Chapter 211: Draw the Sword

Night was deep, stars glittered, and vast spiritual energy swirled endlessly across the heavens, forming a blue current that flowed downward, lasting half the night.

The night curtain faded from dense to light, cicadas chirped in waves, until dawn broke in the east and sunlight bathed the land.

At Chen hour, a cool breeze blew into the unshuttered eastern wing of the courtyard, making the sword purchase list, carelessly left on the table the previous night, rattle softly.

Ji You awoke from his drowsy sleep, staring blankly for a long while before his eyes regained vitality; he looked down and saw his sweat had dried, and from sleeping awkwardly the night before, his clothes were crumpled into a tangled mess.

He washed, changed clothes, and cleared his spirit in the courtyard where breezes constantly stirred.

Fully awake, Ji You clenched his fist and released his qi; a powerful surge blasted outward, filling the room with a hum, as air rushed frantically through every crack in door and window, only gradually subsiding after half an hour.

The soreness from last night was still intense, but he instinctively suppressed any soft cry of pain.

Back when he lived in Sister Wen's courtyard, he could blame her; now that he was back on his own, if he didn't rein himself in, the inner courtyard folks would say he could have a blast all by himself in his courtyard…

At that moment, outside the courtyard, the voice of the steward's disciple, Wen Siyuan, rang out, then he pushed the door open and handed Ji You a letter sent from Shengjing.

The letter was from Kuangcheng, saying it had been a long time since they last met, and asking whether Brother Ji was still well.

Seeing the words "long time no see," Ji You's lips twitched; then he took out paper and brush from the room and wrote a reply.

Loyalty often dwells among butchers and dog-slaughters; cruelty most resides in scholars.

Wen Siyuan couldn't help speaking up: "Brother Ji, aren't you going to the White Jade Terrace today?"

"What's there to see at the White Jade Terrace?"

"One of our inner courtyard's Rongdao-jing seniors submitted a challenge to Shi Junhao, who's holding the Lei."

Ji You looked up, surprise flickering in his eyes: "So the first to challenge is from Rongdao-jing?"

Wen Siyuan chuckled inwardly, thinking: Why would Rongdao-jing strike first after Tongxuan-jing? Doesn't the brother know? Isn't it all because you held down this realm? Still, he smiled faintly: "That's how the preliminaries work—first challenger fights first."

"I thought our disciples… were all cautious."

"Four slots in Rongdao-jing have already been locked by Sister He, Sister Xiao, Brother Chai, and Brother Shi. So for Rongdao-jing, who goes first or last makes little difference."

"Locked? How do you lock slots?"

Wen Siyuan pursed his lips: "They agreed to take turns—no direct clashes. After Brother Shi wins five times, Brother Chai will step in to defend; then Sister Xiao; then Sister He. So any other Rongdao-jing seniors who climb the stage will face strong opponents, making order irrelevant."

Ji You chuckled: "Sounds harmonious, but it's still a monopoly. Isn't He Lingxiu still in seclusion?"

"She's just one step away. The battle for the first three slots takes a month—there's still time."

"Hmph. Let's go down and see."

Ji You tucked the letter into his sleeve, rose, and stepped out of the courtyard, thinking: Let me see what's going on.

The outer courtyard was already packed with people; from the mountain path, the scene teemed with a sea of humanity, no less crowded than last year's Autumn Duel.

As Ji You descended, the scattered glances around suddenly turned toward him—even Shi Junhao, standing guard atop the platform, turned his head and locked onto his figure.

After the Tongxuan-jing roster was announced, no one had yet challenged Ji You.

Shi Junhao hadn't expected to be the first targeted.

Logically, the gap between Rongdao-jing cultivators should far exceed that of Tongxuan-jing—like how three Rongdao-jing from Fengzhou couldn't match one from the Immortal Sect.

This disparity arose because many factors influenced cultivation within Rongdao-jing; even a slight deviation could leave one behind.

