshan Meeting had few rules, the first was a ban on medicinal pills or spirit crystals to replenish energy during a match. For a martial master, these factors were fatal. Feeling one’s combat sense slip away moment by moment was enough to drive anyone to madness.
Those who had previously fought He Hong fell silent, inwardly thanking her for her mercy in not getting serious with them.
He Hong struck again and again, each blow carrying a biting wind and kicking up sprays of sleet that felt like coarse sand and gravel. Wei Qingming could do little more than parry and dodge. The golden sunlight on her Zhishui Blade could only melt the outer shell of the snow clumps just enough to deflect them. Given the force and sharpness of those frozen masses, a single direct hit would surely result in an immediate loss.
Soon, a mountain of snow began to pile up at the edge of the formation behind Wei Qingming, growing taller and more jagged with every clump she deflected. Strangely, every time He Hong struck, the surrounding snowflakes were drawn in by her blade qi, swirling with the wind until they settled behind her as well. Another towering peak formed there. From a distance, it looked as though the two were dueling within a narrow canyon of snow.
Block, dodge, block, dodge... I had never seen Wei Qingming fight such a monotonous battle. The tension was suffocating. Why wasn't she using formations? Where was the momentum she usually had, throwing out spiritual talismans as if they cost nothing? Why was she acting like that thick-headed martial idiot Yan Mingqiu, trying to match He Hong in a contest of raw strength?
Finally, as if sensing my thoughts, Wei Qingming suddenly turned and kicked off the snow mountain behind her. She leapt high into the air, her pale gold Zhishui Blade tracing a beautiful, perfect arc in the sky before she slashed vertically toward the snow-covered ground. A brilliant golden light erupted as the power of the Solar Radiance expanded like a boundless veil of silk, spreading across the three-foot-deep snow and instantly melting most of it.
However, in the extreme cold, the melted snow quickly refroze into a sheet of ice. The ground became as smooth as a mirror. When Wei Qingming landed, her movements suddenly became agile again, her speed returning to something near normal. It turned out she had been waiting for the snow to pile up thick enough to create a solid ice floor, allowing her to resume her footwork by gliding across it.
Sure enough, Wei Qingming blurred, closing the distance to within ten paces of He Hong. Abandoning her defensive stance, her long blade lunged toward He Hong’s face. He Hong didn't care in the slightest about being disfigured; she simply raised her blade to strike heavily at Wei Qingming’s waist, but the attack was easily dodged. After a long period of throwing snowballs from a distance, they were finally engaging in a proper close-quarters fight!
We all breathed a sigh of relief. Any progress in the situation was good.
The two danced and shifted across the ice, the sound of their blades clashing ringing out incessantly—as crisp as the night song of silver birds, as dense as the thundering hooves of ten thousand horses. Gradually, the momentum shifted. He Hong was somehow forced back toward the base of the snow mountain where Wei Qingming had originally stood. Under the continuous effect of the ice magic, that mountain had grown hundreds of feet high, leaning against the arena's formation to form a steep cliff of snow. Behind Wei Qingming stood the other peak, equally towering.
He Hong suddenly stopped her blade. She raised her hand and began to mutter an incantation, causing the snow mountain behind Wei Qingming to hum and tremble. I suddenly thought of the battle against Sotul in Hanzhou—an avalanche was the ultimate attack!
In my desperation, I stood up and screamed, "Get out of the way!" But Wei Qingming showed no fear. Instead, the corners of her mouth curled into a smile. She raised her hand and, with a slight stiffness, traced a pale silver arc—not toward her opponent, but toward the ground. It was a sliver of moonlight that almost blended into the white of the snow.
A series of *ting-ling* sounds echoed. The tiny ice shards wrapped in powder snow lying on the ice were nudged by her blade qi. They rolled lightly toward He Hong, sounding like the joyful footsteps of a running child. It sounded exactly like that spring evening when Wei Qingming and I first sat together in the library—the *su-su* rustle of withered leaves being pushed off the desk by new buds...
He Hong froze at the sight, her lips pausing mid-incantation. The ice shards, light as duck down, brushed past her feet and struck the snow mountain behind her.
The world went silent for a heartbeat. Then, the mountain collapsed. With a thunderous roar, it toppled over, burying He Hong’s petite frame under a heavy shroud. The shattered clumps of snow shimmered with a faint, ethereal light—some golden, some silver.
