The mountain summit thundered. Waves of disciples and monsters clawed their way upward, their cries filling the sky. The killing arrays roared, detonating one after another, shredding the reckless who dared set foot upon the peak. Screams mixed with explosions, smoke and qi burning into the air.
But through the chaos, a figure broke the horizon.
Lianhua.
Her robes billowed in the wind as she leapt from ridge to ridge, her sword flashing faintly at her side. Disciples who noticed her shouted in alarm, their voices lost in the storm of greed and madness.
"She's going straight for the summit!"
"Another Azure Dragon disciple—she'll die in those arrays!"
Yet the sight that followed stunned them into silence.
The moment she touched the perimeter of Haotian's layered formations, the killing fields that had consumed waves of enemies did not stir. The blades of qi, the eruptions of black flame, the crushing spirals of gravity—none of them moved. The mist swirled gently around her, as if the arrays themselves had recognized her presence.
She walked through untouched.
Outside, in the plazas and sect squares where the spheres projected, the world erupted in uproar.
"Impossible!"
"She passed through seven killing arrays—unharmed?!""Are the heavens themselves protecting her—?!"
Sect elders and masters leaned forward, their faces pale with disbelief. But among them, four ancient figures—Yangshen, Yuying, Jinhai, and Meiyun—smirked knowingly. Their pride shone like fire in their eyes.
"She is of us," Yuying murmured. "Our Saint Daughter."
At the summit's heart, she found him.
Haotian sat cross-legged at the center of the glowing lotus of arrays, spear resting across his knees, his golden eyes closed. At her voice—
"Haotian!"
—his eyes opened.
In a blur, he rose and leapt forward. His arms swept around her, catching her as she rushed into his embrace. The arrays thrummed around them like a heartbeat, the vortex of light above casting them in radiance.
For a moment, the chaos faded. There was only them.
They held each other, unmoving, the world's madness crashing outside their bubble of stillness.
When at last Lianhua pulled back, her eyes shimmered faintly. Her voice was soft, yet filled with weight.
"…I missed you."
Haotian's smile bloomed, calm and warm. He pressed his forehead lightly against hers.
"I missed you too."
Outside, the uproar exploded.
"You've been apart for three hours!"
"THREE HOURS!"
"They're acting like it's been three lifetimes—!"
"Unfair! Disgusting! Shameless!"
The jealous cries of countless disciples filled the air, their indignation louder than the roar of the vortex. Even sect masters clenched their jaws in silence, unable to deny the bond that radiated from them.
Lianhua glanced past Haotian, her eyes narrowing as she turned toward the ridges below. More figures were climbing—the desperate, the greedy, the enraged. Monsters howled, disciples cursed, their numbers swelling as they sought the false treasure at the peak.
She lifted her chin toward the storm.
"How should we deal with this?"
Haotian glanced at the chaos, then back at her. His lips curved with casual ease.
"Leave them to the formations. If they want to come here, they can try. Instead… let's go elsewhere. The view's better away from this noise."
Lianhua blinked, then nearly laughed—but her brow furrowed. "If we leave them all to the arrays, I won't gain any points."
Haotian paused. His hand touched his forehead, a rare sheepish smile tugging at his lips.
"…My bad. I miscalculated."
He turned back to her, golden eyes glimmering.
"How about this—let's move to the back side of the mountain. Fewer monsters and disciples there. You can take them before they even touch the arrays."
Lianhua sighed, though her lips softened.
"…Better than nothing."
"Then it's settled."
Haotian's smile returned, steady and unshakable. He took her hand, guiding her through the thrumming layers of arrays until they reached the rear cliffs. There, he wove a new formation—this one tight, compact, its sigils folding inward like a veil.
A Concealment Array, designed only to cloak their presence while leaving the rest of the mountain's defenses intact.
The moment it sealed, Haotian gestured toward the shadows at the cliff's base.
