Chapter 1034: One Sword

Grand Void Gate.

Shortly after Mo Hua returned to the disciples' quarters, an elder from Tai'ashan personally came to his door and presented him with a formation diagram.

The Tai'ashan Opening Mountain Sword Formation Diagram.

Mo Hua was overjoyed, marveling that the Tai'ashan Sect Master was truly a Sect Master—decisive in action, generous with gifts, unhesitant, and even delivered them to his door.

Mo Hua solemnly accepted it and bowed deeply in sincere gratitude.

"Thank you, Elder! And thank you, Sect Master!"

The Tai'ashan elder smiled and nodded, exchanged a few pleasantries, then took his leave.

After the elder departed, Mo Hua closed the door, burned incense and washed his hands, then eagerly unrolled the Tai'ashan Sword Formation Diagram.

As soon as his eyes fell upon the sword formation, the ancient, rugged sword patterns unleashed a vast, overwhelming force of heavy sword qi.

Mo Hua scanned them once, absorbing every sword pattern instantly, and his joy deepened further.

A second-rank, nineteen-pattern sword formation.

Aside from absolute formations, this was nearly the pinnacle of all second-rank sword formations.

The Tai'ashan Sect Master was even more generous than he had imagined.

Mo Hua had long ago obtained a copy of Tai'ashan's Opening Mountain Sword Formation.

He had extorted it from Sword Bonehead.

Sword Bonehead had once been a disciple of Tai'ashan, but later wandered deep into the Demon Refining Mountains, captured by demonic cultivators and forced into the Ten Thousand Demons Valley, where he became a demonic swordmaster, daily forging demonic swords for them.

His lineage included part of Tai'ashan's sword-casting techniques, including their sword formation.

Mo Hua had learned the Opening Mountain Sword Formation.

This fact could never remain hidden forever.

His reason for asking the Tai'ashan Sect Master for the Tai'ashan sword formation was, in truth, to legitimize it.

Nearly all the sword formations Mo Hua currently possessed were ones he could never reveal.

Especially the Tai'ashan sword formation.

The sect's inheritance rules were extremely strict.

If he did not notify them first and was discovered, it would surely cause major trouble.

After all, learning without permission was theft of lineage.

Even after the Three Sects merged, such conduct remained deeply improper.

Put yourself in the Sect Master's place—even if he said nothing, he would surely harbor deep resentment and mark it against him.

So now, with this opportunity arising, why not use the Sword Discussion to "borrow" the Tai'ashan Sword Formation from the Sect Master?

That would make it legitimate.

Then, if Mo Hua later wielded the Tai'ashan Sword Formation to great acclaim, the Sect Master, upon seeing it, would not rebuke him—he might even take pride in him and praise his mastery.

Mastery of human relations is literature.

Often, people care more about face than substance.

And now, the sword formation the Tai'ashan Sect Master gave him was even higher in rank than the one he had taken from Sword Bonehead.

Not only was its structure complete and its patterns rigorous, but the lines brimmed with sword qi.

Even the number of patterns had increased by four.

This was an unexpected boon.

This sword formation could now be used openly, before all eyes.

Most precious of all, his Soul-Cleaving Sword had already fused with the Five Elements Formation.

Now that he had learned the superior Tai'ashan Sword Formation, the power of his Soul-Cleaving Sword could advance further still.

Truly, one stroke, three gains.

Mo Hua then set aside some time to master this more orthodox and profound Tai'ashan Sword Formation.

Because he had Sword Bonehead's formation as a foundation.

When integrating the Tai'ashan Sword Formation into his Soul-Cleaving Sword, Mo Hua gained profound insight into the related sword dao principles.

Thus, he learned quickly.

In less than two hours, he had grasped it thoroughly.

Afterwards, on the Dao Stele, he practiced it over a dozen times, confirmed it was flawless, then exited his mental sea and carefully selected from his storage pouch a "Kaiyuan" spirit sword, meticulously painting the second-rank, nineteen-pattern Tai'ashan Opening Mountain Sword Formation onto its surface.

