Holy Land Trials Chapter Twenty-Three: A Shower of Blossoms

"Xuan Yu, you'll go first in the individual competition. Bring our Skyspire Academy an auspicious start."

As Qing Xingyue spoke, Qing Xuanyu rose and moved to stand beside him. The others, witnessing his arrangement, gradually revealed expressions of anticipation and faint smiles. To them, just as Sikong Yutian the Emperor once said, this Holy Land Trial might well be the chance for Skyspire Academy to wash away old humiliation and regain its renown as a sacred land.

Once the cultivation sanctuary, their academy had lain dormant for far too long. In the eyes of the multitudes, it was as fleeting as a night-blooming flower—a legend fading from memory. Yet, even so, none were willing to let it vanish into the river of history. For now, with Qing Xuanyu’s cultivation at the peak of Earth Spirit Realm, half a step from Heaven Spirit, she was poised to seize attention in the opening match.

But with this, the lingering puzzle in everyone’s hearts surfaced anew. To this day, none understood how the girl, whose realm lagged far behind Luo Xiaoya’s only half a year ago, managed to charge to the Earth Spirit pinnacle in such a short span, nearly reaching Heaven Spirit. Luo Xiaoya was the same; both of them had been in the early Spirit Conduction Realm six months prior.

Thus, a fearsome thought once took root in their minds: perhaps these two, after coming into contact with Luo Chen, gained extraordinary cultivation. But after Luo Chen entered the Heavenly Thunder Array and never returned, that idea shifted—maybe the two were simply born with peerless talent for cultivation. Naturally, everyone had questioned Qing Xingyue about this, but he never gave a clear answer. Only he knew the secret behind their achievements.

The crowd could not help but show a touch of disappointment. In their eyes, had that youth not insisted on entering the Thunder Pavilion, perhaps this grand event would have been his moment to dazzle the Skyspire Continent.

"Participants, enter the arena!"

As the voice sounded again from the City Lord’s Mansion, one of the ten dueling platforms at the center began to slowly rise, hovering three meters above the ground. In a flash, thirty-five figures from the preparation seats soared through the air, landing on the floating platform.

With a wave of the Hall Master’s hand, a stream of light split into thirty-five streaks, descending upon each contestant. A heartbeat later, their names appeared, rolling above their heads.

Three breaths passed, and all was set. The results were revealed.

A golden-armored knight soared from the City Lord’s Mansion, landing on the stage and sweeping his gaze across the crowd.

"The drawing is complete! First round: Skyspire Academy versus Blazing Fire Sect. The bye goes to Water Dominion Sect."

"The match is about to begin. All others, please leave the arena!"

As the knight’s resounding voice faded, only Qing Xuanyu and a Blazing Fire Sect disciple remained on stage. The other thirty-three departed, returning to their respective factions.

"To think the first match would pit Xuanyu against Blazing Fire Sect. Now this will be interesting," Qing Xingyue remarked, stroking his beard with a smile. The others nodded; the outcome was perhaps expected.

For a century, Skyspire Academy had been suppressed by the thirty-two top-tier factions in the Sacred Land Trials. The academy’s survival was rumored to rely solely on the Empire’s backing and the headmaster’s authority.

Yet, as the saying goes, a lean camel is still bigger than a horse. This minor trial was only an appetizer; the true nature of Skyspire Academy was unknown to the world. Because of a calamity centuries ago, they dared not reveal their full strength—perhaps as a precaution against history repeating itself.

"I am Lie Huoyan, disciple of Blazing Fire Sect. I ask for your guidance, Fairy."

Though his words were polite, everyone could sense the mockery and provocation in his tone. Qing Xuanyu ignored him, standing quietly, gaze unwavering.

"Begin!"

At the knight’s command, Lie Huoyan charged at Qing Xuanyu with sword drawn, his blade wreathed in flames, his expression relaxed, as if ready to determine the bout with a single move.

But Qing Xuanyu only smiled coldly, gliding like a willow leaf in the wind, her feet barely touching the ground. No matter how deft Lie Huoyan’s blade, he could not so much as graze her. Frustration crept across his face.

"No wonder Skyspire Academy is always at the bottom! All you do is dodge—you don’t even dare to face me!"

As his words fell, Qing Xuanyu retreated several meters, then stopped. A silver-cyan longsword appeared in her hand. With the blade before her, her aura exploded forth.

"You—you’re actually Earth Spirit First Rank?"

Feeling her surge of power, Lie Huoyan’s face lost its composure. He had assumed she was only at the late Origin Spirit Realm—so his senses indicated moments ago. He could not comprehend how, in an instant, her aura soared to Earth Spirit.

