Steam curled gently in the air, the faint glow of formations rippling across the bath house walls. Inside, Haotian and Lianhua sat close, their breathing steady as their bodies and qi moved in perfect harmony. Elemental currents swirled between them, cycling faster and faster as they pushed deeper into dual cultivation.
Lianhua's palms pressed against Haotian's chest for anchor, her face flushed with effort as she guided her qi rhythmically through him and back. Their circulation grew more intense with each cycle, their pace sharpening, each movement in flawless synchrony.
Suddenly, from beyond the walls, a mocking voice roared.
"Haotian! Still hiding? Still clinging to your woman instead of facing me? What kind of coward calls himself Azure Dragon's pride?"
The Heaven's Son's words echoed across the sect grounds — but within the bath house, Haotian and Lianhua didn't stir. Their eyes remained closed, their focus unshaken.
The elemental flow surged higher, their dual cultivation reaching a dangerous peak. The air shimmered with heat, frost, sparks of lightning, and faint shadows of wood and metal chi as the Ten Elements resonated at once.
Another shout tore through the air, dripping with scorn.
"Come out, or I'll tear down this residence and show the sect how hollow your name really is!"
The words echoed, but in that moment, Lianhua's qi flared. Her back arched as her elemental cycle surged into breakthrough, her entire body trembling as her affinity tightened into perfection. Haotian caught her with steady arms, drawing her closer as his own qi responded in kind.
The cycle locked, their bodies tensing together as their cultivation roared into completion. The bath house trembled faintly with the release of power, steam exploding upward before settling again into quiet calm.
Outside, the Crimson Moon's mockery continued to ring across the mountain.
Inside, Haotian and Lianhua exhaled softly, their foreheads resting together, their qi flowing in tranquil resonance. They ignored the noise entirely — as if the Heaven's Son was nothing more than wind against stone.
Their bond had deepened. Their cultivation had advanced.
And still, the Bath Dao Residence remained closed, silent, untouchable.
The days bled into one another as the Alliance Martial Convergence drew closer. Delegations continued to arrive — proud banners of subsidiary sects, solemn processions of mid-tier clans, even solitary prodigies from allied orders.
Everywhere, excitement simmered. Rivalries sparked. Disciples whispered about rankings, strategies, and the Crimson Moon's arrogance.
But within the Bath Dao Residence, silence reigned.
The killing array hummed faintly, deterring even the boldest from drawing near. The wooden sign still hung from the gate, its message unchanged:
"Closed-Door Cultivation. Do Not Disturb."
Not once had the gates opened. Not once had Haotian or Lianhua been seen.
In the Grand Hall, tension spread like a shadow.
The Sect Master sat at the dais, his fingers drumming the armrest. Around him, elders shifted uneasily.
"They've yet to emerge," one elder said gravely.
"Not even to acknowledge your summons."
"What if the rumors are true? That they won't participate at all?"
The Sect Master's gaze hardened, but worry flickered behind his eyes.
"The Crimson Moon Sect grows bolder by the day," another elder warned. "Their Heaven's Chosen mock us openly. The alliance whispers that our Bath Dao Couple has lost their edge. If Haotian and Lianhua do not appear… our honor may be crushed before the trial even begins."
Silence followed, heavy and oppressive.
Finally, the Sect Master exhaled slowly. His voice was low but resolute.
"They will appear."
Yet even as he spoke the words, doubt gnawed at him. The image of the closed gates lingered in his mind, as unyielding as a mountain.
Outside, the alliance gathered. The Crimson Moon mocked louder. And the Bath Dao Residence remained sealed, its silence deepening the unease of the entire sect.
The morning sky blazed with banners. The Azure Dragon Sect's great assembly field was packed with disciples from across the alliance. The air pulsed with anticipation, the ground itself trembling faintly beneath the collective qi of thousands.
The Alliance Martial Convergence had begun.
At the dais, the Sect Master stood flanked by elders, his gaze sharp yet heavy with concern. Across from them, the delegations of visiting sects gathered in rows. The most striking were the crimson-robed figures of the Crimson Moon Sect — their Heaven's Chosen standing at the forefront, smirking with quiet arrogance.
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"Where are they?"
"The Bath Dao Couple still hasn't appeared."
"Could it be the rumors were true? They won't join at all?"
The Crimson Moon disciples laughed openly, their voices like knives in the open air.
Then, at that moment, a sound cut through the murmurs.
Click.
The gates of the Bath Dao Residence creaked open. The killing array shimmered, then dissolved into nothing.
Haotian stepped forward first, his golden eyes calm, his hand reaching up to pluck the wooden sign from the gate. The words "Closed-Door Cultivation" vanished into his spatial ring.
Behind him, Lianhua emerged, her presence radiant, her hand slipping naturally into his. The two stood side by side, linked by more than just fingers — their qi harmonized, their bond unshakable.
