The once-in-a-decade Four Realms Martial Arts Evaluation Conference began with love and hope but ended in sorrow and despair. The grand endeavor was cut short midway, a tale both tragic and stirring.
In truth, the local residents were far more concerned about Yunmengze after the disaster. What was once a land of rivers and lakes had turned into a parched wasteland. With the climate and ecosystem altered, the competition became an afterthought.
People poured their energy into restoring the environment. After a vote, it was unanimously decided to end the Martial Arts Evaluation early and focus on rebuilding their homeland—such as summoning a few dragons to bring daily rain. The goal was to return Yunmengze to its former beauty as soon as possible.
As for merchants and travelers, the organizers took no responsibility for what they deemed “unforeseen and unavoidable circumstances.”
Rumors spread that after the conference, a certain young man’s shop became an overnight sensation, with countless people traveling from afar just to try the legendary “mildly spicy” flavor.
Qiuqiu, despite her tantrums, couldn’t leave with Xue Ying this time. Sensing she had made a mistake, she obediently accepted Cangwu’s arrangements and followed Feng Yuemian back to the demon realm. Before leaving, the little girl reluctantly handed over five tail feathers to the organizers.
“These are my father’s treasures, temporarily lent to you.”
Using them as Yunmengze’s national treasures, the land could recover its vitality within a few years, drawing upon their inherent fortune.
Five brilliantly colored feathers floated in Qiuqiu’s hands, shimmering with spiritual energy. Anyone could see they were extraordinary artifacts.
Cangwu hesitated, reaching out to stop Qiuqiu, but the organizers eagerly accepted the feathers with a grateful smile.
Snuggling comfortably in Feng Yuemian’s arms, Qiuqiu chirped innocently, “Just for now, okay? You have to return them later.”
But no one responded.
…
Disappointed as she was by the early end of the Martial Arts Evaluation, Xue Ying quickly found her attention consumed by something else.
She wanted to be sisters with “Sister Cen”—or, failing that, mother and daughter would do.
She greatly admired Cen Wuwang’s swordsmanship. The last person she held in such high regard was Yuhengzi. Unfortunately, her master had disgraced himself in his later years, so Xue Ying pretended he didn’t exist.
Now, with Cen Wuwang’s skills surpassing her own, Xue Ying clung to her day and night, showering her with flattery.
“Sister Cen, are you taking disciples? Consider me! I’m pretty, sweet-voiced, and durable—great value for money. You won’t regret it!”
In response, Cen Wuwang promptly beat her up.
The return journey was soon arranged, with Cen Wuwang joining the group. The Marquess was supposed to accompany them but left without a word. Xue Ying and Du Yizhou lamented her stubbornness but had no choice but to let it go.
In reality, the Marquess was frantically contacting Minggong, begging him to rescue her—no, to rescue Shen Jin from his dire predicament.
After summarizing Shen Jin’s imprisonment in the Demon-Suppressing Tower, Minggong’s expression darkened. “You’re saying that after hearing your explanation, the Tai Xuan Sect immediately locked him up without question?”
The Marquess nodded gravely. Minggong’s face paled. “This is a trap. They must have seen through his identity and deliberately played along to lure you in—a two-for-one scheme.”
The Marquess fled immediately. Once safe, she sighed to Minggong, “These righteous disciples claim to be noble, but they’re all honey-mouthed and dagger-hearted, deep as the abyss.”
She cursed Xue Ying as a deceitful wretch, lamenting her misjudgment. Forced to work with Minggong to save Shen Jin—and the demon realm—she gritted her teeth and cooperated.
“Our only option now is to break the seal of the Mind Realm. Once the demon army pours forth, we can bring our lord home.”
But the Marquess frowned. “That seal isn’t easily broken. If it were, our lord wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to infiltrate the enemy.”
Hearing of Yunmengze’s upheavals, Minggong hatched a plan.
…
With the Marquess gone, gossip shifted to Cen Wuwang. Xue Ying was curious too. Beyond Cangwu’s endorsement, Cen Wuwang’s techniques were unmistakably from the Tai Xuan Sect, further cementing Xue Ying’s belief in her identity.
She must be a legendary master from the sect, a hidden powerhouse.
Xue Ying preened at the thought—she truly was the protagonist, stumbling upon such fortune on her travels.