Other disciples, watching Ji You, thought: So this is the one who held down an entire realm.

Some new disciples, who entered with Xiang Fu, daughter of the governor of Danshui County, had seen Ji You often and couldn't help stealing extra glances.

Besides them, nobles from the capital had also come, swelling the crowd.

"Brother Ji, over here!"

Among the crowd, Ban Yangshu waved vigorously.

Beside him were Cao Jingsong and others, as well as the Lu sisters, all looking over.

Ji You walked over: "Who's challenging Shi Junhao?"

"Yang Zijin—a Rongdao-jing cultivator stuck for nearly fifteen years. This Tian Dao Hui is his last chance."

"Again, old-timers. But why isn't Sister Wen here?"

Ban Yangshu lowered his voice: "She's touched the threshold of the higher realm—likely to emerge with He Lingxiu. The academy probably all sense she'll challenge He Lingxiu again."

Ji You opened his mouth: "Actually, Sister Wen could train swordplay with me too. It might not decide Rongdao-jing, but every bit helps."

Cao Jingsong couldn't help speaking up: "Breaking into the higher realm before Tian Dao Hui is too tight a timeline—Sister Wen can only focus entirely on breaking through."

Ji You nodded, then saw a figure step onto the platform.

Inner courtyard Rongdao-jing: Yang Zijin.

He was nearly fifty, not old by immortal standards—still in his prime, needing to go out and strive.

Ji You pondered a moment, then felt several gazes from the southeast; he turned and saw several Elders from the Elder Pavilion.

Fang, Ge, Yang, Shi, Xiao.

These Elders were nearly one with the Dao, drawn deeper by heavenly Dao, their realms mysterious, their lifespans nearly spent, their urgency to break through immense—so they sat longer in seclusion than disciples, rarely appearing in public view.

Even the outer courtyard's Autumn Duel failed to draw their attention.

But Tian Dao Hui was a major event, especially since participants were tied to their families' lineages—so their presence was natural.

At that moment, Elder Fang's gaze was like a blade, fixed on Ji You, expression cold; after a long silence, he let out a cold snort.

Ji You met his gaze, then raised a single middle finger.

"Brother, what are you doing?"

"Stretching my fingers."

"Oh."

As the steward's bronze gong clanged, a storm of wind surged across the platform.

Most spectators outside the arena were from the outer courtyard, their cultivation low; now sensing the pressure of Rongdao-jing's upper realm, they all involuntarily held their breath.

Lu Hanyan and Lu Qingqiu both instinctively summoned spiritual energy to shield themselves, then turned simultaneously to the right.

Cao Jingsong, already at Rongdao-jing upper realm, felt this pressure as nothing more than a gentle breeze.

Ban Yangshu, though slightly lower, had touched the threshold of Rongdao-jing middle realm, so the pressure didn't crush him noticeably.

Yet Ji You's state was surprising—he appeared even more composed than Cao Jingsong, as if the crushing pressure didn't exist, utterly focused on the platform.

It was as if, under the same sky, two utterly different weathers reigned: some felt a raging storm, qi heavy as mountains; others felt clear skies, boundless clouds.

Few noticed this, however, because Shi Junhao had already moved.

With a sharp whistle, his gleaming Dao sword, wrapped in rolling thunder, slashed out like lightning.

Heavy cultivation techniques infused the blade, crushing forward with mountain-moving, sea-reversing force toward his opponent.

Yang Zijin reacted swiftly, swinging his blade in Ying; its surface erupted in dazzling purple light, like a meteor in darkness, streaking straight at Shi Junhao.

Surrounding disciples widened their eyes, staring fixedly at the platform as countless arcane lights hummed in midair, weaving into a brilliant curtain; two figures clashed fiercely within the storm.

A muffled "boom" shook their eardrums painfully.

Yang Zijin stepped back three paces, gasping heavily, muttering incantations as he lightly stroked his blade.

Instantly, brilliant light condensed on the blade, and he slashed again with full force.

