With that, Yu Changming and Huan Lianhua rose and gracefully exited the hall, leaving the core elders behind to handle the follow-up.
The moment the doors closed, light conversation stirred among the remaining elders — murmurs of speculation, strategy, and subtle gossip.
Then, without a word, one of the elders tried to quietly slip away.
"Yu Zimo," Elder Xue Rong called out, narrowing her eyes. "Where are you off to in such a hurry?"
The elder in question — a man with a scholarly air and neatly tied hair — froze mid-step, then slowly turned around with an awkward smile.
"Ah, nothing. Just... thought I'd go sightseeing," he replied, trying to sound casual.
Xue Rong's expression didn't change. "Oh? Since when have you been new to the clan?"
Yu Zimo winced inwardly. "No, haha, I meant, I was just planning to help train my disciples. Yes, for the upcoming competition. Motivation, you know."
A few chuckles rippled across the room.
At that moment, Elder Yu Ying, The First Elder — stood and addressed the group with calm authority.
"Alright, everyone. Let's organize a preliminary tournament for both the Inner Court and Outer Court disciples."
That drew some interest.
She continued, "The top ten from each court will be selected to enter the final competition in the core arena, during the Awakening Ceremony."
"Should we really do this without informing the Patriarch?" one of the elders muttered.
Yu Ying waved a hand. "He's a chill guy and we're not changing the main event. Same rules, same format — just more fire under the feet of our juniors."
Then she turned sharply. "Zimo, you'll be in charge of coordinating it."
Yu Zimo's jaw dropped. "Huh?! Why me?!"
"Because you were trying to run away," Elder Xue Rong said sweetly.
"You people are monsters," Yu Zimo grumbled, rubbing his forehead.
"I only just broke into the Supernatural Realm and you want me to babysit brats?"
Without waiting for a response, he turned and dashed out of the hall, robes fluttering like a retreating scholar in distress.
Several elders raised brows. A few even chuckled.
"Who wants to bet he dumps all the actual work on Outer Hall instructors?" Mo Jian asked dryly.
"Already done," Yu Ying said. "I messaged the Hall Master ten minutes ago."
A moment of silence passed.
Then came the collective sigh — the sound of responsibilities slowly falling from the sky… and landing on all of them.
The Core Elders looked at one another with solemn understanding.
The Awakening Ceremony was going to be big.
The competition… even bigger.
And none of them were getting out of it now.
***
Meanwhile, in one of the outer hall disciples' quarters…
A soft moonlight filtered through the wooden window screens, casting pale patterns across the room.
The air was still.
Peaceful.
Suddenly, on a small bed in the corner, a girl jolted upright mid-sleep, clutching her head as if struck by a memory so sharp it physically hurt.
She groaned faintly.
Her long black hair, once neatly tied, now tumbled over her shoulders in silken waves.
Her face was pale, but her features were striking — delicate yet sharp, with arched brows and a natural, refined beauty that couldn't be ignored.
Her eyes snapped open.
And for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.
They weren't just beautiful, they were terrifyingly ancient.
Ethereal.
Power slumbered behind them, something too vast for someone so young.
Her breathing steadied.
She shifted into a meditative pose, legs crossed, spine straight, as if on instinct.
'The last thing I remember…'
Her thoughts were a blur of chaos — screams, flames, skies torn asunder.
'My world was being attacked by the Heavenly Demon Realm… and then… the pendant activated.'
Her gaze dropped to the object around her neck — a simple pendant of black crystal bound in silver thread, pulsing faintly with energy.
Her fingers clenched it.
So tightly, in fact, that her nails dug into her palm until drops of blood trickled down her hand.
The pendant was a keepsake from her mother.
Her gentle, smiling mother, who had passed away from illness... just like her father.
Or so they had said.
She opened her eyes again and looked around the room.
Wooden furniture. Stone floor. A faint spiritual mist hovering in the air.
'I… I've been here before.'
And then it hit her.
She looked down at her hands. At her body.
Smaller.
Younger.
The realization froze her heart.
'I… regressed…?'
Memories surged of laughter, familiar voices, warmth, tragedy.
And amidst them all… him.
Her lips curled.
At first, it was a trembling smile. Then a slow, manic grin spread across her face.
And then—
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Her laughter echoed against the walls like a wave of madness released after years of torment.
Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, but her voice was steady now.
Calm. Cold.
'Nothing matters anymore… Not rules. Not fate. I will take what was always meant for me.'
She forced herself to breathe deeply and composed her expression, wiping away the small streak of blood from her hand.
'I can't meet my grandparents yet… not until Grandfather becomes Patriarch. That's still some time away.'
Her face softened for a brief moment — a flicker of sorrow crossing her eyes.
Some wounds had never healed. Even time had not dulled their pain.
She looked up at the ceiling, speaking softly.
"Heavens are truly unfair."
But then her tone shifted.
It Brightened.
Her eyes gleamed with a strange mix of sweetness and dangerous resolve.
"But now… there's just one thing left."
She stood up, brushed back her hair, and tilted her head with an expression that was equal parts innocent and terrifying.
"Just wait, my Xuan'er… your Meimei is coming."
She smiled sweetly.
"And I'll make sure no b*tches get near you this time."
The girl's name?
Ming Tianmei.
The regressed heavenly beauty now.
And the one loved by Heaven.
.
.
.
Meanwhile, somewhere across the estate…
Yu Xuan, lounging lazily on his bed post-training, suddenly sneezed hard enough to jolt his whole body.
"AHHHCHOOOO!"
He blinked, confused. Then looked out the window at the twin moons hanging silently above the courtyard.
"…Who's missing me this intensely?"
He rubbed his nose, utterly clueless.
Unware that one of his skills has already taken effect.
And trouble had already begun tiptoeing its way toward him.