Snow blanketed the sky, endless white falling as the temple bells tolled across the mountain.
Unlike the "Heaven and Earth Warning Bell" that rang from the Celestial Palace, this sound came from the Mountain and River Court, deep and sonorous, summoning disciples from every corner of the sect.
Though the outer disciples were not qualified to compete in the Mountain and River Ranking Tournament, they flocked there nonetheless—to watch, to learn, to absorb combat experience and spellcraft from their seniors.
Footsteps crunched through the snow as hundreds of disciples made their way to the arena, where a colossal golden plaque hung high above: THE MOUNTAIN AND RIVER RANK.
"Have you heard?" one disciple murmured excitedly. "The sect's offering a treasure-grade weapon this year—plus rare top-tier spirit artifacts, and even Yin-Yang Longevity Pills! The rewards are several times richer than last year's!"
"Of course. The Ten Great Immortal Gates' Alliance Gathering is coming soon," another replied. "Our sect wants to push more of its disciples into the Spirit Realm. They're sparing no cost this time."
"I heard Jian Kong won't even keep his tenth place. After losing his Silver Serpent Sword—and getting beaten up by Fang Han—his reputation's in ruins."
"Fang Han? The same one who offended Hua Tiandu? Hah! He won't even survive the day. Half the ranked disciples worship Hua Tiandu; they'll never let Fang Han walk away unscathed. And Ye Nantian's already said he's going to 'teach him a lesson.'"
"Ye Nantian… yes, he's terrifying."
"Maybe someone will even break through to the Spirit Realm mid-battle, like in the previous tournaments!"
"Unlikely—ascending to that realm isn't something you just 'happen' to do."
"Unless it's Senior Sister Long…"
"Ah, Senior Sister Long—she's held the number one spot for three straight years!"
Whispers and snowflakes filled the air as Fang Han walked among them, his expression calm and cold as the falling snow.
He wore a simple robe, his hands empty. The Sound-Killing Demon Blade he once used—an upper-grade spirit weapon—he'd lent to Princess Hong Yi. Though she possessed a True Blue Sword, it was not something she could reveal publicly. The Demon Blade, on the other hand, was perfect for her.
Fang Han took his place quietly among the crowd. Before him stretched dozens of raised battle platforms, and at the arena's center shimmered the golden Mountain and River List, radiant and alive with waves of spiritual power—it was no ordinary object, but a weapon or treasure in itself.
Ten names were inscribed in glowing characters.
Near the top, Fang Han spotted Ye Nantian, ranked third. At the very peak, first place, was a woman: Long Xuan.
The name stirred a memory—of the yellow-robed senior sister he'd once met in the inner court, who had lifted a hundred-pound Shura bone spike between two fingers as if it were nothing.
So she's the one.
His thoughts calmed again as his gaze shifted to the front rows, where elders and true disciples sat in ornate chairs, conversing in low voices. He even caught sight of Senior Sister Jialan—but not Hua Tiandu.
An hour passed. The Mountain and River Court was filled to capacity—inner and outer disciples alike forming neat circles around the stage, no chaos anywhere.
Then the bells fell silent.
A lingering hum resonated through the air, steady and grounding. The crowd went utterly still.
An elder stood, sweeping his gaze over the disciples. Wherever his eyes fell, people felt as if they were being pierced through—none dared meet his stare. His aura alone proved him to be a master of the Spirit Realm.
"The Mountain and River Tournament," he said, voice echoing, "is the sect's sacred trial. It selects the brightest among you for greater cultivation. Fight with sincerity and courage. Show your true skill. Whether or not you rank among the top ten, all who display extraordinary will, perseverance, and wisdom shall be rewarded."
With that, he waved his sleeve. "Begin!"
Instantly, half-elders stepped onto the platforms, calling out match pairings.
There were over five thousand inner disciples now—swollen even further after the recent Heaven Demon Battlefield trials. The matches would be countless, but the sect's order and discipline ensured everything ran seamlessly.
"Platform Nineteen—Fang Han versus Yin Shihai!"
