"Elder Situ, what exactly is this tournament about?"
In the secluded courtyard belonging to Zheng Mufeng within the Zheng residence, Gao Han voiced the question weighing on his mind. Only after Situ Wei's detailed explanation did he finally understand.
The Tianwu Continent was a vast and boundless realm, divided into countless regions. Though Cang Domain was but one of them, it was still immense, ranking among the larger territories across the entire continent. A land of great size and abundant resources naturally nurtured countless talents, and a greater population meant a higher chance of prodigies emerging. No one knew when it had begun, but the major sects, clans, and powers of Cang Domain had jointly organized an open and fair martial contest—a battlefield for the young, a clash of geniuses, and a stage for the strong to claim glory. Eventually, the top-ranked prodigies were collectively known as the Cangzi, meaning "the pride of Cang Domain," and the tournament itself was named the Canglong Competition. Only the top one hundred participants earned the title of Cangzi and a place on the Canglong Ranking.
Gradually, such ranked tournaments spread to every region, even to smaller territories, all for the purpose of selecting exceptional talents. Those without clan or sect affiliation would be courted by major powers, though such occurrences were exceedingly rare.
In the second year after the founding of the Spirit Kingdom, the tournament was established, held once every three years, open to all talented youths under the age of twenty-five, with no lower age limit. It was little wonder that Gao Han had never heard of it; the Gao clan was a minor house not even ranked ninth-grade, and most of its disciples remained at the Qi Condensation realm by the age of twenty-five, their talent mediocre at best. The higher the cultivation of one's parents, the more gifted their offspring tended to be. For a small clan like the Gao clan, the strongest member alive was Gao Jianshang, followed by Gao Jianfei at the seventh layer of True Essence, with only a few elders at the second layer. The Grand Elder, Second Elder, and Gao Jianfeng had all lost their cultivation due to rebellion.
This tournament would gather every major clan and sect in the Spirit Kingdom, including the Misty Sect and the six great aristocratic families. The Duan clan, however, was shrouded in mystery and had never participated in the Spirit Kingdom's contests. Beyond the ten eight-star powers, numerous nine-star clans and sects would also take part.
The top ten finishers would receive lavish rewards. While such prizes meant little to the greatest powers, they were invaluable to Gao Han and the nine-star forces. The first-place winner would receive a low-grade spiritual weapon, one million taels of silver, and most importantly, a low-grade storage ring. The second prize included a low-grade spiritual weapon and six hundred thousand taels. Third place earned only a low-grade spiritual weapon. The fourth through tenth-place finishers each received seven hundred thousand taels. These rewards were jointly funded by the major powers; the greater one's contribution, the higher the stakes for their own disciples to claim the top spots. Yet no power was foolish enough to hand treasures to rivals for no reason. If their own disciples won, it was well and good; if a competitor's prodigy placed highly, it would only strengthen a foe. Thus, the rewards had remained unchanged for years.
Once the explanation was complete, Situ Wei and Zheng Mufeng wore faint looks of apology. "The tournament is actually quite dangerous. There will be countless geniuses in attendance. You must exercise the utmost caution."
Their tone shifted, however. "So long as you have not offended other clans, you should be able to handle the younger generation of the Gu family."
Gao Han smiled bitterly to himself. Little did they know he had already made enemies of the Gu, Hu, and Lu clans. If Lian Yong participated, the Fire Cloud Manor would be added to the list. Nearly half of the eight-star powers stood against him.
Though the Spirit Kingdom was but a drop in the ocean within the Tianwu Continent, it boasted a population of over a hundred million, teeming with geniuses and uncountable powerhouses. Despite being a national tournament, the competition would be brutal.
Gao Han smiled calmly, unconcerned—even eager. Since emerging from that mysterious graveyard, he had sought battles with diverse opponents to inspire his breakthroughs. Combat was the finest method to elevate one's strength.
After asking a few more questions about cultivation, Gao Han took his leave. He had four hundred thousand taels of silver deposited with Zheng Yunqing. Though the mission had yielded no spiritual herbs or treasures, this sum, combined with his existing savings, would allow him to purchase a low-grade sword. He also hoped to find a high-grade Mortal-Rank sword art. With such a technique, his power would surge dramatically; paired with the Thousand Searches movement from the Sunset Over the Long River Art, he could even fight experts at the fourth layer of True Essence.
Once Gao Han left the courtyard, Zheng Mufeng smiled and chided Situ Wei. "Old Situ, speak your mind. You never visit without an agenda."
Situ Wei roared with laughter and recounted what he had learned from Situ Jian. Zheng Mufeng was utterly delighted. "All the better! A talent like Gao Han must be firmly bound to our faction!" He paused in thought, then warned, "But do not force the matter. Let fate decide between them."
Situ Wei nodded. "Naturally."
In the main hall of the Zheng residence:
"Clan Leader Zheng." Gao Han bowed to the man seated at the head of the hall.
Zheng Yunqing smiled warmly. "No more 'Clan Leader Zheng'—it sounds too formal. Call me Uncle Zheng."
