Chương 69: Ruin

The first thing that followed the announcement of Bai Ning's victory was silence. It was not a natural silence. Rather, it was forced into being by the release of an unfathomable aura from on high. The cloud ring trembled, and the entirety of Daisai Island shuddered as Ancestor Qing descended. He hovered in the air, his presence fully unfurled, yet at the same time, carefully restrained, so as not to crush the lesser cultivators below.

He came to a rest in mid-air, hovering between the arena where Bai Ning and Fu Zhan stood and the ring of spectators above. Bai Ning was far from the only one frozen in place. Every cultivator present stared at Ancestor Qing, unable to tear their eyes away. It was a gentle power, yet utterly undeniable. Ancestor Qing spread his arms wide as he hovered. There was, Bai Ning noted, a broad, all-encompassing smile on his face.

"Well fought," he said.

"Well fought indeed." His voice was no louder than that of an ordinary man, yet it reached every ear without effort. It was not amplified in the manner some cultivators favored, flooding their words with qi to carry them across great distances. Instead, it arrived as though he were standing right beside each listener.

"This tournament has truly brought forth the hidden gems of our Islands," Ancestor Qing continued, "and now we may put a name and a face to the most talented Foundation Establishment cultivator of the region: Bai Ning." Bai Ning felt her ears warm slightly at the praise, even as she understood the theatrics behind it. Ancestor Qing's next actions proved her right. He raised one hand, releasing a crystal ball that drifted into the air above him.

With his other hand, he made a casual gesture, sending a ripple of qi into it. The sphere cracked at once, fractures spiderwebbing across its once-smooth surface. Then he lowered his hand and waited. A snort came from above, from the small cloud platform where the Nascent Soul cultivators had been judging. A pulse of qi rolled outward from that direction, washing harmlessly over the arena and spectators alike; harmless, that is, to everything except the crystal ball.

When the qi touched it, the fractures deepened, the sphere teetering on the brink of collapse. Still, Ancestor Qing waited. Like a distant tide, another pulse of qi arrived from far to the west. It was faint, almost unremarkable, so subtle that Bai Ning nearly missed it. Yet when it passed through the hovering crystal ball, the cracks widened further, splitting and branching until the sphere seemed barely whole. It looked less like a solid object now and more like shards of glass held together by invisible force.

Still, Ancestor Qing waited. The final pulse came like a roaring gale. Everyone felt it: deep, dense, and oppressive, like a vast wall of wind sweeping over the island. The cloud ring shuddered. Daisai Island groaned beneath the pressure. Even the winds themselves seemed to fall silent. For all its power, the qi did no harm, save for the crystal ball. It finally shattered, breaking apart in a cascade of tinkling glass. What was revealed at its center made Bai Ning's breath hitch.

It was a small bronze chariot, scarcely larger than a child's toy, yet exquisitely carved. A single brass-like doll, no bigger than a finger, stood upright upon it, one tiny arm extended, its finger pointing toward the distant horizon. The divine treasure, General Han's Chariot. Also known as the South Pointing Chariot. The grand prize for winning the tournament. Bai Ning already knew she would not truly keep it. The treasure would pass to Ancestor Qing as her sponsor, and that was fine.

The real reward lay elsewhere: his open, public protection. This entire ceremony was little more than a performance. Besides, it was not as though Ancestor Qing would retain it forever either. In the end, no matter how winding the path, the treasure would find its way into an Immortal's hands.

"Behold," Ancestor Qing proclaimed, "the grand prize. A divine treasure fallen from Heaven into the mortal realm: the South Pointing Chariot." He paused. Every eye remained fixed on the small bronze chariot hovering above him. Bai Ning found herself wondering what it would feel like to touch it. She knew that no cultivator below Immortal Ascension could truly wield its power, yet the temptation it inspired was undeniable.

A divine treasure was peerless; no one could remain unmoved in its presence, mortal or immortal alike. With great ceremony, Ancestor Qing lowered his hands. The chariot drifted downward, floating gently toward Bai Ning.

"Claim it with pride," he said. Bai Ning stepped forward, unable to suppress the thrum of excitement that surged through her. She knew she would have to relinquish it almost immediately, play her role in the script laid out before her, but still… to hold it, even for a moment… She took another step, eyes fixed on the descending treasure. It drifted softly, like falling snow, about to settle into her outstretched arms- When the serenity of the moment shattered.