Together, they walked forward.
Their steps were unhurried, almost leisurely, yet each one struck the field with more force than thunder. The whispers swelled into silence. Even the air seemed to bow before them.
Those who had doubted froze as realization sank in.
A faint pressure radiated from the pair — not flashy, not domineering, but deep and profound. It was the weight of mountains, the flow of oceans, the blaze of fire, the silence of ice. All ten elements pulsed faintly within them, their Ten Elemental Bodies perfected.
And their cultivation — unmistakably — had reached the peak of the Soul Transformation Realm.
Gasps erupted.
"In just one year… to rise so far?!"
"Impossible!"
"They truly… broke through again…"
The Sect Master, who had hidden his worry until now, finally allowed his lips to curve into the faintest smile. Relief and pride flickered in his eyes.
On the opposite side of the field, the Crimson Moon Heaven's Chosen stiffened. The man's mocking grin faltered, while the woman's cold gaze sharpened. Their qi stirred instinctively, the faintest edge of caution surfacing.
For all their arrogance, they could not deny the truth:
Haotian and Lianhua had returned.
And the battlefield of the Alliance Martial Convergence would belong to no one else.
Hand in hand, the Bath Dao Couple made their way to the assembly field, their arrival silencing thousands.
The ceremony could truly begin.
The assembly ground grew tense as disciples from every sect gathered near the shimmering rift that marked the trial's entrance. Qi surged like waves crashing against one another, the field thick with rivalry and ambition.
The Crimson Moon delegation stepped forward boldly, their Heaven's Chosen at the head.
The man was tall, sharp-eyed, his aura radiating bloodlust with each breath. His voice cut through the air like steel.
"I am Crimson Moon Yan Zhen. Beside me is my fellow Heaven's Chosen, Crimson Moon Yue Xiang. Remember our names — for we are the ones who will claim the highest ranks in this trial."
His partner, Yue Xiang, inclined her head slightly, her expression as cold as the moonlight in her name. Her gaze shifted to Haotian and Lianhua, lingering with contempt. "And so you are the famed Bath Dao Couple. We've heard much of your… reputation."
Their words carried mockery, baiting for conflict. Murmurs rippled through the crowd, all eyes turning to Haotian and Lianhua.
But the couple did not rise to it.
Haotian and Lianhua simply inclined their heads in the faintest of bows — a gesture that acknowledged their presence but offered nothing more. No smiles, no greetings, no words. Just a brush of courtesy before they turned together and continued walking toward the front of the assembly field.
The reaction was instant.
Yan Zhen's face darkened, fury twisting his features.
"Such arrogance!" he roared, his voice carrying across the mountain. "To ignore me? To treat us as though we are nothing?!"
In the blink of an eye, his qi surged. His figure blurred as he dashed forward, speed on par with an initial stage Dao Comprehension Realm cultivator. His fist crackled with condensed force, aimed directly at Haotian's chest.
Gasps tore through the crowd.
"He's attacking—!""That speed…!"
But Haotian did not even glance back.
He merely raised one hand, palm extended outward.
As if Yan Zhen's fist had been caught in an invisible tide, his strike veered off its path — guided, redirected, until it landed squarely into Haotian's waiting palm with a dull, unimpressive thud.
The impact echoed softly, anticlimactic, like a drum struck without force.
Haotian's lips curved into a faint smile. With a small motion, he lowered his hand, letting Yan Zhen's fist drop as if it had no weight. Without a word, he continued walking forward, Lianhua's hand still firmly in his own.
The crowd froze.
Whispers broke the silence."...It ended before it even began?"
"He redirected his strike as if it were nothing…"
"That's not something a Soul Transformation cultivator should be able to do."
Yan Zhen staggered back a step, his face pale with shock and fury. His pride burned, but the truth could not be denied: his blow had been deflected as though he were a child before a mountain.
Yue Xiang's eyes narrowed, cold light flashing within them, but even she said nothing.
Haotian and Lianhua never looked back.
The battle had ended before it could even start.
The field was in uproar after Yan Zhen's humiliation.
Disciples from every sect leaned together in hushed whispers, though their voices carried in the charged air.
"Did you see? He redirected that blow like it was nothing.""No… it wasn't just a deflection. It was control. He guided the strike into his own palm.""Impossible. Yan Zhen's strength is nearly Dao Comprehension level. Yet Haotian… he didn't even move his feet."
Azure Dragon disciples straightened with pride, their eyes glowing with renewed confidence. Meanwhile, Crimson Moon disciples clenched their teeth, their faces dark with suppressed fury.
The Bath Dao Couple, however, walked forward calmly, hand in hand, untouched by the storm they had left behind.
