Chapter 240: Weaving the Cocoon

Although he had guessed the old man was someone beyond the Bo Wang level, his identity still greatly surprised Gu Gu Yunfu—any one of these three roles carried immense weight, yet all three were united in one person; even if not among the top two or three pillars of Shaolong Dao, he was certainly among the very first names that should be mentioned.

Why would such a great figure linger in this state's martial competition?

After bowing, Gu Gu Yunfu rose and said, "To meet Lord Sui here is an unexpected stroke of fortune; our Tianshan manners may have been lacking—please forgive us."

Since Tianshan had been mentioned, Sui Sui Zaihua also bowed in return: "To see a divine being descend from the mountain is also a rare occurrence."

"To be honest, it's some troublesome cases that have burdened your household—we've already invited the Immortal Platform to assist." Gu Gu Yunfu hesitated, then spoke up.

Sui Sui Zaihua nodded: "If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

"No need to trouble you. What is Lord Sui occupied with? I could offer whatever little help I can at any time."

Sui Sui Zaihua smiled and gestured downward: "I'm here just to watch the martial competition—the Academy has had poor harvests in recent years, and today I've come to select one."

"Oh." Gu Gu Yunfu's smile froze, for he suddenly recalled what Li Weisu had just said.

Zhao Zhang, standing nearby, was astonished: "Lord Sui, have you already settled on a specific target for this return?"

Sui Sui Zaihua gestured toward the southern seats, where Luo Luo Defeng had just risen and bowed.

"Oh." Zhao Zhang's mind flashed back to the poetry gathering, and he smiled: "So after all this circling, it's still Young Master Shang."

"I changed my mind," Sui Sui Zaihua said without evasion, smiling. "Because he said—he can wield a Thought Sword."

"Ah, I see." Zhao Zhang nodded.

In truth, he didn't quite understand.

But Gu Gu Yunfu fell silent for a moment, then added: "It's rare indeed for a sixth-generation cultivator to master a Thought Sword. Yet 'learning to attain' is not the same as 'attaining through learning.'"

Sui Sui Zaihua nodded: "I didn't see it myself—according to Young Master Gu, how was Young Master Shang's last sword strike?"

"It shaped form and aligned with intent, showing long study—but it lacked spirit, and has not yet achieved full penetration." Gu Gu Yunfu said, "In truth, Lord Sui, spending over a decade studying a Thought Sword to reach this point reflects more perseverance than extraordinary talent."

"Yes." Sui Sui Zaihua nodded with a smile. "You know well the entrance threshold of the Sword Academy—were it merely this, I would not make an exception to take him."

Gu Gu Yunfu bowed and smiled.

Sui Sui Zaihua also smiled: "Last night, he told me that if he cannot wield this sword today, he will never again speak of entering the Sword Academy."

"." Gu Gu Yunfu stared, "He said… he'll learn it today?"

"Correct." Sui Sui Zaihua said. "Young Master Gu, your words are fair—according to you, how difficult is it to accomplish this?"

How difficult?

It was a difficulty he could not overcome.

From the man's last strike, it was already clear: though the sword intent was abundant, it was blocked and could not be released—he had clearly not yet reached the peak of fluency. Gu Gu Yunfu didn't need to see many details; he knew this threshold was high and rigid enough that even with the path understood and ample preparation made, crossing it would be far from easy.

After all, it was a broken sword.

". If this sword truly has a critical flaw, and if this man can pierce through it by his own strength—even if it took over a decade, and even if he studied and refined as he went—it might, within Tianshan, qualify as…" Gu Gu Yunfu hesitated, then said, "a candidate for the Eight Steeds."

Sui Sui Zaihua nodded, gently saying: "Thus, with a pearl before us, we must not blind ourselves with delusion. I know your sect has its inclinations, and the Sword Academy has always relied on your support—but Dao Qi selects the worthy and capable, and has always been impartial. I hope your sect understands and acknowledges this."

"." Gu Gu Yunfu could only bow.

"Look—he has already begun." Sui Sui Zaihua suddenly raised an eyebrow and smiled, his fingers pinching the air, then closed his eyes.

Gu Gu Yunfu froze, turned toward the arena, and his expression slowly grew solemn.

As the old man said, the trial had not yet begun, but the hazy sense of intent had again begun to drift faintly around them. Below the platform, the man in the black cloak sat alone, sword in hand, eyes closed, sinking once more into that ineffable intent.

Clearly, this was not his first time here. Each prior touch of his sword intent upon this space had left a seed; now, he was following those threads, turning the entire arena into a cocoon hatching this sword.

