Void Saint: Eternal Ascendancy

Some fates are forged by war. Others are sealed in laughter, over spilt tea and bruised pride.

They gathered beneath the crimson plum tree on the southern edge of Qingling Sect—the five chosen to represent the sect in the Grand Sect Exchange Tournament.

Ling Xuanye arrived late.

Again.

"I apologize," he said, walking through spirit mist with a half-eaten melon bun. "I was debating the Dao of breakfast with the kitchen auntie."

Shui Lin sighed, arms crossed, already holding a list of team logistics.

Yuè Chányīn raised an eyebrow. "So the Dao of buns won?"

"It always wins," Xuanye replied, offering her a bite. "Enlightenment tastes better with sugar."

She didn't take it—but she didn't slap it away either.

The others had already arrived:

Feng Ruo, a fiery-haired beauty from the Southern Flame Court. She wore five hairpins, each more glittery than the last. She was already flirting with one of the jade golems.

Huo Shan, a massive youth whose spiritual aura pulsed like molten stone. He didn't talk much. When he did, mountains listened.

And of course, Shui Lin, the team's reluctant tactician, already holding three scrolls, two maps, and one headache.

Xuanye clapped his hands.

"Welcome, glorious saviors of Qingling's reputation! Together, we shall become legend—or at least, well-fed."

Chányīn spoke calmly. "We leave at sunrise. Three days to reach the academy grounds. No delays."

Day One: The Forest of Whispering Pines

The forest was known for strange beasts and stranger echoes. But mostly, it was known for being deeply, profoundly boring.

So Xuanye turned it into a game.

"I spy, with my third eye, a beast with six legs and a tail shaped like a turnip."

"There's no such beast," Shui Lin muttered.

"There is if you believe hard enough," Xuanye replied.

From a tree branch, Feng Ruo pointed. "There's something glowing behind those rocks."

It turned out to be Huo Shan's emergency snack pouch.

"You glutton," she said.

He blinked. "Emergency rations. For emergencies."

Xuanye leaned over. "And emotional emergencies count. Eat well, friend."

Day Two: The Market Town of Yujin

They stopped in town to rest. Xuanye promptly "accidentally" walked into the bathhouse on the wrong side.

Chányīn's glare could have frozen magma.

"I was investigating spiritual leaks," he explained, holding a bar of lavender soap like a talisman.

Feng Ruo laughed until she cried.

That night, they shared a campfire beneath silver lantern trees. Huo Shan told a story about his first punch (it broke a house). Shui Lin recited a complicated incantation poem (everyone fell asleep halfway through). Xuanye played a flute made from ice-bamboo.

And Chányīn… listened.

She never laughed, but she didn't leave.

Day Three: The Edge of the Tournament Grounds

By midday, towering gates appeared before them—engraved with sect sigils, guarded by bronze golems taller than elephants. Banners of war and honor fluttered high in the wind.

Chányīn paused at the threshold.

Xuanye walked up beside her, holding out a fresh peach.

"Victory tastes better with sweetness," he said.

She took it this time.

Didn't smile.

But her fingers brushed his a second longer than necessary.

As the gates opened and hundreds of cultivators poured in, the team stood together in formation.

Ling Xuanye stood at the front, arm behind his back, eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Let them come," he said. "We've already won. They just don't know it yet."

Chányīn stepped up beside him, calm as ever.

"Try not to embarrass us."

"No promises."

To be continued...