After finishing, he sealed the blade.

Thus, a single "Opening Mountain Sword" was complete.

Mo Hua stroked the Opening Mountain Sword and muttered to himself:

"The Grand Luo Sect's Flying Sky Sword Mastery prodigy, paired with Xiao Xiao as the Two Great Sword Prodigies of the Eight Sects—"

"How could this be?"

"What caliber, what stature is this Ye Zhiyuan, to be named alongside Xiao Xiao?"

Tomorrow, I'll strike him down with one sword and shatter his worth.

The number-one sword prodigy of the Eight Sects must be my junior brother, Xiao Xiao.

The next day, the Sword Discussion.

Outside Dao Mountain, the spectator stands were still packed with crowds.

The attention this Sword Discussion drew was the highest in the history of the Earth-character Sword Discussions.

Not only was there the infuriating Mo Hua.

There were the Two Great Sword Prodigies of the Eight Sects.

There were Grand Luo's Flying Sky Sword Mastery and Chongxu's True Decree of Sword Dissolution—the two supreme sword techniques.

There is also the struggle for the top eight sects.

This will surely be a cruel, brutal, bloody, and prolonged battle; both sides' disciples will fight until their Qi is drained and their lamps extinguished, to the death.

This sword-discussion tournament is simply not one you can afford to miss.

Everyone is waiting with bated breath.

Among the crowd, a pale-faced cultivator with a scholarly air was chatting animatedly with others, effortlessly citing doctrines from every sect, speaking with great enthusiasm.

Those who often come to watch the sword-discussion know this man's name:

Bai Xiaosheng.

Bai Xiaosheng was enjoying his conversation when he suddenly felt someone tugging his sleeve; he turned and saw a fifteen- or sixteen-year-old, delicate-faced young page, and immediately grew annoyed.

The young page extended his hand and pointed to the side.

Bai Xiaosheng reluctantly bowed to the group: "Gentlemen, excuse me for a moment—I'll be right back."

Then he followed the young page aside and asked, "Why are you here?"

The young page's voice was crisp: "Master, if you don't go upstairs soon, the Ancestors will be angry."

"Not going," Bai Xiaosheng sneered. "What's the point upstairs? Up there, looking down, everyone below looks like ants—you can't even make out their faces. What's the fun in that? Not going. Not going."

"Master, you're at it again—" the young page frowned in distress.

Bai Xiaosheng said, "You don't understand. This is a sword-discussion assembly—it's meant to be watched among the crowd, with everyone else."

"You shout together, you curse together—that's where the fun lies."

"This is the Way of the Hundred Schools—you observe the faces of all living beings. You'll understand later."

The young page said, "I don't care about the Way of the Hundred Schools or the faces of living beings. I only know the Ancestors say you sit wrong, stand wrong, and if you don't shape up, they'll make you lose your face—"

Bai Xiaosheng glared. "How dare you speak to your master like that?"

The young page looked wounded. "I didn't say it—the Ancestors did. They told me to deliver their message straight to you as a warning."

Bai Xiaosheng waved his hand. "Forget them. One after another, cold and lifeless, no humanity at all. Being around them makes me sick."

"Master, watch your tongue—the Ancestors can hear you."

"So what if they hear?" Bai Xiaosheng sneered, though his voice lost a little of its edge.

The young page added, "Then—fine, you won't see the Ancestors, but at least visit your Uncle Ancestor. He's the current sect leader now."

Bai Xiaosheng shook his head. "Not going. Not seeing him."

"Really not going?"

The young page asked curiously, "Is it that you don't want to see him—or you don't want to say that one word: 'Uncle Grandfather'?"

Bai Xiaosheng's face darkened; he pinched the young page's cheek. "Someday I'll sew your little mouth shut."