Gu Gu Yunfu pulled his thoughts back and caught a flash of green out of the corner of his eye—he turned to see a girl in blue robes arriving at the platform's edge, bowing deeply toward Sui Sui Zaihua.

—

Above the martial arena, the atmosphere gradually grew quiet.

Indeed, something unfathomable was spreading—not only the two elders on the dais had sensed this field, but many with keen intent had felt its elusive presence.

And the feeling was familiar. Tens of thousands of eyes shifted toward the black-cloaked man seated below—the very same strange marvel he had brought in the second match.

Like a spider weaving a web, the man was pouring all his emotion and intent into this arena, seeking that when he won here, the resulting fluency would feedback powerfully into his emotion and intent, helping him finally pierce through this sword.

And among the spectators, a sublime concept had begun to spread—Thought Sword.

Young Master Shang was using the legendary Thought Sword.

Some veteran swordsmen held their breath in shock, but for most, even with explanation, it still felt like witnessing gods or demons.

Because such wonder had never been heard of—it wasn't even a question of intent or not; this couldn't even be called a sword anymore.

How could one man sitting there make tens of thousands in the square feel something?

It was clearly divine magic!

Thus, even without the trial, merely being within this field, feeling that ever-present faint chill, countless people fully believed the man was invincible.

But this martial competition was far from without suspense.

The betting houses still held another massive wager; countless others still eagerly awaited the next matches.

Because the black-clad boy still held his blade, sitting quietly beside him.

In countless hearts, this boy was now the very symbol of miracle—especially since his recent posture, slashing away the power of the Furious Wave and Tiger, commanding wind to cease and waves to still, still lingered vividly before their eyes. They fully believed he could challenge Shang Huitong once more!

—Never mind Shang's divine arts and immortal techniques—wasn't his blade skill just as demonic?

And the terrifying figure that had nearly choked Zhang Zhang Zongyuan was still vivid in memory; even many who believed Shang Huitong would win secretly admitted the boy's ability to fight blade against sword might… indeed surpass Shang Huitong.

In fact, in the minds of a considerable portion, Yang Yan was already the champion—even if he lost to Shang Huitong later.

Defeating Zhang Zhang Zongyuan, one of the rare strong sixth-generations, was a victory without any pretense—this boy truly possessed such solid strength. Forget victory or defeat—why should Shang Huitong not first endure a grueling battle with the sixth-generations?

But rules are rules. Facing such a formidable opponent as Shang Huitong, he still needed to show the crowd once more his astonishing sharpness.

Many believed he could do it.

The other two contestants sat together.

Pei Ye's blue robe complemented the aura of his long sword—new, yet clearly worn from use.

Zhang Zhang Junxue's clothing had never been bright.

They drew the least attention, and now seemed to huddle together for warmth—but everyone knew they would soon be split apart, each forced to face an unbeatable champion.

Because the huge red curtain announcing the next match had already been lowered on the platform.

—

Beneath the platform.

The once bustling space now held only a few scattered people, so the four contestants bore nearly all eyes.

The empty platform waited for the next battle. Pei Ye had finished speaking with the departing Li Li Piaoqing and returned to sit silently beside Zhang Zhang Junxue.

Yang Yan sat nearby, sword in hand, blade drawn.

Winning the championship was not just the crowd's expectation—it was a position Yang Yan's gaze had never left.

Especially now, as he gently caressed the smooth blade, he felt his bond with the Void's "Whale" had become firmly established.

This was no longer a technique that worked intermittently; though still clumsy, it was now truly in his grasp.

He had already told Pei Ye—he could defeat the sixth-generations. Now, with the second chapter of the "Swallowing Sea" scripture, this was an unquestionable guarantee.

Whether facing Zhang Zhang Zongyuan or Shang Huitong, he had never lacked the belief to win.

Even now, he felt the pervasive, cool intent spreading through the arena.

He turned his head—Zhang Zhang Junxue clearly felt it too, her gaze cold and fixed on Shang Huitong. Beside her, Pei Ye showed no reaction, silent, eyes fixed on an empty spot, his expression not good.

But Yang Yan knew he was the most perceptive of them all. Sure enough, the boy suddenly turned his head and looked toward Shang Huitong.

Yang Yan immediately followed his gaze.

The next moment, the seated man suddenly opened his eyes, took two deep breaths, and a faint smile curved his lips.

Only then did Yang Yan sense the shift in intent—the invisible threads slowly spread across the entire space, linking, growing, spreading—until, at this moment, they filled the entire martial arena.

