"Qianchou, how are you?" On the arena, Duan Muhua channeled his power into Duan Qianchou's body, rousing him from unconsciousness. Duan Qianchou had already lost the duel; had Duan Muhua not awakened him, he would have lain entirely at Gao Han's mercy.
To speak plainly, if Duan Muhua had not intervened, Gao Han might well have crippled him.
Though Duan Qianchou had been defeated, he was Duan Muhua's own grandson, raised and trained by his hand. He would never allow such a thing to come to pass.
"Did you see the sword in Gao Han's hand just now?"
"It is a mid-grade longsword—without a doubt. The glow and resilience of it leave no question."
"He wields a mid-grade sword, yet concealed it throughout his earlier battles. How much more is he hiding?"
"Nay, Gao Han must have his reasons. A mid-grade sword far outstrips ordinary blades; had he used it in prior fights, he might have slain his opponents and been disqualified. That must be it."
You Canghai was equally startled. "That boy possesses a mid-grade longsword? He is indeed fortunate."
Nian Hua let out a bitter smile. "No wonder he refused my Crocodile Tooth. He already held a mid-grade sword all along."
Murmurs and speculation rippled through the crowd, yet none knew the true reason Gao Han had not wielded the sword in earlier battles: he had simply never used it before, and knew not the full extent of its power.
Gao Han paid no mind to Duan Muhua's seething glare from across the arena. He held the Luoyu Sword aloft, gazing at it from hilt to tip. "It feels adequate. Yet I suspect I am not yet worthy of such a blade."
He was deeply satisfied with the sword. It possessed a flexibility his old Steelpoint Sword had lacked. Rigidity alone broke easily; strength wreathed in suppleness was the true way of the blade.
He twirled the Luoyu Sword gently in his grasp. Sunlight glinted off its mirror-smooth surface, catching his eyes—bright yet mild, a hallmark of its water-attuned nature.
Mid-grade weapons wielded by True Essence cultivators performed far beneath their potential, little stronger than low-grade arms save for superior hardness. Only in the hands of Spirit Fusion experts could their full power be unleashed. For this reason, even True Essence warriors who possessed mid-grade weapons seldom revealed them: not only could they not unlock their true might, but they risked being killed and robbed by Spirit Fusion experts.
Only those with unshakable composure and formidable mental fortitude dared keep such treasures.
The contestants who had borrowed weapons from their elders for this tournament, by contrast, were little more than men insecure in their own strength, relying on mid-grade arms to set themselves apart.
As for Jian Qingtian and Duan Qianchou's weapons, Gao Han surmised they had been granted by their clans as a mark of high favor. Backed by such powerful families, few would dare to covet their blades.
And those bold enough to stand against two great factions would hardly care for a mere low-tier mid-grade weapon.
Gao Han chuckled softly, staring at the sword in his hand. It seemed I must learn to keep a lower profile. He shook his head in resignation and murmured to the blade, "My apologies. After this tournament, I must hide you away once more. When I possess the strength to protect you, you shall see the light of day again."
Though the sword was water-attuned and unusable by others, should a Spirit Fusion expert set his heart on it, no such detail would stay his hand. The only way to verify its affinity would be to seize it by force.
What was more, Gao Han's Luoyu Sword was no ordinary weapon—it was, he had discovered, a high-tier mid-grade sword.
Even within the Misty Sect, high-tier mid-grade weapons were coveted treasures. Officially, only the five peak lords wielded such arms.
Even core disciples possessed no more than mid-tier mid-grade weapons. Should his sect learn he held a high-tier mid-grade sword, he would not live to see the next sunrise. Beyond the sect, he would be targeted and slain without mercy.
Shing!
The sword slid back into its sheath with a clear, lingering chime. Gao Han turned and stepped off the arena.
"Hold there, boy!" A sinister voice cut through the air, belonging to Duan Muhua.
Gao Han turned back, his tone icy. "What now? Do you seek to chastise me again? It seems this is a failing common to your Duan clan."
"You! Hmph! I shall not stoop to your level. Whether the Duan clan claims the championship matters little in truth—it is but a stepping stone. Yet…" Duan Muhua's tone shifted, his face twisting into a savage snarl as his lips moved soundlessly.
Uncannily, Gao Han heard every word, carried directly to his ears on a thread of condensed sound: Guard those two pills well, lest you lose your life over them.
Pfft!
