Surprisingly Enough(NOT), Common Sense Is Overpowered in Cliché Cultivation World

1.94 Xianxia and fighting goes hand in hand~

[Phantom Veil Art]

[Blend in with the heaven and earth around you. Minimize your spiritual fluctuations, your presence, and your very existence to remain undetected. For the eyes see what the heart seeks. Become something the heart has no reason to seek.]

Ning took a slow breath as the spiritual recovery array beneath his platform worked at full capacity, replenishing the qi he had exhausted while displaying his techniques.

Despite the number of techniques he had to unleash, his sheer speed in unloading them meant there was little left for him to do except wait for the other disciples to finish.

Waiting, however, did not mean wasting time.

If anything, the Heavenly Origin Tower had just handed him an opportunity that would be difficult to find anywhere else.

Spiritual Energy Recovery formations came in different grades. Even though Ning had never formally studied formations, he could still tell that the array beneath his feet far surpassed anything he had encountered before. Spiritual energy poured into his meridians in a steady, gentle stream, recovering almost as quickly as he circulated it.

An environment like this was practically designed for cultivation.

Naturally, he intended to squeeze every bit of value out of it.

"I already possess some foundation through Turtle Breathing," Ning muttered to himself.

His spiritual energy circulated. The familiar route of the Turtle Breathing Technique spread through his body.

His heartbeat slowed in conjunction with the faint breath he inhaled and exhaled. The spiritual fluctuations radiating from his body steadily weakened until they blended into the surrounding spiritual qi.

Ning nodded slightly.

"As expected, Turtle Breathing already possesses some of the characteristics of the Phantom Veil Art."

Turtle Breathing suppressed the source of one's presence.

Phantom Veil concealed its existence.

There was an enormous difference between the two.

Every living being disturbed heaven and earth; every heartbeat sent tiny ripples through one's spiritual energy, every breath displaced the surrounding qi, and even the circulation of complex cultivation techniques left behind subtle, lingering traces invisible to the ordinary eye, all of which cultivators collectively referred to as one's presence.

Turtle Breathing worked by slowing the heartbeat, calming the breath, and suppressing spiritual fluctuations; it greatly reduced the disturbances one's body naturally produced.

But in front of spiritual sense, it came a bit short. This was the limitation of a mortal-grade technique.

Phantom Veil operated on an entirely different principle.

Ning triggered the spiritual imprint as darkness swallowed his vision before a scene slowly emerged.

It was a moonless night as cold rain fell in an endless drizzle. An enormous manor nestled against the foot of the mountain, with tall walls of black stone encircling it.

Lanterns illuminated the walkways below, while teams of cultivators dressed in deep-blue robes patrolled the perimeter with alertness.

Shadow stood silently upon the curved ridge of a distant roof.

Several hundred meters separated him from the manor, yet he remained perfectly still, as though he had become another ornament atop the ancient tiles. Not a single strand of spiritual energy escaped his body. Even his breathing had become so faint that it seemed to merge with the gentle rhythm of the falling rain.

Ning instinctively followed Shadow's line of sight.

The guards.

Their eyes constantly swept across the estate, but Ning quickly realized they were merely a distraction.

What truly searched the surroundings was their spiritual sense.

Invisible waves spread outward from each cultivator, one after another, expanding across the manor. The waves overlapped seamlessly, leaving almost no blind spots as they washed across rooftops, courtyards, gardens, and corridors.

Did it matter that he was surrounded and couldn't access his objective? No.

For he was the reason for the alertness in the first place, as he had sent the letter proclaiming the death of the manor's master.

So, Shadow moved unhesitatingly toward the airtight manor filled with guards searching for him.

Ning watched the memory, narrowing his eyes.

Shadow had already begun circulating the Phantom Veil Art before the nearest wave of spiritual sense ever reached him.

Thin strands of spiritual qi quietly flowed from every pore of his body. They gently dispersed into the surrounding heaven and earth, intertwining with the ambient spiritual qi until there was no longer any distinction between one and the other.

When the sweeping wave finally arrived, it passed over Shadow without the slightest resistance.

At the same time, words sounded in Ning's ear, as the spiritual imprint was not merely about memory; it was also about sharing knowledge.

[Phantom Veil Art's purpose is to be a drop of water falling into the ocean.

The ocean does not reject the drop. Nor does the drop announce its existence.

It simply becomes a part of the sea.]

The spiritual sense of the guard continued onward as though nothing had happened.

Not because it had failed to detect Shadow, but simply because there was nothing left to distinguish him from the countless currents of heaven and earth surrounding him.

