"The duel begins!" You Canghai's voice cut through the murmurs of the crowd. From the platform, he called out the numbers: "Contestant One, Jian Qingtian, versus Contestant One Hundred, Wang Xin! To the arena!"
Gao Han was slightly surprised to see the Young Master of the Jian clan competing in the very first match, yet he soon understood. As one of the strongest young masters of his generation, Jian Qingtian had undoubtedly seized the first token by design. Every elite young warrior carried immense pride, unlike Gao Han himself, who cared little for his assigned number.
The warrior bearing the first number was clad in black robes, slender in frame, with a longsword slung across his back—the very youth who had clashed with Gao Han the previous day. This was none other than Jian Qingtian, the Third Young Master of the Jian clan. His prowess was beyond question; a single burst of his sword qi had defeated dozens of fighters, which explained why Gu Manxing had backed down before him.
Nearly every member of the Jian clan was a swordsman, a true disciple of the blade. Half of the renowned sword masters in the Spirit Kingdom traced their origins to this clan. Unlike other aristocratic houses, the Jian clan seemed to inherit an unyielding martial will; each generation strove for excellence, bound by unbreakable internal unity. Some claimed they were descendants of the Sword God, Shanyu, yet this rumor was quickly dismissed.
What kind of figure was the Sword God? He had once shaken the entire Tianwu Continent, dominating the realm for nearly a century and standing unrivaled at its peak. His mastery of the sword was peerless, earning him the revered title of the Sword God before he transcended to the Undying Realm and ascended beyond the heavens.
It was said his sword could tear through space itself. At the moment of his ascension, a rain of swords fell upon the land, forging a domain of pure sword intent at the heart of the Tianwu Continent. Even the outermost layers of that domain could shred a Spirit Fusion expert to pieces with ease. How could such a being's descendants be reduced to a mere eight-star clan? With his cultivation, he could have established a one-star clan at the center of the continent without the slightest effort.
Standing opposite him on the arena was Wang Xin, a tall, lean man also at the third layer of True Essence. His robes marked him as an inner-sect disciple of the Qianling Sect.
High upon the spectator platform, the leaders of the great powers conversed. Jian Wuxiang, robed in black, sneered at Duan Muhua. "The Duan clan has truly spared no expense this time—offering a low-grade storage ring for the champion. My Jian clan may not lack such treasures, but I shall gladly accept it all the same. It will be ours soon enough."
"Hmph! We shall see who prevails in the end," Duan Muhua retorted with a cold smile, his expression hardening. "If I should thank your clan for the Foundation Gathering Pill, will you thank mine for the storage ring?"
"Now, now! The two of you combined are over two hundred years old—why quarrel?" Ma Liang, the inner elder of Fire Cloud Manor, interjected with a smug grin, carrying himself as a superior lecturing his subordinates.
Jian Wuxiang and Duan Muhua were ancestral elders of their clans, Spirit Fusion experts. For Ma Liang, a mere ninth-layer True Essence cultivator, to lecture them was unbridled arrogance.
"Begone!" Jian Wuxiang roared. A wave of sword-like sound energy surged toward Ma Liang, who scrambled aside to dodge the attack. As a Spirit Fusion expert who had comprehended sword intent, much like Gao Han himself, Jian Wuxiang's power was leagues beyond that of a True Essence cultivator.
Duan Muhua scoffed. "Does Fire Cloud Manor hold us in such contempt? Or has the manor run out of capable warriors, that it sends a ninth-layer True Essence lackey to sit among us as an equal?"
Fuming, Ma Liang climbed back into his seat, his face livid yet determined to save face. "Our Manor Lord, Huo Liantian, is in critical seclusion and cannot attend. He sent me to serve as a witness in his stead."
The nine Spirit Fusion experts laughed in disdain. They had long resented Fire Cloud Manor for flaunting its status as the sole seven-star power in the Spirit Kingdom, bullying the lesser factions. To send only a ninth-layer True Essence inner elder was a grave insult. And this elder dared to act arrogantly before them, demanding to be treated as an equal.
"You believe a ninth-layer True Essence cultivator has the right to stand as our equal?" Xiang Wentian grinned cruelly. At eighty-nine years of age, he practiced a brutal, blood-soaked art, and his every word dripped with killing intent. The other Spirit Fusion experts bore it easily, but Ma Liang, a mere True Essence cultivator, froze in terror.
A flash of sword light sliced through the air. Ding Ruo of the Serene Lotus Sect sheathed her sword and spoke coldly: "A ninth-layer True Essence worm has no seat among us."