Gao Han saw no reason to refuse; he and Zheng Kong were sworn brothers, and Zheng Yunqing had stood before him against Gu Ang. "Uncle, you promised me a reward of four hundred thousand taels upon completing the mission…"
Before he could finish, Zheng Yunqing laughed aloud. "It has long been prepared for you. I intended to give it to you after dinner, but that old fool Gu Ang ruined the moment."
He handed over five hundred thousand taels in silver notes. Gao Han frowned. "This is one hundred thousand taels too many."
"Nonsense, no need for such formality," Zheng Yunqing said genially. "The extra is pocket money from me." He understood well that investment yielded returns.
Gao Han cupped his hands in thanks. "Thank you, Uncle Zheng."
Zheng Yunqing knew Gao Han was not the type to grow overexcited at material gain and thought nothing of it, turning instead to the tournament. "Nephew, you must be careful at the tournament. Your strength is impressive, but never underestimate the talents of the world."
"Rest assured, Uncle Zheng. I never underestimate anyone." A thought suddenly struck Gao Han. "Uncle, I have a favor to ask."
"Name it."
"I wish to borrow a high-grade Mortal-Rank sword art from the Zheng clan's scripture pavilion. My current sword techniques are far too inadequate. I seek a new art to master."
Gao Han braced himself for refusal; cultivation arts were the very foundation of any clan, and his request was presumptuous. Yet he dared to ask anyway, for returning to the Misty Sect would leave him no time to practice swordplay.
To his astonishment, Zheng Yunqing laughed heartily. "Hah! A trivial matter. Choose whichever you like. I shall send Zheng Ling to escort you to the scripture pavilion at once."
To a man like Zheng Yunqing, only Mystic-Rank arts held true importance, and those were guarded solely by the clan leader, passed down from one head to the next. "Take this token. It grants you full access to the pavilion, but you must abide by its rules."
With a flick of his wrist, a token shot toward Gao Han, moving at blinding speed. Gao Han channeled his essence into both hands to meet it, only to find the token land softly in his palm. He was secretly impressed; such control was beyond him. Against Zheng Yunqing at full strength, he would not last a single move.
The token was white as snow, emblazoned with the bold character "Zheng" on the front, and on the back, a flaming lion—the Zheng clan emblem—with a black spear towering above it, exuding domineering majesty.
That Zheng Yunqing had agreed to let him select a sword art was an unimaginable kindness; every power guarded its techniques fiercely.
On the way, Zheng Ling sang Situ Yan's praises endlessly, as though desperate to marry her off to Gao Han on the spot, leaving Gao Han thoroughly embarrassed. He was already betrothed in a childhood arrangement. Though he had not seen his fiancée in eight years and felt no affection for her, rejecting her now would shame his parents. She was, he had heard, the daughter of a close friend of his father's.
After what felt like an eternity, they reached the Zheng clan's scripture pavilion. Compared to the Misty Sect's grand structure, it was relatively modest, little more than a sturdily built multi-story tower. Its security, however, was impeccable. Gao Han sensed guards posted all around, each at least at the sixth layer of True Essence, with numerous seventh-layer experts and even a ninth-layer presence.
Before they could draw near, two eighth-layer True Essence warriors blocked their path. "Show your tokens."
Gao Han presented his, and after careful inspection, the guards nodded. "The token is valid. Remember: no martial arts may be leaked, and the manual must be returned within three months. You may enter."
"Thank you, seniors." Zheng Ling bowed slightly.
With the rules stated, the guards returned to their patrols, acknowledging Zheng Ling with but a faint nod. Later, Zheng Ling explained that these warriors were elite members of the Zheng clan's branch families, sharing the same ancestry but distantly related to the main line.
Gao Han stepped into the pavilion as he had wished. Its collection of martial arts was smaller than the Misty Sect's, encompassing sword techniques, leg arts, movement skills, and—most plentiful of all—spear and blade arts.
His goal was a sword art, so he headed straight for the swordsmanship shelves. The techniques were numerous: Four Seasons Sword Art, Mist Shadow Sword, Seven Absolute Strikes, Afterimage Sword… Gao Han read each introduction carefully, dazzled by the power each promised.
The Four Seasons Sword Art, when mastered to perfection, trapped foes in an illusion of the four seasons, leading them to their deaths amid disorientation. The Mist Shadow Sword lived up to its name, obscuring truth from falsehood, striking before the enemy even realized the blade was at their chest.
Each art possessed unique merits. A high-grade Mortal-Rank technique could serve a cultivator all the way to the Spirit Fusion realm. Mystic-Rank arts were far too lofty; only Spirit Fusion experts could unleash their true power. For True Essence warriors, they offered only a marginal advantage over Mortal-Rank skills. The Battle Heaven Formula and Thirteen Lonely Clouds Kicks, for instance, would level the Zheng residence if wielded by Spirit Fusion experts. The benefit of practicing Mystic-Rank arts early was that they would not need to be discarded upon reaching Spirit Fusion.
Gao Han read manual after manual, unable to settle on one. At the bottom of the shelf, he spotted an ancient cyan wooden box, thick with dust, clearly untouched for years.
