Chapter 123

Ji Huan had seen enough. He was losing patience. It was time to wrap things up. His true target had always been Li Ge. With Li Ge absent, and Peng Yue of the Roc tribe posing no real threat, the throne was already in Ji Huan’s grasp.
He had never paid the other contenders much attention—their intense battles were little more than warm-up acts for him. The only unexpected variable...was Ling Qingxiao.
In all major tournaments, the first to enter the arena was usually a stepping stone. No matter how powerful they were, entering early made it nearly impossible to last to the end. Ji Huan had thought Ling Qingxiao would fall within the first two rounds.
And yet he had held his ground against five opponents, alone.
That was an astounding feat for someone who had only just entered the True Immortal realm. Ji Huan made a mental note to remember this name, then gestured for Ling Qingxiao to step down voluntarily.
Challenging across realms was already rare. But challenging across such a vast divide, from early True Immortal to Golden Immortal was unheard of.
Ji Huan stepping in now did feel like he was swooping in to claim someone else’s glory. But in the cultivation world, strength was law. Who told Ling Qingxiao to be born later?
Ji Huan entered the field. The spectators sighed with both regret and resignation. The six dragon clan heads were all True Immortals, some newly risen, some ancient, but each a formidable name in the celestial world. Yet even that tier wasn’t the true pinnacle.
At the top stood the Golden Immortals. And above them once had stood the Celestial Emperor.
Now that the Emperor had perished, Golden Immortals were the new rulers of heaven.
Three such figures were present today. From the very beginning, the outcome had been written. No matter how much others struggled, how could they match a Golden Immortal?
Ling Qingxiao had already shattered several cultivation records. Even if he withdrew now, no one would question his status as the most promising cultivator of his generation.
He only needed to claim injury or exhaustion, and he could descend from the stage with five flawless victories and eternal prestige. Everyone waited for him to do just that.
Instead, they watched as Ling Qingxiao steadied his breath...cupped his fists...and declared with calm clarity:
“I’ve long admired the might of Immortal Lord Ji Huan. Please...enlighten me.”
The entire venue erupted.
Even Ji Huan blinked in surprise. “You...wish to challenge me?”
Ling Qingxiao was clearly worn from battle, his lips pale, his hair disheveled, his face fatigued. But his gaze was unwavering, his voice firm and steady:
“To me, a victory is a victory. A defeat, a defeat. I do not retreat without battle. Immortal Lord Ji Huan, please.”
Ji Huan was genuinely stunned.
He had roamed the realms for hundreds of thousands of years. Everyone bowed before him. No one, no one had ever dared challenge him.
After a brief pause, Ji Huan smiled faintly. “You’re bold, I’ll give you that. But courage is not the same as wisdom. Once we begin, I won’t hold back simply because you’re young.”
“No need,” Ling Qingxiao replied. “Don’t hold back. Win or lose, it’s my own fate to bear.”
Ji Huan clapped slowly. “Good. Very good. Courage, wit, and iron will. A rare talent indeed.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Judging from your bone age, I doubt you’ve lived as long as one of my closed-door meditations. So no one may accuse me of bullying a child. I’ll strike only ten times. If you withstand them all, you win.”
Ling Qingxiao showed no emotion. He merely nodded. “Very well.”
They exchanged no further words. No signal was given. The clash began in silence.
Ji Huan might have said ten moves, but he was aiming for the throne. There was no way he would go easy.
His very first strike carried fifty percent of his power. Yet Ling Qingxiao summoned his sword formation and met it head-on.
Ji Huan was genuinely surprised. Was this youth really just a True Immortal? The force of his spiritual power...could almost pass for a Golden Immortal.
Ji Huan dropped all pretense. Every move from that point on was a killing blow. But the more they fought...the more shocked Ji Huan became. Who was this boy?
When had such a terrifying talent emerged in the heavenly realms?