The young page made muffled "mm-mm" sounds.

Bai Xiaosheng finally let go.

The young page rubbed his cheek, muttering unhappily, "Fine, don't go then—"

"Then I'll go back and report to the Ancestors that you're busy—cultivating the Way of the Hundred Schools, contemplating the faces of living beings—"

Bai Xiaosheng nodded in satisfaction.

The young page turned and walked a few steps, then couldn't help turning back to warn:

"Master, remember to speak less, criticize less, especially don't badmouth your Uncle Ancestor's sect—watch your tongue, or you'll offend someone you shouldn't."

Bai Xiaosheng snapped, "Enough already. I know my limits. Say another word and I'll sew your mouth shut."

The young page reluctantly shuffled off, grumbling under his breath. After a few steps, his figure blurred—and vanished outright. No one in the crowd had noticed him at all.

After the young page left, Bai Xiaosheng felt as if he'd shed a small burden and eagerly plunged back into the crowd.

When away from the crowd, he carried himself with elegance—a refined young scholar.

But once among the crowd, he instantly took on the air of a commoner, blending in like a rootless cultivator, chatting enthusiastically with a group of Foundation Establishment cultivators:

"I still say it: Grand Void Gate is useless."

"I won't even speak of their sect leader, but below the Elders—especially the disciples—they're a disgrace. They have none of the dignity a great sect should have."

"Their sword lineage has declined. Their current sword techniques are beneath contempt."

"And that Mo Hua—"

"A formation expert who survives at the sword-discussion by relying on arrays—what a joke?"

"Today, Great Luo Sect will show him what true sword art is. What true sword-discussion means."

"Great Luo Sect's lineage is no ordinary thing. Traced back, it's the 'Great Luo Sword Sect'—ancient, terrifying in its heritage."

"Especially the Great Luo Flying Sky Sword Art—those two words, 'Flying Sky,' carry weight you don't understand."

"I know some of the secrets, but I can't say them—"

Bai Xiaosheng spoke with certainty: "Therefore, I'm certain Grand Void Gate will lose today."

"And Mo Hua—today, he will die."

"Don't believe me? Just watch."

Among the crowd, onlookers buzzed with chatter.

On the other side, Zhang Lan, Wenren Wan, Gu Changhuai, Yu'er, Elder Murong, Hua Qianqian, and others watched the Sky Mirror silently, their expressions solemn.

All of them were focused on this match of sword-discussion.

And silently concerned for Mo Hua, who was participating.

Above the crowd, in the Sword-Observing Tower.

The number of "distinguished guests" attending the battle had increased significantly compared to before.

In a chamber lined with brocade, rich and magnificent.

The exquisite and dignified Mistress of Hundred Flowers, dressed in a floral-patterned robe, sat at the table, her gaze passing beyond the window toward the Sky Mirror.

On the Sky-Reflecting Painting, a handsome young boy was making his pre-battle preparations.

The Mistress of Hundred Blossoms Furrowed Her Eyebrows Slightly.

He always felt it was still somewhat similar—

In array arts, he too possessed world-renowned talent, and in his brows and eyes, there was a hint of transcendence beyond the mundane.

Equally controversial, equally hated.

Many loved him; more hated him.

But upon closer thought, they were entirely different.

His spiritual roots were indeed abysmal, and he had never trained in swordplay.

His array arts were excellent, but his methods differed.

His temperament was too easygoing and charming; he was as close to his sect-mates as brothers, beloved by all elders, even doted upon by the Ancestor.

It was true he was hated, but not for his "talent"—rather for his occasional malicious whims.

All this differed from that one, who was like a fairy's sword—sharp, exposed, unstained by the mortal world—

As the Mistress of Hundred Blossoms pondered, her thoughts grew wistful, and she drifted into reverie.

At that moment, a woman laughed softly: "Sister, what are you thinking about?"

The Mistress of Hundred Blossoms turned her head, smiled, "Just recalling old memories."

