Chapter 192: Lingluo’s Move

The battlefield fell silent, as though heaven and earth themselves were holding their breath.Then, seated upon the lotus, Lingluo’s body began to glow. Purple light cascaded from her, oppressive and majestic, filling the surroundings with a pressure that ground down even the strongest wills.

One by one, the lotus petals detached. They fell soundlessly to the ground, each descent like the tolling of an invisible bell.

Nothing happened — at first. The silence stretched long, until it seemed the world itself was paused in anticipation.

And then...

The fallen petals began to rise, drawn back by unseen currents. They circled around Lingluo, forming a shifting orbit. Slowly at first, then faster, faster still. Their motion became a blur, a ring of violet light so dense it began to obscure her form entirely.

Yu Xuan instinctively stepped back, his gaze sharp. Even he, who trusted her beyond reason, could not deny the raw pressure pressing down on him.

’What is she doing...?’

Within the storm of petals, Lingluo opened her eyes.

The hooded figure saw them first — and a chill raced down his spine.

Her gaze did not hold pupils or whites, but infinite depth, an endless abyss of shifting patterns. Chaos itself had taken root in her irises, and to meet that gaze was to feel the universe unravel.

The petals shattered. Not into dust, but into countless fragments, each dissolving into streaks of violet haze. Again they scattered, again they reformed, splitting and multiplying until the cycle moved too fast for mortal sight to follow.

What remained was not petals, but a mist. A purple, ever-shifting haze, swirling with unfathomable patterns that defied reason. It did not obey wind. It did not flow like smoke. It changed with every instant — embodying chaos itself.

And then, without a sound, without a warning, the mist surged outward.

It rolled across the battlefield, descending upon the frozen army of soul chained monsters.

***

It was another ordinary day atop Main Chaos Heaven Peak.

Fights broke out in every corner; cultivators dueled in the streets, swords clashed in midair, and stray shockwaves shattered the tiles of countless roofs. Some people cultivated diligently, others plotted robbery.

Some were gambling away their fortunes, others were being gambled themselves. In Chaos Heaven Peak, it was all the same — cultivation, conflict, and chaos. The stakes, as always, were high.

In the midst of it all, in a shabby hut that definitely didn’t looked like the dwelling of an Old Master, an elderly woman knelt in her backyard.

She looked fragile, so fragile that even a passing breeze seemed as if it might knock her down.

She poured water over neat rows of immortal herbs and flowering plants. To any outsider, she was just another mortal at death’s door.

But then, as if sensing something far beyond the horizon, her head turned slowly. Her eyes sharpened, fixing themselves on the direction of the Chaos Tower.

"Tsk..." she muttered, voice dry and unimpressed. "They can’t even let an old woman like me rest."

With a flick of her fingers, a talisman floated before her. It burned with faint light, unfolding into a translucent screen. The battlefield of the Tower trial flickered into view, showing Lingluo and Yu Xuan amidst the tide of monsters.

The old woman’s gaze lingered on Lingluo for a long while, then drifted toward the surroundings of the battlefield.

"Hm. I didn’t think they’d appear there, of all places," she murmured.

Her eyes narrowed faintly.

’Right... that brat is there too.’

She shook her head. "Well, they’ll survive it. That one, though... probably not."

Her tone was dry, unconcerned, but her words carried weight.

"This will be troublesome," she sighed at last, though her expression betrayed more interest than worry.

And so she sat there, watering her immortal plants.

She watched the fight unfold with calm detachment, though she already knew how it would end. She had seen enough to read the flow of fate.

But there was a flicker of warmth in her eyes, rare and unguarded, when her gaze fell back on Lingluo.

Her last disciple.

When she had discovered Lingluo’s bloodline, even she — who had lived countless years had been shocked.

It was a bloodline of ruin and grandeur, something that didn’t appear in the recent times. Choosing Lingluo as her disciple had been a gamble, one she made despite her troublesome personality. And now... it seemed her gamble had paid off.

"Yes," she whispered, voice soft with finality. "You will be my last disciple."

Like that, the old woman continued watering her plants, a serene gardener watching a battlefield where chaos and destiny entwined.

***

The purple mist swept across the battlefield like an apocalyptic tide.