"Since you’re so eager to see the strength of Skyspire Academy’s disciples, allow me to oblige you!"

Qing Xuanyu began to float upward, the air around her chilling rapidly. Her hair danced wildly in the wind, and a thin layer of frost coated her silver-cyan blade.

"Extreme Ice Blade!"

Her words rang out clear and cold. The frigid energy around her condensed into ten icy blades. Lie Huoyan could only stare, transfixed, his sword hand trembling, unable to accept that his first opponent was at the Earth Spirit level.

He had volunteered for the first match, believing his late Origin Spirit strength would secure an easy victory and win him acclaim within his sect. Yet in a blink, the situation reversed, leaving him at a loss.

Once the ten ice blades fully formed, Qing Xuanyu’s eyes sharpened. She swept her sword, sending the blades hurtling toward Lie Huoyan. He staggered back, his blade slipping from his grasp, terror etched across his face.

"No—I surre—"

Boom! A scream resounded.

As the explosion echoed, cold and dust mingled on the platform. The audience gasped in shock. Three heartbeats later, a slender silhouette soared from the smoke, returning to the Skyspire Academy section.

When the haze cleared, a figure emerged: Lie Huoyan, kneeling, encased in ice from the neck down, his face bloodless, his eyes vacant.

The crowd was stunned. The battle had shifted in an instant—from dominating to helpless in a single breath. Yet their shock soon turned to awe, their eyes drawn to Skyspire Academy. This single victory upended the world’s perception of them.

"First round, first match: Skyspire Academy’s Qing Xuanyu—victory!"

As the golden knight announced, he waved his hand; the ice shrouding Lie Huoyan shattered and his body vanished from the stage.

"Next match, to—"

"Wait! Blazing Fire Sect has an objection!"

A weathered voice rang from their section, drawing all eyes. Qing Xingyue only shook his head with a wry smile.

"Blazing Fire Sect, after centuries, remains unchanged. If not for appearances, I’d have wiped out their sect long ago."

"Uncle-Master, perhaps you should leave it to us. If you consent, Qingmei and I will handle them tonight. You’ll be satisfied, I promise," said Bai Li Luo Hua with a cheerful grin. Bai Li Qingmei and the others laughed and nodded in agreement, as if the decision were unanimous.

Qing Xuanyu looked startled, as did the other academy disciples, but seeing her great-uncle smile, she ignored it and went to sit beside Luo Xiaoya.

"Let’s see what tricks the Blazing Fire Sect wants to play," Qing Xingyue said, glancing at the City Lord’s Mansion. The Hall Master and others fixed their attention on Blazing Fire Sect, but remained silent. After a few breaths, the Hall Master nodded, and the golden knight spoke.

"What objection does the Blazing Fire Sect’s elder have?"

An elder in the center stood, glancing at Skyspire Academy.

"I have no real objection—except that Skyspire Academy’s contestant deliberately hid her cultivation. I must protest."

"Oh? What do you mean by that?"

The old man smiled. "Contestants all know the matches should be fair. If someone conceals their true realm, it destroys fairness. Thus, I propose the match should be counted as—"

Crack!

"You old fool! Do you think Skyspire Academy is without strength?"

With a thunderous roar, Qing Xingyue’s form flashed, appearing above the preparation platform. A suffocating pressure descended, stunning the crowd—a presence belonging only to a half-step Void Realm master. None had expected that, after a millennium, Skyspire Academy would produce such a terrifying figure.

Feeling his aura, Qing Xuanyu shielded Luo Xiaoya. Through the corner of her eye, she saw the armrest where her great-uncle had sat, now bearing a deep handprint. Never had she seen him so angry. His pressure continued to blanket the area, his eyes cold as a god of death, hair and robes whipping wildly.

Only a few elders among the other factions remained unshaken. Strangely, the Hall Master did not intervene, merely watching, his face showing helplessness. After ten breaths, as the Blazing Fire Sect elder coughed blood, the Hall Master finally frowned and rose.

"Elder Qing, for my sake, let the matter rest. What do you say?"

Elder Qing? For my sake? The Hall Master’s words brought a sudden hush. Even the elders of major factions were surprised. The Blazing Fire Sect elder was terrified—the Hall Master of the Heavenly Sword Hall was a supreme figure in the continent, now addressing Qing Xingyue as a senior. Qing Xingyue appeared unmoved, only turning his gaze to the City Lord’s Mansion before finally withdrawing his pressure. The assembly exhaled in relief.

"Very well. I will not abuse my age today—I’ll grant you this favor. But let me say this: I have no intention of interfering with the proceedings, but strength commands respect. I am now an elder of Skyspire Academy. If you wish to provoke us, weigh your own strength first."

