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Within the Spirit Pearl Realm, Lan An held Liu Shi Qin close, her presence a balm to his ambitious soul. Their bond, delicate yet profound, teetered on a gossamer boundary, one both yearned to cross yet cherished in its subtlety. Since cultivating the Ice Moon Night Wind Scripture, her aura had grown regal, the lunar mark on her flawless brow enhancing her radiant beauty.
Nestled against his chest, her ear attuned to his steady heartbeat, she whispered, "Once we find my sister, if she consents, I'll give myself to you."
Lan An gazed at her, astonished. His refined, shy "little aunt" had bared her heart, a rare vulnerability. Her mention of her sister—his mother—steeled his resolve to excel in the Sacred Lotus Academy trials. Fame there would echo across Bing Tian Continent, reaching his mother's ears. In the vast cosmos, finding her otherwise was like seeking a needle in the ocean.
For Liu Shi Qin, he harbored no haste to claim her fully. When their love ripened, their union would flow naturally. "What do you think of this robe?" he asked, smiling, presenting the Ice Moon Treasure Robe.
A Supreme Earth-Grade garment, it shimmered snow-white, adorned with a deep blue ice moon embroidery, its purity and elegance mirroring Liu Shi Qin's reserved grace. Her lips curved in quiet joy. Her usual plain white veil sufficed, her beauty needing no adornment, yet Lan An's gifts were treasures she'd cherish.
"For the trials, wear the robes I've given you. I want every man in the Academy envious of me!" Lan An declared, eyes blazing. Envy fueled Prestige Points, and he eagerly awaited the Lucky Shop's Level 2 upgrade.
"Fine, I'll let you bask in glory once," Liu Shi Qin teased, covering her smile.
Suddenly, she tiptoed, her lips brushing his cheek like a dragonfly skimming water. Before he could react, she vanished in a black breeze.
"Night Wind is potent, her speed rivals Thunder Spiritual Energy," Jin Ni praised.
"All thanks to you, right, master?" Lan An teased, grinning.
"Hmph, as if I'd be your master," Jin Ni pouted, diving into his body.
Lan An chuckled, his will stirring. A weapon radiating grim aura materialized.
Roar! A beast's cry echoed, as if caged within. A majestic yet ferocious phantom emerged—a Dragon King (Thuồng Luồng), a hybrid of dragon and serpent, bearing a faint True Dragon bloodline. Its soul, forged into the weapon's spirit, glared at Lan An, crimson scales gleaming, jaws a bottomless abyss of razor teeth.
It thrashed, eyes blood-red, seeking freedom, but the Spirit Pearl Realm, bolstered by the Palace Tree, held firm. "Submit!" Lan An commanded, dripping blood onto it.
The Dragon King resisted fiercely, yet succumbed. A bond formed, and with a thought, its phantom dissipated, revealing a three-meter halberd. Its head bore two vicious side blades flanking a central spearpoint, poised to pierce any foe. Crimson scales encased its shaft, the grip a fiery tail adorned with red fur.
Dragon King Halberd forged from the beast's fangs, claws, bones, scales, and tail, its spirit the Dragon King's soul. Majestic and formidable.
Lan An grasped it, feeling its immense weight. Roar! The Dragon King's cry resounded within. Estimating its heft at ten thousand catties, he strained slightly. "Hmph!" With a cold smile, he channeled Fourth-Turn Body Cultivation, wielding it effortlessly.
Whoosh! Testing its arcs, the air compressed, the spearpoint a blur, ready to slay even the sturdiest foes. Summoning a jade pendant, he dripped blood to inherit the Heavenly Halberd Art.
"Oh? Intriguing!" he smirked. A Mid Spirit-Grade technique, its versatile forms offered attack and defense, exceeding expectations.
Rumble! He summoned more items, the ground quaking. Two heavy garments landed—Blood Iron Battle Armor and Blood Iron Battle Boots, blood-red and unyielding, their defensive prowess unmatched.
Dripping blood to claim them, he donned the armor and boots, halberd in hand, a war god incarnate. Their weight, unlike lighter robes, suited battle, not daily wear. Designed for open warfare, not stealth, they aligned with his intent to enter the Academy as Lan An, a slap to the Luo Clan who deemed him a dead waste.
Fired up, he soared from his meditating harem, wielding the Dragon King Halberd, practicing Heavenly Halberd Art. Nine days remained.
At last, the day countless geniuses across Bing Tian Continent awaited arrived. For those without backing, unlike prodigies of Sixth-Grade or higher powers who entered via quotas, this trial was their chance to rise through sheer talent.
