Chapter 15: Is It Really Okay?

Inside the Great Hall of Wenxuan Sect, the atmosphere was heavy.

Everyone stood within the hall, their expressions varied, but overall, they were clearly split into two opposing factions.

One faction consisted of the members of Wenxuan Sect.

They stood in the hall, their faces stern and tinged with anger, clustered together, led by a tall woman who stepped forward.

The other faction was, naturally, people from other sects.

They had come with aggressive momentum, blocking the entrance to the hall, looking down on the others with an air of arrogance.

“Everyone, is there anything that can’t wait until our Sect Master returns?” The tall woman spoke, a trace of indignation in her expression.

“Do you really want to make things like this? Aren’t you afraid our Sect Master might suddenly come back, and none of you will be able to save face?”

Wenxuan Sect had always enjoyed the privileges given to sects with Great Ascension cultivators, holding many Secret Realms and Ling Mai in their hands—all thanks to the prestige of Wu Zhaohua, which secured them such resources today.

“Hmph, wait for Wu Zhaohua to return? I’m afraid she won’t be coming back at all.” The leading woman could no longer restrain herself, taking the lead to press the attack.

“Everyone knows Wu Zhaohua is single-minded in her pursuit of the Dao. Your sect also possesses the Three Tribulations Return-to-Truth Record, and could achieve Celestial Immortal Form.”

“She’s probably gone to cultivate that technique, hasn’t she?”

For this technique existed only in theory as a path to attain Celestial Immortal Form, but in reality, no one had ever succeeded—most perished in the midst of the Human Tribulation.

From the moment she left Wenxuan Sect to face the Heaven Tribulation, and until the end of the Human Tribulation, Wu Zhaohua had been gone from the sect for a long time.

She hadn’t shown up at any major gatherings, which made no sense.

As a result, there were countless rumors outside about Wu Zhaohua’s life or death, with endless speculation.

The most likely guess was that Wu Zhaohua, intent on attaining Celestial Immortal Form, had gone to cultivate the Three Tribulations Return-to-Truth Record, left the sect far behind, and, like so many predecessors, perished in a distant land.

Given that, the other sects, who had long coveted Wenxuan Sect’s resources, all stepped forward, blocking the entrance to the Great Hall.

“Bai Lei, I advise you to hand over those Secret Realms Wenxuan Sect occupies. We can avoid conflict.”

“Otherwise, with Wenxuan Sect not even having a single Soul Formation Stage cultivator, hmph!”

The leader unleashed a surge of Soul Formation Stage spiritual pressure, forcing Bai Lei’s face to change as she staggered back several steps, her expression unsightly.

This was the twisted position of Wenxuan Sect: with Wu Zhaohua, they were a top-tier sect, able to walk anywhere with heads held high.

Without Wu Zhaohua, their status plummeted, all their resources would shrink drastically, and they even had to worry about the threat of extermination.

For those who fall from great heights, it’s hard to remain unscathed—let alone an entire sect.

“Sect Master Wu is still alive. That’s all I can tell you.”

“But since you’ve come to seize what’s ours, as the sect’s Elder of Law Enforcement, I will never hand over our resources.”

Bai Lei, as a Divine Transformation cultivator, slowly drew her long sword, her gaze resolute, her voice cold:

“Today, I’ll fight to the death.”

She had already arranged for all the disciples with potential to be moved to safety, so there was no need to worry about losing the chance to rise again.

Whether Wu Zhaohua was alive or dead no longer mattered to Bai Lei.

What mattered was that, as the Elder of Law Enforcement, and Wu Zhaohua’s third junior sister, she was the face of the sect.

Anyone else could shrink back at this moment, but she alone could not.

“We’re not asking for much—just split off eighty percent of Wenxuan Sect’s Secret Realm resources in Central State and leave you twenty percent.”

“Otherwise, I’m afraid today not only will you die, but Wenxuan Sect won’t be able to—”

The woman’s face was full of arrogance, but before she could finish, a woman’s voice drifted in from afar.

The voice was like pearls and jade falling onto a plate, soft and pleasant, yet laced with a chill, instantly freezing all the clamor within the hall.

“Isn’t that still too much? Why not just give you everything, then?”

The person had not yet appeared, but the voice arrived first.

Even faster than the voice, a streak of rainbow light tore through the sky and stabbed straight into the hall’s entrance.

The sword’s body buzzed and trembled, surging sword qi transforming into an invisible barrier, sealing the entrance completely. The rainbow light illuminated every face twisted in terror.

The woman’s face stiffened, then turned to panic as she turned her head in disbelief.

There, a graceful figure slowly approached, her expression calm, white robes fluttering, as if a Celestial Immortal had descended to earth.

Behind Wu Zhaohua, Qi Yuyong’s face was extremely unsightly, gripping the hilt at her waist tightly, staring deathly at the group’s leader.

She had long sensed this group was growing restless, but didn’t expect them to act so quickly.

“Senior Sister…”

Wu Zhaohua stepped lightly, her white robes brighter than snow, unstained by even a speck of dust.

