Chapter 1036: Blood of the Qilin

At the same time, cultivators from all sides who learned the Sword Debate roster felt varied emotions.

Some sighed in relief, some rejoiced at others' misfortune, some sank into gloom, lamenting that Grand Void Gate was beset by ill fortune.

Their luck had turned sour, and even their lone chance had slipped through their fingers.

Grand Void Gate, Abbot's Chamber.

"Why must it be Shen Lin?"

The abbots of Sanshan gathered together, their expressions grim.

In these final two rounds, had fortune favored them even slightly—had they avoided those few rare strong opponents—the odds of victory would still have been high.

But as feared, what you dread is exactly what comes.

The one they met? Precisely the most formidable.

"Our Liezulie Sect ancestors offer no protection—"

The Chongxu Abbot sighed softly.

The Tai'e Abbot fell into thought. "Do you think there's any chance of winning?"

The Chongxu Abbot shot him a sharp glance. "You're an abbot yourself—don't you know Shen Lin's background?"

The Tai'e Abbot's gaze flickered, then fell silent.

The Chongxu Abbot murmured: "The Four Heavenly Disciples of Qiandao Sect, by right, are not on the same level as ordinary disciples."

"Upper-upper-grade spiritual roots, upper-upper-grade cultivation arts, and the utmost perfection of the spiritual power cycle."

"Their cultivation talent, lineage, and resources are simply too vastly unequal."

"These alone already set them apart."

"But this generation's Four Heavenly Disciples? They're even more outrageous than before—"

The Chongxu Abbot frowned deeply, speaking slowly: "They all carry—secret bloodlines."

The moment "bloodline" was spoken, the atmosphere grew heavy.

The Chongxu Abbot paused briefly, sighed, then continued:

"The Cai Feng bloodline of the Duanmu clan, the Half-Step Karma Dragon bloodline of the Ao clan, the Wu Chen Sword bloodline of the Xiao clan, the Qilin bloodline of the Shen clan—"

"In past generations of the Four Heavenly Disciples, let alone across the entire Qiandao Province, for even one disciple to awaken a celestial bloodline was already extraordinary."

"Yet this generation? There are four—something unimaginable in previous eras."

"This is precisely why the Four Great Sects hold such confidence."

"Bloodlines are something the Dao Court refuses to display, and the clans keep shrouded in secrecy—but they undeniably exist."

"Some people are born inherently superior."

"They are born under Heaven's favor, their veins flowing with blood unlike ordinary mortals, awakening further as their cultivation deepens—"

"In a certain sense, these individuals may not even qualify as 'human.'"

"Those bearing bloodlines—if they cultivate spell arts, all spells pierce the heavens; if they cultivate body arts, their flesh and blood remain unblemished; if they cultivate sword arts, their sword hearts commune with immortals—"

"Compared to ordinary cultivators, these bloodline prodigies' flesh, blood, and spiritual energy are truly worlds apart, separated by an unbridgeable abyss."

"More importantly—"

"Each of them has been seeded with a Life-Long Seal by their clan's Void-Perceiving Ancestor."

"A Life-Long Seal—could that be ordinary?"

"Even among great clans and major sects, a single 'Life-Long Seal' slot appears only once every few centuries."

"It protects their life essence, ensures their longevity, as a sign of take care toward these heavenly talents."

"Ordinary onlookers at the Sword Debate buzz about it, but in truth, they're merely watching a spectacle; few understand the hidden truths."

"They don't comprehend—but how could we, as abbots, not know?"

"How easy is it to defeat such top-tier prodigies?"

The three abbots fell silent.

The higher one's status, the more secrets one knows—and the heavier the weight of the two words "bloodline."

Yet despite this, a lingering resentment remained.

Especially the Tai'e Abbot, who said:

"This is a siege battle—Grand Void Gate defends the city. Mo Hua's mastery of arrays is exceptional; perhaps—"

The Chongxu Abbot shook his head. "There's only a sliver of possibility—don't harbor false hopes."