"They'll come. And when they do—they'll be yours."
Lianhua drew her blade with a whisper, moonlight glimmering along its edge. She stood at his side, poised, her eyes fixed on the paths below.
The first monster broke through the mist—an abyssal wolf, its jaws dripping flame. It lunged.
SHHHK.
Her blade half-drew. A flash of steel, a clean click. The wolf split mid-air, collapsing into motes of light before its howl even ended.
Another followed. Then another. A disciple screamed as he stumbled up the cliff, his blade raised in desperation—only to fall silent as her sword cleaved the space between his heartbeats.
They never even reached the array.
And as corpses dissolved into light, and points streamed into her name, the summit's rear cliffs became a silent grave.
Together, the Saint Son and Saint Daughter stood in concealment, letting the moths throw themselves against the flame—only to fall before they even touched it.
The broadcasting spheres blazed over the Alliance plazas, projecting the summit scene for all to see. Disciples and commoners alike were already raging in disbelief—some shouting in jealousy, others in stunned silence.
But in the high terraces, where sect masters and elders sat, the mood was far heavier.
The images were clear: Haotian and Lianhua standing together at the mountain's rear cliffs, hidden within a concealing veil, cutting down disciples and monsters side by side. Every corpse turned to motes of light, every point flowing effortlessly into their names. And all of it was framed by their casual closeness, their movements in perfect harmony.
It wasn't just dominance.
It was a romantic slaughterhouse.
Sect masters leaned forward, their faces pale. For once, their arrogance faltered.
"This…" one muttered. "This is not a battle. This is a display."
"They're treating the Convergence like a personal stroll," another spat, though his voice wavered.
Slowly, every gaze turned toward the Azure Dragon Sky Sect's master.
The weight of a dozen stares bore down on him.
The Azure Dragon master blinked once, then raised both hands as if to push their suspicion away. His voice was flat, his expression grim.
"Don't look at me. I didn't know they were capable of this either."
He sighed, then leaned back with deliberate calm.
"Besides… nothing they're doing is against the rules."
The murmurs stilled. He was right.
Not a single rule prohibited killing through arrays. Not a single rule forbade disciples from reuniting mid-trial. Not a single law barred them from embracing on the battlefield while slaughtering rivals.
And yet, none of that made it easier for the other sects to swallow.
Their disciples were bleeding, breaking, dying. Meanwhile, the Azure Dragon Sect's pair killed without effort, without even mussing their robes. Worse still—they did it while smiling at each other.
But next to the Azure Dragon master sat four ancient figures.
Yangshen. Yuying. Jinhai. Meiyun.
The Four Saint Dragons.
Their faces carried no surprise. No restraint. Their expressions were carved in smug pride, the kind that radiated a silent declaration:
We knew they could do this.
Their smirks widened when their eyes met the stares of the other sect masters. That quiet, piercing look—like predators studying helpless prey—forced every master to look away. Not one dared challenge it.
The silence grew heavier until, at last, one elder exhaled a defeated sigh.
"…At least the killed disciples are not truly dead."
Heads turned.
He nodded once more, bitterly. "That, in itself, is a miracle. This is still a trial, not a battlefield. Their humiliation is real, but their lives remain. Better to fall in shame than to vanish forever."
The words lingered like thunder.
The sect masters slowly leaned back, their shoulders heavy with resignation.
They could rage. They could envy. They could whisper.
But they could not deny.
The Azure Dragon Sect had produced two disciples beyond compare—guided by ancestors none dared to cross, backed by power none dared to name.
And as the Four Saints smirked in silence, one thought spread unspoken through the terraces:
What sect could possibly match a Saint Son and Saint Daughter?
Far from the slaughter at the mountain's peak, another battlefield raged.
Two figures stood side by side, their silhouettes radiant against the fractured sky. One was a man clothed in crimson and silver, his aura burning like molten flame that bent the battlefield around him. His every breath was steeped in arrogance—the Heaven's Son, heir of the Crimson Moon Sect, long hailed as the pinnacle of this generation.