Her gaze swept coolly over everyone in the hall. That look, as if overlooking ants, was utterly emotionless, yet every person who met her eyes felt as if they’d plunged into an icy abyss, their souls trembling.

Wu Zhaohua walked up to Bai Lei and smiled faintly:

“As long as the green hills remain, one needn’t worry about firewood. Look at you.”

“If I’d come a moment later, I might never have seen you again.”

In truth, she hadn’t been late at all—she’d simply watched the situation in the Great Hall from afar, waiting until this moment to step in.

Bai Lei hadn’t seen Wu Zhaohua for a long time either. She gripped her hand tightly, her voice trembling: “Senior Sister…”

“As long as you’re safe, that’s all that matters.”

The bond between third junior sister and senior sister was beyond doubt—they’d grown up together, like sisters, each with her own temperament.

Compared to the lively, playful Qi Yuyong, Bai Lei’s character was much more resolute.

“These days, you’ve worked hard.”

With Qi Yuyong’s playful nature, most of the sect’s affairs must have fallen to Bai Lei’s shoulders.

Wu Zhaohua sat at the deepest part of the hall, in the seat belonging to the Sect Master, and looked at the leader with a calm expression:

“Your sect clearly has Great Ascension cultivators, yet you send only a Soul Formation Stage here. What’s the meaning of this?”

“You want Wenxuan Sect’s resources, but you don’t dare to completely tear things apart, isn’t that right?”

All of these people were Soul Formation Stage cultivators—not a single Great Ascension among them, not even a crippled one.

“It’s not like that, it’s just…” The woman’s face was ugly, trembling three times over, at a loss for words.

It was too awkward—they hadn’t expected Wu Zhaohua to really return, and that she wasn’t dead.

Now, it was their turn to be caught in an impossible position.

“What happened today was our recklessness. Please, Sect Master Wu, forgive—”

She didn’t finish her sentence before Wu Zhaohua’s beautiful eyes flashed, and the immortal sword at the entrance rose from the ground, a cold gleam slicing through, ending the woman’s life.

Blood pooled on the floor, and those around turned pale with fright, their Dao hearts shaken.

“I’ve killed her, but I don’t intend to kill the rest of you.” Wu Zhaohua sat in the Sect Master’s seat, resting her cheek on her hand as she spoke.

She lifted her eyelids, cold stars flickering in her gaze:

“Go back and tell your sects—Wenxuan Sect won’t ask for much. Hand over eighty percent of the Secret Realms, and all copies from your Scripture Repositories.”

“Otherwise, I’ll come for you, one by one, until you don’t even have a single Divine Transformation cultivator left.”

“Go back and tell your Sect Masters—I, Wu Zhaohua, have already passed through the Three Tribulations Return-to-Truth.”

“Now get out.”

Those people felt as if they’d been granted amnesty, fleeing the hall in a panic.

This was earth-shattering news—Wu Zhaohua had attained Celestial Immortal Form, and might soon dominate Central State.

“Can’t sleep? You keep tossing and turning.”

Qin Qingyue sat cross-legged on the Jade Couch, glancing at the sleeping Jiang Huai beside her, a subtle smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

At the Qi Refining Stage, Jiang Huai didn’t need to meditate every night—he still needed proper sleep.

After their affectionate time together, Qin Qingyue had pulled Jiang Huai into her own room to rest, using the excuse of conveniently guiding his cultivation.

Jiang Huai lay on the bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep for a long time, feeling a wave of restless heat burning in his chest, impossible to dispel.

Especially with Qin Qingyue right beside him—he would open his eyes from time to time to glance at her, seeing that she wore only a few Dragon Scales. The fire in his heart blazed even hotter, almost uncontrollable.

In a place he couldn’t see, his lower abdomen was slowly glowing…

Jiang Huai sniffed, catching the faint fragrance wafting from Qin Qingyue’s body. Every inch of her skin carried an irresistible allure—her full, fair chest, her straight legs.

With only a few Dragon Scales, her shapely hips were impossible to hide, pressed into a beautiful curve.

The thrilling lines of her body, under the dim pearl light, seemed to have their own magic, making his blood surge, his mouth dry.

Jiang Huai squeezed his eyes shut and turned over, unable to suppress the pounding of his heart and his body’s honest reaction.

“If you need something, you can just tell me.”

Qin Qingyue sat cross-legged on the Jade Couch, the tip of her dragon tail lightly tapping the edge—tap… tap…—barely audible.

“I’m fine… I’m fine.” Jiang Huai took a deep breath and replied.

“Are you really fine?”

“Really fine.”

Qin Qingyue rose, her bare feet hovering as she floated to stand before Jiang Huai, then gently lifted her jade-like foot and slowly pressed down.

A delicate, exquisitely carved bare foot, cool to the touch and carrying the unique suppleness of the Dragon Race, lightly stepped onto Jiang Huai’s tense lower abdomen.

The smooth arch of her foot fit perfectly against his contours, her round, pearl-like toes teasing the edge.

She leaned down a little, her falling hair brushing Jiang Huai’s burning cheek. Looking down at him from above, a mischievous smile played at her lips:

“Really fine?”

“Maybe… not so much…”