"To be honest, when we were at Foundation Establishment, we wouldn't have stood a chance against a prodigy like Shen Lin. Indeed—it's too hard on these children—" the Grand Void Abbot sighed. "Let these children do their best."

The Tai'e Abbot nodded. "Winning would be ideal; if we lose—then so be it."

"Our ancestors offer no protection—not because the disciples didn't try."

Grand Void Gate, Disciples' Quarters.

Mo Hua stared at the Sword Debate roster, then after a moment of thought, let out a quiet sigh:

"So unlucky—"

In the Earth-tier Sword Debate: the Four Heavenly Disciples of Qiandao Sect—Tianjian Sect's Xiao Wuchen, Long Ding Sect's Ao Zhan, Wan Xiao Sect's Duanmu Qing—

He'd faced them all, and lost every single match.

Now comes Shen Lin of Qiandao Sect.

This time, he's truly encountered them all.

His luck is beyond terrible.

Sword Debate is already difficult; his difficulty level is outright "hell-tier."

Receiving such opponents in Heaven-tier Sword Debate is unsurprising.

But to assign them to him in Earth-tier? That's outright absurd.

"Could that Lun Dao Tian Yi have been tampered with, specifically targeting me?"

Mo Hua frowned, muttering to himself.

Of course, by now, pondering this was meaningless.

The key is tomorrow's Lun Jian.

How do I fight?

Can I really beat Shen Lin?

Mo Hua frowned, sinking into thought.

Shen Lin—he had met him only once, but from pure instinct, he knew the man's talent and cultivation were extraordinary.

Fighting Shen Lin would be extremely difficult.

But this was not the biggest problem.

The biggest problem was: even if I beat Shen Lin, then what?

Beat Shen Lin, win one more match, then—luckily—among the Sida Sect, one sect suffers two consecutive losses.

Thus, the Grand Void Gate might barely enter the top four of the Lun Jian.

And then what?

What do I do in the Son of Heaven Lun Jian?

From the current advancement rate, the number of disciples in the Grand Void Gate who can advance to the Son of Heaven bracket is vanishingly small.

The Son of Heaven bracket will become entirely the Sida Sect's home ground.

The Grand Void Gate will struggle at every step.

Every step forward will face encirclement by the Tianjiao of the Four Sects.

Even if Mo Hua loses not a single match in the Son of Heaven bracket, it will be useless.

In the Son of Heaven Lun Jian, the weight of victory is too high.

The Grand Void Gate's foundation is far too weak; its top disciples simply cannot compete with the Sida Sect's. The final ranking cannot possibly be high.

It seems the Grand Void Gate is slowly drawing closer to the position of the 'Sida Sect,' but the closer it gets to the 'Sida Sect,' the farther Mo Hua himself moves from his goal of 'Number One in Lun Jian.'

It has become so distant that it has filled him with a sense of 'despair.'

Mo Hua's brows were tightly furrowed.

What he wanted was Number One in Lun Jian.

His opponents, then, must be all the supreme Tianzijiao across the Qianxue Province.

His intuitive sense of cause and effect told him there must still be a glimmer of opportunity—

But now it seemed the hope of advancing into the top four of the Dizi bracket was already extremely slim.

And the Son of Heaven bracket? It was outright a 'dead end.'

If things continue like this, there is no real chance of victory.

Mo Hua slumped over his desk, restless and frustrated, even feeling helpless.

His strength was already not weak; he had learned many remarkable skills, yet still there lingered a sense of—

'Helplessness.'

The Heavenly Mechanism was obscure, cause and effect were faint, the future uncertain.

A flicker of confusion passed through Mo Hua's heart; he took out a copper coin, rubbing it in his palm, murmuring softly:

"Master, how—how can I save you—"

But the copper coin remained still, not a single thread of cause or effect stirred.

The next day at noon, the Lun Jian against the Qiandao Sect began.