The words were laced with overwhelming, mountainous power. Gao Han felt as though he had been struck by a colossal peak, and a jet of blood burst from his mouth, arcing three feet through the air.
Though the battle had drained him greatly, his physical wounds had been minor, nothing more than internal jolts.
But Duan Muhua's condensed voice, infused with his unique mountainous momentum, had shaken him to his core, forcing the blood from his lungs.
"Duan, you old cur!" You Canghai's face darkened with rage at the sight of Gao Han's blood. He pointed a trembling finger at Duan Muhua, his voice shaking with fury.
Several figures appeared on the arena at once: Zheng Mufeng, Situ Wei, and Li Changtian. The spectators in the stands had no idea what had transpired, only that Gao Han had suddenly spat blood.
Situ Yan, Zheng Kong, and Gao Yong had started forward in panic, only to be held back by their companions.
"A senior of your standing, and you resort to cowardly attacks! The Duan clan has truly disgraced itself," Li Changtian snapped, striding to Gao Han's side and pressing a palm to his back to assess his injuries.
Duan Muhua snarled in defense. "This has nothing to do with me! The injuries are surely internal wounds from his fight with Qianchou!"
His shameless remark drew cold, contemptuous stares from Zheng Mufeng, Situ Wei, and You Canghai—they were both disgusted and enraged by his conduct.
"So the entire Duan clan is made of such filth. I have learned my lesson. It seems I must be wary of Duan clan members henceforth, lest I die without knowing why." Gao Han struggled to his feet, cupping his hands to Li Changtian to signal he need not waste further power on him.
Though injured, he would recover with rest. He had sustained no severe wounds earlier, so this was not a case of worsening damage; recovery would be straightforward, if time-consuming—requiring roughly two hours. This filled him with unease over his upcoming match.
Duan Qianchou was no trivial opponent; his strength was monstrous, and Gao Han still could not gauge his full power.
Duan Muhua seethed with frustration. He had meant only to chastise Gao Han slightly, yet had earned the fierce contempt of the other elders. What stung more was that Gao Han, whom he had dismissed as insignificant, had injured two of the Duan clan's finest young warriors and remained undefeated.
"Damnation!" Duan Muhua fumed inwardly, his knuckles cracking as he clenched his fists. He unleashed his fist force into the arena, piercing straight through the steel platform, leaving an arm-wide, bottomless hole. Moments later, murky groundwater welled up and receded.
He had punched clean through to the underground water, the force of the blow sending spray flying. The power of that strike was incomparable.
Jian Wuxiang's expression turned grave, his voice tight with concern. "Duan clan… Duan Muhua. To what height has your cultivation risen? How do you compare to me now?"
He had once believed himself stronger than Duan Muhua, but no longer. The power Duan Muhua had just unleashed was overwhelming.
In the tavern beyond the arena:
"It seems the Duan clan intends to make their return. But have they fallen so low that they must ambush a youth?" The elderly Lin wore a calm, warm smile as he spoke.
The four men beside him stared in stunned disbelief. They had been certain Duan Qianchou, with his secret art, would claim victory; the truth had defied all expectation. They now looked upon the elder with reverence.
"Master Lin, do you know of the Duan clan?"
"Not personally. But my grand elder once spoke of them. It appears the Duan clan means to reclaim the Spirit Kingdom."
"Reclaim the Spirit Kingdom? That is impossible! The other factions will never allow it. The Duan clan cannot be strong enough to stand against them all."
The elder chuckled softly, sipping his tea as he recounted the past. "You are mistaken. Long before the rise of the current great powers, this land was ruled by the Li Kingdom, whose royal house was the Duan clan. In those days, the Li Kingdom's territory stretched wide, bordering the Cheng Kingdom. My Myriad Sword Sect was a lower seven-star power, just as the Duan clan was, and we warred with them for years."
"Then why is the Duan clan an eight-star power today? Who defeated them?"
"It is a mystery. No one knows what befell them. Overnight, every member of the main clan was slaughtered, save for those away from home. Even their ancestral patriarch was gravely wounded. Several smaller neighboring kingdoms then united and destroyed what remained. After dividing the land, the Spirit Kingdom took shape over generations."
"So the Duan clan has regained its peak strength? Yet even a seven-star power cannot unify the Spirit Kingdom. Fire Cloud Manor and the Misty Sect together would overwhelm them."
The elder smiled faintly. "By revealing their secret art so openly, the Duan clan is surely hiding a darker purpose."