Trial of the Sacred Land Chapter Twenty-Two: The Grand Celebration Begins!

Watching Chen Xingjie’s face, pale with panic, Luo Chen merely glanced down at his own chest, brushed off the dust with a flick of his hand, and began to stride forward. With every step Luo Chen took, Chen Xingjie was forced to retreat, terror etched across his features. After two steps, Luo Chen stopped, smiled at Chen Xingjie, then bent down to pick up the spirit stone he had dropped earlier.

“Don’t be so nervous. I’m merely retrieving what’s mine. These five hundred spirit stones are interest for Young Master Wang’s deceit—but…”

Luo Chen’s words snapped off abruptly, his aura flaring outward; a biting chill permeated the air. In that instant, everyone felt a flash of frigid blue light sweep past. The next moment, strange sounds echoed from the nearby dense forest, followed by the crash of falling trees.

The crowd turned to the forest, swallowing hard, faces pale with fear. Hundreds of great trees had been cleanly severed at their trunks, their smooth cuts reflecting cold moonlight.

“Now, I trust none of you have objections to me taking Miss Siyu with me?” Luo Chen said, paying no mind to Chen Xingjie’s expression and not waiting for a response. He strode over to Wang Siyu, raised two fingers, and lightly tapped the ropes binding her with spirit energy. Instantly, the ropes—formed from Chen Xingjie’s own spiritual power—snapped and vanished without trace. Luo Chen smiled at the bewildered Wang Siyu, then turned, fixing Wang Lin with a fierce gaze.

“I have no wish to see blood tonight. From this day forward, I do not want to see you, Young Master Wang, in Tianfeng City. You know well what will happen if you disobey. And remember, part of the Wang family’s business belongs to me. If you continue to suppress it, be prepared for my wrath.”

With these words, Luo Chen wrapped his arm around Wang Siyu’s waist, leaped, and vanished from sight, leaving the stunned crowd behind.

Some time later, Luo Chen, still darting across treetops with Wang Siyu, paused for a moment, scanning behind with his spiritual sense—no one had followed. Satisfied, he smiled, then leaped a few more times through the forest, landing at the edge of a small lake.

The scene by the lake was tranquil: constellations wheeled overhead and moonlight bathed the mirror-like surface. Luo Chen gently released Wang Siyu, observing her calm demeanor, then seated himself on the ground. Wang Siyu clutched the cloak draped over her shoulders, hesitated, and bit her lip.

“Thank you for saving me.”

Luo Chen merely nodded, saying nothing, his gaze fixed on the lake. In his heart, the greatest worry was still Luo Xiaoya, whom he hadn’t seen for half a year. After what happened with Wang Siyu, that anxiety weighed ever heavier.

He yearned to leave this place and return to the academy to check on Luo Xiaoya. Perhaps Wang Siyu noticed his silence, for she sat beside him, curiosity flickering in her eyes as she regarded the masked youth.

“Could you tell me your name?”

“Nameless.”

“Why did you choose that name?”

Luo Chen paused, coldly smiled, and thought of his own origins and his recent entry into the unknown land of Thunder Blade.

“To be born without a name is to have no name; what meaning is there in names? Namelessness is itself a name.”

This answer surprised Wang Siyu. The youth before her seemed shrouded in mystery—she knew his name, yet ‘Nameless’ revealed nothing. Curiosity sparked in her heart, but she asked nothing further, feeling a subtle sense of loss. She sensed that they were not meant to walk the same path, and perhaps it was best not to probe further.

“By the way, Miss Siyu, could you tell me where exactly we are? How far is this so-called Tianfeng City from the imperial capital?”

“You don’t know where this place is, Brother Nameless?” Wang Siyu glanced around, then at Luo Chen, puzzled that he didn’t even know his location. Why had he appeared here? He claimed to be from Tianfeng City, yet seemed unfamiliar with it. Luo Chen’s sidelong, curious glances made her blush and lower her head.

“This is the Fallen Forest at the edge of the Spirit Beast Mountains. As for the imperial capital you mentioned, I don’t know much. The Fallen Forest and my home, Tianfeng City, are under the jurisdiction of the Heavenly Sword Hall.”