The memory slowed, allowing Ning to observe every detail.

Only now did he notice the countless strands of transparent qi extending from Shadow's body. They stretched only a few feet before dissolving completely into the surrounding environment, continuously dispersing every ripple his heartbeat, breathing, and spiritual circulation produced before they could spread outward.

His qi no longer belonged solely to him. It had become one current among countless others flowing through heaven and earth.

At that moment, one of the guards suddenly stopped. His head turned directly toward Shadow.

Ning's heart skipped a beat.

He's been discovered.

The guard's gaze remained fixed on Shadow's location for several breaths.

His brows furrowed ever so slightly, as though some instinct had urged him to look there.

Then, just as naturally, his eyes drifted away.

He continued his patrol without another glance.

Ning stared in silence.

The guard had looked directly at Shadow, who had stood in plain sight from beginning to end.

Yet before conscious thought could even arise, the guard's instincts had already reached a conclusion.

There is nothing here worth noticing.

[At mastery, the true power of the Phantom Veil lay in absolute misdirection; it was a deeply subtle illusion that deceived the senses of all. It did not create false images or fabricate elaborate scenery to trick the eyes like most illusions; instead, it gently nudged the minds of observers away from the user entirely. Someone walking right past him might unconsciously glance elsewhere; someone scanning a crowd would skip over his figure without ever realizing it. Even if their eyes briefly landed directly upon him, their minds would instinctively dismiss him as nothing more than an unimportant detail before moving on.

For at mastery, the world forgets you stand before it. You are merely a phantom with a veil.]

"Spiritual Imprint is complete bullshit..." Ning couldn't help muttering to himself.

An ability that allowed one to preserve memories, inherit experiences without getting assimilated by the memories, and even comprehend techniques through another person's understanding...

The founder had been absolutely ridiculous.

Perhaps that's how Founding Ancestor Li Changsou managed to master so many professions. The thought suddenly crossed Ning's mind.

To ordinary cultivators, mastering even one of the Four Great Professions was a lifelong pursuit. Yet the founding ancestor had reached the fourth level in many.

If Spiritual Imprint truly allowed one to inherit another's experience, then countless years of trial and error could simply be... skipped.

Of course, Ning merely thought it. He would never dare say such things aloud.

Claiming that Founding Ancestor Li Changsou had relied on other people's memories to become stronger?

Preposterous.

Everyone knew the founder was a once-in-a-millennium heaven-defying genius whose talent eclipsed the ages. Such slander would probably get him chased halfway across the sect.

Then again, this was just a memory, a memory playing like that of an image stone.

Just because Shadow had demonstrated the Phantom Veil Art perfectly didn't mean Ning could instantly reproduce it. He still had to understand the circulation route and even the underlying principle himself.

The memory merely showed him the answer. Walking the path still depended entirely on him.

"...Still a cheat, though."

Ning sighed as he proceeded to practice the phantom veil technique, familiarizing himself with the circulation pathways and trying to comprehend the meaning of the technique in his own way.

In the end, Ning never did manage to get started on the technique due to the lack of time, but he knew he was just a few steps away before the next part of the fourth stage started.

...

[THE TECHNIQUE TRIAL HAS CONCLUDED.]

The ancient voice echoed throughout the Heavenly Origin Tower, neither joyful nor disappointed. It merely announced the result, as though it had repeated those same words countless times over countless generations.

The remaining names shone brilliantly upon the jade stele.

Ji Ning.

Xiao Fan.

Lei Dong.

Shi Fu.

Shang Zu.

Qiu Han.

He Luo.

Kong Kang.

Nie Fei.

Lang Rulang.

With that, the results were clear, as were the people who had been eliminated.

"Ah, sucks. Looks like this is the end of the line for me," Zhang Feng sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked up at his name sitting just outside the threshold. He felt a brief pang of regret, but a cheerful, lazy grin quickly broke across his face anyway. "Well, I always knew my problem. I was never the type to diversify my arsenal. Master always said I was too lazy to memorize more than three forms. Still, hey, I wasn't the last one, so I'm counting that as a massive win!"

A few platforms over, Wei Zhusang stared at the monument. His expression was flat, but his clenched fist showed he was not as nonchalant.

"After all that, I still couldn't make it."

Ning looked at the two, ready to comfort them, but he was interrupted by a cold voice.

"You both failed because you allowed yourselves to be distracted," Lang Rulang spoke up, her sharp voice cutting through the heavy air. "Wei Zhusang, you became too absorbed with external tools and trying to make connections, completely neglecting to hone yourself further. And Zhang Feng, your laziness is an insult to your own potential. You both stopped pushing your limits, and the tower punished you for it."

