Chapter 37:It was Clearly my first Arrival
Chapter 30
The tryout platform of Canglan Sword Sect thrummed with the clash of blades and the hum of spiritual energy, but Qing Wan’s arrival silenced the crowd. Her Foundation Building aura blazed, cyan winds swirling with her Silent Annihilation Sword Intent, sharp and unstable, reflecting the storm in her heart. The inner disciples froze, their eyes wide as she stood on the platform, her sword raised, her voice like frost. “Jinghong Peak’s Qing Wan, Foundation Building Initial Stage. I challenge any senior brother or sister!” Her gaze burned, daring anyone to step forward, her rage and humiliation fueling each word.
In the crowd, whispers erupted. “Isn’t that Elder Luyue’s attendant? She built her foundation?” “Look at her aura—wild, dangerous!” A senior disciple, emboldened by Liu Qingxu’s rumors, stepped onto the platform, his sword glinting. “I’ll test your skill, Junior Sister,” he said, smirking. Qing Wan’s eyes narrowed, her sword intent surging, and the duel began with a clash that shook the air.
Back at Shu Yue’s cave abode, Cheng Mo sat slumped, her hands still pressed to her face, the memory of Wan Qing’s kiss—a cold, deliberate violation—burning her lips. I’m done for. Qing Wan saw it. She’ll never forgive me now. Her transmigration survival plan lay in tatters, the novel’s tragic ending looming closer. Frustrated to ashes by the protagonist… and I just handed her the torch. Liu Qingxu’s threatening message and the council’s summons faded against the image of Qing Wan’s furious, wounded eyes.
How did it come to this? Cheng Mo’s mind raced. Wan Qing planned this—she’s been weaving her net all along. The realization hit hard: Wan Qing’s “gentleness” was a trap, her kiss a calculated move to deepen the rift with Qing Wan. And I fell for it, let her get close. Her stomach churned with guilt and fear. I have to fix this… but how? Qing Wan won’t even look at me.
She rose, her divine sense still tender but functional, and scanned for Qing Wan. The signal came from the tryout platform, her aura wild and chaotic. She’s fighting? Now? Panic seized Cheng Mo. Her dao heart’s unstable—she’ll hurt herself! She swept out of the cave, ignoring her own exhaustion, and raced toward the platform, her heart pounding. I can’t lose her—not like this.
At the platform, Qing Wan’s duel was a whirlwind of ferocity. Her opponent, a mid-stage Foundation Building disciple, struggled under her relentless strikes, her sword intent cutting through his defenses like paper. “Enough!” he gasped, yielding, but Qing Wan’s eyes blazed, her aura spiraling. “Next!” she shouted, her voice raw, her pain driving her to challenge another. The crowd parted, uneasy, as her intent grew more erratic, threatening to consume her.
Cheng Mo arrived, her breath catching at the sight of Qing Wan—pale, fierce, her aura teetering on collapse. “Qing Wan, stop!” she called, her voice cutting through the crowd. The disciples turned, murmuring, as Qing Wan’s gaze snapped to her, cold and venomous.
“Stay out of this, Elder,” Qing Wan spat, her sword trembling. “I don’t need your pity—or your lies.” She turned to another opponent, her intent flaring dangerously. Cheng Mo’s heart clenched. She’s going to break her dao heart.
Before Qing Wan could strike, Cheng Mo leaped onto the platform, her Golden Core aura flaring to suppress the chaos. “Enough!” she commanded, her voice sharp but laced with desperation. “You’re hurting yourself, Qing Wan. This isn’t the way.”
Qing Wan laughed, bitter and hollow. “What do you care? Go back to your fairy—I saw everything.” Her words dripped with scorn, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of pain, raw and unguarded.
Cheng Mo stepped closer, ignoring the crowd’s whispers. “I didn’t want that—it was Wan Qing, not me. I pushed her away, Qing Wan. I swear it.” Her voice broke, her transmigration fears drowned by her need to reach her disciple. “You’re not a debt or a duty. You’re… you’re everything to me.”
Qing Wan froze, her sword lowering slightly, her eyes wavering. But before she could respond, a cold voice cut through the air—Liu Qingxu, flanked by council enforcers. “Elder Luyue, you defy the council’s summons to coddle your disciple? Your favoritism is undeniable.” Her smile was venomous, her trap springing shut.
The crowd gasped, the tension snapping taut. Qing Wan’s aura flared again, her gaze shifting between Cheng Mo and Liu Qingxu, her heart a battlefield of rage and doubt. Cheng Mo stood firm, her eyes locked on Qing Wan. I won’t let them take you—not her, not the council, not the plot.
Meanwhile, Wan Qing watched from the shadows, her zither silent, her lips curved faintly. The Elder’s heart is cracking… and Sunny Sister’s breaking. She sent a subtle message to a council disciple, fanning the rumors further. Let the storm rage. I’ll be the one
left standing.