With Xue Ying constantly chattering about “Sister Cen,” everyone soon knew.
Since they were all sword cultivators, why not spar?
Then they got thoroughly thrashed.
“You call yourselves sword cultivators? Pathetic.”
Battered and bruised, the Tai Xuan disciples praised Cen Wuwang through swollen lips. “Elder, you’re absolutely amazing.”
Cen Wuwang eyed them coldly before summoning Xue Ying—and beating her up again.
Xue Ying: ???
Generally, people admired geniuses, with rivals striving to catch up—like Du Yizhou chasing Xue Ying. But against a prodigy, resistance was futile. The mediocre simply watched from the sidelines, cheering.
Such was life.
Xue Ying didn’t mind. She hadn’t faced a worthy opponent in ages. Among her peers, Wen An was no match, and the elders rarely sparred with her. Having a senior willing to guide her was a rare joy—even if her methods were harsh.
After Xue Ying’s beatings, Du Yizhou usually stepped up for his own. His treatment was gentler, with Cen Wuwang patiently correcting his mistakes. But she always ended with:
“You’re not suited for the sword.”
Du Yizhou stubbornly clung to his blade, refusing to yield—hence his years-long rivalry with Xue Ying.
One day, after his sword was knocked away, Du Yizhou gritted his teeth. “I haven’t lost.”
Cen Wuwang tapped his shoulder with her sword’s flat. “Stop fooling around.”
Pressed down by her sword intent, Du Yizhou couldn’t rise, but he still muttered, “I can keep fighting.”
Cen Wuwang studied him before summoning his sword and handing it back. “Use your spells.”
As her aura shifted, Du Yizhou understood. He conjured formations, sending blades of light streaking toward her.
Xue Ying yawned lazily from the sidelines.
Compared to swordplay, spell duels were dull—flashy but predictable, like turn-based battles.
“Future spellcasters belong in music videos,” she mused.
Cen Wuwang, however, was a nightmare for fragile egos. She crushed Du Yizhou’s weaknesses and then pitted her own against his strengths. After a few rounds, he was utterly demoralized.
The usually icy Tai Chu Sect prodigy stood shattered, eyes reddening.
Cen Wuwang offered no comfort, only cold truths.
“Know why you’ll never match me?”
Du Yizhou looked up. She sheathed her sword, leaving him with her back.
“You’re not as pretty.”
Du Yizhou: “…”
Xue Ying, munching on melon seeds, glanced between them and, under Cen Wuwang’s glare, reluctantly played sycophant.
“Sister Cen is right. Sister Cen’s beauty is peerless.”
“Enough chatter. Train.”
The voyage passed swiftly. By their return, everyone treated Cen Wuwang as a revered elder, trailing behind her like loyal hounds.
Wen An, who’d come to greet them, was baffled—especially by Xue Ying’s behavior. He turned to Du Yizhou for answers, only to be met with a sneer.
“Not as good-looking as me.”
Wen An: “Are you insane?”
After the Tai Chu disciples left, Wen An smiled at Xue Ying. “Welcome back.”
Before she could reply, Cen Wuwang drew her sword. “Spar with me.”
Wen An was bewildered—until he was dragged to the training grounds and thoroughly schooled.
It reminded him of the past, when Yuhengzi had drilled him under the scorching sun while Xue Ying heckled.
“Fucking hell,” she’d whined in her lisping child’s voice. “That old bastard isn’t fit to be my master. Ugh, shixiong, I’m thirsty!”
Later, Yuhengzi nearly broke her legs for it.
Now, watching Xue Ying fawn over Cen Wuwang, Wen An dismissed his suspicions.
There was no way Yuhengzi would cross-dress to teach them. And if this really were him, Xue Ying would be the first to revolt.
After settling the disciples, Wen An reported to Yuxuzi. Learning the Marquess hadn’t returned, the elders sighed before inquiring about the newcomer.
“Her name is Cen Wuwang. Her swordsmanship is extraordinary, reminiscent of Yuhengzi. Xue Ying even asked if she could adopt her as a mother.”
Yuxuzi spat out his tea, coughing violently. He knew Yuhengzi’s original surname was Cen—from a noble family.
Years ago, the Cens had stormed the Tai Xuan Sect, demanding Yuhengzi return to marry. The conflict had been ugly, and Yuhengzi had abandoned the name. Now, with a “Sister Cen” resembling him, Yuxuzi grew suspicious.