At the Gates of the Trial
They arrived at the great shimmering rift — the Trial Gate, a portal woven of light and ancient inscriptions. Its surface rippled like a pool of liquid moonlight, hiding within it the forgotten battlefield that awaited.
The Sect Master stood at the dais above, his gaze sweeping across the thousands of gathered disciples. When silence fell, he spoke, his voice steady and commanding.
"The Alliance Martial Convergence begins now. Hear the rules clearly — for within the trial, ignorance will mean death."
A wave of solemnity settled across the crowd.
"You will each be issued a trial emblem. It will track your points, display the alliance-wide ranking list, and record your achievements. Points will be earned by slaying the beasts and monsters of the ancient battlefield — the stronger the foe, the higher the points awarded."
Disciples nodded, determination burning in their eyes.
The Sect Master's tone sharpened."Furthermore, you may kill each other. If you slay another participant, all their accumulated points will be transferred to you."
Gasps and murmurs erupted instantly. A few disciples blanched, clutching their emblems nervously.
But the Sect Master raised a hand, silencing them."Fear not. Though death is permitted, it is not permanent. Should you be killed within the trial, your body will be teleported safely outside, though you will be stripped of your emblem and your points."
A collective sigh of relief swept through the field. Shoulders eased, though the tension of rivalry remained.
Finally, the Sect Master's gaze darkened."One last rule. When you enter, you will be scattered randomly across the battlefield. No teams, no pairs. If you wish to regroup, you must find each other within."
A ripple of unease coursed through the assembly.
Then his hand lifted, his voice ringing like thunder."Prepare yourselves. The trial begins now!"
The gate erupted in light, its surface shimmering brighter until it roared like a vortex. The rift yawned wide, calling forth all who dared to enter.
Disciples surged forward, their battle cries echoing as they leapt into the shining portal one after another.
At the front, Haotian and Lianhua paused.
They turned to one another, eyes meeting, their hands still linked.
"Be careful," Haotian said softly.Lianhua smiled faintly. "You as well.""I will find you in there.""Mn. I'll be waiting."
Their fingers parted only as they stepped forward.
The light of the portal swallowed them whole.
Light swallowed them whole. Time and space folded.
When the brilliance faded, Haotian and Lianhua were no longer together.
Lianhua's LandingShe appeared in the middle of a misty forest, ancient trees rising like pillars into a sky choked by gray clouds. The air shimmered faintly with residual battle intent — echoes of the wars once fought here. Her sword gleamed faintly at her side as she steadied her breathing.
No other disciples were near. Only the rustle of distant movement betrayed the presence of beasts. Lianhua's eyes narrowed, determination clear."Then I'll carve my way forward until we meet again."
She stepped into the shadows of the forest, her presence vanishing as she moved like flowing light.
Haotian's LandingHe materialized atop a broken field of jagged stone, the earth split into canyons and ridges as if torn apart by some ancient titan. The air was heavy with blood qi, thick enough to make weaker cultivators falter.
The Fenglong Spear materialized in his hand with a flicker of golden light. His golden eyes, infused with the Eyes of the Universe, scanned the horizon.
A low growl cut through the silence.
From the shadows of the broken rocks, a massive beast emerged — an Abyss Warhound, its body three times the size of a man, skin black as pitch, eyes burning with crimson hate. Venom dripped from its fangs, sizzling against stone. Its presence alone radiated the strength of a late Soul Transformation beast.
Haotian's lips curved faintly."So… this battlefield is filled with monsters of this caliber?"
The Warhound lunged, the ground cracking beneath its claws. Its roar tore through the canyon, echoing like thunder.
Haotian didn't flinch. His spear thrust forward, nine layers of elemental power coiling into its tip.
"Perfect. A warm-up."
The clash exploded across the broken field — beast and man colliding, elemental light scattering against venomous fury.
The trial had truly begun.
The Abyss Warhound lunged, its roar splitting the stone-riven plain. Venom hissed from its jaws, its aura surging like a storm.
But Haotian didn't raise his spear to strike.
He simply planted the butt of the Fenglong Spear into the earth with a quiet thunk.
The sound was soft, almost anticlimactic. Yet the ground beneath him resonated faintly, a ripple spreading outward like the pulse of a heartbeat.
The Warhound's charge faltered mid-leap. Its crimson eyes widened, its body convulsing once. With a strangled roar, the beast staggered and then collapsed to the ground. Steam hissed from its mouth. Its breath rattled once, twice—then ceased.
The battlefield went silent. The Abyss Warhound lay still. Dead.
Gasps erupted across the assembly field as the broadcasting spheres rippled with the scene. Each disciple's name and score updated in the glowing air before the sects.
Azure Dragon Sect — Haotian: 500 points.
A roar of shock followed."He… killed it instantly?!""But how?! He didn't even swing his spear!""I didn't see it—did you see it?"