Outside Lun Dao Mountain, the crowd was still packed.

The number of watching cultivators surpassed that of the previous Lun Jian between the Grand Void Gate and the Dalaomen.

The previous Lun Jian between the Grand Void Gate and the Dalaomen decided whether the Grand Void Gate could hold onto its position as 'Top of the Eight Gates.'

"Today's Lun Jian determines whether the Grand Void Gate has even a slim chance of ascending to the Sida Sect."

Both matches carried equally great significance.

Debates over the outcome never ceased.

Most believed the Grand Void Gate would surely lose.

A few cultivators thought the Grand Void Gate still had a fighting chance.

The core reason was that for the Grand Void Gate, this was a 'siege defense.'

Other sects' siege defenses were disadvantages.

But the Grand Void Gate's siege defense had advantages.

"That kid Mo Hua, though annoying, in siege defense, his mastery of 'Surpassing the Summit' formations is no less potent than the top Tianjiao of the Sida Sect."

"That must be admitted."

"Plus, he has his 'Sword Control.'"

"Come on, what do you call that 'Sword Control'?"

"He has no sword technique, no sword qi—only a single sword he uses to control, and even that nearly explodes..."

"What does that have to do with 'sword'?"

"That deserves to be called 'Sword Control'? Don't embarrass yourself."

"Even if it's not called 'Sword Control,' at least its power is impressive—didn't it kill a Dalaomen disciple in one strike?"

"That's true—a Dalaomen disciple was indeed killed in one strike—"

"Killed in one strike—"

Because of a single sword discussion, Ye Yuan of Daluo Sect went from a famed prodigy of the Milk Dao who wielded swords with his aura, to "someone no one fears."

Many may not remember his name, but they clearly remember his "deed."

He was "killed by a single sword."

"Therefore, this sword discussion still has hope for Grand Void Gate."

"Even if they lose in the end, at least there will be a good show to watch."

Upon hearing this, everyone nodded in agreement.

Amidst this anticipation, the sword discussion began.

Siege and defense.

Milk Dao Sect attacks; Grand Void Gate defends.

The city wall's defensive array had been entirely replaced by third-grade Jin Shi arrays by the elders of Lun Dao Mountain, to prevent Mo Hua from blowing up the wall again.

Fortunately, the elders of Lun Dao Mountain had foresight.

Otherwise, Mo Hua had truly considered blowing the wall into the sky, burying Shen Linshu along with it.

The only thing Mo Hua paid attention to was leaving the life gate position for the city lord statue.

As long as the city lord statue remained intact, even if the entire wall was destroyed and everyone killed, it would still count as a victory for Grand Void Gate.

Unfortunately, the elders of Lun Dao Mountain had preemptively blocked this "deviant path."

Mo Hua had no choice but to defend head-on.

But clearly, everyone—including Mo Hua himself—had underestimated the strength of Shen Linshu, the prodigy bearing the Qilin bloodline.

Shen Linshu, at the peak of Foundation Establishment, was brimming with spiritual energy like an ocean, clad in a golden-threaded black-and-white Dao robe, his hair jet-black, his face as jade-like, eyes glowing with violet light; one sword strike unleashed, purple qi surged from the east, elegant as a celestial being.

The Milk Dao Sect's Purple Qi Golden Scale Sword Art.

This was a top-tier sword art long lost to time.

It was lost because practicing this sword art required ancient Qilin bloodline.

"The Zhou family, and indeed the entire Milk Dao Sect, had not produced a prodigy with Qilin blood for hundreds of years."

Thus, this sword art had been sealed away for centuries.

Until this generation of the Zhou family produced Shen Linshu.

On the world's projection screens, all watching cultivators saw for the first time Shen Linshu, seriously wielding his sword, and his unique purple qi golden scale sword art, distinct from ordinary mortals due to his bloodline.

Purple qi rises from the east; bloodline transforms into sword.

Auspicious clouds gather; Qilin takes form.