Others might not see it, but Ji Huan had cultivated for countless ages. He had collected ancient texts, studied forbidden scriptures—and he could see it clearly: Ling Qingxiao’s techniques...carried echoes of lost, ancient magics.
What shocked Ji Huan most wasn’t just Ling Qingxiao’s power—it was his sword.
Even with Ji Huan’s vast knowledge and experience, he couldn’t immediately discern the weapon’s origins. It looked like a blade forged in the current era, but whether it was the materials, the aura, or the sheer might it carried—none of it belonged to this generation.
Eight moves had passed in a blur of power and disbelief.
Ji Huan stopped caring whether others would accuse him of bullying a junior. Standing on the stage, both hands charged with blinding energy, he unleashed his lifebound ultimate technique.
Upon reaching the Golden Immortal stage, Ji Huan had awakened a bloodline divine ability. It was this very power that made him an untouchable force in the heavens for so many years, so formidable that even the other three Golden Immortals were reluctant to cross him.
The light on Ji Huan’s arms intensified until it coalesced behind him into the shape of a black flood dragon, its maw open in a roar, horns sharp and eyes ablaze.
Ling Qingxiao dropped all technique and spellwork. He summoned his true form, meeting strength with strength, dragon against dragon.
Black clashed with silver. One a storm of shadows, the other a freezing gale that could seal ten thousand miles in frost. The two dragons soared upward, circling and howling, before colliding in a furious burst of force.
Their impact shattered the central platform in a violent explosion of light and wind. Cloud barriers ruptured as raw spiritual energy surged outward in waves. The protective formation around the stage shattered with a deafening crack.
With no barrier to contain the blast, the shockwave swept outwards, flattening the layered viewing clouds. Chaos reigned as cultivators scrambled to shield their respective sectors.
Fortunately, none were injured, everyone here was a master in their own right. Most had been on guard since the moment the two dragons appeared. The instant the barrier cracked, defensive measures were activated across the venue.
Luo Han, seated among the dragon clan, remained unharmed. She adjusted her wind-tossed robes, overhearing a muttered complaint nearby:
“Knew it. Every time the dragon clan competes, the venue’s ruined. That barrier was just reinforced by the Celestial Bureau before the assembly, and it still couldn’t hold.”
The clouds churned violently, concealing the center stage from view. Before anyone could recover, the very mountain peak supporting the arena let out a thunderous groan—then collapsed in a landslide of stone and rubble.
From the heart of the destruction, a single sword light shot out, sharp, cold, and saturated with an overwhelming intent to kill.
Even the seated elders, who’d remained composed all this time, stood up in alarm.
High above, Golden Immortal Li Ge slowly opened his eyes and cast an ambiguous glance downward. Whose sword was that?
And why did it carry such murderous wrath, an aura not just meant to kill mortals, but to strike down gods and devils alike?
That sword...had indeed slain both. Ling Qingxiao had used it to end demon gods—three times.
A figure flew out of the rubble, unharmed in body, but with visible fear etched across his face.
Dragon forms were the peak of a cultivator’s combat ability. Ji Huan had summoned his, and Ling Qingxiao had answered in kind. Ji Huan, older by countless years, should have had the upper hand. And he did, until Ling Qingxiao drew his sword.
That one slash, brimming with divine intent, shattered the mountain peak.
Ji Huan, in that moment, saw visions of divine beasts slain, of demons falling from the heavens. It was as if the sword itself carried the will to annihilate all higher beings.
Startled beyond measure, Ji Huan instinctively dodged. He escaped unharmed, but the damage was already done. The moment fear enters the heart, the battle is lost.
As the dust settled, Ling Qingxiao emerged from the debris. His robe was streaked with blood and earth, and a thin line of blood ran down his lip. He wiped it away with one hand, turned to Ji Huan, and calmly asked:
“Ten moves have passed. Do you wish to continue?”
Ji Huan stared at him for a long time then raised his hands, cupping his fists in salute.
“A wager is a wager. I concede.”