Beside him stood a young woman draped in flowing black silks, moon-white hair glimmering faintly in the light of her qi. Graceful, lethal, her every step carried the weight of pride—the Heaven's Daughter, prodigy of the same sect, as infamous for her cold beauty as for her blade.
They had fought apart since the start of the trials, cutting down disciples and monsters alike, their points climbing steadily on the merit scroll. But now, at last, fate had drawn them together.
The Heaven's Son wiped his blade clean with a flick, his expression hardening as his gaze turned to the distant horizon.
There—splitting the heavens—rose a pillar of light. A spiraling vortex of concentrated qi burst through the clouds, blazing brighter than the sun itself.
The Heaven's Daughter narrowed her eyes. "That vortex… a phenomenon?" Her voice was soft, but sharp as ice. "Could it be the birth of a treasure?"
The Heaven's Son snorted, his lips curling into a smirk. "Hmph. Of course. What else could draw such light? Even the heavens themselves are heralding its arrival."
He turned to her, his gaze alight with greed. "We cannot let anyone else touch it."
She tilted her head, eyes glinting faintly. "…Shall we go, then?"
"Yes," he growled, his voice cutting like steel. "If a treasure truly lies there, then it belongs to us. Who else dares to claim it?"
He kicked off the ground, crimson qi flaring at his feet. The air cracked beneath his speed as he launched forward like a comet, dashing directly toward the mountain summit.
The Heaven's Daughter followed, her steps flowing with silver light, keeping pace with ease. Together, they carved a blazing trail through the trial grounds, cutting down beasts and disciples in their path with merciless efficiency.
All who saw them whispered in dread.
"The Heaven's Son and Daughter… they've moved."
"They must be going for the vortex!"
"If they reach it first…!"
The broadcasting spheres caught their flight, projecting their silhouettes across the Alliance. Cheers erupted from Crimson Moon Sect plazas. Elders rose to their feet, pride burning in their eyes.
At last, the world thought, the true heirs of the heavens were moving to claim destiny.
But on the summit, waiting within the lotus of arrays, sat Haotian and Lianhua.
And the moths had already begun flying toward the flame.
The vortex above the mountain roared brighter, its spiraling qi painting the heavens gold. From the horizon, two streaks of light cut across the sky—crimson and silver—tearing through beast and disciple alike.
Heaven's Son Yan Zhen.Heaven's Daughter Yue Xiang.
Their arrival sent shockwaves of awe across the broadcasting spheres. The Crimson Moon Sect plazas erupted in wild cheers, their disciples raising banners, their elders standing tall with pride.
"They'll seize it!""Yan Zhen will not fail!""Our Yue Xiang walks with the heavens—this treasure is already ours!"
But as the two landed at the mountain's base, their arrogance quickly met the first wall of reality.
The killing arrays.
BOOOOM.
The ground erupted with runic light, invisible blades screaming through the mist. Yan Zhen's crimson qi flared in defense, shattering several in a spray of sparks. Yue Xiang's silver veil of moonlight flowed around her like water, dispersing a wave of crushing gravity. But each layer only gave way to the next.
Flame spirals roared from the ridges.Resonance waves shattered their balance.Explosions consumed the cliff edges.
Every step forward was another storm to endure.
"Damn it—!" Yan Zhen snarled, his blade cleaving through a spiral of black flame, the heat searing his skin. His pride burned hotter than pain. "No array will stop me!"
But even as he roared, cracks appeared in his defenses. The killing arrays were woven perfectly—layer upon layer, seamless and absolute. Yue Xiang's face remained cold, but sweat gleamed on her brow, her lips pressed tight as her own moonlight barrier quivered.
Their attempts faltered.
Failure loomed.
