Chapter 533: The King Descends from Heaven, Swords Fall Like Rain (Please Refresh)

wangshugu

Unlike the ordinary arena matches in Wu Lin, other regions have numerous participants, with competitions ranging from celestial arts, combat, alchemy, and spellcraft to mixed-gender and team formation battles; except for the Joyful Sect, which forbids interaction, every type of contest exists.

It looks almost like a true multiverse academic exchange competition?

But if one seeks the top prize, after successive rounds of screening, regardless of the region, all must rely on raw strength to advance further.

Some token holders even brought entire families or sects along, so during the selection phase, a Cave Heaven World melee mechanism is activated, randomly assigning fifty participants to each Cave Heaven.

Of course, it's not quite a battle royale—this is done primarily to let powerful participants fight without restraint.

Once participants enter the Cave Heaven, they advance by defeating their randomly matched opponents.

After all, no one need fear death or injury within the Yinglong Tower; many treat it as a rare opportunity for real combat training.

Perhaps attention was focused on the new arrivals at Qiongqi Tower, or perhaps Shang Xiaoyue, using backend permissions, was filtering the list of unknown guests who held tokens and had just registered.

"Lu Mingfei?"

"Lu Mingfei!"

"Which Lu Mingfei?!"

"That Lu Mingfei!"

Not only did Shang Yue's eyelid twitch violently, but even Beiwunan Gua, watching from afar, felt his heart skip a beat.

"Good, good," said the fat Monk Dari Rulai, wiping sweat from his face with a lottery ticket, then suddenly froze: "Miss, can I still redeem this prize?!"

Ru Hua shook her head; Dari Rulai's face twitched as he immediately summoned a true flame to dry the soaked ticket.

At this moment, Lu Mingfei stood on the square combat platform, watching the crowd grow larger, utterly baffled.

It shouldn't be this big—bigger than Xiao Yan's scene over there. Why aren't they watching "Don't Mock the Youth" to come watch him? Do you all secretly have a little dead kid inside you too?

Pain. Too much pain.

Lu Mingfei sensed more and more scrutinizing gazes fixed on him, as if he'd returned to the theater hall on the day of his senior high graduation, when he leapt onto the stage and was swept by countless stares.

But this time was different: back then, though he played the fool, the crowd's focus wasn't on him; now, every gaze—filled with scrutiny and dread—locked onto him.

Did "Dragon Raja" sell like crazy across all Tianchengs?

But that still doesn't make sense. Could someone be scheming? I should've used Xiao Bai Long's alias.

Lu Mingfei wanted to say something, but his current persona was that of a master—masters don't speak lightly.

Please prepare, all guests!

Instantly, a bolt of Lei Ting pierced the sky, lightning streaking straight toward the heavens.

Moments before, the tower's slightly noisy scenery had been transformed by primordial power into a serene, secluded paradise, far from worldly clamor.

Lu Mingfei still wore his cold, expressionless face, clad in the Cassel Academy uniform, choosing a path beside a murmuring spring, walking downward along it.

"It's that useless waste."

The moment Shang Yue saw Lu Mingfei's dead-fish eyes and drowsy look, the stone in her heart instantly dropped.

Soon after, a ten-thousand-zhang white serpent rose and fell through the clouds, its emerald-green eyes gleaming with an eerie light, its scales faintly visible, two bulging growths protruding from its head.

"It's Bai Suzhen. This waste is doomed." Shang Yue sneered, then ordered:

"Xiaoyue, after he's eliminated, send someone to ask if he'll sell his blood. Take something slightly tempting—Jin Dan cultivation level would be fine."

He didn't even bother watching how Bai Suzhen would obliterate him; Bai Suzhen had been in Tiancheng for over three hundred years—her power was no longer comparable. Even if Lu Mingfei called his brother now, it wouldn't help.

Seeing Shang Yue's attitude, those around who had been tense relaxed, though some remained curious.

"Shang Zhushi, do you know this Lu Mingfei?"

"A protagonist who'll never amount to anything. Not worth mentioning."

Shang Yue shook her head; the projected Cave Heaven World image had already undergone terrifying transformation.

A thousand-meter tidal wave, stretching from earth to sky, swept through the Cave Heaven World with apocalyptic force, while frost and cold heralded the end of all things.