Before the army could even process what was happening, half of them vanished — not slain, not destroyed, simply erased. The mist devoured them without mercy, their screams snuffed out mid-cry.

And it did not stop there.

The mist thickened, grew denser, hungrier. As it swallowed monsters, it seemed to refine them, dissolving matter into raw essence and pulling it back into itself. It was as if the mist was returning everything it touched into primal chaos — and then consuming that chaos to become even stronger.

The hooded figure’s eyes widened, his fingers twitching unconsciously. Even he, who had prepared countless contingencies, felt his composure falter.

’What kind of power..., then makes everything her own, is she from that Clan?’ the hooded figure made his speculations.

When Lingluo finally let her feet touch the ground again, the chaotic mist collapsed inward, swirling around her before being absorbed completely into her body.

Yu Xuan [Immortal’s Gaze] was active. But even his skill revealed almost nothing. All he could glimpse was the truth: every drifting wisp of that purple chaos had been an incarnation of a blooming lotus. Countless lotuses, blooming and fading in an endless cycle.

Then he looked at his sister — pale, but still standing, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

"Are you exhausted?" Yu Xuan asked.

"Somewhat." Lingluo tilted her head, her tone oddly casual. "I’m still not used to this power. That was my first time really using it."

She smiled wider, as if enjoying the absurdity of what she had just done.

Yu Xuan exhaled, forcing calm into his voice. "Recover first. For now, leave the monsters to me."

Lingluo nodded, retrieving several recovery pills from her storage ring. She downed them like candy, then lazily waved her hand.

"Summon Tririri!"

The crest on her wrist flared with purple light, symbols in a strange otherworldly language spiraling outward like ripples on water. A glowing circle bloomed into existence before her, dramatic, mystical, imposing.

And from it, with the same background effects...

Plop!

A tiny purple slime bounced out, landing neatly on Lingluo’s head before snuggling down as if it were the softest pillow in the universe.

Its big, round eyes blinked, glimmering with simple contentment.

"Prukk~ ...so comfy...prukk." the slime cooed in a voice far too relaxed for the battlefield and it’s eyes threatened to close, as if waiting for something to happen so that it can doze off.

The oppressive aura Lingluo had just released lingered faintly around her, and the little creature seemed to be basking in it like a cat lying in the sun.

Yu Xuan stared, speechless for a beat. Then his lips twitched. With Tririri perched on Lingluo’s head, purring like a living crown, he suddenly felt less concerned.

That strange slime had proven itself extraordinary with just it’s presence — a protector hidden behind an innocent appearance.

"Figures," Yu Xuan muttered. "If you’re here, then she’s fine."

"Prukk..." Tririri agreed from atop Lingluo’s head.

The purple mist had thinned, and the remaining creatures stood frozen.

The winged bird-people suffered the least; the chaos mist had grazed them, leaving pale burns and ragged feathers, but their aerial advantage let them avoid the worst. The ground forces, however, suffered the most.

Yu Xuan swept his gaze over the field and landed on the hooded figure.

For a moment the man’s composure crumbled; something in his face, if the hood would ever allow it to be seen — must have gone ashen. The figure’s hands tightened around the folds of his cloak, but his posture remained the same.

Yu Xuan said, "I already told you, this is your fate. Do us both a favor and drop dead. Save everyone the trouble."

The hooded figure’s felt offended. A visible headache flickered across his features. Whether it was the insult or the sudden unraveling of his plans, a flush of fury rose beneath his cloak.

Yu Xuan’s grin turned mischievous.

"Tsk. Bosses are the worst. Your minions were basically an EXP farm, easy targets for leveling."

The comment was absurd, half gaming-nerd boasting and half taunt. The hooded man’s eyes, however, narrowed with a new understanding; he had caught the meaning instinctively and didn’t like it.

The air went cold.

"I will kill you in the most painful way possible," the hooded figure snapped, voice scraping across the plain like a blade.

At his command the remaining forces snapped to life.

The bird-people folded their wings and dove in like arrows. Hunters moved to flank. Sword-humans advanced in synchronization. The ground trembled as draconic kin surged forward, scales flashing like a tide of iron.

The hooded figure’s words were the whip; the army’s movement the lash.