As the undead swarms multiplied and swelled in strength, pressure pressed down like a rising tide on Lixue and the two sisters. Only Wanling’s timely cues, dropped like lanterns at each crisis, let them slip past the breakers.
“This crawling carpet of undead is just nauseating—no end in sight,” Lingxiao grumbled.
She locked thousands of quick-stepping undead with a binding spell, then paused, breath ragged. She uncorked a restorative and drank, refilling what that spell had burned away.
“Nauseating? I figured we’d be numb by now,” Lingsaki said.
Her voice fell, and the sky answered. Clouds clashed like iron plates, thunder boomed, and arrows of dark lightning poured down like rain, raking the horde and wringing screams into the wind.
It was clearly Lingsaki’s doing. After learning how poorly their combined casting synced, she had pushed for a clean split—Lingxiao pulling and shackling the horde; Lingsaki erasing it.
“Numb is numb, but it still turns my stomach. I wonder who our dear brother got paired with. I can’t help caring,” Lingxiao said.
The trial had an hour left. The thought of meeting her favorite brother soon put a little spring back in her tone.
“It’s random draw. Worrying won’t change it,” Lingsaki said. “This trial won’t trouble him anyway. Instead of spinning on that, think how we’ll last the final hour. Each wave hits harder than the last.”
They looked like they were handling it. In truth, after every purge they had to pop another restorative. The drain said enough.
“Think Lixue’s fine on her own?” Lingxiao muttered.
Her eyes drifted that way. A world of ice and snow unfurled like a painted scroll. Lixue floated in the air, as breathtaking as a fairy from a legend.
“Lixue’s stronger than us. She’ll be fine,” Lingsaki said. “Still… her thing with our brother is… interesting.”
“Huh? Didn’t that already settle?” Lingxiao blinked.
“Right. She was the first girl he ever brought home,” Lingsaki said. “They’re both Sword Wielders. She looks and carries herself like a dream. Most of all… they end up glued to each other whenever no one’s watching.”
Thinking back, Lingsaki realized it was unspoken, yet obvious. Everyone knew.
“So if our dear brother ever takes a wife, Lixue’s definitely on the list,” Lingxiao said.
“What about us?” Lingsaki asked.
“Isn’t it obvious? We’ll be his brides too!” Lingxiao chirped.
“…”
Lingsaki was speechless for a beat. Then she nodded, oddly serious. “Not wrong. But chatter later. Those annoying undead are coming again.”
“So annoying. Not even a breather,” Lingxiao sighed. “Good thing we packed deep. Without all those Supreme Divine Elixirs, we wouldn’t even last half an hour.”
Complaints aside, her hands never stopped. She flipped the Book of Day, pages swish-swish.
“Holy Light: Revelation.”
With the soft rasp of turning paper, light-aspect law surged to her like a flock of doves. Holy radiance spilled wide, washing the battlefield in gold.
Under that glow, the newly teleported undead ranks froze mid-charge. White threads of smoke curled off their translucent bodies. Their screams braided into one long wail.
Given time, the weaker ones even began to melt. The light cut them like summer sun devours frost.
“Lingsaki, now!” Lingxiao called.
“Got it.”
Within the spotless blaze, purple-black lightning bloomed, crisscrossing like ink strokes and sinking into the light. Sizzle built to a snarl. The fused dark thunder bucked, heaven’s wrath rolling. Purple and white flashed so hard it blinded.
“Divine Punishment: Sacred Advent.”
Maybe several heartbeats passed. Maybe two seconds. When the world settled, the ground lay clean. The thousands upon thousands of undead were gone, like a bad dream burned away by dawn.
“That was huge! We wiped so many in one go,” Lingxiao said, thrilled.
“It’s huge, and the backlash is huge,” Lingsaki said, frowning. “We can’t cast for at least three minutes. Just floating is pushing our limit.”
The timing gnawed at her. A magic void like this, right now, could be fatal.
“…You’re right. I didn’t think the cost would be this brutal. Even a Supreme Divine Elixir can’t clear the aftershock,” Lingxiao said.
She downed a recovery potion to no effect. Her heart dipped. “So what now? We can’t just hang here and wait out three minutes.”
“Pray the next wave doesn’t spawn too fast,” Lingsaki said. “We really went big. Next time, we vet the side effects first.”
The truth was, they hadn’t cracked half the Book of Day and Book of Night yet. They’d only learned that spell recently, with no time to master it.
“Still… that blast had to hit high-tier Law Realm, right? We cast above our weight—and it worked!” Lingxiao said, a little proud.
“If it truly ‘worked,’ we wouldn’t be paying like this,” Lingsaki said. “Save the cheers for after we clear the trial.”
…
Elsewhere, Lixue wasn’t rattled by the swelling undead tide. If anything, she moved with an easy grace.
Ever since she fused Mirror Calm Water with Mirror Flower, Water Moon, her senses had sharpened like a mirror polished to diamond. Even sudden high-class undead couldn’t bog her down anymore.
“About fifty minutes left,” she murmured. “They tout a million-strong horde, yet not even half has shown. The main act is probably saved for last.”
She slipped past the spells of several hidden necromancers like moonlight skimming ripples—here, then gone. Her figure was a flower in a mirror, a moon in water, elusive and clean.
A razor-cold wind howled past. Ice-blue sword light flickered, stroke after stroke. Before the necromancers in the dark could react, their remaining souls cracked apart like thin ice—scattered, shattered, and gone.