In Sacred City's heart, a disciplined sea of people gathered, orderly despite their numbers. Before them stood a solemn, ancient structure, commanding reverence: Sacred Lotus Academy.
This venerable institution, weathered by eons, had shaped countless geniuses, many never emerging, its trials ruthlessly weeding out the weak. Yet, it remained a hallowed ground, its graduates like Luo Clan's Luo Po Lei, Yan Clan's Yan Yue Qi, and Hundred Flowers Sect's Fairy Su Yan legends of renown.
Nestled in Sacred City's core, unlike the city's opulence, the Academy's wooden architecture, crafted from rare timbers, exuded natural profundity. A haven for continent's peak experts seeking heirs, its true terror lay in its rallying power. Over millennia, it birthed thousands of powerhouses scattered across the land. Should the Academy face existential peril, a single call would summon them, their combined might unimaginable.
Thus, beyond rigorous training and mentorship, joining the Academy was a supreme honor. Yet, its trials' harshness crushed many unbacked cultivators' dreams.
Behind Sacred City's verdant peaks and forests, above the Academy's grand gate, seven aged figures materialized male and female, their presence warping space with subtle pressure.
Void Refining Stage Elders of Sacred Lotus Academy.
"Greetings, Seven Great Elders!" the crowd roared, bowing.
"All rise," the Seventh Elder, a gatekeeper from days prior, boomed, his voice piercing souls. "As cultivators, bow only to your elders, not casually!"
With Sacred City sealed, none could enter or leave. The elders nodded, intoning gravely, "Summon the Chief Elder!"
"Summon the Chief Elder!" the crowd echoed.
A vast aura swept through, paling faces, sweat beading, weaker minds fainting. It vanished in a breath, a test of the candidates' resolve.
"The trial may begin!" a genderless, breezy voice declared, resonating in every ear. "For fairness, no abnormal actions are permitted, including divine sense probing."
No figure appeared the Chief Elder, likely deeming quota-admitted prodigies superior, disdained to show himself. The crowd, mostly unbacked aspirants, dreamed of soaring past the dragon gate, yet history favored those with Sixth-Grade or higher backing.
The elders exchanged glances, aware of hidden Academy powerhouses observing. The Chief Elder, overseer of all Academy affairs, led this trial.
Within the Academy, a colossal plaza—ten times a stadium's size—hosted countless seats. At its center, a massive mirror hovered, projecting the trial candidates outside: Ten Thousand Mile Live Mirror, a Low Spirit-Grade treasure broadcasting the trials.
Spectators—veteran students and quota-admitted newcomers—watched, emotions mixed: pity, encouragement, mockery, scrutiny.
"Why struggle? Without backing, they're mere stepping stones!" a Sixth-Grade sect youth sneered via quota entry.
"Exactly! We breeze in with connections, while they toil, haha!" others jeered.
"Hmph, shut it! I entered via trial!" a bear-like Early Spirit Form veteran growled, silencing them. Twenty years ago, he'd triumphed through the trial.
The mockers quieted, their eyes still disdainful. Without backing, he'd face their clans' wrath post-graduation.
"Whoa, why are they here?" a youth exclaimed, turning heads.
Two peerless beauties approached hand-in-hand: one mature as a ripe peach, the other vibrant and alluring Yan Clan's princesses, Yan Hong Lian and Yan Die Qing.
"With their status, why watch unbacked candidates?" male hearts raced. Dreamed-of since their recent entry, their beauty and lineage captivated all.
Ignoring the stir, Yan Hong Lian and Yan Die Qing stared at the mirror, seeking a figure they yearned for. The crowd's vastness overwhelmed the mirror's scope, focusing on those nearest the elders Lan An absent.
"Heavens! Hundred Flowers Sect's Three Saintesses!" another shout erupted, men leaping up, eyes bulging.
Rivaling the Yan princesses in fame, Su Mei, Hua Yu Feng, and Ruo Xue, from the male-fantasized Hundred Flowers Sect, outshone them in renown.
"Third sister, why care for these candidates?" Su Mei's sultry voice teased, batting her eyes at Ruo Xue.
"Indeed, just crude men ogling us!" Hua Yu Feng huffed, chest puffed, scanning the plaza haughtily.
Amid their puzzled looks and Yan Hong Lian's knowing smile, Ruo Xue's eyes softened with sweet memories. Her crimson lips parted, pride ringing, "Among these trial candidates is my man."