Shi Junhao, meanwhile, was already encircled by intense arcane light and surging qi, like a war god; with a whistle, he slashed down, the power shaking the White Jade Platform into thunderous rumble, forcing Yang Zijin back again.

To the disciples' eyes, this was more spectacular than last year's Autumn Duel.

To the disciples' eyes, this battle was far more brilliant than last year's Autumn Duel.

Because before them were fierce clashes of techniques, dazzling with radiant light.

Especially lower-realm disciples, who dwelled in the bottom three realms; besides last year's Autumn Duel, where they'd seen such grand techniques on Chu He, this was their first time witnessing a high-realm duel.

Thus, admiration and longing rose from their eyes, as if glimpsing their own futures.

According to Cao Jingsong, Shi Junhao followed the path of All Techniques Embodied, integrating all heavenly Dao insights into his body, much like the Hun Tian techniques of the Chu family.

Yang Zijin had practiced several techniques separately, never merging them into one.

Just now, he infused his iron blade with the Four Symbols technique's Shattered Thunder Qi—grounded in spiritual energy, demanding instant explosive release of all power in a single moment.

Ji You listened to Cao Jingsong's explanation while watching the platform, his eyes reflecting countless auroras and sparking flares.

Then came another metallic tremor—Yang Zijin's assault was fierce, swift, decisive; it was clear he craved Tian Dao Hui desperately.

He was this old, trapped in Rongdao-jing for years—if he couldn't enter Ying Tian, this realm would be his end; such was the sorrow of a cultivator.

When you first walked this path, you thought it a vast, boundless road to heaven—only to face the end and feel utter despair.

To him, the ancestral path to enlightenment was his only chance—so every strike, every motion poured his entire strength.

Yet Shi Junhao remained effortlessly composed; several straight slashes of arcane light forced Yang Zijin's iron blade to stay at bay.

"Clang!" Yang Zijin's iron blade froze midair, as if gripped by an invisible hand, its hard surface visibly bending into an arc.

Two stagnant forces.

One upward, one downward—two opposing forces pinning his blade.

Shi Junhao stomped the ground like thunder; his iron sword, enhanced by techniques, roared as it slashed down in an instant.

Just as everyone expected Yang Zijin couldn't withstand this strike, he suddenly released his grip, thrusting his palms outward; twin palms erupted a qi barrier, slamming directly into the incoming Dao sword.

Four Symbols technique: Qi Barrier—blocking the attack instantly.

Shi Junhao retracted his sword, then recharged it with technique, gathering a violent qi surge, slashing down again.

Under the whistling techniques, both sides exchanged blows.

Yang Zijin repeatedly blocked Shi Junhao's slashes with qi barriers, then suddenly punched forward, unleashing instant Shattered Thunder that rained down from above, dazzling the onlookers.

This was true Rongdao—immortal sect Rongdao.

Then he tried to leap and retrieve his iron blade, but each attempt was brutally blocked by the slashing iron sword, leaving him unable to reclaim it.

Yet the whistling sword never struck him either, its path blocked by the impenetrable qi barrier.

Just as everyone expected Shi Junhao to withdraw and reattack, as he had last time, his iron sword suddenly trembled, emitting a fierce metallic clang, slicing deep into the barrier.

Another invisible force surged directly into the iron sword.

It was as if a hammer had struck a nail—suddenly, the force applied gave the iron sword a new forward momentum.

Yang Zijin should have withdrawn his force, then sidestepped with a horizontal push to evade the blade, while his Thundercrack technique struck his back…

Shi Junhao's sword was merely a tool for casting spells, relying on magical enhancements, leaving his rear exposed…

But Yang Zijin did not withdraw his force; instead, his eyes widened as he tried to reunite his qi once more.

In the next instant, two sharp pops echoed—a wild surge erupted skyward. Shi Junhao roared and violently sliced through the qi barrier, causing the surge to howl.

BOOM!

Yang Zijin was flung backward; dust settled.

