Facing fierce rivals once more, Shen Yi's legendary prowess shook the entire immortal realm.

The green bricks of the Tianshu Peak Trial Ground still glistened with morning dew. Shen Yi chewed on half a mint leaf as he leaned against a stone pillar, his fingers absentmindedly stroking the half piece of spirit jade tucked inside his sleeve pocket.

Last night, the star chart etched itself indelibly into his mind sea; the forbidden area in the back mountain shimmered faintly through the morning mist.

“You rogue, you actually dare to challenge me,” Leng Shuang said, holding her sword while standing beneath an apricot tree three zhangs away. The cold plum blossoms embroidered on her skirt trembled with the sword’s aura.

Beside her, a young man in white wiped the sword hilt with a silk handkerchief. The dark iron blade reflected Shen Yi’s loosely tied ponytail — it was none other than Sword Dust, the champion of the sect’s grand competition three years ago.

Haoyu nudged through the crowd and shoved a scallion pancake wrapped in oiled paper into Shen Yi’s arms. “Elder Xuanfeng specially told me to bring this. He said you need to eat well if you want to have the strength to get beaten.” His sleeve still bore the scorch marks from last night’s roasted chicken, prompting Ling Yun to chase after him, clutching a silver needle to prick his spirit awakening point.

As Shen Yi bit into the scallion pancake, Gao Yao was weaving through the crowd, carrying a basket of medicinal herbs.

Fresh honeysuckle dew clung to the hem of her sleeve embroidered with a blood-stopping talisman. A peachwood hairpin in her hair gently swayed with her steps, casting faint golden sparks in the morning light.

Sword Dust’s motion of wiping his sword suddenly halted; the silk handkerchief was shredded to dust by the sword aura.

“Shen Yi of Yaoguang Peak versus Sword Dust of Tianquan Peak!”

The moment Elder Xuanfeng’s verdict fell, the binding immortal rope coiled around Shen Yi’s wrist loosened and fell away on its own.

He licked the oil off his fingertips and pressed his palm against the short hoe wrapped in vines at his waist — the divine farmer’s hoe that had taken shape restlessly in the system’s warehouse last night.

Sword Dust’s dark iron greatsword emitted a dragon’s roar; thirty-six sword auras condensed into the phantom image of a blue lotus.

Cheers erupted from the viewing stands. Leng Shuang deliberately nudged the teacup half a finger-width toward Gao Yao. “I heard the junior sister was injured by a demonic cultivator the other day; better be careful the old wound doesn’t flare up.”

“Opening with the Blue Lotus Sword Domain right from the start?” Haoyu’s mouth was still half full of chicken as he gawked.

Ling Yun already held the silver needle tightly between her fingers, the blood-stopping pills rolling out of the medicine pouch onto her feet.

Shen Yi sprang forward, the divine farmer’s hoe hooking onto the millennium-old vine at the edge of the trial ground.

Sword aura brushed past his ear, severing three strands of hair that lifted on the wind.

The system interface flashed wildly in his mind sea. A prompt box covered the star chart he had copied last night: [Consume 300 spirit power to activate the Eye of Truth?]

“Only know how to run?” Sword Dust’s sword finger skimmed the blade’s edge, blood droplets turning into crimson sword aura. “Last time you cheated with puppet technique, but this time there won’t be any…”

Before he finished, Shen Yi suddenly spun and hurled the divine farmer’s hoe.

The clash of the black iron hoe against the sword aura rang out like metal striking metal.

Using the recoil, he shattered three blue lotus phantoms mid-air and landed as seven glowing seeds flew from his sleeve.

“Spirit Devouring Vines!” some sharp-eyed disciples exclaimed.

Emerald vines instantly crawled over half the trial ground, but withered into ash the moment they touched the sword domain.

A metallic sweetness rose in Shen Yi’s throat as the system flashed a red warning: [Spirit Plant Backlash: Spirit Power -50].

Sword Dust sneered and stabbed his greatsword into the ground.

Suddenly, the trial ground displayed a Bagua formation. Shen Yi slipped beneath his feet, barely dodging the rushing Water Sword aura.

Laughter burst from the stands. Leng Shuang’s fingertips crystallized into ice, frost flowers blooming on Gao Yao’s medicine basket.

Shen Yi rolled to avoid the Flame Sword aura and slammed his back against the stone pillar at the formation’s core.

He reached to the spot on his chest where the spirit jade warmed and suddenly recalled the Nine Palaces footwork Gao Yao had taught him.

As the Thunder Sword aura struck down, he leapt from the ruins of the Spirit Devouring Vines, landing precisely at the Tianji position marked in the star chart.

“The flaw is at the Xun position!” the system suddenly displayed an analysis map.

But Shen Yi closed his eyes and caught the faintest scent of blood mixed with sword wind — Sword Dust had forced the sword domain, and his tiger’s mouth was already cracked.

He clenched the divine farmer’s hoe tightly, then loosened his grip, letting the next sword aura slice across his left arm.

Blood droplets fell onto the Spirit Devouring Vine seeds, causing the withered vines to sprout anew.

Shen Yi staggered to steady himself and grinned at Sword Dust. “Your swordsmanship sure is fast at farming fields.” Amid the laughter, he wiped the blood from his eyes and caught sight of Gao Yao crushing honeysuckle flowers in a mortar.

He licked the blood at the corner of his mouth, fingertips brushing the dark patterns on the hoe’s handle.