Zhang Feng rolled his eyes, entirely used to her rigid demeanor. "Yeah, yeah, Sister Lang. Just rub it in, why don't you, not like I just suffered a devastating loss or anything."

Wei Zhusang took a slow, centering breath, letting his fists unclench. He looked up at Lang Rulang, then turned his gaze toward the staggering figures of Ning and Xiao Fan sitting at the top of the board.

"She is right, Zhang Feng," Wei Zhusang said softly, as he adjusted himself. He looked back at the remaining contenders. "We both really became a bit lax after successfully entering the inner sect and being able to apprentice to a foundation-building master."

"Hmph! It seems you finally got it." Lang Rulang turned her head.

Listening to this, Ning couldn't help but laugh. Lang Rulang was really a tsundere.

Of course, he was quickly shut up by Lang Rulang suddenly glaring at him. "You, keep quiet."

"Yes ma'am." Ning mock-saluted. Seeing that, the heavy atmosphere calmed down. "And Zhang Feng, brother Wei, if you feel bad, then just hold on to that feeling; we really need to go further, so turn that sadness into motivation to go even higher!"

Wei Zhusang blinked hearing that, and just smiled softly. "Yes, I swear I will work harder. Next time, I will not lose to you too."

"Hey, me too." Zhang Feng smiled brightly and continued, "Despite everything, I don't like losing."

"Yes, so you guys continue for us all as well." Wei Zhusang spoke.

"Um. Give it your all, show everyone that we shouldn't be underestimated." Zhang Feng roared out enthusiastically.

"Would have done so without your asking." Lang Rulang snorted coolly.

"Always acting cold-" Zhang Feng was only halfway through before they were teleported.

Ning and Lang Rulang looked at the empty space, before Ning spoke to her, "I think he was going to say that despite you being cold, you always worked hard."

"Tsk." Lang Rulang just turned her head.

Ning just smiled at that, as he analyzed his competitors.

At this point, Ning was no stranger to most of them.

Besides the obvious three, like Xiao Fan, Lei Dong, and Qiu Han, the remaining five disciples had quite varying cultivation.

Three possessed Seventh Stage cultivation, while the final two had already stepped into the Early Eighth Stage.

No one remaining was weak.

It was then that a deep rumble suddenly shook the chamber.

The transparent platforms beneath everyone's feet dissolved into streams of spiritual light before sinking back into the floor.

The hall began changing once again as ancient runes illuminated the walls one after another.

The ceiling slowly opened, revealing not the sky, but a vast dome woven entirely from flowing spiritual light.

At the center of the chamber, space itself twisted, as golden light suddenly began to converge all over.

Within moments, ten spheres floated into existence.

Each orb glowed with a pure golden radiance, yet no two were identical. One was nearly the size of a person's torso, radiating an astonishingly dense spiritual aura.

Below it floated a slightly smaller orb, and so on, as the orbs went on gradually decreasing in size until the smallest was no larger than a clenched fist.

The larger the orb, the denser the spiritual fluctuations it emitted.

The hall fell completely silent.

Even without the Tower explaining anything, every disciple instinctively knew one thing.

The larger the orb, the better it was.

The ancient voice spoke once more.

[THE NEXT PART OF THE TRIAL.]

[THE TRIAL OF INNOVATION.]

Every disciple unconsciously straightened.

Innovation?

Ning narrowed his eyes. Innovation did fall under comprehension, so it was not much of a surprise.

[HEAVEN AND EARTH CONTAIN COUNTLESS PATHS.]

[MOST LEARN THEM.]

[THE WISE UNDERSTAND THEM.]

[THE SUPREME CREATE THEIR OWN.]

"Oh..." Ning understood what the trial was right then and there. Well, the signs had already been obvious.

Suddenly, the ten golden orbs slowly rotated, glowing brightly, pulsing like living beings.

[THESE ARE ORIGIN ORBS.]

[EACH ORB SHALL AID YOU IN INNOVATION. YOU CAN INNOVATE ANYTHING RANGING FROM TECHNIQUES TO SPIRITUAL MASTERY, BUT IT MUST BE YOUR OWN.]

[WHAT YOU CREATE SHALL DEPEND UPON YOUR OWN UNDERSTANDING.]

[THE LARGER THE ORIGIN ORB, THE STRONGER THE ABILITY OF THE ORB, AS IT SHALL HELP WITH SIMULATION AND MORE TRIES.]

