Everyone on the arena gaped in astonishment, their eyes widening at the staggering announcement.
Moments before Gao Han and Wei Ying were to clash, You Canghai's ears twitched. He stared upward intently, as if he had heard something shocking, then fixed Gao Han with a peculiar gaze.
After several minutes, having apparently received the full message, he cleared his throat and spoke in a steady voice. "From this moment onward, the prize for first place shall be amended. In addition to the original rewards, two million taels of silver and a Condensing Solid Pill shall be granted. However…"
You Canghai paused, his eyes settling on Gao Han. "Following this tournament, Gao Han shall fight one additional duel."
Gao Han's eyes narrowed. "Why?"
"It is the decision of the elders above. It concerns a grudge and an agreement you hold with the Gu clan." You Canghai glanced toward the high platform.
Gao Han let out a cold chuckle. "The Gu clan… they have truly spared no expense to deal with me. But this time, they shall reap nothing but ruin for their troubles."
Wei Ying cared nothing for Gao Han's thoughts. He drew his sword and twirled it, the blade slicing through the air so sharply that it created fleeting pockets of vacuum.
"You have no shortage of enemies. But you shall never live to face them. I will cripple your cultivation." Wei Ying sneered at Gao Han. "Trash will always be trash."
Gao Han smiled bitterly. Did he truly look so weak that everyone thought to bully him?
"If you wish to call me trash, you must first prove you have the strength to do so." Gao Han dismissed Wei Ying with utter contempt. To him, the man was no more than a ridiculous clown, prancing about before him.
Murmurs erupted from the onlookers.
"What chance does Gao Han stand?"
"I would say less than twenty percent. His opponent is Wei Ying, an inner disciple of the Misty Sect!"
"Twenty percent? He has only advanced this far by luck. His fortune has run out. A waste like him could be crushed with a single finger." This speaker was a third-layer True Essence cultivator with unstable aura, clearly having just broken through.
"It is true. Besides, I hear Wei Ying has mastered the Sky-Sundering Nine Swords, a top-tier Mortal-Rank art. He has defeated countless powerful foes with it—even ordinary fourth-layer True Essence experts are no match for him."
"Indeed. For sect disciples, crossing realms in battle is as trivial as eating. Such prodigies are far more numerous than clan disciples or wandering warriors."
"Die!"
Wei Ying underestimated Gao Han gravely. He launched no refined technique, simply slashing straight at him with brute force. Yet even a raw strike from a peak third-layer True Essence expert was not to be taken lightly.
The sword descended like a colossal mountain, bearing down upon Gao Han. A single hit would cleave a man in two; even blocking it would result in fatal internal injury.
"Phantom Stride!"
Gao Han's body twisted and vanished from sight, reappearing instantly behind Wei Ying. He raised his palm.
"Earth-Shaking Might!"
The very space before his palm shattered under the overwhelming force, air being violently compressed into a ferocious gust of wind.
Wei Ying had anticipated Gao Han's agile movement and knew this strike might fail. The moment Gao Han disappeared, he sensed the palm wind at his back and understood his foe's position.
"First Sundering: Worldly Stride!"
Wei Ying spun and slashed downward in a flash of lightning, carving a searing white line through the air. The strike was savage and blindingly fast, seemingly unstoppable.
CLANG!
The tidal wave of palm force collided with the sharp sword. A violent explosion of energy erupted between them, shredding the surrounding air. Both combatants were thrown backward, each step carving deep into the stone arena.
Wei Ying's face darkened with rage. His sword had not wounded Gao Han in the slightest—there was not a drop of blood on the ground where he stood.
The Sky-Sundering Nine Swords was the signature top-tier Mortal-Rank art of the Drifting Rain Peak, passed only to disciples of exceptional potential. Fewer than twenty true disciples were qualified to cultivate it.
Yet the manual was incomplete, limiting its power to the peak of Mortal-Rank. Were it complete, it would surely rank among Mystic-Rank techniques.
First Sundering: Worldly Stride was the opening form, but Wei Ying had mastered it to perfection. Even an ordinary third-layer True Essence warrior would fall to this strike alone. That Gao Han had blocked it with his bare hand and emerged unharmed was unthinkable.
"Impossible! How are you not wounded?" Wei Ying stared at Gao Han with venomous hatred and burning envy.
Gao Han looked at his right palm. A pale white line stretched from his middle finger to his wrist, and a stinging pain throbbed through his hand.
This was only thanks to his body-refining cultivation. Without it, the sword would have left a gash deep enough to see bone. Battle intent blazed in Gao Han's eyes. "You are worthy of being the Drifting Rain Peak's most prized disciple."