This is the influence and change brought by Tiancheng.

It grants the weak a chance to grow strong, and the strong an even greater chance to become stronger.

As Shang Yue turned back calmly, a flash of gold caught the corner of her eye; she instinctively glanced over.

A golden canopy, vast as a sky-blocking crown, stretched across heaven and earth; golden leaves drifted slowly down with the breeze.

Around lay the gray-white ruins of a medieval Western-style city, bathed in sacred yet unobtrusive golden light, as if time itself had slowed.

On the Wang Zuo, Lu Mingfei sat calmly at the center, expression devoid of joy or sorrow, gazing at the onrushing tide—the earlier drowsy look now seeming like utter contempt for it all.

"Intruder, bow your head and perform the obeisance."

His black eyes blazed into golden irises, untainted by dust; He stared at the white serpent hidden in the clouds and issued His command.

Bai Suzhen's serpent pupils shrank instantly; the moment their gazes met, a primal fear from her bloodline chilled her entire body, and her divine power to summon floods involuntarily expelled her true form.

The serpent transformed into human form—a woman in a plain white robe—flew into the air, hands clasped before her chest, head slightly bowed, hands slightly moved, knees slightly bent, performing the wanfu bow.

"Immortal Bai Suzhen bows before the Dragon Lord."

Bai Suzhen bit her lip hard; her teeth pierced the red flesh, drawing blood. The pain sharpened her clarity: "For Xu Lang, I must grow stronger."

Her once angelic beauty twisted into a monstrous visage; inhuman features erupted from her face—her serpent eyes trembled but held firm.

"Dragon Lord, forgive this immortal's audacity!"

She drew a paper umbrella from her sleeve and unfurled it; as if wrapped in a shroud of the netherworld, the pressure of bloodline and rank was blocked.

Then, countless tiny rivers converged; amid the agonized screams of woman and serpent, toxic waters replaced the flood, merging into the tide, spreading purple miasma everywhere—wherever it passed, decay and ruin became the fate of all things.

Lu Mingfei sensed her determination and madness. Had Su Lin not suddenly messaged him demanding he "glamorously" win this match, he might've chosen a different path.

Lu had already achieved triple freedom—love, fate, wealth—and had no lack of cosmic resources; he could just lie down and do nothing.

But seeing this version of Bai Niangzi, Lu Mingfei suddenly remembered how he himself must have looked during his life-or-death struggle with Herzog, had things unfolded normally.

Though he didn't know what she'd endured, watching the toxic blood seep from her wounds, the poisonous breath expelled from her mouth, the white serpent clinging to sanity, he couldn't help but feel pity.

Life isn't a romantic comedy—where every lover ends up together—is simply not real.

He reached out and plucked a fallen leaf from the gale; on the withered golden leaf, a mark of chaotic flame ignited, spreading from Lu Mingfei's right palm until it consumed the Wang Zuo and everything around it, flames surging upward along the earth.

When the Golden Tree was fully ignited, blazing fiercely.

His entire body was replaced by flame, as if Lu Mingfei, having burned himself alive, rose from the Wang Zuo, his colossal dragon wings unfolding their membranes, fierce yet solemn, as if embracing the entire world.

The city, mountains and rivers, the white serpent, the raging tide, heaven and earth, the world—all were wrapped in chaotic flame, ushering in the epic chapter of destruction.

All watched this scene in absolute silence, until the Dongtian was destroyed and the competition ended, no one even caring about the status of other contestants.

When Lu Mingfei appeared on the arena, he sliced open the pad of his index finger with Desire's Edge, flicked a drop of golden blood into the mouth of the dying, charred serpent, then swept his gaze across the faces of the onlookers, stopping at a red-haired woman in a witch's robe, coldly staring at the noble Young Master who had just approached him.

"Had this not been Tiancheng, I would exterminate your nine clans."

The noble Young Master slunk away in shame.

Hui Liyi looked at Lu Mingfei, who was quickly pulling her hand away, and smiled brightly: "Hui Liyi won't run away."

"Cutting my finger hurts," Lu Mingfei gritted through pain: "I can't keep up this act anymore."

"Then let me blow on it—it won't hurt anymore."