Sword Dust’s sword aura rampaged within the Bagua formation but was always entangled by the vine shoots bursting from cracks between the green bricks the moment it grazed Shen Yi’s clothing.

How many spirit plant roots had accumulated in these century-old crevices, long neglected?

“Is Junior Brother Shen some kind of loach?” Sword Dust’s dark iron blade cleaved through the fourth stone pillar, his sword aura slicing half the ear off a bronze incense burner in front of the viewing stands.

His cloud-patterned gold-threaded waist sash had somehow ripped open, and blood seeped from the wrist cut by the Spirit Devouring Vine, dripping onto the sword hilt.

Shen Yi suddenly bent low and rolled toward the drainage ditch in the southeast corner, where the fallen leaves from the recent storm had accumulated.

The divine farmer’s hoe scraped sparks off the green bricks as dark green spirit power seeped through the cracks into the damp earth.

Just as Sword Dust’s Earth Sword aura crashed down, three translucent sword-eating plants burst from the soil, their serrated leaves crunching the sword aura with a grinding sound.

“When did this rogue set up this formation?” a disciple gasped, accidentally knocking over a teacup.

Haoyu took the opportunity to swipe the osmanthus cake from in front of Leng Shuang but was caught by Ling Yun’s silver needle pinning his sleeve.

Sword Dust’s pupils constricted, and mid-sword technique, he abruptly changed his move.

Shen Yi had been waiting for this fleeting flaw — the fragment of the Divine Farmer’s Herbal Scripture he had pondered in the back mountains last night fluttered wildly in his mind sea. He sliced his palm with two fingers as a blade, blood mist mixing with the morning dew nurtured by the Spirit Rain Technique, coalescing into seven blood-red talismans before him.

“By the command of all trees!” Shen Yi roared, and the century-old tree in the trial ground trembled.

The thirty-six iron birch seeds hidden in the leaf pile burst open on cue, their thorny spikes wrapped in the Geng metal energy triggered by the divine farmer’s hoe. As Sword Dust swung to block, the spikes suddenly curved in a bizarre arc.

Clang, clang, clang—

Three wooden spikes pierced the jade crown holding Sword Dust’s tied hair; four more grazed his earlobe before embedding into the stone wall.

The most lethal spike was deflected by the dark iron sword but skillfully struck the Stone Gate acupoint three cun from his Qi Sea acupoint.

Sword Dust groaned and dropped to one knee, his greatsword driven three cun into the green bricks to steady himself.

Silence fell over the viewing stands. Gao Yao’s mortar dripped honeysuckle juice onto her pale wrist, unaware.

The heart-shaped knot hanging from her waist suddenly glimmered — it was woven from Spirit Devouring Vine fibers by Shen Yi, trembling gently with someone’s rapid heartbeat.

“The Xun wind is wood, the Kan water nourishes metal… marvelous!” Elder Xuanfeng applauded heartily. The golden verdict talisman flew steadily to Shen Yi’s feet. “Shen Yi of Yaoguang Peak, victor!”

Haoyu’s cheer got caught on a chicken bone, choking him red in the face.

Ling Yun frantically patted his back, nearly pricking his Fengchi acupoint with a silver needle.

Leng Shuang’s crushed ice crystals fell softly onto her skirt as she stared at the trembling peachwood hairpin in Gao Yao’s hair and suddenly smiled. “I heard Junior Brother Shen often helps out in the herb garden? No wonder he’s so attuned to plants.”

Shen Yi shook his numbed right hand as he walked to the edge of the arena. Passing Sword Dust, he suddenly crouched. “Senior Brother’s sword is well maintained.” His fingertips brushed a rust spot on the dark iron blade, where the iron-eating spores he exchanged last night in the system’s shop still lingered. “Next time you clean it, remember to use rice rinse water.”

Gao Yao’s hand holding the handkerchief froze mid-air, then was hooked by Shen Yi’s bloodied finger on her pinky. “Don’t touch the wound, it’s still saturated with Sword Dust’s sword aura.” Though he said this, the motion of taking the cloth drew her half a step closer. “The honeysuckle you picked is thrice as fragrant as the herb garden’s.”

“You’re such a slick talker,” Gao Yao’s ears flushed red as she tried to pull her hand away—only to find a seed resembling green jade wrapped inside the handkerchief.

Shen Yi was already strolling toward Elder Xuanfeng to receive his reward, his silhouette still lazily casual. Only she noticed the cold sweat on the back of his neck had dried into frost.

As dusk crept onto the flying eaves, Leng Shuang stood at the eastern side of the trial ground’s Rain Listening Pavilion, fingers stroking a half-severed sword-eating plant she had picked from a crack in the green bricks.

Its leaves shimmered with eerie purple spots under the moonlight—this was no common spirit plant of the Immortal Sect.

“Did you find it?” she whispered into the void.

A faint jade slip clinking sounded from the shadows. “Yaoguang Peak’s spirit fertilizer consumption over the past six months could sustain ten acres of herb fields.”

Leng Shuang crushed the leaf, letting its juice burn blue smoke into her palm.

Turning, she gazed toward Yaoguang Peak, where flickering lights dotted the mountainside. They were not the usual soft blue of ordinary fireflies.

In the loft’s shadows, a half piece of bronze compass engraved with demonic runes greedily absorbed the poison from the sword-eating plant.