He called Zheng Ling over and pointed to the box. "Brother, what is inside this?"
Zheng Ling glanced at it and shook his head helplessly. "This holds a top-grade Mortal-Rank sword art called the Seven-Sword Art. According to its records, its power rivals that of Mystic-Rank techniques. However…"
"However what?" Gao Han was puzzled. Such a technique should be highly coveted, yet this manual had sat abandoned, covered in dust. Mystic-Rank arts were priceless; even eight-star clans possessed no more than low-grade Mystic-Rank techniques, a testament to this sword art's value.
Zheng Ling stared at the box in frustration, swallowing hard before sighing deeply. "When this art first arrived, every Zheng disciple went mad for it. Yet not a single person in the entire clan could master even the first stance. Two years of effort were wasted, and the manual was eventually forgotten in this corner."
"Not a single Zheng clansman succeeded?" Gao Han found it hard to believe.
A voice then echoed through the pavilion. "Not only the Zhengs—no Situ disciple could master it either."
Gao Han's hairs stood on end. He spun toward the shadowed figure in the distance, alarmed. Though he was now a True Essence expert with a powerful soul that could faintly sense Spirit Fusion experts even at Qi Condensation, he had not detected this man at all. Once he perceived the man's cultivation, he smiled bitterly—he had been too absorbed in conversation to notice a peak True Essence expert, one whose power stood but a hair's breadth from Spirit Fusion.
The figure stepped out of the shadows: a man in his thirties, wearing a cyan robe, with a slender face, high nose, and medium build. He bore a faint resemblance to Zheng Yunqing.
Zheng Ling hurried forward and bowed. "Uncle!"
"Uncle?" The man smiled gently, reminding Gao Han of Zheng Mufeng's warm demeanor. "Zheng Ling is my nephew. May I ask your name?"
"Gao Han."
Zheng Ling quickly introduced him. "This is my uncle, Zheng Yuntian."
Before he could say more, Zheng Yuntian spoke first. "Gao Han? I know you. You are the young prodigy my father often speaks of."
"I dare not claim such a title," Gao Han replied with quiet dignity, neither arrogant nor humble.
Zheng Yuntian nodded approvingly and glanced at the ancient box in Gao Han's hand. "This sword art was seized from the storage ring of the Fen Kingdom's emperor after our Zheng clan helped the Lu clan conquer the previous dynasty. As the Grand Marshal's forces, we entered the imperial palace first. After slaying the Fen emperor, the storage ring fell to our clan, and we gained many treasures. None surprised us more than this Seven-Sword Art—though the emperor apparently never mastered it enough to wield it in battle."
After the war, the Zheng clan leader had given the manual to his son, Zheng Mufeng, who was barely twenty at the time. Despite half a year of effort, Zheng Mufeng could not grasp its basics. His brother Zheng Muyun and countless other disciples tried and failed as well. More than thirty years passed, and the clan even copied the manual for the closely allied Situ clan; yet after a decade, no one there had mastered it either. Gradually, the art was abandoned, left to gather dust.
"Have you practiced it, Senior?" Gao Han asked, curiosity piqued.
Zheng Yuntian smiled bitterly and nodded. "I am the youngest son of my father, thirty-two this year. I should have reached the ninth layer of True Essence by thirty, but at eighteen, I was too arrogant, convinced I could master this art. I wasted two years and accomplished nothing."
The more he heard, the more determined Gao Han became to learn the Seven-Sword Art. Zheng Yuntian saw his resolve and warned him kindly. "Young Hero Gao, your talent is extraordinary, enough to rival prodigies like Sword Jingtian. Why waste your prime years on the impossible? It will only hold back your growth."
Gao Han smiled faintly, offering no explanation, and asked instead, "I was promised only a high-grade Mortal-Rank art, but this is top-grade. May I still choose it?"
Zheng Yuntian shook his head. He had been just as stubborn in his youth; the more others warned him of the difficulty, the more he had yearned to try. There was no stopping Gao Han now.
With a flick of his wrist, Zheng Yuntian produced a manual and handed it over. "This is my hand-copied version of the art. The contents are identical, word for word. I still could not master it." He hoped this final detail might dissuade Gao Han, but seeing the youth's unwavering expression, he added, "It is yours. Take it."
Gao Han clutched the manual as if it were a priceless treasure, thanking him profusely. He then took his leave of Zheng Yuntian and left the scripture pavilion with Zheng Ling.
Zheng Yuntian watched Gao Han's retreating figure and sighed to himself. How familiar that fervent excitement was—it mirrored his own long ago.
What Gao Han did not know was that the manual in the wooden box was merely a copy. The authentic Seven-Sword Art was the one Zheng Yuntian had just given him. A treasure of such importance would never be left out in the open. It was this original manual that Zheng Mufeng, Zheng Muyun, Zheng Yuntian, and Zheng Yunqing had all attempted to practice—a secret his father had told him after his own failure.
"May he succeed," Zheng Yuntian murmured. "A peerless sword art such as this would be a tragedy to waste."
In an instant, he vanished from the pavilion.