Chapter 3132: I Concede, I Can't Land a Single Strike

Coincidentally, the stage Lu Youyou stepped onto was exactly the same one Zhao Zhengping had just used, with the same referee.

Watching Lu Youyou go up, the referee on stage had a strange expression, an indescribable bitterness.

He sighed inwardly.

"How is it another disciple of Hong Zun again."

This time, only the first half of the Sword Immortal Convention had referees, because they were worried these young sword cultivators might unleash true fire and be unable to stop themselves for a moment.

The selection of referees was not solely handled by the Dao One Immortal Sect; various major immortal sects and immortal clans also had representatives.

Lu Youyou's opponent was a burly, dark-skinned youth who looked somewhat simple-minded; facing the cute and petite Lu Youyou, he spoke first.

"Let's just start directly."

Having seen what just happened, he naturally saw it as well, so in this match, no matter what the girl opposite says, he won't believe it, nor will he waste words with her.

This was also what his master had instructed him before he went up earlier.

As for that, Lu Youyou simply nodded and said.

"Good."

For a moment, the burly youth actually felt that Lu Youyou opposite him was different from Zhao Zhengping just before.

At the same time, the referee also breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that Zhao Zhengping earlier was just an isolated case.

"Senior Brother, please."

"Junior Sister, please."

As they exchanged courtesies, this time there was indeed no funny business; both went straight into action, fighting as a tangled mass.

Seeing this, Hong Zun on the high platform also breathed a sigh of relief from the heart.

His gaze toward Lu Youyou was full of approval.

Indeed, Youyou remains the one closest to his heart, unlike some rebellious disciples who constantly cause him trouble.

But as they fought, everyone's expressions changed again.

One could see that every time Lu Youyou exchanged blows, whether attacking or defending, she would utter a sentence.

"The angle is too straight; my master said the sword way cannot be too rigid, for rigidity breaks easily."

"The speed is too slow; my master said among all sword techniques, only speed is unbreakable."

"Your guard is lax; my master said to observe six directions and listen to eight."

"Your footwork is too slow; my master said sword practice isn't just about hand technique; footwork is equally crucial."

Watching each exchange, it seemed as if she were teaching a disciple swordsmanship, always needing to give a pointer.

Everyone's expressions changed again—what, what does this mean now?

"This is a sparring match on the stage, not a sword lesson."

"Besides, if you're going to teach, teach, but every sentence mentions Hong Zun—what's the meaning of that?"

That referee, who had just relaxed his brow, now furrowed it tightly again.

Earlier he thought Lu Youyou should be a normal person, but now looking, indeed, they're not of the same family, not entering the same door.

"They're both taught by the same master—how could there be any big difference?"

"Earlier Zhao Zhengping was blowing hard; now Lu Youyou is blowing indirectly."

"It looks like a normal sparring match, but you damn well say it's not the same, right?"

"Every time you strike, you give a lecture—your footing is floating, your angle is too straight—why the hell do you care so much?"

"If he really had that many flaws, wouldn't one sword from you finish him?"

"And just like before, anyone can see that Lu Youyou's strength is still above that burly youth."

"Otherwise, she couldn't be so relaxed and still go on to point out his sword technique."

"But even if you step back and say you're just giving pointers, why keep bringing up your master all the time?"

"This is clearly not right."

Before the referee could say anything, the burly youth couldn't hold back; after being lectured again, he flung his long sword away in anger and roared at the referee.

"I concede; this sparring match I can't land a single blow."

One could see the burly youth's face full of resentment, his eyes reddened from holding back.

"All this fighting, he's damn near been told he's good for nothing—is this sparring or torture?"

But as soon as his words fell, before the referee could say anything, Lu Youyou interjected.

"Senior Brother, your Dao heart isn't stable either; my master said we cultivators must first prioritize the Dao heart—if the Dao heart isn't stable, what path is there to speak of?"

"Also, Senior Brother, my master said this precious sword is comparable to a sword cultivator's life; as a sword cultivator, one should have the awareness that the sword and the self are one, and at no time should one abandon the sword."

"Enough, do you have anything else besides your master?"

But before Lu Youyou could finish, the burly youth turned his head and shouted angrily.

He's had enough; from the moment he drew his first sword, Lu Youyou's little mouth hasn't stopped.

It's been nonstop chatter, and every sentence is 'my master said, my master said.'

"What your master said has nothing to do with me."

But regarding that, Lu Youyou said with a solemn expression.

"Senior Brother, actually your talent isn't low, even surpassing mine; the reason you can't beat me is merely because you lack a good master—if you could become my master's disciple, you would certainly……"

"I concede, I won't fight anymore."

Watching Lu Youyou start chattering again, the burly youth turned to the referee, tossed out a sentence of concession, and left without looking back.

After this bout, he only felt a belly full of resentment, with his head buzzing as he recalled the words 'my master, my master.'

As the burly youth directly conceded, the referee's mouth twitched, but he still announced Lu Youyou the winner.

After all, the rules don't forbid speaking during a sparring match, and besides, Lu Youyou won fair and square—something everyone can see.

It's just that this win is weirdly weird.

After winning, Lu Youyou, on the stage, imitating Zhao Zhengping's manner, raised her long sword and shouted in a sweet voice.

"Shīzūn is mighty, thanks to Shīzūn's cultivation of the disciple, the disciple owes today entirely to Shīzūn.........."

"Alright, alright, if there's nothing else, go down quickly."

Seeing another coming, the referee hurriedly drove Lu Youyou off.

As for the crowd on the high platform, they were already excited, and Hong Zun undoubtedly became the focus of everyone's attention.

In two consecutive matches, two disciples were both doing flashy stuff, yet they said it had nothing to do with you?

Now everyone doesn't believe this matter has nothing to do with that old thing Hong Zun.

These are all your disciples, you say it has nothing to do with you?

Qi Xiong looked at Hong Zun with a resentful face, his eyes holding a faint anger.

"Hong Zun, can you stop doing these embarrassing things? Our Dao One Immortal Sect still needs face."

"Shī xiōng, I really didn't do anything, this has nothing to do with me."

"Are you really taking me for an idiot?"

"No, Shī xiōng, I................"

"Enough, I only ask you not to disgrace the Sect any further."

The two shī brothers were transmitting sound, when next second, only hearing a thud, a table behind was kicked over, followed by a roar.

"Hong Zun, what do you mean, winning isn't enough, you also want to insult our master and disciple? Old man, what do I lack compared to you? How did you mislead the disciples?"