The fiercer Gao Han's resolve grew, the more infuriated Wei Ying became. His voice turned icy. "You think blocking one strike makes you my equal? Laughable! Ignorant!"
He whirled his sword into dazzling flourishes and laughed wildly. "The Sky-Sundering Nine Swords grow stronger with each form. Let us see how many you can endure!"
"First Sundering: Worldly Stride!"
"Second Sundering: Wind's Dominion!"
"Third Sundering: Ten Thousand Fall!"
"Fourth Sundering: Unbridled Fury!"
"Fifth Sundering: Four Seas' Roar!"
"Sixth Sundering: Thousand Trails!"
Six consecutive slashes ripped through the air, painting six white lines of sword qi that surged toward Gao Han. The fierce energy carved deep, parallel gashes across the stone floor, each strike more powerful than the last.
They moved faster than sound, the six waves of qi closing in without mercy.
"Phantom Stride!"
Gao Han shot backward at full speed, yet he could not outrun the sword qi. As the blades drew near, he knew he would be torn to pieces if hit.
A cold glint flashed in his eyes. "If I cannot evade it, I shall meet it head-on. Let us see whether your Sky-Sundering Nine Swords are stronger—or my Cold Mountain Palms."
"Surging Tides!"
Unstoppable power erupted from Gao Han's hands, forming a colossal wave of frost that crashed toward the six streams of sword qi.
ZZZZT!
The icy wave clashed with the sharp qi, the blades screeching as they sliced into the frost.
CRACKLE-SHATTER!
The frost froze the sword qi repeatedly, but the blades were lethally sharp. Though much of the qi was frozen and dissolved, three streams broke through the icy barrier and hurtled toward Gao Han.
These remaining three qi blades were still ferocious, but they now bore visible gaps and flaws.
Channeling soul power into his eyes, Gao Han saw nine weak points in each stream of sword qi.
His Steelpoint Sword flickered into his grasp. Pouring his full strength into the blade, he thrust three times in an instant, each strike piercing the core flaw of a qi blade.
POOF-POOF-POOF!
Each sword strike dissolved one blade of qi. All three were shattered.
"Impossible! You broke my sword qi?" Wei Ying's composure crumbled, replaced by utter shock.
Gao Han quietly wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead. "Thankfully I have mastered soul power. Otherwise, the Cold Mountain Palms alone might not have been enough."
He glanced toward You Canghai below. The referee clearly wielded soul power. Gao Han wondered if he, too, could see through techniques by channeling soul energy into his eyes.
Soul power varied in strength. Only those with souls several times more powerful than ordinary warriors were considered soul-gifted. Such prodigies awakened different talents at various stages of cultivation—enhanced spiritual defense, photographic memory, and countless others.
The ability to see through an opponent's flaws by channeling soul power into the eyes was known across the Tianwu Continent as the Eye of the Soul—a talent so rare it appeared only once in a thousand years. To awaken it, one's soul had to be innately and unimaginably powerful.
Even among a thousand soul-gifted warriors, barely one would awaken the Eye of the Soul.
Gao Han's soul had always been vastly stronger than others. After forging his soul with ice, it had grown tougher and more potent, capable of continuous growth. His awakening of the Eye of the Soul was only natural.
"AAAAGH! You will die!" Wei Ying had been driven mad. He had not intended to unleash his strongest technique so soon, but Gao Han's resilience had forced his hand.
He had planned to end the fight in one strike and subjugate Gao Han completely. Yet his most powerful forms of the Sky-Sundering Nine Swords had failed to defeat him.
"Seventh Sundering: Asura Chaos!"
Wei Ying shot into the sky. Behind him, a shadowy apparition took form—three parts human, seven parts fiend.
The specter stood one zhang tall, naked, with green skin, fanged tusks, a single foot-long horn upon its forehead, wild unbound hair, and claws a foot in length.
Gao Han's brow furrowed. "A phantom wraith?" He fell into thought. "No. The legends speak of wraiths as human in form, if deathly pale—headless, earless, legless, or with three-foot tongues. This is no wraith."
In a flash, he recalled the technique's name. "This is an asura!"
"Correct. This is the seventh form of the Sky-Sundering Nine Swords. My power is insufficient to wield it properly, yet I force it forth regardless. Once unleashed, I cannot control it. If you die a miserable death, do not blame me! Hahahaha!"
Wei Ying's voice was no longer human. It sounded like the wail of a vengeful spirit, piercing and hideous.
