Chapter 1018: Above Me

The Xuanzi Bureau's sword debate format has many variations.

But whether Mo Hua was lucky or unlucky, so far, every format he's participated in has been either beheading or free-for-all.

Other formats—such as defense and offense, demon hunting, escorting valuables—he has never once competed in.

This sword debate against the Xiaoyao Sect is merely a basic free-for-all.

Victory requires eliminating all opposing disciples.

Of course, by now, none of the watching cultivators care about such things as "format"; they care about only one thing:

Who will kill Mo Hua?

Who will make this despicable, shameless Mo Hua die once in the Sword Debate Assembly?

Who will wash the disgrace of Qianxue's prodigies with Mo Hua's "blood"?

Just killing Mo Hua once is enough.

They don't care about winning or losing.

Or rather, whoever kills Mo Hua is the true "winner" in everyone's heart.

This simple yet intense desire permeates the hearts of all cultivators on Luandao Mountain.

The atmosphere among the spectators burns like a furnace, stoking blood and fury.

The most anticipated contestant in this debate is the Xiaoyao Sect's prodigy: Feng Zichen—handsome, elegant, clad in white, his sword qi like the wind.

Not only do the Feng elders hold this expectation.

Most of the watching cultivators share this hope.

They hope Feng Zichen will slay Mo Hua with a single sword stroke.

And soon, the debate begins.

Disciples of the Xiaoyao Sect and the Tai Xu Sect, after brief reconnaissance and maneuvering, meet instantly—like wind and thunder igniting earthfire—sword light shakes the heavens as they clash in brutal slaughter.

No flashy tactics, only pure carnage.

Mo Hua naturally bears the brunt of the assault.

By now, any sharp-eyed observer can see two Tai Xu disciples must not be left unattended.

One is Linghu Xiao.

Letting Linghu Xiao go means certain defeat by the Chongxu Sword-Disrupting Qi.

The other is Mo Hua.

Letting Mo Hua go means being nauseated to death—equally unwinnable.

Originally, Mo Hua's importance ranked below Linghu Xiao's.

But unfortunately, he has made too many enemies; his handsome, pale face naturally draws mockery.

Thus, far more people want to kill him than want to kill Linghu Xiao.

Moreover, this debate has distilled the experience of previous sect debates, crystallizing the wisdom of Dao masters from all sects—the Xiaoyao Sect now possesses both the means and the resolve to kill Mo Hua, and their assault surges like a rainbow.

Their movements are swift as wind, their sword qi like shadows, coming and going freely, their attacks sharp and overwhelming, forcing Tai Xu into desperate defense.

Mo Hua is forced into a frantic, humiliating escape.

The spectators' hearts surge with excitement.

Elder Feng is deeply satisfied.

"The Xiaoyao Sect's core transmission is the Xiaoyao Wind Shadow Art; their movement technique is the Treading Wind Step, and they cultivate the Xiaoyao Sword Control Scripture—thus, their disciples mostly train 'fast swords'…"

"Not only is their movement excellent, but their swords are swift too; in a single strike and return, sword qi rides the wind, lethal as a hair's breadth, severing throats and ending lives."

"Wind-style movement and sword scripture unite—faster movement means stronger sword art."

"It is precisely because of such supreme arts that the Xiaoyao Sect once surpassed several sword sects among the Twelve Minor Sects and rose to become one of the Eight Great Sects."

Elder Feng explains this to Zhang's Grand Elder, then adds with delight:

"My Feng family's prodigy, Feng Zichen, is the Xiaoyao Sect's foremost talent this year. His arts and sword techniques come from the Xiaoyao Sect, but his movement integrates my Feng family's unique Bagua Drifting Wind Step."

"The Xiaoyao Treading Wind Step, combined with the Bagua Drifting Wind Step—two supreme movement arts—unified in one body."

"As for sword skill, Zichen may not be the strongest—but in movement, almost no one in this entire Sword Debate Assembly can match him."

"And the Xiaoyao Sect's sword art heavily relies on movement; the stronger the movement, the stronger the sword art—thus, Zichen's wind-style sword scripture, when unleashed, is utterly unstoppable…"

Elder Feng wears a look of pride.

Grand Elder Zhang gazes at the screen and sees indeed that the five Xiaoyao disciples move with astonishing speed, their sword strikes flowing like a gale.

The leader moves even faster.

In swirling white robes, man and sword become one, coming and going like the wind—elegant and deadly.

Especially his movement: blending the ferocity of Treading Wind Step with the agility of Drifting Wind Step—exquisitely refined.

"Excellent!"

Grand Elder Zhang nods in praise, yet cannot help envy.

The Zhang family also excels in movement techniques.