Yan Zhen's eyes flashed with malice. His lips curled into a twisted grin as his gaze turned—not upward, but outward. To the disciples scrambling behind them, to the monsters drawn by the beacon.
"…Then you will serve me."
Before Yue Xiang could protest, he thrust his palm outward. Crimson qi lashed forth like chains, seizing a struggling disciple of the Frostpetal Pavilion. The young man screamed as he was hurled bodily into the nearest killing array.
SHHRRRAK.
The disciple's body split apart instantly, consumed in motes of light. The array detonated, releasing its fury prematurely. Yan Zhen leapt through the gap it left, his laughter bitter and triumphant.
"Perfect. If I cannot break the array… I'll feed it with lives until it yields!"
Yue Xiang's brows furrowed, her face tightening with disgust, but she followed silently, her pride refusing to let her fall behind. One after another, Yan Zhen hurled both monsters and fellow disciples into the killing formations, forcing their sacrifice to forge him a path. Screams and roars echoed across the summit, dissolving into points that bled upward into Haotian's name instead of his.
And from the summit's rear cliffs, Haotian's golden eyes opened.
The Eyes of the Universe traced every ripple of qi, every desperate move, every scream torn from throat. His vision followed the crimson thread of Yan Zhen's cruelty as clearly as if it were drawn in blood.
"…They're coming."
Lianhua turned, her blade still resting at her side, her lips curving into a soft smile when she saw the figures clawing toward the summit.
"So the Crimson Moon Sect's Heaven's Chosen have come." Her voice was quiet, almost amused. "Then they've come to their deaths."
Haotian's lips curved in return. Calm. Certain.
"Then let's quickly head back up. I wouldn't want to make them wait for us."
He extended his hand. Lianhua placed hers within it without hesitation. Together, they stepped from the concealment of the cliff, moving upward through the layers of arrays as though they did not exist—spear and sword climbing to meet the so-called Heaven's Son and Daughter.
And outside, the watching world leaned forward, breath caught.
The clash was inevitable now.
The pretenders of heaven were climbing into the jaws of the true sovereigns.
The mist parted at the mountain's crown.
Hand in hand, Haotian and Lianhua emerged from the concealment of the rear cliffs, stepping lightly onto the summit. The vortex roared above them, spiraling qi into the heavens like a divine beacon, yet neither flinched beneath its light. Their robes stirred softly in the mountain winds, their figures haloed by the glow of Haotian's arrays.
The Saint Son and Saint Daughter stood together once more.
For a moment, they paused at the summit's edge, gazing down the mountain slopes. The ridges below seethed with movement—disciples scrambling, monsters roaring, the desperate cries of those drawn by the false treasure. And cutting a path through that chaos were two figures, drenched in crimson and silver light.
Yan Zhen.Yue Xiang.
The Heaven's Son and Daughter of the Crimson Moon Sect.
Lianhua's eyes narrowed, her lips curving faintly. "They're still pushing forward…"
Haotian's golden gaze did not waver. "By any means necessary."
The broadcasting spheres blazed with their images. Across the Alliance, disciples and elders alike froze in rapture and horror, watching the convergence of four figures whose reputations already dominated the merit scrolls.
But below, Yan Zhen's cruelty unfolded like a nightmare.
"Go!" he roared, his crimson qi whipping out again. A Cloudveil Sect disciple screamed as chains of flame seized his body, hurling him into a killing formation ahead. The array erupted in blinding light, shredding the youth to motes in an instant. Yan Zhen leapt through the gap, laughing.
Again and again, he sacrificed others. A Blood Serpent elder's grandson hurled to his death. A rogue cultivator shrieking as he burned away in black flame. Even monsters he bound with qi, dragging them screaming into detonations, their deaths buying him mere steps closer to the summit.
Each sacrifice was cruel. Calculated. Merciless.
Yet the merit scroll betrayed the truth. The points of the slain did not flow into Yan Zhen's name. They streamed upward, every gleaming strand spiraling into Haotian's. The audience outside howled in disbelief.