It had been an eternity since Ji Huan had last felt fear. And now, the second person in his life to awaken that feeling...was a thousand-year-old youth.
This was no ordinary person. With talents like this, one must either be won over early—or be destroyed before they reach full potential.
But now, in front of all heaven, Ji Huan had no way to do the latter. And with Li Ge’s open support for Ling Qingxiao, Ji Huan’s hands were tied.
If he couldn’t kill him...then the only choice left was to befriend him.
And Ji Huan was no fool. He could see clearly: if he forced his way onto the throne now, it would only be a matter of time before he was dethroned by this rising star. Better to step down now with dignity than be dragged down later in shame.
He withdrew. The stands erupted into astonishment.
No one had held out hope before, many thought Ling Qingxiao arrogant and suicidal. But now?
He had...actually won. He’d once defeated his own True Immortal father while still at the Celestial stage. Now, as a mere early-stage True Immortal, he had crossed realms and defeated a Golden Immortal.
At this point, Ling Qingxiao wasn’t just rewriting history, he was smashing the very foundations of what the Six Realms believed possible.
As Ji Huan exited the field, silence fell once more. Earlier, Ling Qingxiao had already defeated three clan leaders. By the rules, those who lost were eliminated. Now, only two challengers remained: the Kunshan clan head Yi Xiu, and the Lingshan clan head—father of Su Yinyue, and Ling Qingxiao’s uncle.
Everyone knew Lingshan had long become an extension of the Ling clan. Unsurprisingly, his uncle did not move.
Yi Xiu looked around once, then calmly stepped forward and said, “I ask for True Immortal Ling’s guidance.”
Ling Qingxiao’s injuries were severe. For someone to step up now was...undeniably opportunistic.
Luo Han stood from her seat in anger. She rushed to the front of the viewing platform—barred from the battlefield by Celestial guards—but stood there, furious, glaring toward the fight.
Yi Xiu’s attacks were brutal. And Ling Qingxiao, exhausted as he was, began to bleed profusely within moments.
Luo Han trembled with fury. If she could, she would leap in and fight for him. She could only watch—powerless.
Yi Xiu didn’t care if it was dishonorable. So what? The late Emperor had been of the Yi clan. Kunshan had basked in imperial glory for countless years. Why should they now surrender that legacy to another?
Morality was for the weak. The true law of this world was: Strike when they’re wounded. Kill before they rise again.
Yet despite his wounds, Ling Qingxiao said nothing. He simply drew his sword...and fought.
The battle that followed was grueling. Yi Xiu aimed to kill. But so did Ling Qingxiao. In the end, it was no longer a contest of technique, but of who had the will to survive.
Yi Xiu began to falter. The more they exchanged blows...the more terrified he became.
Ling Qingxiao’s spiritual energy seemed bottomless. Was he truly just a True Immortal?
Not long ago, Ji Huan had the same doubt. On paper, Ling Qingxiao’s cultivation was indeed that of an early-stage True Immortal—but his spiritual reserves had long since surpassed others of the same rank.
Back when his core was forcibly removed and he was cast into the Abyss of Absolute Spirits, Ling Qingxiao encountered Xi Heng, who gave him a divine pearl to sustain his life. Later, he reclaimed his draconic core—restoring the original balance.
Now, within his body were two power sources: the divine pearl and the dragon core.
And the latter...had survived a heavenly tribulation, further tempering its strength.
In short, Ling Qingxiao’s spiritual power was two to three times greater than that of his peers.
Had it not been for the divine pearl within him, the prolonged duels would have already broken him. But as it stood, he endured—even outlasted Yi Xiu.
Yi Xiu collapsed, gravely wounded, unable even to stand. Ling Qingxiao wasn’t faring much better—his white robe was soaked red with blood.
The entire arena fell silent. At this moment, even breath was a form of disrespect.