Fang Han's name rang out, drawing a hundred stares. He was a celebrity of sorts—reckless, arrogant, and the talk of the sect. Even the elders' eyes turned toward him. Jialan frowned faintly, an unspoken thought flickering behind her calm expression.
Good, Fang Han mused. The seals are holding.
Thanks to Yan's Concealment Talisman and the subtle restraints on his Yama Golden Body, his aura was completely hidden. Even seasoned Spirit Realm elders sensed only faint anomalies, not the truth of his cultivation.
He stepped onto the platform.
Opposite him stood Yin Shihai—a proud-looking disciple in moon-white robes, his body radiating spiraling waves of spiritual energy. In his hand was a jade sword, translucent yet sharp enough to pierce the air.
"This is my Kunyu Sword," Yin Shihai announced, smiling coldly. "A relic I found in the ancient Kunwu Mountains. Twenty-eight Black-Yellow Horses couldn't pull it from the stone where it slept. Let's see how long you last."
Before Fang Han could reply, Yin Shihai's body erupted in smoke. Mist flooded the platform, swallowing him whole.
"A Spirit Mist Barrier... and a Concealment Talisman too?" Fang Han muttered.
A moment later—whoosh!—a blade of invisible wind slashed toward him!
The attack was swift, brutal, and utterly silent.
He can even hide his sword?
Fang Han's arm flickered. A streak of violet lightning flashed—the spirit sword refined by Fang Qingxue.
Clang!
The two weapons collided. Lightning split the mist as Fang Han's sword shattered in half. The invisible wind coalesced into the gleaming Kunyu Sword.
But before Yin Shihai could press the attack, Fang Han drew a deep breath and roared—
"Heaven and earth's righteous qi, a song for the fallen!"
A surge of sound erupted like thunder. The mist shattered; even the Kunyu Sword trembled. In that heartbeat, Yin Shihai's hidden form flickered into view.
Fang Han lunged.
Fists like hammers, blows like rain—
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Dozens of strikes landed before Yin Shihai could even react. His enchanted robe split apart as he screamed, body flung from the platform like a rag doll.
The Kunyu Sword clattered to the ground.
Fang Han exhaled, dusted his hands, and walked back to his seat as the referee's voice rang out:
"Fang Han—victorious!"
The crowd buzzed. Most hadn't even seen what had happened inside the mist.
"How did he win so fast?"
"He must have borrowed a powerful treasure—maybe from Senior Sister Jialan?"
"Well, he did beat Jian Kong. I suppose this isn't that surprising."
All around, other battles raged—flashes of fire, lightning, and blood. Those defeated were swiftly carried away and healed by Spirit Realm elders, though some would never recover their former strength.
Across the arena, a duel ended before it began.
"Senior Brother Ye, I surrender," said one disciple, stepping off the stage before Ye Nantian could even move.
Victory without a fight.
Ye Nantian smirked. Then his gaze found Fang Han.
"So, you actually won a round," he said, voice low. "Looks like you've got a few tricks left. I hope you enjoy these next few hours, because once we meet—you won't live past them."
"I'll make you regret saying that," Fang Han replied, licking his lips, his tone quiet but edged with steel.
Ye Nantian laughed. "Regret? I wield a treasure weapon, stronger than that pitiful gourd Hua Tiandu took from you. You'll die before you can even say 'I surrender.'"
He turned away, his words like poisoned needles meant to shake Fang Han's heart.
If this were months ago, Fang Han thought with a cold smile, it might've worked. But now...
He closed his eyes and meditated.
Moments later, the elder's voice boomed again:
"Next round—Platform One! Fang Han versus Ye Nantian!"
The entire arena erupted in shock.
"What? Already?"
"They're facing each other now?"
"Poor Fang Han—he's doomed! Senior Brother Ye's cultivation is terrifying, and rumor says he's been training atop the Myriad Spiral Peak for months!"
Amidst the roaring crowd, Fang Han rose calmly to his feet.
The true battle had begun.