In an instant, the four legs of Ma Liang's chair shattered, sending him crashing to the ground.
Crimson with rage, he rose to his feet and channeled his true essence, forming a faint crimson barrier around his body—the signature Fire Cloud Protective Essence of Fire Cloud Manor's cultivation art. Above his head, a cloud of blazing fire took shape, the art known as Descending Fire Cloud. It gathered fire elemental energy from the air, ready to crash down upon his foe and incinerate all in its path.
Ding Ruo's eyes glinted with mockery. "You dare raise your hand against me?"
Her sword slid fully from its sheath, revealing its true form: a golden, flexible blade forged as if from pure gold, impossibly sharp yet yielding to the touch. A flick of her wrist sent the sword rippling through the air like a serpent.
"A mid-grade flexible sword," Gao Han murmured in quiet surprise. Flexible swords were the most unpredictable of all bladed weapons, blending rigidity and softness to confound any defense.
The confrontation above had captured the attention of every soul below. Not a single contestant moved, for even the referee himself watched the clash of powers—a rare sight indeed.
Ma Liang struck first, sending the fire cloud crashing down toward Ding Ruo. The air itself seemed to burn, twisting with scorching heat.
Golden light burst forth from Ding Ruo's flexible sword, noble and piercing, shaping itself into a swarm of golden serpents. They coiled and struck at the fire cloud, devouring it piece by piece until it vanished entirely. The serpents, still hungry, lunged toward Ma Liang.
BOOM!
A massive black fist erupted upward, shattering the serpentine constructs in an instant.
All eyes turned to You Canghai, who remained unruffled beneath their gaze. "Enough, honored elders. This is not a war between factions, but a tournament of the young generation. Let the duel proceed unspoiled."
"You Canghai!"
Ding Ruo and the others fixed their gazes upon him, unleashing a wave of combined pressure. Though You Canghai was also a Spirit Fusion expert, bearing the weight of nine peers strained even his formidable will.
Gritting his teeth, You Canghai unleashed a fearsome aura of his own, a shield of unbreakable resolve pushing back against their collective might.
"Soul power!" Ding Ruo's composure shattered. She feared no Spirit Fusion expert who could not wield soul power—but one who could was a true master of the realm. Soul power elevated one's attacks to an entirely new plane, separating the truly powerful from the merely skilled.
Only Jian Wuxiang and Duan Muhua remained unperturbed, ceasing their pressure at once.
"Enough. I propose a compromise," Jian Wuxiang said, seeking to defuse the tension. A full-scale faction war would ruin his plans. Rumors spoke of You Canghai having a Spirit Fusion elder brother, even more talented than himself—he could not risk making two such enemies. "Ma Liang shall stand aside for the remainder of the tournament. He has no right to this seat. Do you object?"
Ma Liang dared not refuse. Even You Canghai, with his soul power, could not stand against nine Spirit Fusion experts. Obedience meant only a loss of face; defiance meant certain death. He nodded frantically, silently vowing to repay every humiliation once he reached the Spirit Fusion Realm.
You Canghai, knowing he was outmatched, turned back to the arena and roared: "The matters above concern you not. This is your battlefield. Contestants One and One Hundred—begin!"
The crowd snapped back to reality, remembering that the true stars of this day were the hundred-plus young warriors below, not the elders above.
All eyes returned to the arena. Jian Qingtian's face was cold and expressionless, unyielding even as You Canghai unleashed his soul power—a visage of eternal ice, unchanging and unyielding.
Wang Xin laughed contemptuously. "Jian Qingtian! Can you possibly match your brother, Jingtian? I do hope you won't cry when I defeat you—it would embarrass me greatly."
"Too much idle chatter," Jian Qingtian replied icily. He did not draw his sword; instead, he pressed his fingers together in a sword gesture and stabbed sharply toward Wang Xin.
A fearsome burst of sword qi erupted from his fingertips, surging straight at his opponent. Wang Xin started in alarm, yet recovered swiftly—for a prodigy, such reflexes were only to be expected.
He drew his low-grade long saber and whirled it in a storm of slashes, meeting the sword qi head-on. The qi dissipated instantly upon contact, and the blade storm continued its charge toward Jian Qingtian.
"Hmm. The Battle-Surge Saber Art. Impressive—though I wonder how many stages you have mastered," Jian Qingtian said, a flicker of interest crossing his frigid features. Even his smile was cold and hollow.
