Sanctuary Trial Chapter Twenty-Five: Clash of Souls

The tournament had reached a pivotal moment, and the arena fell into a hush. Everyone awaited the verdict. Luo Chen glanced at the two figures lying on the ground, then looked up at the golden-armored knight atop the City Lord’s residence. He, too, was curious how the knight would decide the winner given the current situation.

Just as a spark of anticipation ignited in Luo Chen’s heart, he noticed out of the corner of his eye that Bai Yue, who was prone on the ground, slowly raised her right hand. Upon seeing this, Luo Chen shook his head in resignation—the outcome was clear.

According to the rules, if both contestants fell simultaneously, resulting in a draw, the one whose breath lingered would be declared the victor. Watching Bai Yue’s trembling hand rise, Luo Chen already knew. In this so-called Lion King Contest, Bai Yue, the leader of the Tiger clan, had won.

“The second match: Lion King Family versus Silver Tiger Family. Silver Tiger Family is victorious!”

“Would the contestants holding number three please step onto the stage for the next duel!”

With the announcement, two women appeared this time, one of whom was the disciple from Hundred Flowers Palace from yesterday. Luo Chen, observing Xueluo’s figure, still couldn’t fathom how she had managed to nearly erase her presence amidst the sea of blossoms during the previous duel. He had sensed her aura, though it flickered in and out of perception, as if it were almost nonexistent. Without careful scrutiny, it was nearly impossible to detect that faint trace.

The six-petaled flower she wielded seemed ordinary to Luo Chen, yet in her hands it became a tool, allowing her to vanish without a trace. “Falling Sunset: Dance of the Blade!”

As Xueluo flicked the flower, her airy voice reached Luo Chen’s ears. The technique’s name was slightly different, which caught Luo Chen off guard. The petals whirled, multiplying in a heartbeat, slicing through the air, and Luo Chen involuntarily choked back his breath.

Those dancing petals had become invisible blades, sharp as swords, leaving trails of blood wherever they passed. The woman facing Xueluo was caught amidst the petals, dodging as best she could, but the number had grown to thousands. She shielded herself with spiritual energy, but occasionally, a petal would brush her garments, slicing them open in an instant. Luo Chen wondered why she didn’t attack.

Eventually, he realized the petals formed a wall before her, blocking her vision and forcing her to focus solely on defense. “Hmph, I’m done playing! You’ve ruined my clothes—I concede!” the woman huffed indignantly.

Luo Chen couldn’t help but smile—her temperament matched his own. He wondered which prominent family she belonged to, turning the holy trial into a game. Xueluo withdrew the petals, and the woman cast a slightly annoyed look at her before leaving the arena.

“The third match: Northwind Merchant Association versus Hundred Flowers Palace. Hundred Flowers Palace wins!”

“Northwind Merchant Association, hmm?” Luo Chen murmured, committing the name to memory. His curiosity was piqued, not for any particular reason, but because of the woman representing the Northwind Merchant Association.

“Would contestant number four step onto the stage!”

A gentle breeze swept through, and in the next moment, two men clad in white robes and wielding long swords appeared. Luo Chen’s first impression was of danger—their cultivation was mid Earth Spirit Realm, but their fierce aura suggested otherwise. They emanated an endless chill, evoking a nameless dread. The gleam of cold steel intensified this feeling.

“Who’d have thought we’d be matched against each other. Let’s settle this in a single move, shall we?” said the man on the left.

“Agreed. Let’s use that technique to decide the outcome.”

They nodded in perfect accord, raised their swords before their chests, and their fingertips traced the blades. Light danced along the steel, and they released their swords, which hovered above them as their bodies dropped to the ground.

In ten breaths, the suspended swords transformed into colossal blades—ten meters tall and half a meter wide—standing before each contestant. Luo Chen sensed the elemental forces in the surroundings stir as the giant sword before the disciple of the Celestial Sword Hall manifested wind blades, covering its surface. The opposing sword radiated the energy of water.

Yet, Luo Chen was perplexed. The swords seemed real, but retained a hazy quality. He glanced at Qing Xingyue, who, seeing his confusion, stroked his beard with a smile.

“This must be your first time seeing such a thing. Not recognizing it is understandable. But you’ve noticed how the elemental forces were instantly drawn in, haven’t you?”

Luo Chen nodded, and Qing Xingyue continued, “They’re using their swords as mediums, sensing and manipulating the elemental forces of heaven and earth. In the end, their swords embody unique wills—the swords’ intent made tangible.”

“Unique will?” Luo Chen queried softly.

Qing Xingyue smiled, “Water can carry a boat or overturn it. Think of it as the law inherent in the weapon itself. In simple terms, it’s what people call sword intent. These youngsters are talented—already grasping sword intent at their age.”