Slow, obnoxious clapping sounded from her right; loud, deliberate, and deeply unpleasant. Bai Ning twitched, turning her head to see Fu Zhan applauding in precisely that manner, a wild grin stretched across his face.

"Yes," he said smugly, "by all means, claim it as the victor. My grandfather will be quite pleased to receive it from you afterward." A crushing pressure descended at once. Bai Ning's spine stiffened as Ancestor Qing's aura pressed down upon everything. The temperature seemed to drop. Breathing grew difficult. She could have sworn the sun itself dimmed, as though a vast cloud had passed across the sky. Worse still was the sense of absolute horror blooming in her mind. What was Fu Zhan doing? Had he lost his senses?

Did he truly intend to provoke a confrontation between two Nascent Soul experts here and now? The South Pointing Chariot, which had been moments away from settling into her arms, froze in midair, its gentle descent abruptly halted. When Ancestor Qing finally spoke, his voice was mild, yet edged with unmistakable steel.

"There is a difference between boldness and brashness, junior," he said evenly.

"Bai Ning is an orthodox cultivator who fought under my name. Thus, your grandfather will receive nothing, as agreed upon from the outset." His gaze sharpened.

"Does my old friend intend to break the contract we all previously established?" Fu Zhan ground his teeth beneath the immense pressure bearing down on him, yet he refused to yield.

"My grandfather has no such intention," he said stiffly.

"However, Senior… are you not making a mistake?" His eyes flicked toward Bai Ning.

"Were the rules not that all unorthodox cultivators would fall under my grandfather's banner?" He was clearly steering the conversation somewhere. Ancestor Qing looked unamused, yet he still gave Fu Zhan face.

"It was," he replied simply. Fu Zhan's grin widened, triumphant.

"Then that chariot should undoubtedly go to my grandfather. After all, Bai Ning is an unorthodox cultivator." Bai Ning would have exploded with rage if not for the pressure suddenly doubling. Her teeth clenched as she endured it, unable to voice a single retort. What was this bastard playing at? Claiming she was unorthodox? Ancestor Qing's patience was thinning as well. The red teardrop mark upon his forehead shimmered with a deeper light, reflected starkly in his suddenly glacial eyes.

"Oh?" he said, the oppressive aura radiating from him forcing everyone else into silence.

"So this is your scheme – to claim that a cultivator under my guidance is unorthodox?" His lips curved, not in amusement, but disdain.

"What a pitiable lie. I expected better from Fu. Do you truly believe such a transparent ploy will allow you to wrench victory from the jaws of defeat?" The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Rather than retreating under the warning implicit in those words, Fu Zhan did the unthinkable. He flared his qi, forcing it outward with all the strength he possessed. Against a Nascent Soul cultivator, it was meaningless, less than nothing.

Ancestor Qing allowed it anyway, watching him with cold, measuring eyes.

"My words are my grandfather's!" Fu Zhan bellowed, his voice suddenly carrying across the entire island.

"To call me a liar is to call him a liar as well. I say that this girl is the same as me, and I can prove it." The moment stretched taut, Fu Zhan's declaration echoing through the charged air. Bai Ning burned with the urge to surge forward and strike him where he stood. Surely Ancestor Qing would not fall for this; whatever this was. Then a voice cut through the tension like a hot knife through butter.

"Oh?" it said lightly, amused.

"Since Fu is so confident, does that mean it's true? Then we should see it properly, to understand exactly what the boy is talking about." Bai Ning recognized that voice instantly. How could she not, when it still haunted her nightmares? Song Shaoyue descended from above, polished and flawless as ever, her bodyguard floating silently at her side. They stopped at a comfortable distance from Ancestor Qing.

Their gazes met across the open space, and it was Ancestor Qing who looked away first, a faint frown creasing his brow. Song Shaoyue smiled.

"Well?" she said, turning her attention to Fu Zhan.

"Let's see this proof of yours." Fu Zhan straightened, confidence settling over his features.

"It is simple enough." He turned toward Bai Ning, and there was something unmistakably satisfied in his expression, as though savoring long-delayed revenge.

"Only an unorthodox cultivator would consume a False Core Pill. Since Bai Ning has, that automatically makes her one." A ringing silence followed. Fu Zhan had not bothered to lower his voice. His words echoed throughout the island and the cloud ring alike, reaching every ear present. Bai Ning was not sure what she had expected, but the fear – no, the horror, that surged up within her was overwhelming, threatening to swallow her whole. She fought to keep her face from slipping, to give nothing away.