Their ancestral Falling Step and Passing Water Step were once considered exquisite—but compared to the Xiaoyao Treading Wind Step and Bagua Drifting Wind Step before him, they are clearly inferior.

Moreover, none of the Zhang family's disciples have mastered either of these two movement arts to perfection.

Let alone compete with the Feng family's prodigy on the debate field.

Comparing people kills the spirit.

Grand Elder Zhang says nothing aloud, shows no expression—but inwardly, he cannot help feeling a pang of bitterness.

On the field, Feng Zichen leads the Xiaoyao disciples in unleashing their full might.

Sword qi sweeps like a raging storm.

Within mere dozens of exchanges, the Tai Xu Sect's formation is torn apart by the Xiaoyao Sect's swift swords.

As the formation collapsed, Mo Hua lost his protection.

The Xiaoyao Men disciples immediately unleashed sword qi like wind, rushing toward Mo Hua to kill him.

Mo Hua was truly overwhelmed and could only activate his concealment, vanishing before their eyes.

Feng Zichen had anticipated this and immediately pulled out a Five Elements Dispel Concealment Spirit Mirror, shining it downward, revealing Mo Hua's newly concealed form with perfect clarity.

The crowd outside erupted in uproar, many clapping and praising:

"Broken!"

"Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!"

"His concealment technique has finally been shattered! Now I wonder where he'll hide!"

The crowd rejoiced, voices rising in excitement, yet Grand Elder Zhang was somewhat confused.

Elder Feng explained:

"Grand Elder Zhang, you may not know—this Mo Hua is an expert in concealment. His concealment technique, no one knows its origin, cannot be seen by the naked eye, cannot be pierced by spiritual sense, and cannot be broken by ordinary dispel concealment artifacts—it's truly troublesome…"

"But this is Qianxue Province, with an ancient lineage and countless transmissions—how could there be a technique truly unbreakable?"

"Thus, after days and nights of deliberation by the Dao Masters of all sects, they finally uncovered the root of this concealment technique and found the mirror to counter it."

"Now, with this Five Elements Spirit Mirror shining upon him, this boy can no longer hide."

Elder Feng's tone carried a certain grandeur.

Grand Elder Zhang remained silent, silently pondering:

A group of senior elders from major sects gathered together, staying up all night in meetings, just to break a disciple's concealment technique…

Is this really something to be proud of?

But this thought was somewhat disrespectful, so Grand Elder Zhang dared not voice it.

Moreover, seeing Elder Feng's smug expression and the surrounding cultivators' joyful faces, Grand Elder Zhang found it even harder to speak.

"This boy's movement technique is mediocre; he survives solely through concealment."

"Once his concealment is broken, he'll die without even a grave to bury him in!"

Elder Feng declared solemnly.

Not only did Elder Feng think so—this was nearly the consensus among most of the watching cultivators.

They had watched every previous sword debate, so they knew exactly what level Mo Hua's movement technique truly was.

Among the crowd, only Zhang Lan looked stunned.

He had no idea what these people were even talking about.

Mediocre movement technique, survives only through concealment?

Who are they talking about?

How could such an absurd judgment possibly be reached?

Are the cultivators of Qianxue Province really this naive…?

Inside the debate arena.

Feng Zichen, holding the spirit mirror, revealed the concealed "Feng Xiaoxiao"—Mo Hua—and immediately slashed with a sword like wind.

Mo Hua's concealment technique was exposed; his face filled with panic, he barely dodged the sword qi at the last instant, his movements clumsy and desperate.

He barely avoided that strike.

But without concealment, Mo Hua was exposed beneath the sword blades—like a mouse under a cat's paw: he might dodge one strike, but there would be a second.

Feng Zichen cultivated swift sword techniques, and this second strike came just as fast.

Yet Mo Hua, whether by luck or not, lunged forward, rolled on the ground, and just barely avoided this second sword.

Linghu Xiao and the others, seeing Mo Hua's dire situation, tried to come to his aid.

But the Xiaoyao Men disciples were equally swift in movement and sword, working in tandem to weave their sword qi into a continuous wind curtain, trapping Linghu Xiao and the others in the center.

Fast swords mean strong power.

But fast swords also mean poor endurance.

The Xiaoyao Men disciples could not hold Linghu Xiao and the others for long—but briefly restraining them, suppressing them with fierce attacks, was enough.

That short time was enough for Feng Zichen to kill Mo Hua.

Seizing this opportunity, Feng Zichen slashed out a third and fourth sword.

Neither of these two strikes killed Mo Hua.

But they earned a round of cheers.

The spectators outside, watching Mo Hua being chased and battered by Feng Zichen, cheered loudly:

"Good! Play with him!"

