The flute notes were still swirling in the night wind as pale blue ripples expanded outward ring by ring, overlapping with one another.
The silhouette of the illusion hovering above the bronze mirror had already grown mostly blurred. The light mist at its edges peeled away strand by strand like smoke scattered by the wind, dispersing into the air.
Its posture of holding the flute horizontally remained, but its hands had already drooped slightly.
At this moment, the outline of the illusion's frost-white robe was dissipating bit by bit from the bottom up.
The moment the illusion completely vanished, the dark golden light deep within the bronze mirror abruptly dimmed.
At the same time, Bai Qingxue moved the Frost Moon Chant half an inch away from her lips.
Her gaze crossed the stage, where the residual spiritual energy between them was slowly settling, and lingered for a breath on Han Muchun's lowered brow.
Then, Bai Qingxue pressed the flute back to her lips.
This time, the melody was 《Ice Condensation》.
As the flute played, an ice lotus slowly unfurled in midair.
First, an extremely dense cluster of cold light overflowed from Bai Qingxue's fingertips, condensing into a thumb-sized ice core under the moonlight.
Then, the first petal sprouted from the ice core. It was thin and transparent, its edges shimmering with an extremely faint pale blue halo refracted from the moonlight.
A second, a third, a fourth.
One after another, they bloomed from the ice core, each one slightly larger, thinner, and more translucent than the last.
The petals layered over one another, unfurling outward from the core, the edges of each petal shimmering with fine specks of light under the moon.
The entire ice lotus fully bloomed three feet in front of Bai Qingxue. The moonlight filtered through the layered ice petals, converging into a blue halo at the pistil. The halo spread outward, casting its glow upon the thin frost on the stage and painting the entire training ground in its hue.
The crowd below fell into a complete hush.
Hundreds of eyes stared up at the ice lotus suspended in midair.
The wind swept in from the sea, pushing the sound of waves to shatter into white foam on the distant reefs, but along the concentric stone steps surrounding the training ground, there was nothing left but bated breath and transfixed gazes.
Bai Qingxue raised her fingertips slightly.
The ice lotus slowly rotated by a tiny angle, its center pointing toward Han Muchun, and then began to drift forward.
Han Muchun looked up.
Her face appeared exceptionally pale under the intermingling of the moonlight and the ice lotus's glow, but there was no fear in her eyes.
She tightened her grip on the bronze mirror, holding it up before her with both hands, its surface facing outward toward the approaching ice lotus.
Han Muchun poured all the remaining spiritual power in her dantian into the center of the mirror. A thin layer of starlight surfaced on the glass, the stardust covering the entire ink-blue surface like scattered silver. Though not as bright as before, it still carried the cold, sharp edge unique to stellar tracks.
Starlight welled up from the mirror, transforming into a semi-arc light shield that blocked the path of the ice lotus.
The stellar arc collided with the edges of the ice lotus's petals from a foot away, producing a low hum, like two invisible forces clashing in the air.
Han Muchun's toes slid back half an inch on the stone ground, her soles scraping against the frost with a sharp, brief sound. She clenched her teeth, exerting even more strength into her hands supporting the bronze mirror.
Yet, the ice lotus continued its advance.
Its forward momentum did not halt, the extreme cold at the edges of its petals eroding the thickness of the starlight shield layer by layer.
Under the impact of the cold energy, the stardust began to flicker unsteadily, like candle flames in the wind shrinking into tiny, weak points of light from the chill.
Immediately after, the first crack appeared on the surface of the starlight shield.
Then came a second, a third... The cracks grew more numerous and dense, rapidly spreading in all directions.
Han Muchun could naturally feel all of this.
At this moment, her hands holding the bronze mirror began to tremble violently. The rate at which starlight welled from the mirror could no longer keep up with the rate of consumption, and the edges of the mirror were dimming bit by bit.
Han Muchun's knees buckled for an instant before she forced herself to stand straight again, but the cracks had already spread to every inch of the shield's surface.
The final thrust of the ice lotus fell.
The starlight shattered.