How had he known? Though no one could move, Bai Ning suddenly felt the weight of a thousand stares land on her. Don't let it show, she told herself, the thought repeating like a mantra as the ground seemed to vanish beneath her feet. Don't let it show. For the first time, Ancestor Qing looked taken aback. His gaze shifted to her, drilling into her, boring straight through her defenses, and whatever he saw only deepened the frown forming on his brow. Song Shaoyue, by contrast, looked delighted. No, surely not.

They weren't going to believe him just like that. What could she do? Could she refute it somehow, say anything? But she couldn't move. Frustration and helplessness prickled across her skin, and in that instant she felt less like the tournament's victor and more like its greatest fool. Ancestor Qing opened his mouth, about to speak- When thunder shattered the air. A blue comet tore through the central gap in the cloud ring, blazing with qi, and screeched to a halt before Ancestor Qing and Song Shaoyue.

Silver lightning danced wildly around it before dissipating, revealing Mo Jian. He looked incandescent with fury. Relief hit Bai Ning so suddenly her limbs went soft, and she would have collapsed on the spot if not for Ancestor Qing's aura still locking everyone in place. Mo Jian spoke, his voice dripping with rage, no quieter than Fu Zhan's had been.

"Still your viperous tongue, Fu Zhan. How dare you accuse my disciple of such a heinous crime?" His glare was sharp enough to draw blood.

"Do you think I will allow the lies of the unorthodox faction to poison every ear here without a single word in response?" The air seemed to crackle as he leaned forward.

"Take back your words this instant," Mo Jian said coldly, "or do not blame me for being impolite." Neither of the Nascent Soul cultivators present spoke. Fu Zhan, however, bared his teeth.

"You!" he spat.

"So, she's your disciple, huh? No matter. This is a matter between men far more important than you. I represent my grandfather, so by what right are you stepping in? Let Senior Qing speak, if he has the words." Mo Jian scoffed, the sound loud and dripping with disdain.

"Ancestor Qing does not have the time to correct every futile lie spewed by demonic cultivators. Nor should he be forced to expend the effort," he said.

"I am stepping in because your words and actions have gone too far. Has your lust for the treasure truly addled your mind to this extent, that you believe you can get away with fabricating whatever lies suit you?" His gaze sharpened.

"Fu Zhan, I am warning you. Take back your words, or else."

"Or else what?" Fu Zhan screamed back.

"My grandfather will turn your skull into a decoration and use your soul for fuel, so mind your tongue. I am Fu Zhan. I will not be cowed by a nobody." His chest heaved as he shouted on.

"I do not lie. My words are the truth. Otherwise, why would they hesitate?" He gestured sharply toward Ancestor Qing and Song Shaoyue.

"You are the one who should take your words back, unless you mean to call my grandfather a liar." Mo Jian did not even spare a glance toward the others.

"All demonic cultivators are liars," he said flatly.

"Your grandfather is no exception. Ancestor Qing's silence is born of your shamelessness, not of doubt." His lip curled.

"Do you truly believe that screaming the same accusation again and again constitutes proof?" Only then did he turn toward Ancestor Qing, hands coming together in a tense salute.

"Lord Qing," Mo Jian said grimly, "Fu Zhan has gone too far. Only your words can settle this now. This is nothing more than a scheme by that old devil to wrest the treasure from your hands." However, Ancestor Qing did not speak. Whatever he had been about to say was gone, leaving him frowning and silent. Han Wenqing, hovering unobtrusively at Song Shaoyue's side, was just as mute, though his mistress was not. She cast a glance at Ancestor Qing, then lifted a finger to her cheek, grinning openly.

"Oh, dear," she said lightly.

"It seems your protector is not willing to step forward. As for me-" she shrugged languidly, "-it truly does appear that the boy is speaking the truth. What to do, what to do?" She was clearly delighted. Mo Jian turned toward her, fury plain on his face. Han Wenqing met his gaze, calm and unreadable, and Mo Jian stilled, clenching his fists in frustration. Below them, Bai Ning felt an abyss open in her stomach. Were they… was this really happening? Mo Jian's eyes darkened.