"Let him taste what it's like to be toyed with!"

"Kill slowly—don't kill too fast, or it'll be too kind to him."

"Yes, toy with him slowly—cut him one sword at a time, make him hover between life and death, make him scurry like a rat, make him suffer humiliation, be mocked to death!"

"Just like he used Five Elements techniques to toy with others…"

"This is using the enemy's own method against him…"

…

Feng Zichen inside the arena could not hear their words, yet he was indeed acting according to the crowd's wishes—swinging sword after sword at Mo Hua. Mo Hua dodged and darted, sometimes even rolling on the ground.

The crowd laughed heartily, the atmosphere filled with merriment.

But as time passed, watching and watching, they gradually stopped laughing.

Because Feng Zichen was still slashing, and Mo Hua was still dodging.

"Enough… that's enough… just kill him with one sword now…"

"Stop playing…"

"Has Feng Zichen gotten addicted to this? Just cut him down in one strike—enough playing, don't mess it up…"

But Feng Zichen wasn't playing at all.

From the start, he had been serious about slashing—but after swinging for a long time, not a single blow had landed.

Now, he sensed something was wrong.

Not just Feng Zichen; many elders outside the arena, and sharp-eyed cultivators, also noticed something amiss, their expressions turning grim.

Elder Zhang spoke slowly: "This Mo Hua… his footwork doesn't seem quite as pathetic as we thought?"

Elder Feng fell silent.

But the facts were before him—he had to admit: "There's something to it…"

But only a little.

No matter how good this brat's footwork is, can it possibly be better than Feng Zichen's, who masters both the Free-and-Easy Treading-the-Wind Step and the Eight Trigrams Drifting-Wind Step?

Inside the Dueling Arena, Feng Zichen's gaze grew colder.

He was not like Mo Hua—a straightforward, upright "good youth."

Dueling demands direct confrontation: who strikes faster, more accurately, more powerfully—no deceit, no trickery.

So when he first slashed at Mo Hua, his intent was to kill with one strike.

In his original plan, that single blow should have ended Mo Hua's life.

But clearly, he had miscalculated—Mo Hua had dodged.

After that, his strikes grew faster still, targeting Mo Hua's heart and lungs—but Mo Hua dodged again.

Then his sword strikes grew faster with each blow.

But no matter how fast, Mo Hua always evaded.

Feng Zichen understood: this Mo Hua was mocking him.

His footwork was never that weak.

Not weak at all—in fact, it was quite refined.

"Truly deceitful!"

Feng Zichen spoke coldly, then ceased holding back—fully activating the Treading-the-Wind Step, his footwork quickened another notch, his sword qi surged another level.

Mo Hua saw the white-robed youth's strikes grow faster, sighed helplessly, and could no longer hold back—he had to summon part of his true strength and seriously engage Zhou Xuan.

On the Sky-Scribed Canvas, Feng Zichen moved like the wind, Mo Hua flowed like water.

Wind followed the sword; water followed the current. One chased, one fled—like a gentle breeze brushing the water's surface, or water slipping past a wind's mouth, evenly matched, neither gaining ground.

The watching cultivators' expressions changed.

"His footwork… really is unusual?"

"To match the Free-and-Easy Sect's Treading-the-Wind Step… this is more than unusual…"

Murmurs spread through the crowd.

Elder Feng's expression grew uneasy.

Elder Zhang watched Mo Hua's footwork closely, pondering deeply, murmuring low:

"This water-style footwork… he's learned it well… every twist and dodge is flawless, and his qi flows without the slightest obstruction…"

"It's not the ordinary Flowing-Step…"

He was merely observing, appreciating Mo Hua's footwork, so he hadn't thought further.

But Zhang Lan, as if nails had been driven beneath his seat, was now visibly restless.

Only he knew—it truly wasn't the Flowing-Step…

Elder Zhang pondered a moment, then shook his head:

"But it's a pity—no matter how extraordinary his footwork is, it still can't surpass the Treading-the-Wind Step…"

"Besides, the Feng family's prodigy doesn't possess only one supreme footwork technique. If this continues, this brat still has no chance of winning."

Hearing this, Elder Feng's expression eased slightly.

In his heart, this had been meant to be a swift, decisive victory—a single stroke, clean and satisfying.

But now, unnecessary complications had arisen.

Still, this was better—killing him outright would not showcase the true prowess of a Feng family scion.

Let this Mo Hua struggle a few more rounds—only then could the Feng family's prodigy truly display his strength before the countless cultivators of Qian Xue.

Not just Elder Feng—most Feng family disciples, and most watching cultivators, thought the same.

Mo Hua excels at Fireball Technique? Fine.