A golden-clad woman, with skin like congealed fat, elegant brows and eyes, and an innate air of superiority, gently clasped the Mistress of Hundred Blossoms' arm and scolded:

"You're heartless—you don't even remember to visit your sister in Daozhou."

Beside her, two other women, dressed in lavish robes, slightly younger, bearing noble airs, nodded in agreement:

"Exactly, exactly."

"We've been apart for decades, and Flower Sister hasn't sent a single letter—clearly she doesn't care for her sisters."

The Mistress of Hundred Blossoms sighed helplessly: "Sect affairs are too busy."

"Liar."

"It's just a Hundred Blossoms Valley—why should Sister Hua exhaust herself over it?"

"Exactly."

"I say, just abandon it altogether—gain some peace and quiet—"

"Enough, enough," the golden-clad woman said, "you're born for ease—don't bother Sister Hua."

Then she took the Mistress of Hundred Blossoms' pure, jade-white palm and whispered softly:

"I know you harbor reservations, and I know you're busy daily, but you must still return to Daozhou when you can."

"Even if not to see us sisters, at least greet the Old Dowager."

"The Old Dowager dotes on you most, and often speaks of you—don't let her grow heartbroken—"

The Mistress of Hundred Blossoms' face flushed with shame, and she nodded slightly.

The golden-clad woman then smiled in satisfaction.

In Qianxue Province, prominent clans stood thickly, their blood ties intricate and entangled.

Like ancient trees with gnarled, intertwined roots, complex and chaotic.

To outsiders, the branches and leaves obscured the view.

No one knew who was married to whom.

No one knew who was kin to whom.

And who shared a common Ancestor with whom.

Beneath this Sword-Observation Chamber, two floors lower,

were the leaders of the Sida Sect.

Below them were the leaders of the Eight Major Gates, and then the heads of the Twelve Minor Schools.

The leaders of Tai Xu, Tai E, and Chong Xu Mountains still sat together in the old room, drinking tea.

The room was silent, the atmosphere heavy.

All three leaders remained quiet.

Watching the earlier Sword Debate had merely been tense.

But this match—the Sword Debate determining the head of the Eight Major Gates—was pure torment.

And deeply Jun Jiuxin.

The only one with a relatively calm mind was the Tai E leader.

He spoke: "I've spoken with Mo Hua."

At this, the Tai Xu leader immediately frowned: "Do not interfere with disciples before the Sword Debate."

"I gave him the Tai E Sword Array," said the Tai E leader.

The Tai Xu leader said nothing more.

Giving a gift did not count as interference.

Still, he was somewhat astonished: "You're truly willing to part with it—"

This was a Sword Array.

The Tai E leader said: "Mo Hua said that with this Sword Array, this Sword Debate could be a little 'easier.'"

"I won't elaborate on how crucial this debate is."

"If it helps even a little—even if it only makes the debate a tiny bit 'easier'—it's worth it."

The Tai Xu leader and the Chong Xu leader both nodded in agreement.

"You should've said sooner—I've already sent Mo Hua my Chong Xu Mountain Sword Array too."

Your Chongxu Mountain's sword formation is inadequate; when it comes to forging swords, only Tai'e can match us. Hand over your sword scripture————·

"Even if I hand over the sword scripture, it's useless—Mo Hua doesn't study sword techniques—"

"Tai Xu Mountain doesn't value sword technique transmission either—."

The Tai Xu Sect leader frowned and corrected: "It's not that we don't value it—our Tai Xu sword techniques emphasize sword intent, something only understandable after reaching Jin Dan—"

"Once grasped, its power is unimaginable."

"So what's the point?"

"This is Foundation Establishment sword discussion—why bring up Jin Dan matters?"

"Besides, the sword intent methods preserved by Tai Xu Mountain are long past their prime—what's left worth showing now—"

"The Ancestor is working on a solution." "What kind of solution?"