"Shi Junhao's performance has improved even beyond his display on the Snowfields."

Elder Ge couldn't help but gently stroke his beard, glancing at the other elders around him.

Yang Zijin's uncle, Yang Zhiping, was also an Yingtian Realm elder; a flicker of disappointment crossed his eyes, yet he showed nothing, nodding in approval alongside the others at Shi Junhao's display.

At this moment, Elder Fang couldn't help but furrow his brow, staring at the figure with golden eyes across from him, wondering what he had seen.

"What did you think of the Immortal Sect's Dao Integration battle?"

"Very strong."

Ji You snapped back to awareness, his golden light dimming: "If Yang Zijin had been smarter, he might have held on a little longer—but… it wouldn't have mattered."

Cao Jinsong nodded: "There's a clear realm gap between them. No matter the process, the outcome was obvious."

"Actually, the timing was perfect."

"You mean Shi Junhao's follow-up strike?"

"I mean it's time to eat."

"?"

The first Dao Integration stage match was fought with such grandeur it drew countless eyes; even after the dust settled, many remained transfixed, unable to leave.

The Heavenly Book Academy never allowed disciples to duel privately, and inner court disciples were accustomed to secluded mountain cultivation, appearing only rarely.

Thus, battles like this, where spells clashed directly, were indeed rare.

Even though Shi Junhao had already sheathed his sword and left the arena, many spectators still stared at the empty ground, murmuring in awe.

Even Yang Zijin's Four Symbols technique was astonishing enough to draw exclamations, let alone Shi Junhao's strange and unpredictable force arts, which left observers utterly awestruck.

Most crucially, this was only the first match of the Dao Way Trials' preliminary round. Aside from the non-public elder battles, the remaining matches would be enough to stir the entire Shengjing into a frenzy for two months.

Those preparing to enter the arena themselves were left deep in thought after witnessing this battle.

Soon after, someone walked alone to the Administration Office.

Ji You was now at the Immortal Dining Hall, several bowls piled before him, and seated behind them was Cao Jinsong, radiating murderous intent.

Body refining simply requires large intake.

Yet despite his enormous appetite, Ji You's eating manners remained extremely refined, without any wolfish devouring.

But just as he was enjoying his meal, a disciple from the Administration Office suddenly rushed in from outside.

It wasn't Wen Siyuan, since Wen Siyuan handled communication to the inner court; this disciple was specifically assigned to the Dao Way Trials' preliminary round.

He scanned the dining hall for a long while, then locked onto Ji You—the one with the best appetite—and handed him an invitation.

Seeing this, the entire dining hall fell silent; everyone present turned to stare.

"Brother Ji, you are to defend the stage tomorrow."

"Alright."

Ji You took the invitation, glanced at it twice: "Want to join me for a bite?"

Cao Jinsong: "?"

The Administration Office disciple bowed politely: "Thank you, Brother, but I've already eaten."

"Oh? Then I won't insist."

"Brother, enjoy your meal. I'll take my leave."

Ji You nodded, then noticed Cao Jinsong had taken the invitation and was examining it.

The other disciples nearby also raised their heads, eager to glimpse the name on it.

In that moment, Ji You quietly ordered two more bowls of noodles—by the time Cao Jinsong reacted, it was too late to stop him…

Lu Hanyan stood nearby: "Brother, who will challenge you tomorrow?"

Ji You set down his chopsticks, his gaze dark as he sneered: "No name—only that he's from Wuzhen. Seems rather mysterious."

Cao Jinsong looked up: "That man's name is Wuzhen."

"?"

Wuzhen, an outer court disciple, had been stuck at the Tongxuan Realm for five years without breakthrough—and he was precisely the one others had praised for his profound cultivation.

Among all outer court Tongxuan disciples, Wuzhen possessed the highest combat power.

It was said that two years ago, after realizing he could make no progress on the path of Dao comprehension, he began seeking alternative methods, experimenting with many approaches.