Excels at Water Prison Technique? Acceptable.

Excels in numerous low-tier Five Elements spells? Not unthinkable.

Even if he masters a unique concealment art, rendering him invisible to ordinary cultivators—though hard to accept, it's still plausible.

But on top of all that, to also master footwork? That's just shameless…

Especially since his opponent is a disciple of the Free-and-Easy Sect, a Feng family scion, wielding two of the sect's supreme techniques—his footwork speed ranks among the very best in all of Qian Xue.

No matter how refined your footwork is, there must be a limit—can it truly surpass the Feng family's prodigy?

Once the Feng family's prodigy unleashes his full power, Mo Hua will inevitably lose.

Thus, the crowd's tense hearts slowly settled again.

But heaven often defies human wishes.

What followed soon began to exceed their understanding.

Feng Zichen kept slashing; Mo Hua kept evading.

Very quickly, the gale around Feng Zichen grew even more violent. The wind formed the Xun trigram, drifting around his body, giving his movement technique not only swiftness but also countless variations.

Cultivators with sharp eyes could see at this point that Feng Zichen truly wasn't holding back—he had brought out both the Carefree Gate's Wind-Treading Steps and the Feng family's Eight Trigrams Wandering Wind Steps together.

This was also a movement technique that, until now, only he had been able to fuse.

For a moment, Feng Zichen's movement technique rose to another level. Not only was his speed uncanny, but he was also extremely agile.

In between, the wind flowed in ten thousand variations, containing all manner of subtleties, inspiring utter awe.

Even Elder Zhang showed a look of astonishment.

The Zhang family specialized in movement techniques, and precisely because of this he could see the trick. The more he understood, the more he realized just how high the comprehension and talent required were to cultivate these two movement techniques to mastery and fuse them together.

This young man of the Feng family was truly a prodigy of stunning brilliance.

Their Zhang family was also a great and prosperous clan, but not a single disciple could cultivate a movement technique to such a level.

Elder Zhang felt both envy and a touch of bitterness in his heart.

Feng Zichen's feet trod the wind, his body moved like wandering wind. As his movement technique changed, his sword strokes also began to transform, growing swifter and fiercer, nearly invisible to the naked eye.

Then, this sword strike, as if condensing a gale, thrust once more toward Mo Hua.

But this sword strike made no difference whatsoever.

A flash of water-light around Mo Hua, and he dodged it again.

Feng Zichen's gaze jolted, and he was somewhat stunned.

Why?

Clearly he had given it his all—his sword strokes were faster, his sword Qi stronger.

But this exquisite sword strike, which fused the lifelong ultimate arts he had mastered, when thrust at Mo Hua, yielded no different result.

Mo Hua's figure flowed as naturally as water, his movements exactly the same as before—he still dodged it just like that.

The crowd outside the arena exchanged bewildered glances as well.

"What's going on?"

"That sword was so fast my eyes couldn't even see it, and it still didn't hit?"

"What happened?"

"Even this can't kill Mo Hua?"

……

At the Feng family seating area.

Elder Feng's pupils contracted, and his expression shifted slightly.

Elder Zhang also slowly sat up straight, his gaze solemn.

Both of them stared fixedly at the Fangtian painted shadow, feeling a touch of disbelief in their hearts.

Even more disbelieving was Feng Zichen.

"It's impossible that it didn't hit…"

"Impossible…"

His expression was cold and stern, his gaze momentarily razor-sharp, but deep in his heart there welled up a trace of fear he himself had not noticed.

"I have to cut him down!"

Feng Zichen's eyes reddened slightly. This time he truly held nothing back, even beginning to exert his full power, driving the Carefree Sword-Control Art to its absolute utmost.

The sword-light poured down like quicksilver.

The sword Qi howled like a gale.

In the mountain forest, all the trees and rocks were shredded to pieces by the white sword-light.

These swords were so fast that ordinary Foundation Establishment disciples couldn't see them with the naked eye at all.

But no matter how fast, how dense, how fierce his swords were, when they slashed at Mo Hua, it was as if they were slashing at a deep, still lake surface.

When the sword passes, the water bears a mark; when the sword leaves, the water bears no trace.

Feng Zichen's sword was fast.

But Mo Hua's movement technique was faster than his sword, more bizarre, harder to grasp, and seemed to possess a kind of "foreknowledge"—before the sword edge even moved, the water flow had already departed. It was also mixed with wisps of hazy water-mist, making him all the more unfathomable and impossible to pin down.

Feng Zichen's heart turned icy cold.

A terrible truth, one he found hard to accept, rose in his mind:

"This Mo Hua… his movement technique is actually above mine?!"

(End of this chapter)