Chapter 15

Chapter 15: Heavenly Prodigy Tournament

“Is what you said true?”

Bai Yang’s gaze flickered as he stared straight at Ye Chu Xue, as if he were trying to pry an answer out of her face.

“It’s true.”

Ye Chu Xue nodded, but the unease wouldn’t leave her. Bai Yang had been strange all day—too quiet, too taut, like he was holding himself together by force.

Hearing her confirm it, Bai Yang pressed his lips into a thin line. Only then did he let out the breath he’d been holding.

[His master still cared about him, right?]

That had to be why she’d warned Ye Chu Xue to keep her distance from him.

He led Ye Chu Xue into the courtyard, but when she offered him the pills, he didn’t take them.

“The Heavenly Prodigy Tournament is in a few days,” Ye Chu Xue said, anxiety sharpening her voice. “If you’re still injured, how will you compete?”

She pushed the pills into his hand, insistent, her concern plain.

Bai Yang only shook his head, eyes cold.

[If he stayed injured, maybe his master would feel sorry for him.]

“Even if I’m injured, I still won’t lose to anyone!”

He would make his master see—see just how outstanding he was. He would show her he was worth choosing, worth keeping.

Only he could become his master’s pride.

Li Ruo was nothing.

—

On the day of the Heavenly Prodigy Tournament, prodigy disciples from every sect and faction gathered at the Heaven-Questioning Sect. The square outside the main hall was packed so tightly it felt like the air itself had turned dense.

Song Wan Ning appeared with every Nascent Soul Stage True Lord in the sect, a clear signal of how much weight the tournament carried.

It had been some time since the broken engagement, and Song Wan Ning hadn’t seen Gu Qing Yuan once in that span. When they finally faced each other today, they stood far apart on the high platform—distant enough to look like strangers.

Outsiders didn’t know what had happened. Some even laughed and asked when the wedding would be. The Sect Master waved them off with a few casual lines, smooth and effortless, like brushing away dust.

Ye Chu Xue’s lingering injury still wasn’t fully healed, but she looked much better than before. She stood behind Gu Qing Yuan, chin slightly lifted, enjoying the looks thrown her way—those hot, envious stares from the disciples below.

Once, she’d been a useless five-spirit-root nobody. Now, after relentless effort, she had become a Chaos-spirit-root cultivator—Gu Qing Yuan’s disciple.

Let them envy her. Let them resent her. It wouldn’t change anything.

She had earned this.

The confidence in Ye Chu Xue’s chest swelled, bright and intoxicating. Today, she would shine. Today, she would prove Gu Qing Yuan had been right to take her in.

She never noticed the whispers spreading under the platform like rot.

“Tch. Look at Ye Chu Xue preening. She has no shame.”

“Grandmaster Gu has terrible taste. How did he end up choosing Ye Chu Xue? In my eyes, Grandmaster Song is way better!”

“What do you know? Even shit you’ve never eaten can smell good. After getting used to fine delicacies, he just wants a change of flavor.”

“Pah. That’s disgusting as hell. It’s incest!”

“Ignoring all morals and rules—it’s vile.”

Years ago, Venerable Mo Yu of the Cultivation World had fallen for his own disciple. He betrayed his sect, tore through every taboo, and insisted on being together no matter what anyone said.

But the eyes of the world were not so easy to ignore. After they got what they wanted, they didn’t find happiness—only crushing pressure.

Venerable Mo Yu fell into inner demons. He failed to pass his heavenly tribulation and died beneath lightning. His disciple went mad, and not long after, they died in a beast tide.

Under the sharp stares from below, Gu Qing Yuan’s brows unconsciously drew together. A chill of unease crept under his skin.

If Ye Chu Xue ever learned the truth… if she ever understood what people were really saying…

Would she start to pull away from him?

He couldn’t silence every mouth. All he could do was pray she learned as late as possible.

Song Wan Ning sat off to one side, expression flat, unreadable. Behind her stood her three disciples, unusually quiet today.

Even An Ze—normally loud enough to shake rooftops—kept his head down and his mouth shut.

After being injured by Song Wan Ning twice in a row, he finally understood what fear meant. Song Wan Ning was a Nascent Soul Stage True Lord. Terrifyingly strong. Someone he could only look up at from the ground.