Ji You listened to Cao Jinsong's explanation and nodded slightly.

He didn't know him well, nor did he need to remember him.

He ate half his fill, then tucked away the challenge scroll and returned to the inner court.

News that Wuzhen would challenge Ji You spread rapidly through countless channels, sparking endless discussion until the next morning.

As the sun rose high, countless inner court disciples descended the mountain—including Shi Junhao and Xiao Hanyan.

They were Dao Integration Realm cultivators, and normally had no reason to care about Tongxuan Realm matches—but since Ji You was involved, they couldn't stay aloof.

They had all witnessed that one sword on the Wildlands, and now they wanted to see how Ji You, who refused to use Lingjian Mountain's sword arts, would fight.

Even noble families from the capital flooded into the Heavenly Book Academy, their thoughts mirroring those of the inner court disciples.

Soon enough, the Dao Comprehension Arena became overcrowded.

Wuzhen had arrived early, studying the Immortal White Jade Platform, seemingly devising an offensive strategy.

When he first saw the list of defenders, he had no intention of entering the first five rounds—he had little confidence against Ji You.

His target had been the Tongxuan disciple who had accidentally entered the inner court two years ago.

But when he learned Ji You would not use sword arts in this defense, a sudden surge of ambition stirred within him.

He prepared thoroughly: purchasing countless spirit stones, magical artifacts, and protective pills, determined to seize his chance to turn the tide.

Now, as he circled the White Jade Platform, he noticed several elders from the Elder Pavilion watching him, their eyes holding a flicker of approval—his confidence deepened further.

Soon after, the Lu sisters arrived at the Immortal White Jade Platform from their quarters.

Lu Qingqiu had been dragged along, watching her sister's hurried pace.

Stumbling slightly, she couldn't help but glance at her sister's rear.

Even more pronounced…

But as they approached, a figure made their brows instantly furrow.

He wore brocade robes, his topknot neatly combed—it was Fang Jincheng himself.

After being defeated in the Sword Grove that day, Fang Jincheng had been brought into the inner court under the pretense of healing, but rumors said he had been personally trained by Elder Fang.

Now he stood on the left side of the White Jade Platform, staring at Lu Hanyan with a cold sneer.

"Miss Lu, long time no see."

"If it isn't Young Master Fang. What do you wish to say?"

"Your Brother Ji cannot use Lingjian Mountain's sword arts today—he may become a toothless tiger. Do you realize this is all your doing? In this Qingyun world, personal strength isn't the most important thing—what matters is power and background. Today, I'll make you understand this truth."

Lu Hanyan instantly clenched her red lips, anger flashing in her beautiful eyes.

This remark reached those nearby, sparking another wave of murmurs.

Lu Qingqiu grabbed her sister's arm and pulled her to the right: "Brother Fang, do you truly believe Brother Ji will lose?"

"You and I both know his greatest advantage is nothing but stolen sword arts from Lingjian Mountain."

A voice suddenly rose behind Fang Jincheng, drawing all eyes.

Zhao Yunyue stepped forward gracefully, her gaze cold and haughty as she looked at Lu Qingqiu.

Lu Qingqiu glanced at her: "Your Lingjian Mountain?"

"Though I never cultivated at Lingjian Mountain, I am a registered disciple there. I say Ji You stole our sword arts—am I wrong? We both know that if he truly abides by his promise and avoids Lingjian Mountain's techniques, he'll be in dire straits."

As Zhao Yunyue spoke, her gaze flickered casually toward the space between Lu Qingqiu and Lu Hanyan's thighs: "A country bumpkin, kept by the Lu family's daughter night after night—what a delightful tale."

Lu Hanyan frowned: "Brother Ji comes from a noble house. Lady, please stop calling him a country bumpkin."

"That's irrelevant. I only wonder—if he loses—will you regret the moment you impulsively taught him your sword arts?"

"Lose? If Wuzhen truly had such ability, he'd have entered the inner court long ago."

