97: Chapter 97 The Return of the Prodigy

The Tianzhu Mountain Range in midsummer should have been a season of lush greenery and babbling mountain springs.

Yet, under the shadow of war, even the seasons seemed pale and listless within the Sanyang Sect.

The snow had melted long ago, new grass had sprouted, and mountain flowers had bloomed in scattered clusters, but looking around, the vast expanse of green was always permeated by a lingering, inescapable aura of slaughter.

The morning bell tolled three times.

When Lin Xuan stepped onto the blue stone stairs of the Hundred Talisman Hall, the early summer breeze should have been warm, but it carried an inexplicable chill as it blew against him.

He looked up at the sky—it was clear blue, without a cloud, and the sunlight was dazzling.

However, the atmosphere in the square before the hall was completely out of place with the sunny weather.

Usually at this time, Disciples would be hurrying to their respective cubicles, and any occasional conversation would be in hushed tones.

But today, Disciples gathered in groups of three or five under the eaves outside the hall, whispering to each other with varying expressions—some excited, some curious, and most filled with an irrepressible restlessness.

Lin Xuan did not stop, walking straight toward the Ding-Wei area.

The transparent light barrier of the cubicle closed behind him, the sound-proof Restriction activated, and the noise of the outside world was instantly cut off.

He put down his wooden box and spread out the purple-patterned paper, his movements no different from usual.

But when the tip of his brush, saturated with cinnabar, hovered over the paper, he paused for a moment.

Through the light barrier, he could clearly see Senior Sister Su in the opposite cubicle—after a month of recuperation, her face was still pale, but for once, she was not immediately making talismans; instead, she sat sideways, her gaze fixed toward the main corridor of the hall.

Junior Brother Zhao in the diagonally opposite cubicle, C-Wu No. 12, was even more direct, pressing his entire body against the light barrier, craning his neck to look outside, and muttering to himself.

Even the footsteps of the patrolling Deacon Disciple were lighter than usual.

Lin Xuan saw two Foundation Establishment Stage talismanist Deacons walk past the main corridor side by side, whispering as they walked, their faces even bearing rare smiles—a scene almost unprecedented in the Hundred Talisman Hall since the war began.

"It seems something big is happening."

Lin Xuan understood in his heart, and the tip of his brush fell.

The talisman patterns of the Thunder Shield Talisman extended on the paper, each stroke as steady as a rock.

His Divine Sense was focused, his movements smooth, but he kept a sliver of his attention on the activity outside the cubicle.

From the third quarter of the Chen hour to the third quarter of the You hour, five hours of time for talisman making.

Usually at this time, the Hundred Talisman Hall would be silent, with only the rustling sound of brush tips across talisman paper, occasionally mixed with the light hiss of a talisman paper burning up.

But today was different.

Lin Xuan went to the exchange counter for Materials, and there were twice as many people in the corridor as usual, gathered in twos and threes, whispering about something.

"...It's absolutely true! Senior Brother Qi's warship will arrive at the mountain gate by noon!"

"What about the front line? Withdrawing at this time..."

"What do you know? Senior Brother Qi obtained a great Opportunity in the ancient ruins, his Foundation Establishment is at the Peak of Perfection, and he is returning this time to make a breakthrough to the Golden Core!"

"Golden Core?! If he succeeds, our Sect will have another Immortal Master, and the youngest one in five hundred years!"

"Then wouldn't the front line..."

"Just hold on for this period, once Senior Brother Qi successfully reaches Core Formation, the situation can be reversed!"

The discussions flowed like an undercurrent in the corridor.

Lin Xuan stood in the queue at the exchange counter, his expression calm, piecing these fragmented pieces of information together.

Qi Tianyuan.

The Sect Master's Personal Disciple, the recognized number one Genius of the Sanyang Sect's generation, with Foundation Establishment Peak cultivation.

Eight months ago, it was under his leadership that the Sanyang Sect won a complete victory in the contention for the ancient ruins, seizing the Nascent Soul Legacy and even beheading the Nascent Soul seed of the Xuanyin Sect.

Since then, he had been guarding the front line, with illustrious battle achievements, making Xuanyin Sect Cultivators of the same rank tremble in fear.

Now, he was coming back?

And he was going to attempt the Golden Core?

Lin Xuan calculated quickly in his heart.

The war had been going on for seven months, grueling, tragic, and consuming huge amounts of resources. What did it mean for the top combat power of the front line to suddenly withdraw for seclusion?

Risk, or Opportunity?

When it was Lin Xuan's turn, he asked for two stacks of purple-patterned paper—the price had risen again, 210 points per stack, simply like a wild horse off its leash.

When the Deacon Disciple processed the payment, he rarely took the initiative to say: "Junior Brother, you can submit your talismans early today; the hall is lenient after the Wei hour."