A seemingly simple sword strike, its purple-gold sword qi surging violently, like a rainbow piercing the sun, unstoppable.

Ouyang Xuan was no match.

Linghu Xiao's Void-Piercing Sword Qi could not resist it.

Cheng Mo and Sister Situ dared not face its edge.

The outer city gate fell; Grand Void Gate retreated step by step, falling back to the inner city.

The inner city's walls loomed high; its gate was lined with flowing spiritual energy, array patterns glowing with deep second-grade light.

A full twenty-one second-grade defensive array.

Inside the wall, Mo Hua sat cross-legged, expression solemn.

Before him lay three swords—each capable of being controlled by spiritual sense—for long-range sniping: the Tai'e Mountain-Splitting Spirit Swords.

One wall separated the two sides.

On one side: a top sect, a top bloodline prodigy, the Golden Qilin Sword Art.

On the other: the array master, a second-grade array, and strange spiritual-sense sword control.

Everyone's heart tightened.

They knew that this sword discussion had only now truly begun.

Grand Void Gate would fight to the death for the Sida Sect position.

The old grudges between Milk Dao Sect and Grand Void Gate would be settled once and for all.

This was a sword discussion awaited by all.

But what followed was not as satisfying as expected.

Milk Dao Sect—or rather, Shen Linshu—was simply too strong.

In comparison, Grand Void Gate appeared "fragile."

Grand Void Gate's disciples could not withstand Shen Linshu.

Mo Hua's arrays and "sword control" achieved little.

His flying sword, guided by spiritual sense, rose before him; with a flick of his finger, it shot through the air.

Emitting a dim glow, it streaked straight toward Shen Linshu's heart meridian.

This flying sword technique was fast, precise, and powerful.

But this was not the first time Mo Hua had used sword control.

His sword control process had been recorded in shadow-mimicry scrolls, studied repeatedly by countless people.

Even some of his breaking techniques had been thoroughly analyzed by Dao Law elders and updated in the "Rules for Dealing with Mo Hua: Sword Control Chapter."

Sword control relies heavily on "surprise."

The more unexpected, the less time to prepare, the greater the killing power of the flying sword.

Conversely, the more anticipated and guarded, the greater the reduction in threat from long-range "sniping" sword control.

Especially when facing a prodigy like Shen Linshu.

Halfway through its flight, Shen Linshu sensed Mo Hua's flying sword.

Zhou Linshu's expression was cold and indifferent. With a slash of his longsword, he unleashed a purple-gold sword Qi that intercepted Mo Hua's flying sword—the flying sword exploded on impact.

But Mo Hua's flying sword was ultimately too fast; before the explosion, it closed to within ten zhang of Zhou Linshu.

The flying sword exploded, the sword array self-destructed, and the burst of sword Qi, along with fragments of the spirit sword, swept outward together, engulfing Zhou Linshu.

But when the smoke cleared, Zhou Linshu was unharmed, not a single hair disturbed.

A barrier of spiritual power shielded his entire body.

On his skin, faint golden mysterious patterns interwove with one another, flashing once—

A body tempered with Qilin blood.

The residual sword Qi from the flying sword's explosion couldn't harm Shen Lin at all, nor could it break through the golden Qilin patterns on his body.

After that, Mo Hua's two more flying sword attacks were likewise broken by Zhou Linshu.

Mo Hua's formations likewise could not stop Zhou Linshu.

A second-grade, nineteen-pattern high-tier formation is indeed unbreakable—but that is for Foundation Establishment cultivators, even ordinary Foundation Establishment geniuses.

Top-tier geniuses are not in that category.

Especially Zhou Linshu's sword Qi—under the augmentation of his bloodline—had already approached the might of a "Jin Dan."

Powerful purple-gold sword Qi, strike after strike, slammed into the formations Mo Hua had laid down.

The formations trembled, the array patterns dimmed, and the city gate kept shaking. Zhou Linshu's spiritual power, too, was like a vast ocean—endless and unbroken.