Before, his master had at least spared him a little face, as if he wasn’t worth dealing with. Now, it felt like she wasn’t even willing to pretend.

An Ze squeezed his palm until it hurt. Resentment churned under the fear, hot and sour. Without his master’s pills, his body still ached like it had been crushed and stitched back together wrong.

He lifted his head and stole a glance at his eldest senior brother beside him.

Bai Yang’s face was grim, his gaze fixed on Li Ruo—on the way Li Ruo stood close to their master, on the ease with which he offered her grapes as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

No one could tell what emotion lay buried in Bai Yang’s eyes.

All in all, the atmosphere at the Heaven-Questioning Sect felt wrong.

The Sect Masters of the other sects noticed it, too. Their expressions shifted. The joking chatter faded into awkward silence.

Once all the competing disciples had arrived, the Sect Master of the Heaven-Questioning Sect—the chief host of the tournament—stepped onto the high platform.

“This Heavenly Prodigy Tournament is meant for our Seven Sects and Four Factions to spar and exchange ideas, so we can improve together,” he announced. His voice carried cleanly across the square. “All disciples must give it their all, but stop short of killing blows. Do not take lives, and do not ruin anyone’s foundation!”

He laid out the rules, offered a few more reminders, then handed hosting duties to an elder of the Heaven-Questioning Sect.

Each sect could send ten Foundation Establishment Stage disciples. Their exact level didn’t matter. The first round would be a chaotic brawl, and only those who stood out would advance.

Ye Chu Xue, Bai Yang, and Lu Nan Feng were all on the list. Only An Ze—who had joined too late—hadn’t earned a spot.

Lu Nan Feng lowered his head and reported properly to Song Wan Ning, stiff as a board. “Master, your disciple will be going with Eldest Senior Brother.”

He didn’t speak the way he used to—no closeness, no careless familiarity. After being slapped down more than once, he didn’t dare overstep even a hair.

Song Wan Ning barely reacted.

Lu Nan Feng wasn’t surprised, but disappointment still prickled as he stepped down from the viewing platform.

Bai Yang stared at the back of Song Wan Ning’s head for a long moment, then leapt down as well.

Ye Chu Xue followed right after. Gu Qing Yuan’s gaze stayed on her, tense with worry he couldn’t hide.

[If Song Wan Ning hadn’t interfered, Chu Xue’s injuries would have healed long ago.]

Veins stood out on the back of his hand as his eyes slid, unwillingly, toward Song Wan Ning—full of blame he couldn’t swallow.

But Song Wan Ning was already looking at him.

She was smiling.

The smile didn’t reach her eyes.

Gu Qing Yuan’s heart tightened. Something felt off. Irritation rose like a tide, sharp and directionless. He looked away too quickly, as if steadying himself.

Seeing that, the curve of Song Wan Ning’s lips deepened. A wicked glint flashed in her gaze.

[Before it had even begun, Gu Qing Yuan was already aching for her.]

[When he watched Ye Chu Xue get beaten later, wouldn’t he be heartbroken to death?]

She leaned back lazily and accepted a grape from Li Ruo’s fingertips, biting into it with unhurried calm.

“Fellow Daoist Song,” the Sect Master of the Gazing Mountain Sect said with a forced chuckle, trying to smooth the air, “you don’t look worried at all. I assume you have great confidence in your disciples’ strength?”

Every head turned.

Song Wan Ning spat the grape seeds into her hand without the slightest care. When she lifted her gaze, slow and cool, it made people’s hearts stutter.

“Winning or losing isn’t important,” she said. “As long as no one dies, it’s fine.”

She no longer cared whether Bai Yang and Lu Nan Feng won or lost.

As long as it didn’t affect her bigger plan.

The Sect Master of the Gazing Mountain Sect froze for a beat. His smile stiffened. “Heh. Fellow Daoist Song really knows how to joke…”

Everyone knew Song Wan Ning had always had a bad temper. Spoiled by her family since childhood, then taken in by Venerable Feng Ya, her path of cultivation had been smooth and bright.

On top of that, she was exceptionally talented at alchemy. It had always been others who tried to curry favor with her.

But Song Wan Ning had also always protected her younger disciples.

So hearing her say that today left people unsettled in a way they couldn’t name.