...

"So... it really is the Origin Orb Trial. It has been thirty years since the last one." Hong Zeiling spoke up, his eyes following the bright orb.

"These brats are really lucky." He Shou muttered.

"I-I thought all the trials didn't change from year to year?" The young elder spoke up, seeing the elders perk up.

"Well, while other trials don't change, this one certainly does. Normally, this part of the trial would involve the disciples having to choose a door leading to a technique that they must comprehend to go to the next stage. Here's the neat part: the techniques could be easier to comprehend, or harder to, maybe strong, maybe weak."

"So, it's more about luck?" The young elder blinked.

"Yes. After all, comprehension of a technique has quite a factor of luck to it. The technique may be compatible with them or may not be; the disciple must just suck it up and comprehend them." Hong Zeiling answered.

"W-ow! Sounds nerve-racking..." The young elder could imagine how luck-dependent that would be.

"But compared to this trial, that would be pretty lackluster." He Shou laughed.

It was then that the heavy mahogany doors to the hall swung open. Zhou Chen strode inside, his hands clasped behind his back and his expression stern. He didn't offer a greeting; his eyes immediately sought out the projection.

"Seems I arrived just in time," Zhou Chen said coldly, taking his seat. His gaze swept over the disciples before narrowing fiercely onto one particular youth. "...Hmph. I see Xiao Fan is still standing. Moreover, is this the origin orb trial?"

Elder Mo quickly answered, "Yes, brother Zhou. The results were just being announced."

"I see." Zhou Chen nodded.

"Wow, quite rude, isn't it, to just barge in like this?" He Shou spoke.

"Well, I was invited by Elder Mo." Zhou Chen answered nonchalantly. "Anyway, this time the origin orb trial really had bad timing. Such a great opportunity wasted."

"Hey, what do you mean by that, stupid guy?" Ling Xin bristled.

"Of course, I do not mean that about your disciple, Ling Xin. I am talking about that Xiao Fan, the guy with no talent who would be using such a great opportunity."

"Hah! What do you mean by that?" He Shou raged.

"I mean, isn't it true? A mere low-grade spiritual root, going to occupy what might as well be the greatest opportunity besides the trial rewards. At least I see that Lei Dong is still there. That much is expected. A disciple who is grandson of the grand elder, with such a foundation, naturally the sect would prosper. A tree without deep roots cannot grow forever, no matter how much luck a commoner stumbles into."

He Shou slowly turned his head, staring at Zhou Chen with a completely flat expression.

"You really speak nonsense. What do you even have to do with a qi tra—" He Shou suddenly paused, hearing a voice transmission in his ear. Hearing the content, he smiled, not looking at Lou Ren, "Oh, I see, is Xiao Fan the one who beat your dearest son in the outer sect competition? I see why you are so riled up."

"Y-YOU!!" Zhou Chen shrieked. "How dare you?"

"How would I not? You failed to teach your son properly, and now you are here to talk about such things."

"He Shou!" Zhou Chen's spiritual pressure slammed against the floor tiles, cracking the stone. "Talent without a background is nothing but a temporary spark! We shall see how long his luck lasts!"

"ENOUGH!" Hong Zeiling shouted, radiating his late-stage foundation-building aura, pressuring the two foundation-building elders. "This is not the time or place for you to be arguing."

"Right! You both, old guys, are wasting my disciple-viewing time." Ling Xin also spoke up.

Lang Yeilang just looked at Ling Xin speechlessly; everyone was going on about the feud, while Ling Xin only had her eyes upon her disciple.

Zhou Chen let out a cold snort hearing the reprimands, pulling his aura back, though his eyes remained glued to the screen with venomous anticipation.

"Hmph! You guys will see that Xiao Fan still being active was a mistake."

...

[CAPTURE THE ORIGIN ORBS TO BEGIN YOUR INNOVATION.]

[ONLY THOSE WHO SUBDUE AN ORB MAY CLAIM ITS OPPORTUNITY.]

[THE BIGGER AND BRIGHTER THE ORB, THE BETTER THE OPPORTUNITY.]

The words had barely finished echoing.

Boom!

Golden spiritual energy exploded from Lei Dong's feet. Without the slightest hesitation, he transformed into a streak of light, charging directly toward the largest orb.

"That one's mine!"

Almost simultaneously, another figure erupted into motion.

It was Xiao Fan. His body burst forward with explosive force, the floor cracking beneath his feet as he pursued the very same orb.

Lei Dong glanced sideways.

Their eyes met.