Sword intent? Law of the weapon? Luo Chen had never heard these terms. Yet from the elemental purity radiating from the swords, he could sense their power, unmarred by impurity, except for an icy murderous intent.

Wait—something wasn’t right. Luo Chen suddenly froze, pondering the nature of sword and weapon. In chaotic times, one rises as a sword—to kill, to restore order. Once peace reigns, the sword becomes a tool for justice, wielded in the name of righteousness. For a fleeting moment, Luo Chen felt a surge of thunder element in the air, only for it to be quickly suppressed by other forces. He returned his focus to the duel.

Both contestants leapt up, gripping their gigantic sword hilts, locking eyes with razor-sharp gazes. As they exerted their strength—

Boom!

In a single breath, the colossal swords crashed together. The laws of wind and water collided head-on. It was not merely a sword duel, but a contest of elemental law. Torrents of power surged, engulfing both contestants in their respective energies, leaving only vague glimpses of the swords’ brilliance.

The match stalemated. Luo Chen, like those around him, watched with excitement and anticipation, eager to witness this clash of sword intent and strength. Of all the matches since yesterday, this was the most spectacular. A few breaths later, as the wind law gained the upper hand, the bout drew to a close.

“Nameless youth, what do you make of this duel? If I’m not mistaken, you use a sword yourself, don’t you?” Qing Xingyue asked.

“Senior Xingyue, my meager swordsmanship can hardly compare to their sword intent,” Luo Chen replied, scratching his head with an awkward smile. Qing Xingyue laughed in response. Luo Chen understood—Xingyue saw through everything. Yet watching such a thrilling match stirred his own desire to compete.

After leaving the Thunder Abyss, Luo Chen had only fought once in the Fallen Forest—a mere test, never against a true opponent. Now, he had mastered the third form of the Kunlei Sword Formula, as well as the Five Extreme Thunder Formations, but hadn’t truly tested their power.

He couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed, but didn’t notice Qing Xingyue’s gaze. Since Luo Chen’s arrival, Xingyue had watched his every move—sometimes curious, sometimes delighted, sometimes puzzled.

The golden knight’s voice signaled the start of the fifth match, but Luo Chen’s mind had already drifted from the competition, focusing instead on his own path forward. Those around him studied him, each harboring their own doubts.

But only Qing Xuan Yu had never taken her eyes off Luo Chen since he entered. She couldn’t quite understand her own feelings. She had examined his aura, knowing it wasn’t her master’s, yet couldn’t convince herself. For a brief moment, she thought she saw a different aura, and her eyes grew moist.

As the tournament progressed swiftly, afternoon arrived in the blink of an eye.

“Match eight: Sky Eagle Sect versus Heavenly Pool Sanctuary. Heavenly Pool Sanctuary wins!”

“Would contestant number nine please take the stage!”

With the announcement, the members of Sky Pillar Academy, Luo Chen included, snapped back to attention. Luo Chen glanced at the timid Luo Xiaoya, feeling a pang of sadness, though he couldn’t bring himself to speak.

“Sister Yu…”

Qing Xuan Yu smiled at Luo Xiaoya, gently patting her head. “Xiaoya, it’s alright—believe in yourself.”

“Wait!”

Just as Luo Xiaoya was about to rise, Qing Xingyue’s voice rang out. Everyone was confused, eyes turning to him. The contestant holding number nine was already on stage—what was there to wait for?

But Qing Xingyue smiled, unhurried, and turned to Luo Chen. Luo Chen looked back, uncertain of his intentions. Suddenly, his lips quivered, his face bewildered as he watched Qing Xingyue.

He clenched his fist, glanced at Luo Xiaoya and the others, then, without giving anyone a chance to react, leapt toward the arena. The crowd was flustered.

“Master Uncle, what—?”

Qing Xingyue laughed heartily, stroking his beard. “Just watch.”

As Luo Chen landed on the stage, everyone was perplexed. While the contestant drawn by lot wasn’t always the one to duel, such cases were rare. But the masked youth now standing on stage gave no hint of cultivation.

Luo Chen looked toward Qing Xingyue’s smiling face, feeling resigned. He realized he shouldn’t have agreed to attend. At first, he hadn’t understood Qing Xingyue’s intentions, but now, it dawned on him.

During their exchange of glances, Luo Chen hadn’t expected the old man to threaten him via sound transmission, saying that if he didn’t step up, he’d reveal his identity immediately, and would no longer care if Luo Chen left after the trial. Luo Chen wanted to slap himself. Then again, perhaps Qing Xingyue had simply seen through his thoughts.

“Hey! Are you going to fight or not?” the opponent called out.

Luo Chen snapped out of his reverie, eyeing the man opposite him. There was something odd about him—he hadn’t competed yesterday, and his cultivation was early Earth Spirit Realm, but that strange sensation eluded Luo Chen. The man seemed impatient, so Luo Chen smiled awkwardly.