“Xue Ying wants to call her ‘mother’?”
Not “father.”
Yuxuzi exchanged uneasy glances with Qixia. “What do you think?”
Shaken, Qixia suggested, “Since she’s staying, why not visit and assess her ourselves?”
They found Xue Ying outside Cen Wuwang’s quarters, clutching a frilly dress.
“Pink suits you, Sister Cen! You’d look stunning!”
“Get lost.”
Yuxuzi sighed. “Xue Ying’s always been proud. To see her grovel like this… If this were a man, she’d be called a simp.”
Qixia added, “If it were Yuhengzi, she’d be devastated.”
Yuxuzi: “…A tragic misplacement of affection.”
Their master-disciple relationship had never been good.
After Xue Ying left, Yuxuzi approached. “I am Yuxuzi, leader of the Tai Xuan Sect. I heard—”
“Draw your sword.”
Post-spar, Yuxuzi rubbed his sore back, tearfully confirming, “It’s him. That ruthless style—no doubt.”
Qixia: “…”
Men had strange ways of recognizing each other.
Once seated, Qixia eyed Cen Wuwang’s delicate features. “What happened, shixiong?”
After hearing his story, Yuxuzi slammed the table. “Outrageous!”
Qixia nodded. “Utterly shameless, ruining your reputation.”
She explained Shen Jin’s impersonation and crimes, including framing Xue Ying. “Though she’s unharmed, your name was tarnished. He’s now imprisoned.”
Cen Wuwang asked, “Where are the demon crystals?”
Yuxuzi scoffed. “Who wants those? We tossed them.”
“…Those were demon crystals.”
Rare and valuable, they were coveted for refining artifacts.
Qixia sighed. “Calm down, Sect Leader.”
Once composed, Yuxuzi wailed about scavenging for them. After he left, Qixia fretted. “That demon lord’s schemes trapped you in this form. Should we ask Cangwu for help?”
Cen Wuwang sipped tea. “Not yet. Wait and see.”
Resigned, Qixia left—but not before whispering, “This might help you adjust.”
She handed him a floral undergarment. “For close combat… to avoid… unwanted attention. It’s new.”
Cen Wuwang: “No.”
Qixia glanced at his flat chest and produced another item. “If you haven’t suppressed your—”
She was thrown out before finishing. Undeterred, she called through the door, “Let me know if you need anything!”
Inside, Cen Wuwang coldly polished his sword, resisting the urge to commit fratricide.
Later, Qixia sought Xue Ying, asking about their meeting.
Xue Ying, diligently training, greeted her warmly. Qixia had been like a mother to her in Yuhengzi’s absence.
Hesitant to reveal the truth, Qixia probed, “If your master were replaced, would you still acknowledge him?”
Xue Ying pondered. “Hard to say. Maybe I should test it first.”
“Test…?”
She watched, stunned, as Xue Ying marched to the Demon-Suppressing Tower and cheerfully addressed Shen Jin.
“Master, the Martial Arts Evaluation was canceled, so I couldn’t win first place. For the sect’s honor, you don’t mind losing to me, right?”
Shen Jin, who loathed her above all, saw red. Today, he’d kill her or die trying.
Using Yuhengzi’s body against his disciple? Worth it.
But when he summoned his spear, Xue Ying merely asked, “Can you use a sword?”
“Taking the Sword Immortal title from a spearman is disgraceful.”
Shen Jin: “…”
Naturally, he was soundly beaten. Afterward, Xue Ying told Qixia, “I don’t think I would.”
Before Qixia could respond, Cen Wuwang appeared, critiquing Xue Ying’s performance.
“Too many openings.”
He hauled Shen Jin up and beat him again, then ordered Xue Ying, “Again.”
Qixia, watching the bloodied, cursing Shen Jin, ventured, “I think he’s done.”
Shen Jin spat, “Once the seal breaks, I’ll raze the Three Realms!”
Xue Ying scoffed. “Trash like you can’t even wield a sword. A dog would do better. Instead of training, you chase skirts—orphan desperate to breed? Your ‘swordsmanship’? More like a trampled brain.”
Enraged, Shen Jin snarled, “In my true form, you’d be nothing!”
Xue Ying smirked. “Oh? Want to switch bodies and call me ‘Daddy’?”
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