Having completed this, Shang Huitong sat still for a moment, adjusted his cloak, rose with his sword, then let his fingers linger on the hilt. Suddenly, he turned his head and looked over.

Meeting the gazes of three people.

The distance was not far; the man did not move closer, only swept his eyes across the three faces twice, then gave a faint smile.

Yang Yan coldly said: "What are you staring at, you bitch?"

Shang Huitong's gaze locked onto his face, yet his expression remained smiling—he clearly was in high spirits, and said softly: "I'm checking which step feels more comfortable to step on."

Then he remembered something, glanced at the four names displayed above, and turned back with a cold smile: "Too bad—the next round isn't you."

Then he looked at Zhang Zhang Junxue, studied her briefly, but said nothing, shifting his gaze to Pei Ye's face.

"Actually, I'd still rather it be you, Pei Ye." Shang Huitong smiled faintly. "If Bo Wang City has one sword worth my attention, it's only yours. A victory in swordplay would be more interesting."

"And honestly, I do have some interest in discussing sword with you—do you know, I've tried talking sword with others before, but none were anything but foolish, repulsive, and laughably nauseating."

Pei Ye gave him a cool glance, then silently looked away.

Shang Huitong didn't care, smiled, and walked down from the platform.

Zhang Zhang Junxue suddenly whispered behind Pei Ye: "You're angry."

Her tone carried a hint of deliberate cheerfulness.

Pei Ye turned his head, expressionless, looking at her.

Yes, the woman stood right behind him—her subtle reactions and small gestures couldn't escape her eyes, and Pei Ye hadn't bothered to hide anything.

"Someone provokes me, I get angry—what's so strange about that?"

Zhang Zhang Junxue lowered her head: ". So, I think… you should understand me."

"." Pei Ye looked at her. "I don't understand."

"."

"Anger is anger. Action is action. In the martial competition, I'll fight exactly as I must—no emotional recklessness."

". I'm not being emotional either." The atmosphere grew tense again; Zhang Zhang Junxue felt a heaviness in her chest. "Then, what if you lose to Shang Huitong?"

"If I lose, I lose. I'll accept it." The boy said. "I never claimed I had to win the championship."

"Aren't you going to use your move?"

"I won't." Pei Ye looked at her, his eyes clear in emotion and intent.

—— Look, I can endure this kind of "humiliation," because I'm here to fight my own match. So you can let go of this petty pride too—so long as the final result is good.

Set aside your anger, do what you must, and you can still be happy.

"You're pretending—you're clearly angry." Zhang Zhang Junxue averted her gaze, then, seeing Pei Ye about to speak, cut him off at once: "Don't bother explaining—I always lose arguments with you."

"Besides, you can't convince me either," the woman added, lowering her head.

Pei Ye took a deep breath, truly at a loss for words; the two fell back into stifling silence.

Fortunately, this atmosphere wouldn't last—time would pass, and the bell would ring.

Indeed, amid the clear, resonant chime of ritual vessels, Xu Xu Sigong's familiar voice rang out across the arena: "Bowang Jin Qiu Wu Xiu Grand Tournament, Round Two, Match One! Match 14: You Liao Yi Zhong Huo, Ming Huang Xue Shang Dao—Xiang Xiang Qijiao, Xu Gu Zhang Zhang Junxue!"

Amid the sudden surge of noise, several spots fell unnaturally still—the Zhang family, motionless in their dozen; Cui Yu and Zheng Shou, silent; Gu Guang, sleepless all night, clenched fists and gaze equally taut; to the south, Fang Fang Jidao watched below with worry, beside him Qi Qi Zhaohua's jawline equally taut.

These two competitors were tied to too many people.

Beside Pei Ye, the woman gripped her blade and rose in silence.

She hesitated, pausing as she looked at the seated Pei Ye—but the boy still turned his head away, not looking at her.

So Zhang Zhang Junxue bowed her head in silence, sheathed blade on her back, and walked up to the arena.

Thank you to Boss Lanhei Hurricane for the Alliance Master reward, and to all bosses for your support! You're too generous!

Still owe thirty updates.

Too bad December is visibly packed—I can't even guarantee regular updates; hope I can make up the debt after the January break!

(Back in middle school, when I read web novels, some authors proudly labeled their chapters "Four-Thousand-Character Epic Chapter!"—now, four thousand a day has become a bland, in-between chore. Gu bu gu! Gu zai! Gu zai!)

(End of Chapter)