"Not yet ready to say."

"Fine, let us see it sometime—open our eyes—"

As the three chatted, they soon fell silent again.

The atmosphere grew solemn once more.

The Tai'e Sect leader suddenly slapped his forehead. "Where's the tea? Weren't we drinking tea?"

The Chongxu Sect leader frowned: "No appetite for tea."

"Have some."

"The sword discussion is about to begin."

The Tai'e Sect leader sighed: "This sword discussion will be long and brutal—only one side will survive to claim victory."

"Da Luo Men isn't easy to deal with either."

"And that Ye Zhiyuan… and that Da Luo Flying Xing Tianyu—"

At these words, all of them winced.

"Drink some tea, calm your nerves."

The Tai Xu elder took out an exquisite tea stove, premium spring water, and lush tea leaves, and began brewing.

But the three men's thoughts remained fixed on the arena.

At this very moment, every eye was fixed on the Fangtian Huaying, awaiting the sword discussion that would decide the top of the Eight Great Sects.

Until the very end, no one knew how long this sword discussion would last.

No one knew what kind of slaughter the sword discussion would entail.

And no one knew where the outcome would lead—

Soon, the Dao Discussion bell rang.

The sword discussion began.

Disciples from both sides entered the arena.

This was a beheading match—requiring the killing of the enemy's "leader."

Da Luo Men's "leader" was Ye Zhiyuan, the highest cultivator and strongest swordsman.

But Tai Xu's "leader" was different from before—it was Linghu Xiao.

Clearly, Tai Xu knew this sword discussion was unlike any other, and dared not risk even a sliver of danger—they would no longer let Mo Hua, who shattered at the slightest touch and died at a single sword stroke, serve as "leader."

Ye Zhiyuan sneered.

"You think avoiding the role of leader means I won't kill you?"

In this match, he didn't just want to win or kill Linghu Xiao—he needed to kill Mo Hua.

Kill Mo Hua, and he could become "Alliance Leader."

To him, this "Alliance Leader" position was no less significant than being top of the Eight Great Sects.

He was arrogant and looked down on all, but he wasn't a fool.

What such an "organization"—encompassing the Eight Great Sects, Twelve Streams, and even some Sida Sect prodigies—meant, how vital it was, didn't require thought to understand.

No one before had ever possessed such "cohesion," bringing together prodigies across such a vast range to form an alliance.

Even if merely nominal, with little real power, the leader of such a prodigy "alliance" was absolutely extraordinary.

And this was merely an opportunity.

This alliance was founded with the goal of "killing Mo Hua," and its structure was loose.

But once he became its leader, he could slowly, imperceptibly reshape its nature, turning it to his own use.

As for Mo Hua?

Who cared about him?

He was merely a pawn to draw hatred, a decoy to gather crowds.

Those prodigies from the Four Sects and Eight Gates were blinded by hatred, treating "killing Mo Hua" as something real.

Those ruled by hatred have no great capacity.

Therefore, only he could become the Alliance Leader.

Only he, who disregarded Mo Hua yet could kill him, possessed such "capacity."

Ye Zhiyuan caressed his Da Luo Sword, attuned to his mind, his gaze sharp as he coldly said:

"Follow the plan—kill!"

"Yes!"

Da Luo Men disciples activated their movement techniques, rushing forward like countless blades, swiftly closing in on the five Tai Xu disciples.

Soon, the two sides met.

The slaughter erupted instantly.

Four disciples of the Da Luo Sect formed a circle and charged toward Linghu Xiao together.

Ye Zhiyuan stood far away, controlling the Da Luo Sword, silently activating the Sword-Controlling Art, summoning the Flying Sky Sword, and preparing to strike down Linghu Xiao.

The greatest advantage of the Sword-Controlling Art is range.

Second, it is speed.

Third, it is power.

Long-range flying swords move with astonishing speed and carry immensely potent sword qi, ending an enemy's life in the blink of an eye.