Nian Hua watched from the stands with unease. "That fool Wei Ying! He actually used Asura Chaos. This technique exceeds the limits of the third layer of True Essence. If a prodigy like Gao Han dies here, it will be a devastating loss for the sect."
The gap between the third and fourth layers of True Essence was a chasm. If the third layer was an infant, the fourth was a child of seven or eight—their power existed on entirely different planes.
From the first to third layers, warriors wielded externalized true essence. From the fourth to sixth, they mastered essence manifestation—shaping their energy into tangible forms, whose size and agility depended on the cultivator's strength.
The asura phantom behind Wei Ying was only partially formed, hazy and incomplete. Its eyes, for instance, flickered dimly, barely visible.
Wei Ying raised his hands high and slashed downward with all his might.
The asura shrank and merged into the sword strike. The resulting sword qi was not white, but an eerie, twisted green.
Gao Han activated his Eye of the Soul. The qi blade was riddled with weak points. Yet the flaws shifted constantly as the qi twisted, making it impossible to destroy with a single strike.
"Thousand Searches!"
Gao Han's body swayed like willow branches in the wind. The green qi blade narrowly missed him.
SHRED!
Though the blade did not strike him, the cutting wind tore a long gash in his white robes. He felt a sharp, stinging pain across his skin.
Relief washed over him. He had narrowly escaped. The strike had been unspeakably powerful. As the qi had passed, he had felt wrapped in a foul, ghostly aura, a cold wind crawling down his spine, raising goosebumps across his body.
Gao Han's eyes turned frigid. It was time to reveal his true prowess.
Before he could counterattack, a sharp whistle sounded from behind. His heart sank. He activated Phantom Stride and darted sideways.
Sure enough, the sword qi had circled back, though it had weakened considerably.
The missed qi had not vanished. It had reverted into the asura phantom, then reshaped into the twisted green blade, charging at Gao Han once more.
As the strike missed again, Gao Han watched the process unfold. The ghastly green qi twisted and expanded, reforming into the asura—yet the specter was now even more faint and unstable.
"Gao Han, you cur! Taste the full might of Seventh Sundering: Asura Chaos!" Wei Ying laughed wildly from the sky.
The asura phantom split into seven. Each slendered and transformed into a sword qi blade, hurtling toward Gao Han at lightning speed.
Each strike was more powerful than the first six forms. This was the final onslaught of Asura Chaos—one becoming seven.
Gao Han lowered his gaze and spoke calmly. "If this is how it must be, I shall show you my true strength."
Thus far, he had fought at only seventy percent of his power. He had not yet unleashed his trump card—the Seven-Sword Art.
"Earth-Shaking Might! Mountain Stream! Surging Tides!"
Gao Han struck three times in rapid succession, this time at eighty percent power. Four of the seven qi blades were annihilated.
Three remained. A ruthless light flashed in Gao Han's eyes. He roared inwardly: "Mountain-Soaring Grandeur!"
True essence erupted from his right palm, swirling around him, growing faster and larger. The very ground was compressed downward by the rotational force, forming a deep pit one zhang in diameter.
The walls were smooth and compacted, forged by sheer pressure. The arena stone was not ordinary earth—and this was only the peripheral wind of the palm strike, not its core.
The full force would have torn a pit ten zhang deep, not merely one. Compressing matter was ten times harder than destroying it.
This was the ninth and final form of the Cold Mountain Palms. Gao Han had only recently discovered he could wield it, and he was still unaccustomed to its power. Yet it was more than sufficient to counter Asura Chaos.
The colossal palm of energy loomed three zhang wide, like a small mountain, inspiring awe in all who beheld it.
BOOM!
The three remaining sword blades shattered instantly upon impact. The giant palm, still two zhang strong, continued toward the collapsed Wei Ying.
Wei Ying had crashed to the ground the moment he exhausted his power unleashing Asura Chaos.
The Sky-Sundering Nine Swords demanded immense essence, and the seventh form had drained him completely. He could no longer hover in the air.
Faced with the mountainous palm, Wei Ying's face turned ashen. He begged frantically. "Senior Brother Gao! Brother Gao! Great Lord Gao! I was wrong! Spare me! Senior You, I forfeit! Stop him from killing me!"
You Canghai appeared on the arena in an instant, calmly extending his left arm to block the palm strike.
SHHH!
No great force was visible. With a mere light block, Gao Han's attack was neutralized.
A thick layer of ice, one foot deep, encased You Canghai's left arm. Had Gao Han channeled soul power into the strike, even You Canghai would not have blocked it so effortlessly.