Neither spoke another word, for none was necessary.

But this time, things were different. They were not the only ones present. The two Early Eighth Stage disciples also rushed toward the biggest orb.

There was no other reason than that the brightest orb was almost 20% bigger than the second one.

"You both must remember that the strongest in this stage are us." One of the Eighth Stage disciples, Shi Fu, spoke.

"Right." Shang Zu also spoke, as he suddenly slashed with his sword, creating wind slashes.

Lei Dong dodged them and snorted. "You guys are the strongest? Who decided that? You're both merely small fries, you didn't even rank high in other trials."

"Y-you brat, you should remember that you don't have Luo Kei to intimidate us anymore." Shang Zu shouted.

"Hmph! Don't need him anyway, not that he was that useful." Lei Dong snarled, hearing Luo Kei's name. That dog, after shouting arrogant words, had failed him. "And you! You dog, don't think I forgot about you."

Lei Dong unleashed golden discs from his sleeves, targeting Xiao Fan, who was chasing the orb around.

"Tsk. Couldn't keep yourself busy, huh." Xiao Fan tsked. He dodged the incoming discs mid-air and swiftly landed with a backflip. "Anyway, that orb is mine."

For Xiao Fan, fighting an Eighth Stage cultivator was tough but not impossible. His body was a weapon, with the heavenly lotus body and the synergistic effect of his stolen bloodline abilities.

Moreover, after hearing about the next stage, he knew he'd need as much help as possible to pass, so he had to take the largest orb for himself.

"How dare you say such words, despite being the weakest?" Shang Zhu sneered at Xiao Fan's words.

"You sure have a lot of nerve to say that to us." Shi Fu nodded.

"Come at me, then." Xiao Fan radiated his spiritual qi outward, ready to take it on.

And just like that, the four were ready to duke it out for the strongest origin orb.

...

Was it wrong that Ning could actually understand why there was a whole catch-the-orb-by-defeating-others side quest before reaching the main one?

The reason was probably something like: only those who put in effort and desired to face any challenge would be able to go further and innovate, or something like that.

"Maybe I am really getting infected by this xianxia-ism," Ning sighed, as everything went into chaos.

But there was a good thing about it.

While Ning would usually roll his eyes at the protagonist for complicating things, there were also some benefits to the protagonist's halo. Case in point: for some reason, all the heavy hitters were focusing on the strongest origin orb, not even glancing at the other orbs.

While this might be attributed to the sheer nature of cultivators always going for the biggest prize and such, there surely would also be some effect from the protagonist's halo of attracting hatred and trouble.

As long as Xiao Fan wanted to get that orb, there would naturally be obstacles in his way.

Ning knew his own worth. One on one, he would probably get crushed by an Eighth Stage qi cultivator, so he didn't want to go after the strongest orb, which would probably end up in the hands of Xiao Fan by some twist of fate.

So, that left the second-brightest origin orb.

His Shadow Steps activated without a sound, as the Turtle Breathing cloaked his very presence.

Like a drifting shadow, Ning slipped into the chaos, quietly weaving between the charging disciples as his eyes remained fixed upon the golden orb floating ahead.

Seemingly aware someone was closing in, the orb suddenly accelerated outward, but Ning was close, too close. His hand stretched forward, and just as it was about to catch the orb, a flash of cold sword light quietly descended before him.

"You really know how to be invisible. It was good that I was keeping an eye on you the entire time." Lang Rulang rested one hand upon the hilt of her sword, as she watched Ning take a step back to avoid the attack.

"Sounding a little obsessive there, Sister Lang." Ning joked to Lang Rulang, as he inwardly tsked. He had been so damn close, too.

"I am obsessed." Lang Rulang then suddenly charged forward. "With defeating you once and for all, that is."

She lunged before the sentence finished. Her movement art, Celestial Steps, burst into life with all the mastery Lang Rulang had spent her time on reaching.

A year ago, she was good, but now she was like a beast.

[Triple Swift Slash]

Wind converged into her sword, as she slashed.

First, a wind slash aimed for the throat. Next was a normal lateral slash. And third was where she put her entire body behind the steel, as she charged forward.

Ning's eyes glowed a brilliant blue, as his spear came alive.

[Cold River Spear Art, Returning Current.]

He dodged the first attack, and then flicked the spearhead up, blocking the second one. For the third, frost qi erupted in his spear as he went forward, one on one.

Spear met sword.

For a moment, it was about who could overpower whom.

"You have really improved. I did not see you using this move before." Ning spoke, while pumping as much frost qi as possible into the spear.