Even elders leaned forward, eyes narrowed, searching for details in the replay."Not even I could follow that technique…""Was it suppression? Or a hidden art?"
The Sect Masters exchanged uneasy glances, their faces strained.
But four figures sitting beside the Azure Dragon Sect Master simply smirked.
Yangshen, Yuying, Jinhai, and Meiyun — the Four Saint Dragons — Haotian's ancestors. Their gazes glowed with pride.
Yangshen chuckled, his voice low. "The boy has reached it."Jinhai nodded, his lips curved into a knowing grin. "The heart of the spear. No longer a weapon in his hands… it has become part of him."Meiyun's eyes flicked sideways to the Crimson Moon Sect's master, her smile mocking."Tell me," she said lightly, "can your Heaven's Son or Daughter command such mastery? Can they kill with nothing but the heart of their weapon?"
The Crimson Moon Master's face darkened, but he said nothing.
Haotian exhaled slowly, his expression calm. The Fenglong Spear pulsed faintly in his grip, as if resonating with his intent.
He stepped forward, collected the Warhound's corpse, and with a flick of his hand, the beast and its core vanished into his spatial ring. Not a trace was left.
Without pause, his golden eyes scanned the horizon again. His aura didn't stir, his steps unhurried. But every motion of his body carried the weight of inevitability, as if the spear itself dictated the battlefield.
He moved toward his next target.
In the assembly field, the Four Saint Dragons leaned forward again as another broadcasting sphere shifted focus.
This time, it was not Haotian.
It was Lianhua.
The battlefield projection shifted again, mist curling across the arena floor. From its heart stood Bai Lianhua, calm and composed, her sword at her side.
The Mistborn Constructs coalesced from the haze—serpent, tiger, crow, hound, and a humanoid warrior. Five phantoms of shifting fog, each exuding killing intent sharp enough to freeze the air. They prowled in unison, illusions layered upon illusions, seeking to drown her perception and spirit.
Sect disciples watching leaned forward anxiously. Elders whispered to each other in doubt. Even the Azure Dragon sect's younger generation clenched their fists.
Then—
Lianhua's hand moved.
Her blade slipped from its sheath—only halfway. A gleam of cold moonlight flashed across the arena, sharp enough to cut the mist itself.
SHHHK.
The sword stopped. Her hand pressed gently, and the weapon slid back into its sheath with a soft click.
Silence.
A heartbeat later—
CRACK.
Every Mistborn Construct split in two. The serpent unraveled, the tiger fell in halves, the crow collapsed mid-flight, the hound disintegrated, and the mist warrior's jagged blade fell cleanly down the middle before its body vanished into drifting vapor.
One draw. One resheathing. Nothing more.
The entire battlefield cleared, leaving only Lianhua standing, her robes fluttering softly as the mist dissipated around her.
The arena balconies erupted with cries of disbelief. But higher up, among the reserved sect master terraces, no one cried. No one whispered. Every sect master, every elder—stood to their feet. Their faces were stiff, eyes wide.
"She—she executed the Heart of the Sword…" someone finally breathed, breaking the impossible silence.
Even the Azure Dragon sect's master leaned forward in shock.
Above, the broadcasting spheres blazed brighter, projecting the moment across the Alliance. In cities, mountains, and sect plazas, countless cultivators saw it—one motion that transcended skill. It was not merely swordsmanship. It was mastery that bound the weapon to the soul.
The Four Saints themselves were startled, their gazes narrowing sharply.
"She…" Jinhai murmured."…reached it," Meiyun finished softly.
Yangshen's lips twisted into a grin. "Heart of the Spear… Heart of the Sword… in the same generation? Hah. This world does not deserve such fortune."
For a moment, even Yuying's eyes widened. Then the smirk returned, sharper than steel. She exchanged glances with the others, her voice unspoken but clear as lightning in their minds:
Who can match our descendants? Who dares challenge our Saint Son and Daughter?
Their earlier worries for Lianhua had vanished. Now their pride burned like fire, visible in the way they sat back, smirks carved deep upon their faces.
Lianhua, expression calm, raised her hand. The corpses of the shattered constructs dissolved into cores of mist-essence, which she gathered and slid into her spatial ring. With quiet steps, she moved forward toward her next challenge.
The sphere lingered only briefly before pulling back, revealing the other battlefields.
Other participants struggled desperately. Blades clashed, qi exploded, beasts roared. Every arena was chaos, every disciple fighting for their life. Some screamed, some bled, some barely held their footing.
But in two spheres—Haotian's and Lianhua's—their battles had ended with a single movement.
One strike of a spear. One draw of a sword.
And all across the Alliance, from sect masters to wandering cultivators, one thought echoed in disbelief and awe.
These two… were not ordinary disciples.
They were inevitabilities.