Luo Chen recalled what Qing Xingyue had told him: the Heavenly Sword Hall, the Heavenly Pool Sanctuary, and the academy had once been the three great sanctuaries of cultivation. Yet he couldn’t understand why Elder Jian Zhongli had sent him so far from the academy, and what exactly the Fallen Forest was.

“By the way, Brother Nameless, the Sacred Land Trial will be held in a few days. It’s said that all the forces of the Tianqing Continent send people to participate. Why not return to Tianfeng City with me? Perhaps you’ll meet acquaintances from the imperial capital.”

This suggestion left Luo Chen thoroughly bewildered. After half a year in Thunder Blade, emerging into this unknown Fallen Forest and now facing the Sacred Land Trial, nothing was clear. But if, as Wang Siyu said, all the major powers would gather, perhaps he might find someone from the academy.

“Very well. Let’s rest now. Tomorrow morning, I’ll take you back to Tianfeng City. I’d like to witness this Sacred Land Trial for myself.”

Luo Chen smiled at Wang Siyu and closed his eyes to rest. Meanwhile, his consciousness entered his spiritual domain to cultivate the “Kunlei Sword Technique.” At dawn, as the first rays of sunlight touched Luo Chen’s face, he slowly opened his eyes.

Wang Siyu was already awake, gazing at the distant scenery. Luo Chen smiled, rose, washed his face by the lake, and surveyed their surroundings.

“Let’s go, Miss Siyu.”

After she stood and nodded with a smile, Luo Chen followed her upstream with resignation.

Meanwhile, in Tianfeng City—

As the Sacred Land Trial, held only once every five years, approached, the long-silent city was now bustling and vibrant. Carriages crowded the streets, and delegations from all over the continent arrived for the trial. For cultivators and factions of Tianqing, the Sacred Land Trial was more than a mere gathering.

It was a grand event for the entire continent. For those confident in their strength, the gathering promised better cultivation resources and the chance to advance further along their path.

For weaker factions, it was a rare opportunity. If even one disciple gained the favor of a sacred land, their sect would secure powerful backing for the future.

Yet only half of those attending were genuine participants; most simply came to witness the spectacle, including cultivators from distant continents. For the mortal realm, this event was but a prelude.

“Sister Yu, are you thinking about your brother?”

Luo Xiaoya teased softly, watching Qing Xuan Yu gaze out the window at the passing crowds. Qing Xuan Yu seemed a bit embarrassed by the question, casting Luo Xiaoya a sidelong glance. Luo Xiaoya grinned, then set down her pastry, her expression tinged with sadness.

Truth be told, Qing Xuan Yu wasn’t the only one lost in thought—Luo Xiaoya was too, though she hid it well. Half a year had passed, yet every time she thought of those events, she was filled with remorse and guilt.

In Luo Xiaoya’s heart, Luo Chen was irreplaceable. Yet she knew the one she could never replace had quietly left, all thanks to a single person—the one who drove her forward. Luo Xiaoya had but one goal: to personally kill the one who destroyed everything she cherished.

“Well, if it isn’t disciples from Tianqing Academy. What, here to prop up the bottom of the rankings again? Should I praise your helpfulness, or…?”

Qing Xuan Yu and Luo Xiaoya were drawn by a stranger’s mocking voice, turning to see a group ascending the stairs. Though the leading man spoke with derision, Qing Xuan Yu’s eyes merely flashed with anger before she smiled coldly and regained her composure, seemingly indifferent. Luo Xiaoya, who had meant to retort, held back after seeing Qing Xuan Yu’s demeanor.

The crowd was surprised by their restraint. In the public’s eyes, since the last grand event a century ago, Tianqing Academy had always been the lowest-ranked institution, sustained only by the backing of the vast Tianqing Empire.

The man himself was puzzled—he had expected a rebuttal. But seeing the two women’s calm response, he could only glare and move toward a nearby empty table.

“Have you heard? The Heavenly Pool Sanctuary is offering an ancient treasure from a thousand years ago as a reward for this Sacred Land Trial.”

“No way! Does that mean this year’s trial will be even more brutal?”

“Of course—it’s a millennium-old artifact!”