I finally understood. When Wei Qingming had been taking He Hong’s snow clumps head-on, she had been alternating the use of Solar and Lunar power to coat them. The seemingly solid mountain of snow was actually thermally unstable and structurally inconsistent on the inside. It had been teetering on the edge of collapse; even the minute impact of tiny ice shards was enough to bring it down!
Using ice shards instead of a direct blast of blade qi or spiritual energy was likely a move to catch her opponent off guard, as a direct attack would have been easily parried. In doing so, she had unintentionally—or perhaps intentionally—created a scene of ethereal beauty, a poetic realm that left one breathless and speechless.
After He Hong was teleported out of the formation, she stood dazed for several breaths. A flicker of surprise finally appeared on her soft, expressionless face, gradually widening into a look of utter shock. I understood her feelings perfectly. Her Yao talent and Divine power had been perfectly utilized by a mere human, who had used her own snow to defeat her...
It took a long moment for the members of the Wujing Sect to realize they had won. They began to dance with joy, letting out a cheer that shook the heavens!
I, however, only looked at her. She was still on the stage. The wind and snow had stopped, and the rustling of the ice shards on the ground had ceased. She had truly exhausted her spiritual energy. She managed to sheathe her blade, and a weak flicker of True Solar Fire ignited on her body, slowly and painfully melting the frost that encased her.
Finally, a slender female figure flew from the Wujing Sect stands. Cang Jiang had stepped in. With a casual sweep of her hand, the ice and snow covering the stage vanished without a trace, and the True Solar Fire on Wei Qingming’s body flared up instantly. Wei Qingming bowed her head in a grateful salute to Martial Aunt Cang Jiang, who smiled slightly before flying back.
The Tunyun Realm competition of the Tianshan Meeting thus came to an end. The prize was presented by a master of the Zhaxing Realm who was of rogue cultivator origin. In addition to ten high-grade spirit pills and treasures, the master pressed a finger to Wei Qingming’s forehead, imparting an unknown secret mantra. This was a tradition of the Tianshan Meeting; the elders would bestow a mysterious ability upon the winner, which would trigger automatically when needed.
Wei Qingming barely held on until the ceremony was complete. When she returned to us, her eyelashes were still coated in white frost. She had been thoroughly frozen. She just looked at me and smiled, unable to speak. My heart ached as I pulled her into my arms to rub her warm. Everyone else scrambled to bring out winter gear, nearly wrapping her in a thick quilt... Who would have thought that the birth of the "Number One in the World" of this generation would be so unglamorous?
Not only was Martial Aunt Wei’s victory hard-won, but that very night, she came down with a severe cold and a high fever, falling into a delirious stupor. She hadn't realized it at first; after warming up for a while and replenishing her essence with spirit crystals, she had been laughing and chatting as usual. She made a low-profile appearance at the victory banquet that evening and was immediately cornered by the crowd for drinks.
By the third jar of wine, Master Wei suddenly looked down at the cup in her hand. Her eyes slid shut, her hand loosened, and she began to tip backward... Fortunately, Qiao Songlin was right behind her. He caught her cup with lightning reflexes and steadied her, only then realizing that Qing-di was burning up with a terrifying heat...
At that time, I was at the Hall of Eternal Spring’s station, waiting for the disciples on duty to prepare her medicine. When I returned, no one was trying to force wine on her anymore. They were forcing medicine instead.
"Come, come, let the champion drink this cup to the dregs!" Yan Mingqiu, leading a group of senior and junior brothers, had chased the patient into her room, grinning as he offered a toast. "I’ll finish mine; you can substitute wine with medicine. Drink as much as you like!"
Master Wei looked down at the bowl of medicine in her hand, her brow furrowing as if silently asking why she had to drink such an inefficient, bitter soup instead of taking a pill. Nevertheless, she didn't want to ruin the mood. Without changing her expression, she downed the medicine in one go.
I suppressed a laugh and didn't tell her that the one who prescribed the medicine today was her old acquaintance from the capital, Martial Uncle Zhong. Because the Tianshan Meeting was short on healers, he had been called in to help. I didn't know how she had offended this top-tier healer from the Hall of Eternal Spring again, but he had picked out the bitterest ingredients possible for her...
***
