[Leng Yue's POV]
When she first arrived three months ago, the sect's elders had treated her as though she were a divine treasure unearthed after millennia. At sixteen years old and already at the third stage of the Spirit Severing Realm, her talent had stunned the entire sect. Whispers had quickly spread that she would become the Sect Master's first personal disciple, and she had been granted privileges far beyond what most outer disciples could even dream of.
Of course, favouritism could not be too obvious. The sect still needed to maintain a image of fairness, so she was told to participate in the upcoming Outer Disciple Tournament — "to uphold balance and set an example."
She had agreed, though in truth, she expected nothing but a waste of time.
That was until today.
Now, as she sat with one leg crossed over the other, her fingers unconsciously tapping against the armrest of her jade chair, her gaze was drawn again and again to a certain red-haired youth seated among the crowd.
He was not posturing. Not flaunting his strength or seeking recognition. He sat quietly, calm as still water, his sharp eyes flickering across the arena with detached indifference. Yet, the longer she looked, the more she found herself unable to look away.
'Why?' she wondered, her brows furrowing slightly. 'Why can't I get him out of my head?'
She, who had lived far longer than most mortals could comprehend, had seen countless faces — kings, saints, and devils alike — yet none had ever stirred her in this way, none came even close.
And then his number was called.
"Number 412 and 329, please proceed to the first stage!"
Leng Yue's eyes locked onto him immediately. As he rose and began walking toward the arena, each step carried a sense of natural authority. The crowd seemed to instinctively make way, conversations quieting as their gazes followed him. He wasn't even trying to draw attention — it was simply impossible not to notice him.
Her heartbeat quickened, a phenomenon that she had never experienced before.
'Li Yun…' she whispered in her mind, savouring the unfamiliar name that had been murmured earlier among the spectators. 'Who are you?'
***
[Bai Long's POV]
Bai Long stepped onto the stage, his expression unreadable. His patience was wearing thin.
He had scanned every participant in the arena — hundreds of outer disciples, all eager, nervous, and woefully underwhelming. Not a single one could even come close to matching Xue He's strength, let alone his own.
Well, almost no one.
His mind briefly flashed to the blue-silver haired girl he'd seen earlier — the one with eyes like glacial waters. There had been something about her… not just her beauty, but her aura. Deep, vast, controlled.
He shook the thought away. "Let's finish this quickly."
The judge nodded from the side. "Begin!"
Without hesitation, Bai Long drew his sword. A faint shimmer of golden flames danced along the blade's edge — restrained, elegant, yet terrifyingly potent. The air around him warped slightly from the heat, and the spiritual pressure that rolled off him made the spectators subconsciously lean back in their seats.
'Gold Flame Sword Art: Golden Slash.'
The moment the technique's name echoed in his mind, his sword cut through the air.
A streak of golden fire roared forth like a divine sun, its heat shaking the stage foundations. His opponent didn't even have time to scream — before the attack landed, the judge appeared instantly, intercepting the strike with a shimmering energy barrier that cracked upon impact.
The attack dispersed, leaving behind a smouldering gash across the stone platform.
"Winner, Number 412!" the judge announced sternly. Then, his tone hardened. "And please, refrain from killing your fellow sect members."
Bai Long sheathed his sword, bowing slightly. "Yes, Elder."
As he walked back to his seat, the arena buzzed with hushed voices.
"Did you see that? That wasn't Nascent Soul power!"
"No way he's still in the same realm as us…"
"Such control… even the judge struggled to block that!"
Their words washed over him like background noise. None of it mattered.
"You shouldn't kill your opponents, Brother Li," Xue He said with mock offense as soon as Bai Long sat down. "What was it you said earlier? I must be forgetful."
Bai Long exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I know what I said. But I'm irritated by the lack of worthy opponents."
Xue He grinned, wiping away non-existent tears. "I feel you, Brother Li. I can't even practice my new sword art without killing everyone either. Truly, our burdens are heavy."
Bai Long's brow twitched. "Are you mocking me?"
"Me? Never—" thwack!
Xue He winced as Bai Long's fist gently — yet firmly — met the back of his head.
"Next time," Bai Long warned, "mock me silently."
Xue He nodded with exaggerated solemnity, rubbing his head. "Yes, yes, I'll keep my brotherly love internal next time."
Despite himself, Bai Long allowed a faint smile. The familiarity of their banter grounded him, if only slightly.
[Leng Yue's POV]
Back in her private box, Leng Yue's eyes widened slightly as she watched the golden flame dissipate. Her hand, which had been resting elegantly on the armrest, tightened unconsciously.
'So strong?' she thought, shock rippling through her composed mind.
That attack — the control, the purity of the energy, the seamless integration of fire and sword intent — it wasn't something a Spirit Severing cultivator should be capable of. No… even many Body Integration Realm experts would fail to produce such power so cleanly.
But what truly unsettled her wasn't his strength.
It was the feeling she got when she looked at him — as though there was something buried deep beneath his calm exterior. A storm caged within glass.
'Who exactly are you…?'
As she continued to watch him laugh softly beside his friend, her lips parted slightly in a whisper that no one else could hear.
"I'll find out."