"But don't forget—it's not just Wuzhen."

Fang Jincheng took over: "He's only the first. Four more follow—and each will be stronger than the last."

Cao Jinsong, Ban Yangshu, and Bai Rulong had now arrived nearby, frowning at the noise.

But verbal sparring was meaningless—only adding to the irritation.

They turned and saw Ji You walking toward the White Jade Platform, carrying a Dao sword.

Today he wore the Heavenly Book Academy's immortal robe, his hairpin neatly arranged, holding an iron sword in hand.

At this moment, the three Administration Office directors and five elders from the Elder Pavilion all turned to look at him.

Among them, many Tongxuan disciples on the challenger list held their breath, watching the two on the stage.

Everything in this world is hardest at the beginning.

Before acting, people hesitate, wait, fret, fear the unknown, and choose to watch others first.

But once the first step is taken, everything flows naturally—and Wuzhen is that beginning.

Through this fight, the other Qi-Refining cultivators waiting to challenge will realize that Ji You, without Lingjian Mountain's sword art, is actually weak—far from the terrifying figure his reputation suggests.

Even without Lingjian Mountain's sword art, Ji You could still win, but his other methods are limited.

After this match, everyone will have a good sense of how Ji You responds and counters—when the time comes to break his moves, a tiger without teeth can do nothing.

At this moment, Wu Zhen looked up at Ji You, and faint spiritual light rippled around him; the protective elixir within his body activated, forming a hazy aura around his skin.

He then pulled out a flat, square box, entirely hollowed out, with a polished spirit stone embedded in the center, fixed to his belt.

"What's that?"

"A magical artifact—equivalent to another spiritual core, but with no auxiliary effects, only helping cultivators replenish quickly."

Lu Qingqiu spoke, explaining to the questioner Cao Jingsong.

Another thing the poor had never seen, Cao Jingsong frowned slightly: "This is way too cheating…"

Ban Yangshu pursed his lips: "The rules are just like this. There's nothing we can do."

The Lu sisters furrowed their brows, thinking such spiritual artifacts weren't cheap—and hard to buy.

Otherwise, the disciples sent to Qiling back then could each have had one, to counter the suppression of spiritual core by malevolent energy.

They didn't know much about Wu Zhen, but they knew the Yunzhou Wu family well—a clan that couldn't even join the Spirit Stone Guild, so how much wealth could they possibly have?

Wu Zhen won't receive such support. Even if the Heavenly Dao Society might help him break through his current bottleneck, this is only the preliminary round.

Anyone with eyes can see that even if he defends five rounds and enters the Heavenly Dao Society, his chance of making the top ten is vanishingly small. Family investments always expect immediate returns—so the origin of this artifact must be suspicious.

At this moment, Lu Hanyan's peripheral vision accidentally swept over Fang Jincheng beside her, and she saw his expression: venomous, yet excited.

Before the Lu second miss could show annoyance, a sudden clang of bronze gongs rang out—the Leitaisai officially began!

In an instant, Wu Zhen's body erupted in violent spiritual currents. Though his aura was weaker than Shi Junhao and Yang Zijin's, it still pressed down on the outer courtyard disciples with subtle pressure.

But most people's attention remained fixed on Ji You.

At this moment, Ji You drew his sword from its scabbard; the muscles in his arm subtly bulged, and a scorching aura began to seep from his body.

Yet his aura was not strong—even dull—and his presence was weaker than Wu Zhen's opposite him, as if he had merely drawn his sword in a simple motion.

Compared to the Ji You who had clashed with Chu He, radiating overwhelming momentum, he now seemed like a completely different person.

The next instant, Wu Zhen stomped the ground and lunged forward, his iron sword slashing horizontally.

Vast spiritual energy surged instantly to his blade, roaring like a tidal wave toward Ji You.

Ji You, meanwhile, slowly raised his sword; muscles from arm to shoulder tightened like drawn bowstrings, immense power coalescing rapidly through his arm, then lifting the blade—still just a simple upward motion.

