Chapter 741: Again Seen

Pei Ye. A name both familiar and strange, suddenly heard here made one momentarily dazed.

Not only Xu Wensang froze in place; many Jian students also stared over in astonishment.

The current-year Jian students naturally recognized him, but they had not seen him in a long time; the former-year students had only heard legends, knowing there was a genius in the Jian Academy who had shattered “Tianlin Yi,” yet few had ever seen his face.

To be honest, that day on the Zhuque Terrace, snowstorm raged wildly—many remembered the disheveled figure, but very few had clearly seen his face.

People had also grown accustomed to the fact that he was no longer truly at the Jian Academy.

Just like today’s Divine Capital, when people first spoke of new arrivals from major sects, they always brought up this name for comparison, ultimately concluding he was vastly inferior. But “Young Master Pei” never actually appeared—outsiders remained half-skeptical, half-doubtful of this name they had never heard.

Gradually, as various Jian gatherings began, true strengths were revealed, and numerous legendary Jian prodigies entered the Divine Capital, the name “Pei Ye” was naturally not forgotten, yet it was indeed gradually overshadowed.

Because there were too many outstanding Jian practitioners, and too many daily stimuli. If someone mentioned this name, everyone would naturally marvel again, but more often than not, it went unmentioned.

Thus “Young Master Pei” gradually became a kind of mysterious legend, like the Divine Capital’s signature beef-bloat stew—residents of the capital spoke with firm, solemn conviction that it was excellent, yet outsiders remained skeptical and unconvinced.

Yanri Palace had never connected this name with the Chang’an Jian Academy.

Xu Wensang was trapped on a tiger’s back.

He did know this name—in this month’s Crane-Frog Forecast of the Imperial Gazette, he was ranked third on the Frog List, behind Qiujizi and Jin Yang.

So he was a Jian Academy student? Was Qiujizi the one who recommended him?

Xu Wensang’s expressionless face grew stiff; he stared motionless at the boy across from him, his jaw muscles bulging, the hand gripping his sword showing increasingly prominent veins.

The boy had already stepped onto the arena.

In fact, not just him—the entire Jian arena was eerily silent, with only countless glances flickering through the air.

The Jian students were naturally exhilarated.

Although the disciples of major sects harbored their own thoughts, many students from smaller and medium-sized Jian sects felt a strong sense of belonging to the Chang’an Jian Academy. For days, various Jian sects had come to challenge, whether hostile or not, all well-prepared—the Jian Academy stood there like a wooden dummy, enduring beatings, letting opponents gain experience and reputation, utterly at their mercy.

Kunlun Yanri Palace was the worst offender; many Jian students were furious, but the Jian Academy was inherently loose and could not unite as one. Meanwhile, the opponent was truly powerful—day after day, they could only endure humiliation. Had Jiang Yiner not stepped forward, the current-year students’ honor would have been utterly shattered.

No one had expected such a haughty remark: “What are you doing pretending to be here at the Jian Academy?”

It wasn’t aimed at some wandering cultivator or obscure small sect—it was aimed at Zhong Shier’s sacred Jian gate, Kunlun Yanri Palace, with both of its main pillars right here.

Who, upon entering this courtyard, did not feel pride? How could such words not stir the heart?

Xu Wensang probably realized he had frozen too long; he lifted his gaze and said coldly: “Since it is Young Master Pei before me… then I shall test your skill.”

He could no longer retreat from battle; otherwise, Yanri Palace would truly become a laughingstock.

He took a deep breath and slowly drew his sword; when he gripped the cold, heavy iron, a sense of solidity returned to his heart.

He had trained with this weapon for eighteen years.

He knew every detail of it, had defeated countless opponents with it, and had reached his current position because of it.

There was no reason to be timid before battle, to fear a reckless boy four years younger than him, previously unknown.

He was solidly ranked eighteenth on the Frog List; he aimed to enter the top fifteen in this Feather-Scale Trial, and if fortune favored him, perhaps even the top ten.

Yet this boy, besides his reputation, had never truly fought before any of the Jian sects.

Xu Wensang was willing to admit he might be stronger than himself, but true victory and defeat were another matter—how had he defeated Li Zhi? Could he truly replicate such strength at will? He was arrogant and careless, had never even seen Yanri Palace’s sword techniques—wasn’t that a flaw? Besides… he looked genuinely tired, sluggish, half-asleep, his lips pale.

As Xu Wensang drew his sword, these thoughts passed through his mind in sequence.

His heart steadied.

—Hadn’t he himself prepared to test his blade against Yan Feiqing?

The two stood facing each other with swords drawn; Xu Wensang began his attack in silence—the same “Six Blades Severing the Glow” as Chen Mishuang.

This violent sword strike all had seen in Chen Mishuang’s hands; every Jian student could only evade, and even Jiang Yiner had barely won by risking her life. But now, in Xu Wensang’s hands, this sword technique seemed reborn, strengthened by more than double.

Pei Ye did not move.

Two facts were true at this moment: first, he was indeed tired—days of tension, and after sleeping, his body and spirit were utterly exhausted; second, he already deeply disliked Kunlun Yanri Palace.

His only impression of it was the Xuanmen Xu Wei who had emerged from it and become the Biejia of Bowang Prefecture, then idly occupied his post during the Immortal’s Descent, indirectly causing many deaths.

So at this moment, he drew only one sword. His most intimate, most practiced, and most natural sword.

【Clouds Veil the Sky, Feathers Lost】

Xu Wensang saw the boy raise his sword—still charging straight forward.

His sword’s ambition stretched far, precisely because this technique had just been seen by the boy, so the boy must have understood it.

As long as he understood it, it could be turned to his use.

As he thrust this sword, he had already counted it as the fourth

sword in sequence.

Then the blade pierced toward the boy’s throat—but the boy showed no sign of understanding whatsoever.

Xu Wensang did not know that the boy had not truly paid attention to what sword Chen Mishuang used—he had been staring mostly at the girl.

He only realized the boy had vanished before his eyes.

Sight, hearing, Qi, smell… everything vanished all at once, replaced by a vast, cold, silent night enveloping him.

The Jian arena fell utterly silent; even the highest-year students stood stunned.

Many had heard his legends, but this was the first time they had seen him fight.

Such power… such beauty. No one could escape this sword intent.

Before the dark, obsidian night, there was a world of white.

Spring suddenly brought snow—sharp and light, like the feathers of a celestial being’s wound—while the surrounding air seemed like jade, polished cleaner and clearer.

The ground wore a snow robe, the lake became an ice mirror; beneath silver trees, jade, blood, and wounded feathers.

All blazing, radiant fire vanished in an instant, leaving only a bare, cold sword. Xu Wensang lost all sense of it—even did not hear its “clink” as it fell to the ground.

As if only a breath had passed, the entire Jian arena awoke from a dream; all dreamlike beauty vanished, and people stood entranced.

Several seconds later, Xu Wensang stood frozen in place, the boy languid and quiet, the tip of his sword pressed against Xu’s throat.

He had not moved a single step.

Since the Winter Sword Platform last Lunar December, three full months had passed—Pei Ye’s sword had once again appeared before the eyes and ears of the Divine Capital.