Before Wang Xin could reply, Jian Qingtian spoke again. "Yet it matters not how many stages you know. All your effort is in vain. To me, you are nothing."
He drew his sword from his back, his expression hardening once more into icy stillness. Though the blade remained sheathed, an irresistible wave of sword intent burst forth from his body, soaring to the heavens—strong enough to be felt even upon the high platform, over ten zhang above the arena.
"We shall see if your Battle-Surge Saber can withstand my Formless Sword Art."
Jian Qingtian began to whirl his sheathed sword. Even concealed, the blade's sharpness cut through the air, its movements seemingly unstructured yet utterly impenetrable. Sword qi and saber light clashed violently, sending shockwaves radiating outward. Some blasts struck the spectator stands, hurtling toward weaker disciples—saved only by the intervention of their elders.
A few unfortunates suffered nonetheless. One elder, only at the first layer of True Essence, was wounded by the shockwaves, blood trickling from his lips. He stared at the arena in terror; the aftershocks of two young warriors' clash could injure a True Essence cultivator. Deep gouges were torn into the empty seats of the stands.
You Canghai swept his hands through the air, forming a translucent black barrier around the arena. The shockwaves bounced harmlessly away, contained at last.
The storm of saber and sword finally faded. Wang Xin laughed mockingly. "Is this all the Jian clan has to offer? Then it is my turn!"
"Severing Saber Stance!"
Wang Xin leaped high into the air and crashed downward with earth-shaking momentum, his saber aimed straight at Jian Qingtian.
"Formless Parry!"
Jian Qingtian spun his sheathed sword in rapid circles, the tip fixed motionless in place, creating a funnel-like visual anomaly.
CLANG!
His sword, whirling like lightning, sent Wang Xin's saber flying, along with Wang Xin himself, skidding backward across the stone.
"War Saber Stance!"
Landing lightly, Wang Xin pushed off the ground and glided an inch above the arena, charging toward Jian Qingtian like a low-flying swallow. His saber rose high, wreathed in towering blade intent that threatened to cleave all in two.
"Earth Formless!"
Jian Qingtian's sword moved in disorienting arcs, its path seemingly chaotic and unrefined.
He stamped his foot, cracking the arena stone, and launched himself into the air. His whirling sword blurred into invisibility, much like Gao Han's Hidden Sword Stance—yet achieved through sheer speed, leaving only afterimages in its wake.
Gao Han's Hidden Sword Stance, by contrast, concealed the blade by channeling true essence through hidden pathways within his body, rendering it unseen before summoning it to his hand in an instant.
Though the sword itself was invisible, deep gashes tore into the arena floor, marking its relentless advance toward Wang Xin.
CLANG-CLANG-CLANG!
Wang Xin's blade qi shattered with a final burst of light. His technique broken, he was left defenseless.
Jian Qingtian flicked his sword, sending Wang Xin flying into the air. Showing no mercy, he stabbed sharply toward Wang Xin's chest. Wang Xin desperately raised his saber to block.
SHING!
The force of the strike sent Wang Xin hurtling off the arena and crashing to the ground below.
Before Wang Xin could recover, You Canghai declared loudly: "The victor of this round—Jian Qingtian!"
Wang Xin screamed in fury from the ground. "Why?! I was so close!"
Jian Qingtian turned to him, his voice cold and cutting. "Do you truly believe we were evenly matched?"
In a flash, he drew his sword and resheathed it in a single, blinding motion.
A long, deep gash sliced across the arena floor from his feet to its edge. A heartbeat later, a thin, red line appeared across Wang Xin's body.
"This…."
"I used only sixty percent of my power in that strike," Jian Qingtian said. "At full strength, I would have cleaved you in two."
He turned away from the stunned Wang Xin and returned to his seat, sitting cross-legged in silent stillness.
"Sword intent!"
"Yes—definitely sword intent! To comprehend it at such a young age… sword intent is the very foundation of sword soul!"
Duan Muhua's expression turned grave as he turned to Jian Wuxiang. "Now I see why you were willing to spend so freely. Qingtian has already comprehended sword intent."
Jian Wuxiang laughed triumphantly. "Admit it—you are all but defeated. I will be thanking you for that storage ring soon enough!"
"We shall see," Duan Muhua replied with a faint smile. "My Qianchou will merely need to exert himself more than expected."
"Hmph! Empty boasts."
Gao Han watched from the stands, a faint smile tugging at his lips as Jian Qingtian sheathed his sword. I wonder how his sword intent compares to mine. I should like to find out.