Chapter Forty-Three: A Sprout Shines with Life

“I may have arrived with the wind, but I will not be tossed about by it,” Ziyan said, lips pressed together against skin as radiant as fleeting youth, dimples blooming as she smiled brilliantly.

Though they had only known each other for a few short days, Xu Xing had already become irreplaceable in Ziyan’s heart.

For Xu Xing was a descendant of the Sinful Clan!

“What a fateful, narrow encounter—how splendid, how thrilling! This scene makes me want to weep, and yet, I cannot; I am simply too delighted!” Li Chunyi doubled over with laughter, his words laced with mockery.

Xu Xing looked at Li Chunyi with disdain, refusing to engage. All debts would be settled in the days to come.

For now, the most pressing matter was to comprehend the divine patterns on the Black Tortoise Tablet as soon as possible.

“Junior brother, make haste—grasp the divine patterns of the Black Tortoise Tablet and transform your spiritual root into a tree,” Ziyan reminded him, not allowing her relief to distract her from the task at hand.

Without further delay, Xu Xing closed his eyes.

From the moment he had entered the Eight Trigrams Square, his blood had burned like a raging fire!

Why such a reaction? It had to be this Black Tortoise Tablet.

Lifting his gaze, he saw the tangled, intricate divine patterns carved across its surface.

He could not help but recall the fifteen colossal turtles he had once seen—was there some connection?

Letting the divine patterns fill his mind, he shut his eyes, sat cross-legged, and focused all his being on their comprehension.

At first glance, Xu Xing discerned that these divine patterns were neither offensive nor defensive in nature.

Rather, they served as an aid—guiding cultivators to sense their spiritual root within.

He soon entered a state of profound absorption, the world around him falling away. Iridescent motes of light shimmered from his skin, swirling about him.

Within his mind, he found himself in a desolate expanse, standing in shallow water just deep enough to cover his feet, the chill biting.

Despite the emptiness, he could feel a feverish passion surging from his heart.

He stared at his own reflection in the water, meeting his gaze for the first time, the surface as clear as a mirror, revealing his true self.

“Is this... the essence of water? Is the self within the water another me?”

Xu Xing closed his eyes, crouched, and reached out to touch the water beneath him. The cold was biting at first, but soon he grew accustomed, letting himself attune to its nature.

A profound silence enveloped him, the sensation wondrous. Xu Xing lay down, merging with the shallow water.

Water is formless, yet takes the shape of whatever it meets. In a teapot, it becomes a teapot; before a mountain, it conforms to the mountain; upon the sea, it fills the sea.

The water gradually rose, submerging Xu Xing, flowing across his skin.

In that moment, he understood the true essence of water.

Ziyan watched intently. Xu Xing sat cross-legged like a stone idol, awe-inspiring in his stillness, tiny beads of water appearing on his skin.

“Is this... has he awakened the water spiritual root?”

Li Chunyi snorted, “So this is all? He’s not even half as accomplished as Young Master Mo.”

Just then, the droplets grew, becoming bubbles; from the bubbles, fine streams trickled forth.

Witnessing this rare phenomenon, Ziyan could not hide her astonishment, silently watching Xu Xing.

The scions of the city’s six great families began to exert themselves, their spiritual roots transforming into trees as they attempted to break through.

One among them surged to two hundred zhang, yet the crowd remained largely unmoved.

After all, Mo Yi had reached two hundred and ten zhang, only ranking eighth! It was proof enough of the remarkable talent among this year’s new students.

A deafening sound drew all eyes westward—the direction where the sun set.

A mulberry tree was growing there, radiant and resplendent, its branches and leaves aglow with an emerald light, a marvel to behold.

“That must be Mo Xi, the prodigy of the Mo family!”

“Yes, it’s her. With beauty enough to shame the fairest of legends—even the immortals would fall for her.”

“They say that when Mo Liyun Xi appears, her bamboo umbrella props up the very heavens.”

“She truly lives up to her reputation—stunning beauty, formidable strength. That umbrella doesn’t just support the sky, it supports the hearts of all her admirers.”

The commotion drew the attention of the aged elders, who opened their eyes and let fall a few drops of jade dew upon Mo Xi beneath her bamboo umbrella.

At once, the mulberry tree that was the manifestation of Mo Xi’s spiritual root began to grow madly.

One hundred zhang, one hundred and fifty, two hundred.

Two hundred and twenty, and then it seemed to stop.

“Incredible—she’s soared to the heavens with a single leap. Who could possibly compare?”