Nearby, at a corner table, a man in a black cloak drew his hood tighter, gripping his wine cup before downing it in one gulp. He placed a spirit stone on the table, then carefully adjusted his cloak, as if afraid of being recognized, and left for the door. Qing Xuan Yu glanced at his departing figure, her expression strange. As he disappeared at the end of the street, she turned to Luo Xiaoya.

“Xiaoya, let’s return to our room.”

Luo Xiaoya nodded and followed Qing Xuan Yu upstairs. The man who had taunted them watched their backs, a wicked smile spreading across his face.

In the blink of an eye, three days passed.

At dawn, before the sun’s first rays reached Tianfeng City, the streets were already thrumming with activity. People from all walks of life streamed toward the City Lord’s Mansion, a sea of humanity. From the distant city center, the mansion stood tall and magnificent, behind which lay the first site of the Sacred Land Trial: Tianfeng Arena.

Tianfeng Arena occupied nearly a fifth of the city, its grand seven-tiered stands accommodating almost fifty thousand spectators. For a century, it had been the fixed trial venue, its perimeter lined with restrictions suppressing cultivation levels.

One side of the arena connected directly to the City Lord’s Mansion; the opposite side was the preparation area for participating factions—also seven-tiered, divided into thirty-five sections. At the arena’s center were ten dueling platforms, each about one hundred meters in diameter.

As spectators and participants arrived, Qing Xuan Yu, Luo Xiaoya, and their fellow Tianqing Academy contestants entered the preparation area, taking the third section on the lowest tier.

At the front sat Qing Xingyue, Lord of the Thunder Pavilion, Bai Li Luohua, Lord of the Art Pavilion, Bai Li Wuhen, Lord of the Metal Pavilion, and Bai Li Mufeng, Lord of the Micro Pavilion. The other Pavilion Lords and over a hundred participating Tianqing Academy disciples sat behind them in the section’s tiered seats.

Despite the arena’s constant chatter and excitement, every face from Tianqing Academy was somber. Even the usually curious Luo Xiaoya sat quietly beside Qing Xuan Yu, who gently held her hand. The atmosphere in their section was heavy and silent, as if cut off from the world.

Every member understood the gravity of this trial. Their section, on the lowest tier, reflected their performance in the previous trial. The thirty-five sections were ranked according to each faction’s results; the higher the ranking, the higher the section. From left to right, thirty-five slots, and Tianqing Academy now occupied the thirty-third.

Soon, under the clear sky, sunlight crept across the arena. The stands were packed, each section filled by representatives of the continent’s thirty-five powers, their attire marking their allegiance.

Compared to the lively expectations in the stands, the preparation area was thick with murderous intent. The lower-ranked factions’ resentment and fear of those above was written on every face, foreshadowing the inevitable bloodshed of this trial.

A resounding, high-pitched bell rang out, and the arena fell silent. All eyes turned to the City Lord’s Mansion. The bell echoed in the sky, and within its lingering chime came the sound of marching footsteps.

Hundreds of silver-armored knights, wielding great swords, filed out from both sides of the arena, encircling it. Atop the City Lord’s Mansion, a golden-armored knight appeared, carrying a long halberd.

“The Hall Master arrives!”

With the golden knight’s proclamation, a man emerged—his hair bound with a jade hairpin, dressed in a white robe inscribed with tiger motifs, his gaze sharp and commanding.

He took his seat at the central high throne. After a moment, two more entered: an elderly man in simple attire, his long white beard and weathered face betraying years of experience, yet his eyes were bright and keen. Beside him was a middle-aged man in pale blue robes, also handsome, though his face was tinged with unease compared to the Hall Master and the elder.

The three exchanged glances; the Hall Master smiled at the elder, and they sat at seats flanking the central throne. At the Hall Master’s signal, the bell rang again. Above the arena, a massive formation appeared, forming a shield over the central dueling platforms. The golden knight stepped forward.

“By the decree of the Heavenly Sword Hall Master, the Sacred Land Trial begins!”

“All participating factions will select one person for the individual contest. The order will be determined by drawing lots; each round, one will have a bye, until the champion is decided. The individual rankings will determine priority for team tasks. All participants are reminded: follow the rules, and exercise restraint!”