"I said so, didn't I? Next time I would win." Lang Rulang also said, and then used her wind to counterattack the cold.

Then, Ning tapped the ground, and suddenly the floor underneath softened a little.

"I am not falling for this trick again." Lang Rulang jumped back the moment she sensed the softening of the ground, launching a wind slash again.

"Tsk." Ning clicked his tongue. Lang Rulang had really improved quite a lot. He then raised his hand, as wisps of fireball appeared in his palm.

It was then that both of them felt the wind, seeing the blur.

[Quick]

"No you don't." Ning's pure eyes caught the blur, and at that moment, he attacked with the fireball.

"Tsk." Qiu Han had to dodge the attack, his plan of blitzing past the two to retrieve the orb failing. "You guys continue your fight; I just want the orb."

Ning glanced at Lang Rulang, who nodded.

[Triple Swift Slash]

[Cold River Spear Art]

Both of them unleashed their attacks at the sudden intrusion.

[Quick]

Qiu Han dodged the attack with swiftness, as he neared Ning, his palm shining with spiritual energy.

[Cold River Spear Art, River Gate Holds.]

Ning threw the spear across his chest, catching Qiu Han's open palm against the wood. The raw, heavy impact of the Crimson Ascendant sigil flaring behind Qiu Han's shoulder drove Ning back three staggering steps, his boots leaving black skid marks on the floor. Lang Rulang pulled her blade back by a hair, letting the explosion clear, and the three of them immediately drifted into a tense, twitching triangle.

Ning shook his hands, his palms completely numb. "Brother Qiu, I thought you joined up with Xiao Fan, just like in the previous trial."

"Interruption." Lang Rulang only said that word.

Qiu Han just clicked his tongue. "I just joined up with that guy because he was begging for my help, okay?"

"Sure..." Ning just nodded.

"Anyway, don't mind me. I didn't come here for you." Qiu Han's eyes were entirely fixed on the drifting golden orb.

"That's reassuring, but we can't have that."

"You want the orb," Lang Rulang said, her blade beginning to hum as her wind qi kicked up.

"So do you," Qiu Han muttered. "And so does he."

"We going to be civil about this? There are other orbs there as well." Ning asked, lowering his center of gravity, addressing Lang Rulang and Qiu Han.

"No," they said together.

Unsurprisingly, Ning knew that this would be their answer. This was a xianxia, after all.

The air tore open again as Qiu Han vanished.

[Quick.]

Ning unleashed the Icy Mist technique. His pure eyes could track Qiu Han, but Qiu Han would have the initiative due to his sheer agility. Instead, his vision blurred, focusing entirely on the damp air around him. The cold mist from his technique shifted a fraction of a second before Qiu Han actually appeared.

A ripple in the fog. Ning spun on his heel, driving the butt of his spear straight into the empty air. It hit Qiu Han's incoming palm with a dull thud. Crimson light flared, but instead of losing his balance, Qiu Han twisted mid-air like a cat, narrowly dodging a horizontal cut from Lang Rulang that would have ended Qiu Han's run.

"They've both patched up their weaknesses," Ning realized, his teeth clenched as he barely parried a three-hit flurry from Lang Rulang.

Qiu Han's control over his ability was much better now, while Lang Rulang's combat experience was showing here.

Breathing shallowly through his nose, Ning flicked tiny, silent sparks of Scorching Purge right where Qiu Han was likely to land, forcing the speedster to hitch his rhythm.

"Stupid fog, I hate it." Lang Rulang hissed, her sword cutting a clean white line through the gray haze. Unlike Qiu Han, she did not have access to spiritual sense, but she was not hopeless.

Precisely because this was so annoying, she had learned a perception spell like echolocation. While it was a far cry from the real thing used by animals, it was enough for now.

"That's the point!" Ning yelled, his voice muffled by the thick air. He wasn't just hiding in the fog. He wanted to obscure the orb as well. After all, the true objective was to catch the orb with none the wiser.

It was then that another twist appeared.

"You three are not the only ones here, you know?" Besides Ning's group, there were still the trio of Seventh Stage qi cultivators who had at first chased after the strongest origin orb.

"How about you leave this to us." He Luo, an early Seventh Stage qi cultivator, spoke.

"Um, sorry brother Ning, but we did say we would not hesitate to defeat others, so no hard feelings." It was Kong Kang, another Seventh Stage disciple who had previously joined up in his group.

"Let's just get this over with. Two of them are just Sixth Stage."