At last, all of Mo Hua's high-tier formations were completely hacked apart by Zhou Linshu.

The city gate shattered on impact, breaking into pieces.

The Qiandao Sect stormed into the inner city, heading straight for the City Lord's statue.

Cheng Mo and the others gritted their teeth and tried to intercept, but they were simply no match for these prodigies of the Qiandao Sect.

Soon, Cheng Mo, Sister Situ, and Ouyang Xuan were "killed" one after another.

Linghu Xiao, tempered through a series of brutal sword debates, had already undergone a transformation in both swordsmanship and mindset.

Now, relying on his own strength, he could already exchange a few direct blows with Zhou Linshu.

But even so, it was clearly still far from enough.

Soon, Linghu Xiao likewise exhausted his strength and was defeated—a single Purple Qi Golden Qilin sword technique took his life———

This one-sided sword debate was utterly brutal.

At this point, Grand Void Gate was left with only Mo Hua once more.

Zhou Linshu, his face fair as polished jade, walked slowly up to Mo Hua.

Mo Hua also looked at him with calm eyes.

The two finally faced each other for the first time on the sword debate stage.

After a string of battles, Zhou Linshu's spiritual power was still abundant, his breath steady and long, his complexion unchanged, his gaze indifferent yet carrying a hint of arrogant disdain for all beneath him.

Throughout the sword debate, he had not spoken a single word.

But now, facing Mo Hua alone, Zhou Linshu's eyes were cold and indifferent, and he finally could not hold back, slowly opening his mouth to say:

"Is this all your formations amount to?"

"Is this all your sword control amounts to?"

"Is this all you, the inheritance of Grand Void Gate, amount to?"

"Is this—your strength?"

"With just these, you dare come to a sword debate?"

"You spent a little effort, used some underhanded tricks, beat a few ordinary prodigies, and that made you happy?"

Mo Hua was silent, saying nothing.

Disappointment flickered in Zhou Linshu's eyes. "Enough, it's like casting pearls before swine—"

His voice, flat yet carrying a sharp edge: "Without sufficient capacity, one cannot stand at the top."

"The position of the Sida Sect is not something your Grand Void Gate can covet."

"The Sword Debate Assembly is not a place you should be. You'd better go back to being your formation-path champion, drawing your formations—"

"Now——"

Zhou Linshu raised his longsword, the tip wreathed in purple-gold sword light, pointing straight at the space between Mo Hua's brows. "Will you kill yourself, or do you want to die by my sword?"

Mo Hua thought for a moment, then extended a finger and tapped the Debate Jade on his own forehead.

In Zhou Linshu's eyes, the color of disappointment deepened.

"This is a crucial match for your Grand Void Gate."

"All your teammates are dead."

"You, at this point, still refuse to fight to the death? Just to preserve the last shred of your face?"

"Are you truly this afraid of death?"

"I truly look down on you—" In Zhou Linshu's indifferent voice, a hint of condescending contempt had already crept in.

Mo Hua's expression remained calm. He silently suppressed the killing intent in his heart, restrained the sharpness in his eyes, gave Zhou Linshu a faint glance, then circulated his spiritual power and shattered the Debate Jade.

The Debate Jade shattered, and Mo Hua withdrew defeated from the stage.

Zhou Linshu silently gazed at the spot where Mo Hua had vanished, his eyes cold and indifferent. Then, with a backhanded slash, he split the Grand Void Gate's "City Lord statue"—the one that decided victory and defeat—into pieces.

The Debate Bell rang out; the sword debate was over.

Grand Void Gate was defeated.

The Grand Void Gate spectators all wore expressions of dejection.

Zhang Lan and the others also shook their heads, somewhat helpless.

This outcome, in truth, was not unexpected.

But the fact that Grand Void Gate truly lost, extinguishing Yi Ji's last hope, still left a heavy feeling in the heart.