“No, look—the tree is still growing!”

With a rush, the mulberry tree shot even higher.

Two hundred and forty zhang! A full two hundred and forty!

Compared to the great, forgotten trees of the remote wilds, this one was no less magnificent—in fact, it was even more dazzling.

Such grandeur sparked a flurry of discussion.

“Guess what place Mo Xi will get this time? I say first!”

“I think third!”

“I’m guessing second!”

On the Black Tortoise Tablet, Mo Xi’s name was inscribed in its own deep green hue.

As expected, Mo Xi—third place!

“A gasp—two hundred and forty zhang, yet only third? Which families hold the top spots?”

Guides speculated—this year’s new student gathering was truly breathtaking.

Mo Yi’s face darkened as he watched Xu Xing, now ascending. Uneasy, he muttered, “Are you worthy of my sister? She belongs only to the strongest of the Central Plains!”

The other gifted cultivators let their spiritual roots become trees, crowns breaking through and growing strong.

Second place was soon made clear, and it surprised everyone.

It was an heir of the Jiang family, one of the city’s six great clans.

Unexpected, yet somehow fitting.

The true geniuses emerged one by one—Jiang Kun had already fallen out of the top twenty, Mo Yi now placed fifteenth. First place, as yet, remained unclaimed.

The murmurs of the crowd gradually faded. Then someone spoke up:

“Huh, why do I hear the sound of the sea? How strange—we’re so high up, how could we hear the ocean?”

“Exactly! We’re on the very heights, how could there be sea sounds?”

“Maybe the talent on display this year is so overwhelming we’re all hallucinating!”

“I don’t hear anything—maybe you’ve spent too much time flirting with the aunties and lost your souls!”

Just as everyone savored the spectacle, a sharp-eyed onlooker sensed that things were far from simple.

A rolling, wave-like roar, as mighty as a tsunami, swept forth from the Eight Trigrams Arena.

All present felt as though they were standing in the midst of a vast ocean, awed by its boundless power.

For a moment, the thunder of the sea drowned out all else—overturning rivers and seas, earth-shattering, as if mountains would fall and the heavens be overturned.

A heavy pressure settled over everyone, a chill crawling over their skin.

Countless aftershocks pulsed from some unseen source, as if someone, somewhere, was awakening.

A voice, incredulous:

“Could this be the first place? No wonder it hasn’t appeared until now.”

Though the mysterious force chilled them to the bone, their blood boiled within, roaring in their veins.

Each person felt as if they were adrift on the open sea, gazing on its immensity.

The phenomenon continued, resonating deep in every soul, leaving them trembling.

Here, where the mountains turned and the path twisted, the sound of a tsunami thundered, truly astonishing.

Again the wave surged, crashing with wild, elegant force, the roar of surf against stone echoing through the arena.

The roar of the boundless sea filled the Eight Trigrams Arena, shaking heaven and earth like a thousand galloping horses.

The extraordinary sight drew even the elders from their meditations at the octagonal corners, their eyes opening wide in amazement.

One elder, unable to contain his excitement, declared, “This—! The water spiritual root has reached such heights? It seems our Sea City has birthed a genius to rival those of the Central Plains!”

Amid the rolling thunder of the sea, the faint rumble of divine retribution could be heard, reverberating throughout the arena.

Suddenly, bolts of wild lightning erupted from the Black Tortoise Tablet, splitting the air, flooding the dim Eight Trigrams Square with brilliant light.

In everyone’s eyes, radiance bloomed—glorious, dazzling, a scene without equal.

The sound of the sea showed no sign of abating; golden light flashed, lightning flew, phoenixes shrieked, waves surged sky-high.

The arena began to shake and spin, and in an instant, a blinding light burst forth from the crown of a young man.

The light was pure and white—not as pristine as snow on the highest peak, but enough to illuminate every heart.

All eyes turned; when they saw it was a youth who had triggered such a vision, they were stunned into speechlessness.

Such an unimaginable phenomenon—if it had arisen from a towering, sky-piercing spiritual root tree, they might have accepted it.

But it was only a seedling?

A seedling barely half a foot tall?

No one was not shocked—none could believe it.

They were dumbfounded.

“What... what is happening? How could such a phenomenon be caused by a mere seedling?”

“Who is this young man?”

The Black Tortoise Tablet began to crack, and upon its surface appeared the image of nine stars in a linked array.

“Nine stars in alignment? Nine-star bloodline? I’ve never heard of such a thing!”