Ning slowly turned his head. Lang Rulang's sword dropped an inch, her entire presence turning freezing cold. Behind Qiu Han, the heavy iron rings of his crimson sigil began to spin.

Ning let out a long, heavy breath. "Truce?"

Lang Rulang kept her eyes on the intruders. "Until they're defeated."

"Agreed," Qiu Han said.

The saber disciple's grin froze as three pairs of eyes locked onto him.

Ning gave him a small, polite nod. "Thanks for making this simple."

Then the fight began.

The Seventh Stage trio lunged.

He Luo threw his arms forward, sending a thick tangle of roots across the stone, while the fire user, Nie Fei, let loose a rolling wall of flame to choke them out.

Lang Rulang didn't even step back. Her blade flashed once, cutting the vines to pieces, and her Falling Gale Sequence tore the fire wave completely in half. She kept moving, her second and third strikes hitting the vine disciple before he could even draw his weapon, sending him staggering back into the dark with a red spray across his chest.

On the other side, Qiu Han simply disappeared. Quick.

The saber-wielding He Luo panicked, crossing his blades in front of his face, but Qiu Han was already inside his guard. A heavy, crimson-infused palm strike smashed right into the center of the steel. The metal groaned, and instead of bouncing back, Qiu Han dropped low, using the rebound to drive a brutal kick straight into the man's ribs.

Kong Kang, on the other hand, quickly charged toward Ning, his sword igniting with flames, and clashed with Ning.

"Sorry, brother Ning, I know you are great with archery, so I can't have you take the distance."

Ning blinked, despite the sheer cold of his technique counteracting the heat of Kong Kang's martial arts. "Oh right! I never did use a spear in the previous trial."

[Cold River Spear Art, Still Water Guards the Bank.]

Kong Kang's flaming sword slammed down, trying to crush him under pure heat and weight, but Ning tilted his shaft by a hair. The burning edge slid right off the spear, the force wasted against the air rather than hitting Ning head-on.

Kong Kang pressed in, his boots grinding into the dirt. His blade flared a nasty, bright orange.

Blazing Sword Art, Rolling Flame Cut.

A wave of heat rolled off the steel as it swept sideways, aiming to rip Ning's guard open.

Ning took a single, short step back. His weapon looped back.

Cold River Spear Art, Returning Current.

The spearhead ducked right under the fire and slapped the flat of Kong Kang's blade right above the hilt. It wasn't a game-ending hit, but the angle was miserable. Kong Kang's wrist shuddered, and the flames along his steel sputtered for a split second.

Moreover, Ning had also unleashed another spell, the Small Cloud Rain, which further weakened Kong Kang's flames.

Kong Kang recovered fast. His boot dug deep into the stone, fire qi bubbling up around his shoulders, as steam rose from the rain. "Tsk. You really are troublesome. What are they feeding kids these days?"

Ning didn't answer. He took a deep breath.

The air around his boots went cold. The soft, flowing rhythm of the Cold River style suddenly changed.

Ning rolled his shoulder back, tightening his grip on his spear.

Ten Steps One Kill. His basic mastery of the spear was high enough.

Kong Kang's hair stood on end. His instincts went haywire, and he lunged early, throwing a panicked slash. Flames burst from the steel, but Ning's eyes tracked everything.

For a single heartbeat, the world slowed to a crawl. The trajectory of Kong Kang's fire, the tilt of his wrist, the massive gap beneath his raised shoulder- it all lay bare like ink on paper.

The spear moved in an instant, targeting the critical points in Kong Kang's defense.

Kong Kang tried to retaliate, but it was too late; he was hit in the chest and fainted.

At the exact same moment, Qiu Han's final palm strike shattered the saber disciple's weapon into scrap, and while Lang Rulang looked worse than both of them, she used her family-inherited Earth Grade martial art to finally overpower the final disciple.

The cold mist settled back over the platform. For a single second, nobody moved.

Then, Lang Rulang's voice came through the gray. "Ji Ning."

Ning didn't answer. He was already running.

"He's moving to catch the orb," Qiu Han warned, his ears twitching as the air shifted.

The truce was dead the second the last intruder vanished.

Through the thick, heavy gray of his [Hidden Ice Mist], Ning caught a glimpse of the gold orb. It was bobbing rapidly, trying to bounce away from the heavy pressure of their qi.

"No, you don't, not after I have practiced so much to finally defeat you." Lang Rulang shouted. Her Falling Gale Sequence hadn't quieted from the last clash; wind qi still shrieked around her steel. She had already built up the rhythm while cutting down the intruders, meaning her opening strike hit like the fourth in her chain.