The shield woven from stellar tracks collapsed under the direct impact of the ice lotus, breaking into countless tiny fragments of starlight that drifted through the air like fireflies scattered by the wind.
Each fragment still carried a faint glimmer of stellar energy, shining for a brief moment before rapidly dimming and dissolving into nothingness, vanishing into the night wind.
The ice lotus's advance also exhausted its power in this final strike. The edges of its petals began to tighten and close up bit by bit. Moving from bloom to closure like a flower withered by the cold wind, it slowly shrank and dissolved in midair.
In the end, only a few thin shards of ice drifted down, landing on the stone surface of the stage with a couple of extremely soft clicks.
Han Muchun fell to one knee.
The bronze mirror slipped from her palm, clattering against the stone surface with a dull, sharp thud.
It lay flat, face up, its ink-blue surface covered in web-like cracks. The deep, mystical spiritual light from before had completely died out, leaving behind nothing but a hollow, broken mirror reflecting the full moon in the sky.
The cracks splintered the moon's reflection into numerous fragments.
Han Muchun's hands remained suspended in the air, still in the posture of holding the mirror. Her knuckles trembled, and she did not lower them for a long time.
A thin line of blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, dripping down the curve of her jaw onto her collar, blooming into a dark, damp stain on the ink-blue fabric.
Bai Qingxue stood where she was, the Frost Moon Chant hanging at her side, her silver-white hair fluttering and settling in the night wind.
She neither stepped forward nor retreated. She simply stood in the center of the stage, watching Han Muchun kneel on one knee beside the shattered bronze mirror.
The cold energy was receding like the tide.
The thin frost that had covered the entire stage began to slowly melt from the edges. One by one, the ice crystal powders fell into the melting water trails, reflecting a damp sheen under the moonlight.
Han Muchun raised the back of her hand and wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth with agonizing slowness. She stared down at the cracked bronze mirror on the ground for a long while before slowly pushing herself up by her knees.
Her movements were very slow—so slow that everyone below the stage could clearly see the trembling of her shoulders and the slight wobbling of her knees as she straightened up.
In the seats of the Falling Star Pavilion, Shen Yan had already stood up from his seat, his hands clenched at his sides, while Chu Mu covered her mouth.
Han Muchun stood tall, raised her head, and looked at Bai Qingxue.
The moonlight fell upon her face, making the residual blood at the corner of her mouth look exceptionally stark, yet her gaze held no resentment or anger. Instead, it was remarkably calm.
Han Muchun parted her lips and said in a hoarse voice, “...You win.”
Bai Qingxue looked at her and nodded slightly.
The deacon's loud voice echoed from the edge of the stage, “Bai Qingxue of the Xuantian Sect wins. The spiritual vein belongs to the Xuantian Sect.”
The crowd below was silent for a breath, and then that silence was broken by a sharp gasp.
Immediately after came a second, then a third, followed by an earth-shattering wave of sound.
The disciples of the Xuantian Sect leaped from their seats. Some shouted “Senior Sister Bai,” some clapped the shoulders of their companions beside them, and others stared up at the frost-white figure on the stage, their eyes reflecting the moonlight and the yet-to-dissolve remnants of the ice lotus.
The cheers spread from one corner of the training ground to all sides, like a tide pushed by the wind, rapidly engulfing the entire stone spectator stands.
At the elders' seats of the various sects, the elder of the Xuantian Sect slowly stood up, stroking his long beard and nodding slightly, his eyes filled with an irrepressible look of approval.
The elder of the Falling Star Pavilion, sitting a few seats away, had a complex expression but ultimately nodded gently as well.
In the seats of the Northern Underworld Sword Sect, Zhao Yue stood up.
He stood up extremely slowly, as if being dragged up from his seat by some invisible force, resting his hands on his knees for half a breath before fully straightening his back.
He stared at the frost-white figure in the center of the stage, his jaw tightening slightly. The astonishment in his eyes was like the first crack on an ice sheet, starkly visible and impossible to conceal.
Even when a fellow disciple beside him called his name, Zhao Yue did not respond. He merely cast another glance at Bai Qingxue before slowly sitting back down.
Rate on N.U.