“Ah, sorry, it’s my first time—got distracted.”

No sooner had Luo Chen spoken than his vision went dark, as if something had struck his soul. A breath later, he shook his head vigorously. The man hadn’t moved, but his expression grew serious. Only now did Luo Chen understand the source of that odd feeling—the man was using a soul attack. No wonder his body hadn’t moved, yet Luo Chen felt his soul shaken.

He steadied himself, smiled, and closed his eyes.

“Pretending to be mysterious!” the man sneered, launching his soul power at Luo Chen.

A breath later, in a mysterious, pitch-black space, the man’s soul surveyed the endless darkness, probing for something. Suddenly, his expression turned fearful. With a burst of laughter, two lights appeared overhead—two enormous golden eyes. The man involuntarily stepped back, and a black giant hand seized him.

On the arena, Luo Chen looked relaxed, almost asleep, unmoved. The man opposite stood frozen, face pale and terrified. No one understood what had happened; neither contestant had moved, yet the man’s terror was evident.

Struggling against the giant hand, the man was helpless, as futile as an insect trying to shake a towering tree. No matter how he fought, it was useless.

The golden eyes flashed again. The black hand squeezed, and the man’s aura diminished sharply. The hand released him, and his body slowly fell in the darkness. With a final slap, his form collapsed.

A scream erupted. The man vomited blood, face ghostly pale and lifeless, his body toppled backward onto the ground. Luo Chen opened his eyes.

“Haier!”

A figure rushed onto the stage, a middle-aged man lifting the fallen contestant.

“Haier! Haier!” the man cried, shaking his son. Luo Chen felt awkward, glancing at his hands. Had he been too heavy-handed? Damn! He’d forgotten his soul was at the Spirit Void Realm. He swallowed hard, seeing the man’s hateful, angry glare.

“Tell me! What did you do to my son?”

Luo Chen was bewildered. Didn’t he know himself? Perhaps he had indeed overdone it. He sighed, shook his head, and retrieved a pill and a vial of spirit liquid from his ring, tossing them to the man.

“He’s fine—just suffered severe soul trauma. A few months’ rest and he’ll recover.”

The man quickly administered the medicine, then looked up at Luo Chen. His anger faded, and his son’s aura gradually revived. Luo Chen turned to leave the stage.

“Thank you for your mercy, young master! The Unhope Pavilion is deeply grateful!”

Luo Chen paused, nodded, and touched his ring. He wanted to slap himself—he’d spent thousands of spirit stones to buy those soul-recovery pills and spirit liquid for his own cultivation, and now they were gone, with nothing gained.

He glanced at Qing Xingyue—this loss was his fault, and he’d make sure it was counted against him. Luo Chen leapt to his side, glaring angrily.

“Old man Xingyue, let’s settle this—how do you plan to pay me back?”

At Luo Chen’s words, everyone behind him choked, staring in shock. Old man? Was Luo Chen insane, daring to speak so? But Luo Chen didn’t care, still glaring at Qing Xingyue.

Qing Xingyue seemed to anticipate this, eyes darting, stroking his beard while rapidly calculating how to respond.

“Ahem, well—today’s over. Let’s go have dinner.”

Qing Xingyue stood up nonchalantly, speaking with feigned solemnity. Everyone was baffled. What was going on? Luo Chen held his face, utterly speechless. He was thoroughly convinced—when it came to playing the rogue, Qing Xingyue was second to none.

Luo Chen watched Qing Xingyue walk away, resignedly following. The others exchanged glances and followed suit.

At a distance, atop the City Lord’s residence, the Hall Master watched the Sky Pillar Academy group leave. His usually stern face softened with a smile as he looked at the golden knight.

“What’s the name of that masked youth?”

The knight glanced at the Hall Master, then toward the Sky Pillar Academy area, and bowed.

“Reporting, Hall Master! He appeared for the first time today—I do not know his identity.”

The Hall Master looked puzzled, then at the elder beside him, hesitating for a few breaths.

“Elder Bai, what do you make of today’s final match?”

After a moment’s quiet contemplation, Elder Bai rose, gazing toward Sky Pillar Academy, and sighed.

“Ah, the long-slumbering Silver Dragon is awakening again. I fear the Sky Pillar Continent is about to change.”

“Oh? What do you mean, Elder Bai?”

Elder Bai smiled, stepped forward, and looked at the Hall Master. “Some things are destined to happen and cannot be stopped. Rather than have me tell you, why not act as your heart dictates and wait for the holy trial to conclude? Observe—it may be that we, living in peace for so long, have grown as shortsighted as the rest.”

With that, the elder departed. The Hall Master watched his retreating figure, then gazed at the distant sky, his expression growing more solemn, his eyes deep in thought.