With that, he glared at the Blazing Fire Sect elder and returned to his seat. The Hall Master sighed and resumed his place, signaling for the matches to continue.

"Uncle-Master, you say they’re unchanged, but after centuries you’re just the same," Bai Li Luo Hua teased, hand over her mouth. Qing Xingyue shot her a glare.

"You little minx, your courage grows by the day—daring to tease your uncle-master."

Bai Li Luo Hua froze, lips trembling, and said no more. She turned to the others with a smile, then looked back to the arena. Qing Xingyue, however, cast a sidelong glance at a youth in a black cloak seated among the spectators, a faint smile curling at his lips.

"The second match: Thousand Sword Pavilion versus Hundred Flowers Palace! Contestants, take the stage!"

As the knight finished, two figures darted through the air. In a breath, a refined young man stood on the platform, hands folded on his sword, eyes closed. Opposite him stood a veiled woman in a brilliantly embroidered dress, adorned with dozens of flower patterns as if woven from living blossoms. In her hand was a pink flower, its six petals clearly visible.

"Begin!"

At the word, the young man’s eyes snapped open; he drew and swung his sword, sending a blade of light a meter wide toward the woman. She remained calm, plucking a petal from her flower and flicking it forward.

"Falling Sunset—Shield!"

As she spoke, the petal grew to shield size, colliding with the sword-light. Dust rose, and after a heartbeat, the shield returned to a flower petal in her hand.

The Thousand Sword Pavilion disciple smiled faintly, shifting his grip. Dots of light appeared around him.

"Sword Technique—Sever Without Trace!"

With his words, the lights transformed into hundreds of sword blades, all pointing at the woman. As they closed in, she drifted back, leaping away and plucking another petal.

"Jade Blossom—Stepping on Snow Leaves No Print!"

As the petal left her hand, a rain of blossoms fell, and the woman’s figure flickered across the arena, her toes touching petals like leaves on water, sending ripples through the air. Suddenly, hundreds of identical figures flitted about, impossible to distinguish the real from the false.

The young man could only turn in place, sword at the ready, face solemn, eyes tracking the falling petals. Soon, uncertainty crept into his gaze.

A snap of her fingers, and a riot of flowers filled the air. After a stalemate lasting several minutes, the platform was carpeted in petals, burying the young man’s feet. Beads of sweat stood on his brow.

Yet he remained vigilant, slashing at the air, but every blade that cut through petals saw them replaced by new ones.

"Jurua—Piercing Thorns!"

"Not good—"

At the woman’s words, the young man sensed danger. Before he could react, dozens of green, thorned vines erupted from the flower sea, sealing off his space. He dared not move, eyes fixed on the barbed vines, some an inch from his skin. Swallowing hard, he forced down his panic.

"Qian Cha concedes! Please show mercy."

As he spoke, the vines receded into the petal sea. A gust scattered the petals, and in the floral storm, the woman reappeared.

"Second match: Thousand Sword Pavilion versus Hundred Flowers Palace—Hundred Flowers Palace wins!"

"Disciple Xue Luo thanks you, sir," she said, bowing to Qian Cha before leaping back to her team. He watched her retreating figure, a hint of longing in his eyes, only coming to himself once she disappeared. He straightened his clothes and returned to his section.

On the preparation platform, Bai Li Luo Hua gazed at the stage, lost in thought, her expression tinged with sadness. Qing Xingyue sighed softly.

"Luo Hua, some things must be let go. A century has passed—it’s time you went home. Take your uncle-master’s advice: after this trial, you and Qingmei should return."

He spoke gently, with a trace of emotion and regret. Bai Li Luo Hua did not reply, only letting a tear slip from her eye. She understood his meaning all too well.

Her mind drifted back to that night, centuries ago.

In the rain-soaked forest, a massive gate supported by two stone columns nearly ten meters tall stood before her. The sign above read 'Hundred Flowers Palace' in bold characters. Beyond the gate, pavilions and towers rose in the mist.

Kneeling in the rain, a woman in a long dress endured the chill as icy drops lashed her, numbing every inch of flesh. Her hair clung to her face, her eyes wet; the moisture on her cheeks might be rain or tears. Through it all, she kept her gaze fixed on the distant palace.

Eventually, the rain stopped, the wind stilled, and dawn’s haze crept along the horizon—the herald of a new day.

From behind the gate, another woman appeared, carrying a grievously wounded man. His clothes were in tatters, deep wounds visible on his skin, yet no blood flowed, as if life had already fled.

She floated down before the kneeling woman, her face a mask of fury. After a moment, she flung the man to the ground by her side. The kneeling woman’s eyes filled anew with tears as her trembling hands hesitated over the man’s prone form.