Shang Yue was bewildered; had he not seen Lu Mingfei walking away holding a red-haired girl in witch's robes, he would have thought this Lu Mingfei was not that Lu Mingfei.

Had he been reading a fake Dragon Clan?

No—he had only reached the fourth volume of the Dragon Clan when he crossed over.

Could this be the Lu Mingfei from the grand finale, and had he revived Shangshan Hui Liyi?

And what's with him calling himself 'I'? Black King Nidhogg?!

"Venerable layperson, could you please step aside?"

Shang Yue turned back; the monk, recently in the spotlight and whose name was either Tang Sanzang or Tang Sanzang, smiled warmly at him, his tone gentle, the nine-ringed staff in his hand chiming with each step.

"Of course, Master, please." Shang Yue bowed politely.

"Shang layperson, wounds from blades fade, but words of malice linger. What you think in your heart doesn't matter—but in public, beware that disaster comes from the mouth."

Su Lin smiled faintly, raising a finger in a shushing gesture: "In reality, it's better not to hold rigid stereotypes about others."

"Thank you, Master, for your teaching," Shang Yue nodded, though he didn't take it to heart.

Nearby, some guests in modern attire murmured about Elden Lord, Law of Cycles, and the Mad Flame controversy—this caught Shang Yue's attention.

He was about to step forward and join the conversation.

"Let me go! Take your Gluttonous King and your twin-tailed goddess with you! I won't join any competition with you!"

"Stop fussing, Dada Liya, I'm off work today for once."

The girl's shrill cry and the boy's enthusiastic voice drifted in from nearby, mingling with the noise; behind the Tang Sanzang walked Weigong Shilang, the Dōngmù bulldozer Shang Yue had seen before.

"No no no! Shilang, let me go! Go be with your wives!!!"

Dada Liya was slung over Weigong Shilang's shoulder, her legs kicking frantically against his back.

Weigong Shilang paid no mind to the feeble struggles, continuing calmly:

"Today's Sword Art Exchange Competition debates Gao Zhijian Emotion and Gao Zhijian Detachment. The Gao Zhijian Emotion side holds that emotion is an essential part—so we must bring our Dao partners. Without Dada Liya beside me, how can I compete?"

"If it's like this, I have no choice," Dada Liya blushed and lowered her head: "After all, you only have me as your Dao partner."

Sword cultivators in Tiancheng were a peculiar breed, much like black mages among magicians—always solitary, especially as their numbers grew.

Even without the Yinglong Tower hosting exchange competitions, these sword cultivators held sword art exchanges every single hour of every day of the year.

The debate between Gao Zhijian Emotion and Gao Zhijian Detachment was a classic topic; outsiders saw it as merely an excuse for these sword cultivators to spar.

Shang Yue knew all this—but.

Dao partner pairs???

Wait, what path are you on?!

That's your adoptive sister!!!

Shang Yue fell silent; even the modern guests discussing Elden Law had frozen. They hurried after Weigong Shilang, following him to the Sword Art Division of the Tiancheng Exchange Competition.

This area lay between the Martial and Immortal realms, fitting the sword path's inclusive philosophy: uninterested in origins, uninterested in mortal or immortal.

"Those who believe in Gao Zhijian Emotion, walk this way. When your name is called, enter—no delays."

"Chen Changsheng, Xu Yourong."

A woman veiled in white silk and a refined, elegant man walked inward.

"Li Xiaoyao, Zhao Ling'er."

"Wait—here!"

A slightly frivolous young man pulled a pure, lovely girl inward.

"Shang Buhan, where is your Dao partner?"

"I am Lin Xueya."

"Hold on! I'm going to the Gao Zhijian Detachment side!"

A disheveled man shoved aside the flamboyant white-haired noble youth beside him, as if unable to bear it, and strode toward the other side.

"I feel I got ripped off coming to Tiancheng," Su Lin stood on the Gao Zhijian Detachment side, holding a pistol, grinning: "This place is full of talent."

"Young Master," the attendant glanced at Su Lin's pistol: "The Psychic and Gun Art Exchange Competition is over there. This is the Sword Art Exchange Competition."

"I know. I was once called the Sword Saint," Su Lin said, raising his pistol toward the sky amid the gaze of swordsmen, sword cultivators, and sword immortals, and fired: "But times have changed."

