As Xu Zimo’s blade slashed out, its intent split into several arcs across the void.

The masked man, fleeing in panic, made a misstep, and one of those blade arcs cut across his right foot.

Watching the figure stumble and disappear into the distance, Xu Zimo let out a cold snort.

“After him.”

He and Xie Changliu stepped into the air and gave chase.

Inside the Willowfluff Space of the Ghost God Collegium.

This was a self-contained dimension belonging solely to the academy.

It was said that long ago, a powerful student had risen from the Ghost God Collegium, his name was Liu Zu.

At his peak, Liu Zu was strong enough to stand alongside the Nine Ghost Gods themselves.

He was born of the bloodline between the Liu Clan and the Moon-Rune Ghost Race.

When he transformed into his true form, a massive willow tree, its canopy could block out the sun, its branches stretching beyond the borders of the academy, spanning one hundred million miles.

Its trunk alone soared hundreds of thousands of meters into the heavens, far beyond the reach of sight.

When Liu Zu finally sat in meditation and transcended, his body became this Willowfluff Space, his colossal trunk supporting the void itself.

Later, the Ghost God Collegium connected the Willowfluff Space to its main grounds, turning this divine remnant into its private garden.

Now, though the outside world was closing into autumn, here it was eternally spring.

Countless willow trees bloomed in radiant rows, circling the entire space in more than a dozen rings.

Soft white fluff floated through the air, carried gently by the breeze.

Tender green buds shimmered on every branch, filling the space with boundless vitality.

The Chancellor of the Ghost God Collegium, Wu Daozi, was strolling through the garden with a group of visitors.

Wu Daozi wore a long black robe, the trailing edge brushing against the ground.

The robe was made of fine silk, and its high collar framed his face. His white hair curled in elegant waves around his head.

He kept his gray beard trimmed neatly, and his expression was calm yet commanding.

Beside him walked an elderly man of similar age, dressed in a distinctive white robe embroidered with two bold characters.

Seven Gods.

At the hem of his robe, a divine figure was painted, stern-faced, full of silent authority.

Behind them followed a mixed crowd, some in white robes, some in black. They spoke among themselves in low tones, each carrying the air of importance.

“Lord Nocturne,” said one of the white-robed visitors with a chuckle, “our Seven Gods Collegium has come this time for an exchange. I hope the Ghost God Collegium won’t be too stingy with your teachings.”

“An exchange means mutual learning,” Nocturne replied mildly. “There’s no need to speak of one teaching the other.”

“Everyone knows the Ghost God Collegium is the undisputed number one in the Ghost God Heaven,” the white-robed man continued. “We came under the banner of exchange, but truly, we’ve come seeking instruction.”

At the front of the procession, the two heads, Wu Daozi and Feng Buxiu, Chancellor of the Seven Gods Collegium, walked side by side.

“It’s been years since we last met,” Wu Daozi began with a smile. “I hear your Seven Gods Collegium has been making a name for itself. Some even say you’ve surpassed us at the Ghost God Collegium.”

Feng Buxiu laughed heartily and waved a hand. “You flatter me, Brother Wu. The duty of an academy is to educate without discrimination and to contribute where it can. There’s no need to rank one above another.”

Wu Daozi smiled, though inwardly he cursed, Old fox.

He lifted his arm, gesturing toward the magnificent space around them.

“What do you think of our Willowfluff Space, Brother Feng?” he asked.

“The name of Liu Zu is known throughout the realm,” Feng Buxiu replied with a polite smile.

He mentioned Liu Zu, but conspicuously avoided praising the space itself, making it clear he wasn’t particularly impressed.

“Is the dueling ground prepared?” Feng Buxiu asked, changing the topic.

“Of course. Come, Brother Feng, and everyone else, please follow me,” Wu Daozi said with a smile.

He led the way forward, and the group followed him through the willow forest.

After about ten minutes of walking, they emerged into a vast open clearing.

Before them stood an immense willow tree that pierced the heavens.

Standing beneath it, the visitors felt an overwhelming sense of grandeur, and their own smallness.

The tree’s trunk was tens of thousands of meters thick, its branches stretching for miles upon miles.

The branches coiled and intertwined to form an enormous battle platform.

The platform’s center was supported by the trunk itself, while the countless leaves around it had transformed into seats for spectators.

“What a masterpiece of divine craftsmanship,” Feng Buxiu said in awe.

Above them, a living divine dragon coiled around the willow’s branches.

Its massive head hung in midair, and its eyes glowed with divine majesty as it watched the gathering below.

“This is the Battle Arena,” Wu Daozi said proudly.

“The platform we use inside the academy was modeled after this one. What do you think, Brother Feng?”

“Truly magnificent,” Feng Buxiu admitted sincerely. “So, the duel will be held here?”

“Naturally,” Wu Daozi replied, laughing. “Since the Seven Gods Collegium has come to spar, how could we not offer proper ceremony? Please, Brother Feng, after you.”

The two Chancellors ascended the colossal willow together, their entourages following close behind.

“This sparring session will be private,” Wu Daozi remarked as they climbed. “No ordinary students will observe. Let’s keep this between us.”

“I agree,” Feng Buxiu said with a smile. After a brief pause, he asked casually, “Tell me, Brother Wu, have the Nine Ghost Gods left any new instructions recently?”

“What instructions?” Wu Daozi asked, puzzled.

“There have been repeated uprisings in the Half-Buried Region,” Feng Buxiu said. “Are the Nine Ghost Gods not planning to intervene?”

“Why? You have ideas about it?” Wu Daozi asked.

“You know how remote the place we are from is,” Feng Buxiu said. “Our Seven Gods Collegium has been considering relocation. If the Nine Ghost Gods have no plans for the Half-Buried Region, we’d like to move there.”

“You’d best forget about that,” Wu Daozi said dismissively. “The Seven Gods Collegium isn’t strong enough to handle that area.”

“Brother Wu misunderstands,” Feng Buxiu said with a faint smile. “We have no intention of quelling the uprisings, only protecting ourselves.”

“That’s not for me to decide,” Wu Daozi replied curtly. “If you’re serious, ask the Nine Ghost Gods yourself.”

With that, he strode past Feng Buxiu toward the upper seats.

As Wu Daozi’s figure receded, Feng Buxiu’s once genial expression darkened.

“Chancellor, should we…?” a white-robed subordinate murmured quietly.

“That old Wu is getting far too arrogant,” Feng Buxiu said coldly. “Later, make sure to crush their pride.”

“Understood,” the man replied with a sinister smile.

When everyone was seated, the enormous willow stirred, its branches shifting to open up the center, forming a sealed dueling space.

The green dragon above them coiled in the air, marking the boundaries of the arena.

“So, who will represent the Ghost God Collegium?” Feng Buxiu asked with a polite wave of his hand.

As he spoke, a young man from the Seven Gods side stepped forward impatiently.

“Hong Yu,” he said, giving a lazy bow and announcing his name.

“Brother Feng,” Wu Daozi frowned, “what’s the meaning of this?”