He suddenly pointed, and a blast of azure qi tore downward. For a heartbeat, Bai Ning thought it was a spell meant to free her. Instead, it struck the hovering South-Pointing Chariot. The divine treasure, immobile until now, wrenched itself free and shot forward like an arrow, streaking straight toward Fu Zhan. Fu Zhan barely had time to look up in shock before it slammed into his face, hurling him backward. He crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs, the divine treasure tumbling down with him.

Everyone's breath caught. Mo Jian had just assaulted Old Devil Fu's grandson. He was not finished. Drawing in a deep breath, Mo Jian spoke again, his voice ringing across the island, louder than ever before.

"I see. I see," he said coldly.

"Very well. I will not allow my disciple to be slandered like this." His gaze swept the assembled elders.

"If no one will step forward to protect her out of fear of Old Devil Fu, then so be it. Here-" he gestured sharply, "-take the treasure. That is what you wanted so desperately that you would invent such lies to obtain it." His eyes hardened.

"But remember this: today, everyone here has seen the worth and the courage of the elders of this region. I, for one, will not forget it." He turned away.

"Now we are leaving. As for your words," he said without looking back, "there will be a reckoning one day, Fu Zhan." The pressure hanging over the island doubled again as Ancestor Qing's frown settled into something cold and unyielding. Yet beyond that, he still did nothing. His gaze rested on the divine treasure lying upon the stage, beside Fu Zhan as he struggled to his feet, shock plain on his face that anyone had dared strike him. Even Song Shaoyue and Han Wenqing remained motionless, merely watching.

The smile had been wiped from her face, leaving something far colder in its place. Mo Jian raised a hand. Azure qi surged forth, wrapping Bai Ning in a cocoon of light. At once, the crushing pressure that had threatened to break her vanished. It did nothing, however, to ease the sickness twisting in her gut. Her thoughts were a tangled mess. In the span of minutes, the day had gone from triumph to nightmare. Then they were gone.

Mo Jian and Bai Ning tore away from the island in a streak of azure light, vanishing into the distant horizon. Ancestor Qing, Han Wenqing, and Song Shaoyue watched them depart, thoughts churning behind carefully controlled expressions. Below, Fu Zhan bent and gathered the divine treasure into his arms, a grimace carved deep into his face. For a moment, it seemed as though only the four of them existed. No one spared a glance for the thousands of cultivators still frozen upon the cloud ring.

They remained suspended in place, unable to move, the lingering aura of a Nascent Soul expert weighing heavily upon them. Every one of them had heard and witnessed the confrontation. Every one of them had watched Mo Jian take Bai Ning and leave. Everyone of them had heard about the False Core Pill. On every face, there was- Shock. Outrage. Fear. Anger. Disgust. Envy. And for some- Bai Zhou and Bai Zing sat rigid, terror and heartbreak etched into their faces.

Fan Mei remained motionless, eyes shut tight, her nails biting bloody crescents into her palms. And Old Devil Fu- Disguised as an unremarkable cultivator, known only to Ancestor Qing and the Song clan, he had watched the entire exchange in silence. Now, his gaze followed the fading streak of azure light across the sky. Slowly, he looked down at his grandson, who clutched the divine treasure to his chest. His eyes were cold. It was his concealed presence that had made Qing back off at the start.

And it was Song Shaoyue's backing that had forced Qing to hesitate, to stop short of declaring Fu Zhan's words an outright lie, though why the woman had chosen to support him remained unclear. He was not worried. She was too immature to pose a real threat. Even here, she had likely acted out of spite, taking pleasure in ruining that girl rather than pursuing any meaningful gain. Han Wenqing might have warranted consideration, had the man not reveled so thoroughly in being a leashed dog. Now, the gui was his.

Not in the way he had originally intended, but possession was possession all the same. Still, he had only a narrow window before the mainland powers began to move. He would have to act quickly. Qing was being cautious now, but that caution would not last forever. Even before the tournament began, he had likely assumed Fu would win; after all, his grandson, Fu Zhan, was the most renowned cultivator in his realm.

This upset had cost Qing little, and more importantly, it was also clear that the girl had indeed taken the pill. He might have defended her otherwise, but Qing had always been too rigid when it came to such matters. Still… he would need to be placated. Perhaps returning that island to the Righteous Alliance would suffice. They could trumpet it as a victory, and Qing would be satisfied enough to let the matter rest. If not… Well. Of the two of them, he was the one less afraid to fight.

And as for the final matter- His gaze returned once more to the distant horizon. That girl was remarkable. And that man had struck his grandson. Both would have to be dealt with.