A flash of cold light erupted from the barrel, slicing a sword beam tens of thousands of meters long across the sky.

"Please enter. Next: Ye Gucheng."

This commotion quickly drew many spectators; sword cultivators' debates usually ended in bloodshed—plainly put, you could expect rivers of blood.

Ye Gucheng stepped forward and said: "I cannot comprehend your sword. May I ask its name?"

Not understanding it was the point—his sword qi and sword intent were all borrowed; many true insights into sword arts came from the lifetime experiences of souls like Karosso's fragments—Su Lin merely compressed and loaded them into bullets.

"This technique is called Zhongsheng—the Gao Zhijian All Beings," Su Lin said solemnly.

"No wonder. All living beings display myriad forms." Ye Gucheng seemed to understand something, walked to the side, embraced his sword, and fell into thought.

Both sides, prepare. This exchange match is a contest of sword principles—victory is declared only when one side is utterly defeated by the other.

Heaven and earth shifted; night descended, and fine snowflakes drifted through the sky.

Across the endless snowfield, moonlight filtered through gaps in the clouds, spilling onto the snow and reflecting a faint silver glow.

A samurai wearing a wide-brimmed hat stepped forward: "Yagyū Damashī, I humbly seek your guidance."

"Sword technique, sword intent, sword heart—a swordsman need only be true to his sword, not to men. Thus, the Way of the Sword is without feeling." A cloth-clad swordsman with a two-stringed huqin stepped forward. "I am nameless."

At this moment, Su Lin gave Weigong Shilang a meaningful glance.

Weigong Shilang avoided eye contact, but then saw a message in the chat group and suddenly felt a chill crawl up his scalp.

Su Lin: "Manifestation! Show me Manifestation immediately! You're the only one who didn't meet this month's quota!"

Ye Fan: "The Han Emperor Xian here has a massive order! Weigong Shilang, gkd—come back and work overtime!"

Su Lin: "Work overtime? I haven't even met my own targets!"

Ye Fan: "Do you know how rich this Liu Xie is!?"

Su Lin: "Then I'll have to pilot Weigong Unit-01 for a swift decisive strike—just like I did before. But this time, no items, so I'll need you to open his skullcap so I can operate. Weigong Shilang."

Ye Fan: "Don't forget to hand out guild business cards to all your potential customers."

"." Weigong Shilang, carrying Dada Liya on his back, stepped forward and said: "All of you, come at once—I'm in a hurry."

"Oh?" Shang Buhan touched his nose, his eyes brightening with interest.

At these words, those still entranced by Su Lin's previous sword strike snapped back to awareness—including several immortals who cultivated the sword path—even the practitioners of the Path of Feeling showed expressions of astonishment.

But soon, they understood the source of Weigong Shilang's confidence.

"Dada Liya, handle soul materialization and mana replenishment."

"When you make a request, show proper courtesy. I didn't hear you."

Facing the girl's deliberate words, Weigong Shilang turned and lightly kissed her lips.

"I rely on you."

"Alright."

Receiving the faint, whisper-like reply, Weigong Shilang focused his mind, closed his eyes, and calmed his spirit in an instant.

Dancing flames transformed into an endless horizon, carving a path ahead; the sword phenomenon within his sea of qi merged with his innate realm to form an impossibly real world of swords.

With his sword held behind him, he rose into the air, standing suspended, raising his hand as if lifting the full moon. As the Bing Secret activated, a magnificent flood of swords engulfed all directions, covering heaven and earth.

The practitioners of the Path of Emotionlessness restrained their blades, yet still felt a terrifying summons rising—threatening to drag their own swords into the sea of blades.

"Sir, I acknowledge your strength," said Yagyū Damashī. "But how does this relate to the Path of Feeling?"

"Yes, it does."

Weigong Shilang's gaze swept over the weapons in their hands, instantly analyzing the centuries of history embedded within them: "I leave it to you, Dada Liya."

As his words ended, vast soul power surged from each projected weapon, coalescing in midair into figures identical to their original masters.

Not the souls of men—but their swords and martial arts, materialized through soul manifestation, perfect replicas possessing their masters' complete sword techniques!

"I couldn't do this alone. That's why this is the Path of Feeling," Weigong Shilang said with a smile.

(End of Chapter)