Lin Xuan nodded: "Many thanks for the reminder, Deacon."

Returning to the cubicle, he sped up.

Thunder Spiritual Energy circulated at the tip of the brush, and the talisman pattern was completed in one go. When the fourth Thunder Shield Talisman was finished, it was just past the beginning of the Wu hour.

He did not stop, continuing to draw the fifth, then the sixth.

As soon as the Wei hour arrived, Lin Xuan packed his things and left the Hundred Talisman Hall early to submit his talismans.

Stepping out of the hall door, the outside was already a surging crowd.

Not just talisman Disciples, but Outer Sect Disciples from the Artifact Refining Peak, Danding Peak, and other Peaks, and even some Inner Sect Senior Brothers and Senior Sisters, had gathered from everywhere and were walking toward the Rising Sun Peak, the main Peak.

The Sect had no explicit order, but it tacitly allowed the Disciples to go and watch the ceremony.

Lin Xuan saw Chen Hao in the crowd.

This kid was wearing a bright red Dharma robe, his face still stained with coal ash, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing strong forearms; he had clearly just run out of the Artifact Refining workshop.

"Lin Xuan!" Chen Hao squeezed over, his eyes shining, his voice full of excitement, "Let's go, let's go, go see Senior Brother Qi! This is a once-in-a-century scene! My Master said, if Senior Brother Qi succeeds, our Artifact Refining Peak's quota can be reduced by at least thirty percent—the pressure on the front line will be less, and the loss of Magical Artifacts will be less!"

Lin Xuan was pulled by him, following the flow of people toward Rising Sun Peak.

Rising Sun Peak was the main Peak of the Sanyang Sect, towering into the clouds, the mountaintop covered in golden rosy clouds all year round; it was said to be the core location of the mountain-protecting Formation.

At this moment, the square in front of the Peak was already a sea of people.

Looking roughly, there were no less than ten thousand people. Disciples from each Peak stood in their respective areas; although not neat, no one was making noise, all looking up at the sky, their expressions solemn and filled with expectation.

In the air, the mountain-protecting Formation had quietly opened a gap.

The golden Formation curtain separated to the sides like flowing water, revealing the blue sky and white clouds outside.

The gap was not large, only enough for a few warships to pass through, but the majestic Spiritual Pressure emitted by the flowing Formation curtain made all the Disciples in the square feel solemn in their hearts.

Lin Xuan and Chen Hao found a position near the back and stood still.

Just as they stood firm, an irrepressible restlessness came from the front.

"It's here!"

On the horizon, the clouds were torn apart.

Not one or two clouds, but the entire sea of clouds in the sky was forcibly pushed away by some invisible force, revealing a straight passage.

More than ten huge warships broke through the air, coming from far to near, the whistling sound like thunder.

Those warships were jet black, their hulls covered in traces of sword slashes, axe chops, and thunder fire burns; some decks still had dark red bloodstains, shining with dazzling light in the summer sun.

The bows were carved with ferocious beast heads, fangs exposed, and huge Spirit Stones embedded in the eye sockets, emitting the cold, murderous aura of the battlefield.

It was completely different from the gentle and gorgeous flying ships in the Sect.

These were true killing machines, an iron-blooded army that had killed its way back from the mountains of corpses and seas of blood on the front line.

The warships formed a line and slowly descended in altitude.

The lead warship was the largest, and a figure stood on its bow.

Green robes, a sword on his back, his posture as straight as a pine.

The distance was still far, so his face could not be seen clearly, but that aura—even separated by hundreds of zhang, even with the obstruction of the warship Formation—still clearly came through.

It was not a deliberately released pressure, but a sharpness naturally emitted after being tempered by blood and fire.

Like an ancient sword that had been soaked in blood, drunk souls, and beheaded countless enemies, even if returned to its sheath, its sharpness was still bone-chilling.

The ten thousand people in the square held their breath.

The warship hovered ten zhang above the square, motionless.

The green-robed figure on the bow of the ship took a step out and descended through the air.

No sword flight, no riding the clouds, just walking down the Void Realm step by step, as if there were invisible stairs under his feet.

Every step was taken on a strange rhythm, faintly in harmony with the breathing of heaven and earth.

The green-robed figure landed on the high platform in the center of the square.

Only then did Lin Xuan see the legendary Genius clearly.

He looked to be twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old, his face ordinary, not handsome, but there was a mountain-like steadiness between his brows.

His skin was a weathered bronze color, and his jawline was rigid.

The most striking thing was those eyes—calm, deep, like a cold pool in autumn, without waves, yet seemingly able to reflect the human heart.

He stood there, his green robes moving slightly, and the sword case on his back was simple and unadorned.

But everyone knew that what was contained in that sword case was the "mountain-cleaving sword" that had made Xuanyin Sect Cultivators of the same rank tremble in fear for the past eight months.