Su Yinyue’s father, seated among the elders, let out a deep sigh. He had not taken the stage, yet even as a spectator, he could scarcely bear to watch. The dragon hidden in the depths shall one day shake the heavens with its roar.
Ling Qingxiao’s destiny had always been extraordinary.
The man rose and cupped his fists. “True Immortal Ling is a once-in-a-generation talent. I admit defeat—there’s no need to fight.”
He had sat through the entire competition without moving. In the end, he silently surrendered.
With the heads of all five mountains conceding, the remaining dragon clans dared not stir. All that remained...were the two Golden Immortals.
Li Ge turned to the last one standing. “Golden Immortal Peng, will you contest the throne?”
The roc immortal smiled. Now that Li Ge had spoken, how could he refuse gracefully? Even if he wanted to fight, he wouldn’t dare.
Say what you will about the dragons tearing each other apart on stage—when it came to outsiders vying for the throne, they would unite without hesitation.
Internal strife was tradition. But an outsider’s challenge? That was war.
The Golden Roc chuckled and shook his head. “This one has no taste for mundane power. I came only to witness the birth of a new emperor. Please, proceed as planned. My presence is but that of a spectator.”
With that, the final Golden Immortal had stepped aside.
The officiating Celestial stepped forward, striking the Kui Drum—the deep, echoing sound spreading across the heavens.
“Does any soul still wish to challenge?”
Silence. As the ceremonial wait ended, the official spread his arms, his voice laced with divine resonance as it rolled out in solemn decree:
“The Celestial Selection is complete. A new Celestial Emperor has ascended.”
On the layered clouds above, all the gathered heirs stepped from their seats and bowed toward the center.
Feng Yujia lowered her gaze and, in the solemn Phoenix etiquette, offered a grand salute:
“We welcome His Majesty the Celestial Emperor.”
The barriers lifted at last.
Luo Han broke past the guards and sprinted across the ruined summit toward the wreckage. She knelt beside Ling Qingxiao amidst the shattered stone. Reaching for him, she felt layer upon layer of blood-soaked robes beneath her fingers.
His hand was ice cold. Still, he took hers, gripping gently. With the other hand braced on his sword, Ling Qingxiao slowly pushed himself to his feet.
All around them was a sea of cultivators—robes of state flowing, crowns glimmering beneath the endless sky.
“We welcome His Majesty the Celestial Emperor!”
—
Alone, Ling Qingxiao had stood against the strongest of the realms. He had emerged from a trial of blood and fire to become the new sovereign of the heavens. The official enthronement would take place the following year, on New Year’s Day.
The Celestial Selection had been for heirs. But the coronation—that required the presence of rulers.
With so many powers across the Thirty-Six Heavens, just the logistics alone would take months. Coordinating the travel of monarchs, ensuring stable governance during their absence—it was no small feat.
Meanwhile, Ling Qingxiao, still gravely injured, needed time to recover. Though not yet formally crowned, he had already taken up residence in the Celestial Palace.
Luo Han brought him a bowl of medicine, stirring it slowly with a spoon, her motions practiced and deft.
“Ever since I met you,” she said quietly, “you’ve always been injured. I used to know nothing about treating wounds. Now, thanks to you, I can prepare medicine and bandage like a pro.”
Ling Qingxiao took the bowl without much concern. “It’s nothing serious. A couple of days and I’ll be fine.”
Luo Han sighed. Typical.
She knew better than to argue. After he finished the medicine, she asked, “How are your external injuries?”
Ling Qingxiao floated the bowl midair, flicked his fingers, and it returned softly to the table.
He paused a moment, then said, “Not sure.”
“…Not sure?” Luo Han blinked. “You don’t know your own injuries?”
“Your question was too vague. How am I supposed to know what you’re asking?”
A perfectly obstinate reply. Luo Han, queen of verbal sparring, had finally met her match.
With a teasing smile, she said, “If you won’t answer, I’ll just check for myself.”
Ling Qingxiao nodded solemnly. “Go ahead.”