But in the instant he raised his hand, a sharp " Weng " rang out, and a scorching airwave erupted violently.

Everyone's gaze had been following Wu Zhen's initial move—but now snapped back, eyes widening instantly, a chilling sense of danger flooding through them.

But this wasn't pressure. Pressure came from outside, born of heavenly-human resonance, the power of the Dao itself.

This feeling, however, arose from within—like humanity's instinctive alertness to danger, instantly making scalps tingle, and some low-level cultivators trembling uncontrollably.

At this moment, Ji You brought his iron sword down; the bones of his entire arm vibrated like a fully drawn bowstring.

The air, previously still, split instantly to either side, filled with muffled explosions as the air was cut apart, and the blade's edge glowed red-hot.

CLANG!

A piercing collision, the iron sword cleanly severed.

Wu Zhen, who had charged forward with sword raised, froze mid-motion, rigid on the stage.

He had rushed in with a slashing strike, brimming with fierce combat intent—as if victory was absolute, nothing could stop him.

But mid-motion, he suddenly switched to a horizontal guard—just as Ji You's blade descended, it struck his cross-guard, producing the CLANG.

Those nearby, like Lu Qingqiu and Lu Hanyan who had arrived early, felt their feet go numb from the CLANG; their smooth, pearl-like toes curled involuntarily.

Look at Wu Zhen—he still held his sword horizontally above his head, motionless for a long time, as if frozen on the stage.

Seeing this, the Elders' Pavilion felt an ominous premonition—but couldn't tell where it came from.

Then came a sharp " Kala "—the artifact embedded in Wu Zhen's belt cracked open, shattered into pieces; the protective elixir's spiritual light dissolved like thin ice meeting a hot iron.

Then came a " Peng "—Wu Zhen spurted blood from nose and mouth, collapsing straight backward onto the ground.

The arena fell utterly silent.

【Even without Lingjian Mountain's sword art, I'd only have a 60% chance of winning.】

【Without Lingjian Mountain's sword art, Ji You is a tiger without teeth.】

【Miss Lu, don't forget there are five more rounds ahead.】

【Even if Ji You barely wins this first match, his methods won't be many—then we can just counter his moves…】

【The first is hardest, but once it starts, no one will fear him anymore—not when he can't use sword art.】

After several breaths of silence, the entire Baiyu Ascension Stage erupted in a thunderous roar of shock.

Fang Jincheng's face turned ashen; Zhao Yunyue's eyes trembled wildly; even the usually calm inner courtyard Elder suddenly widened his eyes, disbelief flashing across his face.

No grueling battle. No lucky victory.

No counter-moves. No helplessness after losing sword art.

Only one swing: raise, lower—clean, like a child waving a wooden stick.

From Lu Hanyan's perspective, that sword strike was even slower than Ji Shixian's usual slap to the buttocks—and yet it had instantly crippled a Qi-Refining cultivator.

No one cared whether Wu Zhen was dead.

Even the arena attendants had forgotten to ring the gong, staring fixedly at the figure on the stage.

Ji You gripped his sword hilt tightly, savoring the sensation of that strike—the feeling of severing everything.

Pure, unadorned power—originating from within himself, unleashed without reservation in that instant.

Thus, there was no heavenly-human pressure, no surging spiritual currents from piled energy, no grand, sweeping aura during cultivation activation.

Only immense power, erupting suddenly from his Fusion Dao-level body.

This power linked his bones and muscles, making his swing feel like a towering mountain crashing down, carrying irresistible force.

This power burst from deep within his marrow, making every bone vibrate in resonance, every muscle swell and tense—his strike heavy as a thousand jin, yet not a single ounce of force leaked outward.

Satisfying—but not fully satisfying.

Because the opponent was too weak; his blade focused on penetrating force, not fully cleaving downward.

(Eight thousand characters—please vote for tomorrow's monthly ticket…)

(End of Chapter)