A white crescent of compressed wind swept toward Ning, aimed to force him away while drawing the orb to her side.

Ning jammed his spear down.

[Cold River Spear Art, Parting Current.]

He caught the edge of the gale, splitting the pressure diagonally. The force still dragged his boots across the wet stone, tearing a shallow line through his sleeve.

An atmospheric boom rattled the floor as Qiu Han materialized right beside the orb.

[Quick.]

His palm descended, a heavy crimson sigil spinning behind his shoulder with a metallic hum. Lang Rulang's sword turned without a hitch, her fifth slash colliding directly with Qiu Han's open hand.

Wind and crimson force crashed, shaking the platform.

Her sequence didn't break. A year of brutal training had changed her style; she could now recycle leftover momentum, turning her chain into a continuous, grinding millstone. Qiu Han didn't take the brunt of it. He flickered away with Quick, resetting his stance instantly to strike at her flank.

Ning ducked beneath the shockwave, stepping toward the prize. Both of their gazes snapped to him instantly.

"Can't even let me try, huh?" Ning muttered, backing off.

The orb shot away from them like a panicked fish. Ning's eyes narrowed, tracking its path. It wasn't moving randomly. Every time Lang Rulang's wind surged, it drifted away. Every time Qiu Han's qi pulsed, it fled the opposite direction.

Ning narrowed his eyes.

Lang Rulang advanced again, her wind forcing Qiu Han to shift. As Qiu Han reappeared near the orb, Ning drove his spear toward him from the flank.

[Cold River Spear Art, Still Water Pierces Stone.]

Qiu Han slapped the shaft aside, his crimson qi flaring bright. The orb immediately jerked away from the spike in pressure, right into the path of Lang Rulang's incoming gale.

Ning's breathing slowed into a shallow, rhythmic pulse.

Turtle Breathing.

His aura folded inward. He pulled his presence in, making himself look like a lifeless stone at the bottom of a river. He spread his fingers, bleeding Small Cloud Rain into the air to thicken the damp haze around the prize.

"You're doing something," Lang Rulang hissed, her sword cutting a tight, vicious arc toward his neck.

Cold River Spear Art, River Gate Holds.

The steel slammed into his ironwood guard, the raw wind pressure making his chest tighten as he skidded backward.

Qiu Han appeared behind him like a lightning crack.

However, Ning's eyes glowed blue, tracking everything. He ignited a tiny burst of Scorching Purge directly beneath the floating orb. It was no larger than a candle flame, meaningless in the storm of their combat, but inside the damp, freezing mist, the sudden heat created a miniature thermal current. Warm air rose; cold air sank.

The fog stirred, and the orb wobbled, dipping a foot lower toward the only low-pressure zone on the platform: Ning.

Qiu Han's palm swung for his shoulder. Ning dropped low, letting the wind of the strike tear at his hair as he slid the butt of his spear against the stone, using it as an anchor to pivot. Lang Rulang's blade followed from the blind spot, slicing across his upper arm.

He ignored the blood. The orb was right in front of him.

"He's drawing it in!" Qiu Han warned.

"No, you don't," Lang Rulang snapped. Her gale surged, aiming to fill the gap between Ning and the prize with cutting wind.

[Cold River Spear Art, Returning Current.]

Ning's spearhead traced a narrow circle, guiding the worst of the wind pressure away. Shallow cuts opened across his cheek and forearm, but the path stayed clear.

Qiu Han vanished, reappearing right beside the sphere with his hand outstretched. But his crimson qi flared too hot, and the extreme pressure caused the panicked orb to bounce right away from him, straight into the low-pressure pocket Ning had prepared.

Ning's left hand was already waiting.

Lang Rulang's sword tip flashed toward his wrist; Qiu Han's palm came down like an iron seal.

Ning's vision blurred into cold blue.

[Clear Eyes]

The trajectories of the sword, the palm, and the trembling orb lay bare. Ning crouched, dragging his spear to slide across the wet floor. Lang Rulang's steel sheared over his shoulder, and Qiu Han's palm struck empty air as his fingers closed around the sphere.

The orb fought back, a frantic rush of raw gold light burning into his meridians. Ning clamped his jaw shut. "No running."

The sphere stopped.

[Origin Orb Claimed: Ji Ning.]

...

Thanks for reading~

A/N: This is the first part of this chapter; it became too long. Anyway, I had to rewrite the whole chapter. I had written it on my phone at first, but it didn't seem to have saved? Even though I think I saved it. So, had to redo the whole chapter again.