"He's feeding them points!""No… he's being played! Every sacrifice strengthens Haotian instead!""Does he not realize—?!"
But Yan Zhen's face was twisted with arrogance and fury. He did not care. He would reach the summit, no matter the cost.
Beside him, Yue Xiang's expression was calm, but a shadow flickered in her eyes. She had not spoken since they began this climb, her silence betraying what she would not say aloud: his methods disgusted her. Yet her pride bound her steps. If Yan Zhen reached the summit, she would too.
On the peak, Lianhua watched with her calm smile. "How desperate they look."
Haotian's smirk was quiet, his voice low as the arrays pulsed beneath their feet."They climb higher with every corpse they throw away. And yet with each one, their end only draws closer."
The crowd outside raged with noise—some cheering for the Crimson Moon heirs, others screaming for the Azure Dragon pair, the sound a storm of madness across the Alliance. Sect masters leaned forward, their eyes wide, breaths caught, as the inevitable clash neared.
Step by bloody step, Yan Zhen clawed upward, his laughter carrying through the mist.
"Treasure! The summit is mine!"
But above, waiting in calm stillness, stood Haotian and Lianhua—spear and sword side by side, the mountain crown already theirs.
The moths had almost reached the flame.
BOOOOM.
The mountain's killing arrays flared one last time, shredding another wave of sacrificial fodder that Yan Zhen had hurled forward. Smoke billowed, mist churned, and then—through the chaos—two figures broke free.
Yan Zhen and Yue Xiang.
The Heaven's Son and Daughter of the Crimson Moon Sect stepped onto the mountain's summit at last. Their robes were torn, their skin singed, yet their auras blazed defiantly. Crimson flame roared from Yan Zhen's body, his blade gleaming with jagged light. Yue Xiang's silver qi streamed like moonlit water, cloaking her figure in an ethereal glow.
They had endured. They had forced their way to the crown.
The cheering from the Crimson Moon Sect's plazas shook the heavens."They did it!""They broke through the impossible arrays!""Now the treasure is theirs—!"
But as the smoke cleared, the illusion of triumph crumbled.
Two silhouettes stood at the summit's heart.
Haotian.Lianhua.
Side by side, spear and sword, their figures were haloed by the glow of the vortex. Calm. Serene. Unshaken.
Yan Zhen's triumphant smirk faltered.
"…You—"
Lianhua's lips curved into a smile, her eyes gleaming like moonlight on still water. "So. The Crimson Moon's Heaven's Chosen finally arrive."
Haotian lifted his spear, resting it casually against his shoulder. His golden eyes gleamed with quiet amusement as he stepped forward."You made us wait."
The words struck like thunder.
Outside, the broadcasting spheres projected the moment in blinding clarity. The world fell into silence. Even the deafening cheers of the Crimson Moon Sect's disciples died mid-breath.
On the Azure Dragon terraces, the Four Saints leaned forward, their smirks deepening. Pride radiated from their ancient eyes, their presence suffocating the air around them. The Azure Dragon sect master only shook his head, muttering, "This was never about treasure…"
Yan Zhen's face twisted, crimson qi flaring violently."You dare mock me? Me—Heaven's Son Yan Zhen! This summit belongs to me!"
His blade roared with fire, scorching the stone beneath his feet. Yue Xiang raised her own sword, her expression cold but her aura sharp as moonlight steel. Together, their presence thundered across the summit, shaking the air itself.
But Haotian only smiled faintly. Lianhua's sword hand shifted, her fingers brushing the hilt with calm certainty.
The storm was about to break.
The world watching knew it. The disciples screaming knew it. The sect masters clutching their seats knew it.
The Crimson Moon's Heaven's Chosen had reached the summit—Only to find the Saint Son and Saint Daughter of the Azure Dragon already waiting.
And the clash that followed would decide who truly held the heavens.