Among all disciples of the Qian Xue Sect, some had stronger sword qi than him, but none could match his control over flying swords.

Thus, he was the Qian Xue Sect's number-one "Flying Sword" prodigy.

This was heaven-given fortune.

It was an unparalleled talent for the Sword Dao.

Naturally, he must make full use of it.

Ye Zhiyuan stood far, far away, activating the Da Luo Flying Sky Sword-Controlling Art, feigning intent to kill Linghu Xiao, while his spiritual sense subtly tracked Mo Hua's figure.

Soon, he found Mo Hua.

Mo Hua, like him, stood far away, motionless and dumbfounded.

Ye Zhiyuan smirked inwardly, sneering:

"Fool, I stand still to control my sword. You stand still—are you waiting to die?"

Controlling swords for slaughter is a matter of life and death.

Battle opportunities vanish in an instant.

Since Mo Hua had given him an opening, Ye Zhiyuan would not let it slip.

His sword was far, fast, and powerful.

He feigned an attack on Linghu Xiao, then suddenly launched an unexpected flying sword strike.

Mo Hua would have no time to react—no concealment, no body technique—death was certain!

Ye Zhiyuan controlled his sword, staring straight at Linghu Xiao, while his spiritual sense quietly locked onto Mo Hua.

His sword had not yet been released.

Then, in the next instant, he noticed something flying toward him from afar.

Ye Zhiyuan froze.

What the hell—is that flying toward me?

The object flying toward him was also far, fast, and glinted with a hint of danger.

Ye Zhiyuan's eyes did not recognize it.

But his heart instinctively recoiled in shock:

A sword?

A sword?!

Someone's flying sword is trying to kill me?!

"Help!"

Ye Zhiyuan had only time to shout that one word.

He had put distance between himself and danger, chosen a safe position, and was fully focused on controlling his sword—now he was most vulnerable to ambush.

The other four Da Luo Sect disciples also sensed the anomaly and moved ahead of Ye Zhiyuan to block him.

They intended to intercept the flying sword for Ye Zhiyuan.

But the flying sword was too fast—they were caught off guard and could not stop it.

Not just them—no one had anticipated that a sword would suddenly fly out from the Tai Xu Sect's side.

The flying sword pierced through the four Da Luo disciples' blockade, swift and precise, striking directly at Ye Zhiyuan's chest.

But it was stopped by his Dao robe—

Ye Zhiyuan's soul nearly fled his body.

Yet the sword carried no sword qi—it could not even pierce his Dao robe.

Ye Zhiyuan exhaled in relief, muttering inwardly:

"What the hell is this? Is this even called a flying sword? No sword qi at all? How's it supposed to kill me?"

In the next instant, the Spirit Sword trembled violently, and sword patterns across its surface ignited.

Within the Spirit Sword, a sword array absorbed Spirit Stones and activated on its own, instantly generating an earth-splitting sword qi of extreme sharpness.

The sword qi accumulated, grew stronger, even exceeding the Spirit Sword's own capacity.

So much so that cracks began forming along the blade.

Then, under Ye Zhiyuan's incomprehensible and terror-stricken gaze, the Spirit Sword exploded—

The explosion merged with the sword qi in a deafening roar.

The thick, razor-sharp earth-splitting sword qi, centered on the sword array, formed a swirling vortex that instantly engulfed the surroundings.

It seemed as if several colossal swords were slicing through the air, intent on a strangling kill.

Rocks, trees, everything nearby was shredded to pieces.

Before anyone could comprehend what had happened—

The bell on Lun Dao Mountain rang.

The Sword Debate was over.

It ended with a single sword.

Lun Dao Mountain fell into absolute silence.

Everyone was stunned into silence.

Then, in an instant, a deafening "Boom—" erupted as voices surged to a fever pitch, clamor and chaos exploding like a volcanic eruption, the entire Mount Lun Dao boiling over.