Among ordinary spectators, some rejoiced in their misfortune, mocking Grand Void Gate's delusions and Mo Hua's incompetence.

More people, however, felt a sigh of admiration:

"This is what a top-tier prodigy truly is—"

"Shen Lin."

"Before overwhelming strength, all tricks and schemes are meaningless. Grand Void Gate lost fairly—after all, the gap in strength was undeniable."

"To be honest, Grand Void Gate isn't weak—but unfortunately, their opponent is too strong—"

"This is Qianxue Province—this is a sect sword debate—"

"One Shen Lin, plus Xiao Qianren, Duanmu Qing, Ao Zhan—and even Ye Qingfeng of Dala Sect isn't bad."

"Below them, there are even more prodigies—"

"This year's sword debate is likely the one with the most prodigies in centuries—we've truly caught a good time."

"Truly, this is a great age, with prodigies emerging in abundance."

The sword debate ended.

Grand Void Gate's atmosphere grew somber.

Losing to Ru Dao Sect meant they had severed their only remaining chance to advance into the Sida Sect.

Even if Grand Void Gate lost every single remaining debate in the Sida Sect's next matches,

they would still have no further opportunity.

But there was no point in lamenting.

Shen Lin was too strong.

Mo Hua and the others, as junior brothers, had already given their all.

In such a sword debate, it made no difference who fought—defeat was essentially inevitable.

Though the junior brother was strong, he couldn't possibly be "omnipotent."

Sending the junior brother to face Shen Lin alone was simply unfair—he had no chance of winning—

Yet after their disappointment, the group's hearts gradually eased.

Though they lost, at least Grand Void Gate now held the top position among the Eight Gate Seats—already more than sufficient.

The Dao teaches contentment brings joy.

There are only four Sida Sects.

But there is only one top seat among the Eight Gate Seats.

This is something many sects can only dream of—even Grand Void Gate, which had previously languished in the lower ranks,

had never imagined it could one day rank among the Eight Gate Seats.

Thinking this way, everyone's mindset grew far calmer.

And the Earth-tier sword debate still had one final match left.

This match, in truth, no longer mattered.

Win, and they could advance no further.

Lose, and it wouldn't be a major matter.

The Earth-tier sword debate had, by this point, effectively "ended."

Next came the Heaven-tier sword debate.

Among the disciples.

Mo Hua steadied his spirit, summarized the gains and losses of the day's debates, and recorded every one of Shen Lin's sword techniques and bloodline abilities onto a jade slip.

Then, he focused entirely on preparing for the "Heaven"-tier sword debate.

For him, this was the most difficult trial.

How should one fight in the "Heaven"-tier sword debate?

How could one claim first place in the debate?

At least for now, the chance was vanishingly slim—truly, as hard as climbing to heaven.

But however hard, one must grit one's teeth, steel one's resolve, and fight match after match.

Fight, and there's still a chance.

Don't fight, and defeat is certain.

Mo Hua began listing on the jade slip his remaining trump cards and the essential techniques needed to face the Heaven-tier sword debate.

His entire spirit was devoted to the coming "Heaven"-tier sword debate.

Not only Mo Hua—any sect within Qianxue Province with a chance to advance to the Heaven-tier sword debate began preparing for what came next.

The final Earth-tier sword debate, since it no longer affected the standings, was largely ignored by everyone.

And at this very moment—

On Lundaoshan, deep night.

In the pitch-black Grand Arena, the forbidden platform where none may approach.

The Lundaotianyi was turning alone, following the threads of cause and effect.

The list for the final Earth-tier sword debate was slowly being deduced by it.

Soon, on the Tian Yi seat, a faint glow flickered, and the final match's names were etched word by word onto the causal array patterns.

Suddenly, the qi shifted abruptly—a crack appeared out of nowhere in the darkness.

A poppy flower, invisible to ordinary eyes, bloomed in the night.

Amid chains entwined, a bloody, purple-black, evil and fallen infant hand pressed upon the Lundaotianyi.