Chapter 234: Lifting Hand, Slashing Sword

Ji You's arrival naturally drew many glances.

First to look over was the junior overseer of Lingjian Mountain, who had come merely to watch the duel between the secondary son of the Hua family's branch line; she sat upright on the second-floor viewing platform, still expressionless, yet unconsciously leaning forward slightly, her eyes fixed unblinkingly on the unfamiliar man below.

Zhuo Wanqiu studied Ji You while stealing glances at the overseer, thinking that no matter how composed her expression or tone, the overseer's gaze still couldn't help but cling to him.

Then came Ding Yao, Yu Shiliu, Huang Rou, and the three ladies from Yunzhou.

Ji You's appearance was exceptional, clad in white robes with a sword at his side, truly possessing a certain dashing elegance.

Yet compared to the Tang nobleman dressed in brocade and opulent attire, he appeared plain, especially the long sword he carried—merely a mid-range mass-produced weapon.

At this moment, the supervising judge, appointed jointly by the Seven Immortal Sects, appeared at the edge of the high platform, glanced at the sun, then gave both men a light wave.

Tang Jingming rose first, stepped onto the platform, turned his body slightly, lowered his gaze to Ji You, and already began to brew battle intent in his eyes.

He had heard multiple rumors about Ji You and was not as ignorant as those women.

Yet as an immortal who prided himself above the world, Tang Jingming believed that even if Yan Hao stood before him, he would not let his Dao heart falter, let alone Ji You.

Moreover, he saw no reason to fear before battle.

This was his first Tian Dao Hui duel; no one could restrain his surging battle intent.

Seeing this, the Tang family could not help but admire his clear Dao heart, and others watching could not help but nod, feeling the Tang family's son indeed possessed extraordinary bearing.

Then all eyes turned to Ji You, who ascended the platform in white robes, eyes lowered, his expression growing slightly solemn.

Seeing this, Yu Shiliu nodded slightly, thinking that even if Ji You had seemed relaxed in recent days, he must now realize Tang Jingming was no simple opponent like Liu Qichen or Wu Zhen; though silent, his serious expression betrayed his awareness.

Ding Yao thought similarly, and her heart eased slightly, thinking that as long as the young master did not underestimate his foe, his chances of victory were still greater.

The only one puzzled was Cao Jingsong, who noticed Ji You's solemn gaze was not fixed on Tang Jingming, but on the ground of the platform.

Wen Siyuan had just returned from the circular platform and was called to by Cao Jingsong.

"Why is Ji You staring at the ground?"

"My junior brother asked me earlier whether this floor is made of the same material as our Tian Shu Academy's Ascension White Jade Platform."

"Why did he ask that?"

"The day he arrived, he asked me whether broken items in his room had to be paid for—I said yes, so he's worried that if he damages this arena, he'll have to pay."

"??? "

As Ji You, his face grave, took his stance on the high platform, silver-blue light began flashing around the edges, then closed upward in a semicircular arc.

Moments later, the barrier above the circular platform sealed seamlessly, perfectly natural and whole.

Clang!

A slight tremor—Tang Jingming suddenly raised his hand, drew a two-handed long blade, and flung its scabbard like a falling star off the platform; instantly, his surrounding spiritual energy surged like a raging tide, roaring and churning wildly.

The battle had not yet begun, but the intent had already stirred.

Tang Jingming gripped the blade with both hands, raised his eyes to Ji You: "I heard you're a Tian Shu Academy disciple, yet your preferred style is Lingjian Mountain's sword art?"

Ji You drew his sword, shifting his gaze from the platform to him: "That's true."

"I watched Yan Hao's first duel yesterday and realized Lingjian Mountain's sword art truly has terrifying power—carelessness leads to serious injury. Yet I have at least three ways to break his heavy sword. I know you were there too—have you thought of how to counter that heavy sword?"

"I thought of only one."

"It seems I have a slight edge here. Let me see your one method later—I might need it myself."

Tang Jingming spoke with extreme politeness, yet the underlying meaning was razor-sharp.

For "I might need it later" implied he would surely win this duel.

The few remaining spectators sat up straighter, their gazes sharpening.

At this moment, a bronze gong rang out, and the roaring energy surged instantly.

Tang Jingming, having secretly gathered strength, struck first without hesitation, stepping forward and swinging his blade; a flash of cold light exploded, wrapped in spiritual energy, slashing forth—suddenly, the once-calm platform was lashed by wind and cutting gusts, the blade screaming toward its target.

"Clang!" Ji You, facing the iron blade, blocked directly with a horizontal sword.

As metal met metal, sparks flew in all directions.

Though this strike caused Ji You no harm, Tang Jingming's opening assault was so fierce it drew admiration, prompting nods of appreciation.

Especially those scattered spectators who had watched earlier duels now sensed this duel was unlike the others.

Thud-thud-thud!

Tang Jingming advanced with a stomping step, thrusting his blade forward, his internal spiritual energy surging like a dam bursting; then, using the momentum, he reversed his blade and unleashed a brilliant silver slash wrapped in fierce intent, like lightning striking down—the blade's hum pierced the sky, shrill and piercing.

This strike deepened the spectators' admiration; even the white-bearded supervising judge couldn't help nodding, silently praising: a fine blade.

Tang Jingming had opened his spiritual channels later than his peers, always quiet since childhood, taking long to awaken his spiritual potential, and his cultivation had progressed slowly, causing him to miss the Immortal Sects.

But afterward, his cultivation speed accelerated, gradually surpassing those who had awakened earlier, proving firsthand that late awakening did not mean inferior talent.

Yesterday he did not fight, so he watched every duel—Yan Hao, Zhu Yao, Wei Yingmeng, Yu Shiliu…

He missed none of the duels involving Immortal Sect prodigies.

For before coming to the Tian Dao Hui, he had always harbored a question: are aristocratic heirs truly inferior to Immortal Sect disciples?

Yes, this was the general reality.

Because most disciples with exceptional talent were selected into the Immortal Sects, those left behind were inevitably of inferior talent—this was common knowledge.

But commonality did not mean universality; after watching the Immortal Sect duels, Tang Jingming felt they were nothing extraordinary—he could win if he gave his all.

Filled with heroic resolve, the Tang family's son descended with a posture of cleaving the world, crouching, stomping, and swinging his blade through the air.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

After several lightning-fast, rapid attacks, Tang Jingming sharply noticed the expressionless opponent suddenly retreated, then swiftly raised his sword—as if intending to counterattack during his blade's recovery—and immediately raised his own blade to meet it.

This was expected; if the opponent merely defended, the duel would lose meaning—true duels required both offense and defense, back-and-forth exchanges.

Hmm? Some numbness on his body?

Clang!

In the spectators' view, Ji You, having blocked twice, suddenly raised his sword as Tang Jingming reversed his blade again, then slashed down hard—once, striking Tang Jingming's blade directly, the motion as effortless as chopping vegetables, a resonant hum exploding violently into their minds.

Even the spectators felt their vision darken for an instant.

When clarity returned, the Tang family saw Tang Jingming had abandoned his earlier offensive rhythm and was now wildly slashing.

Direct cuts, diagonal cuts, circular cuts.

Upward hooks, reverse chops, horizontal slices.

An endless wave of blade strikes pressed forward relentlessly.

The Tang family stared, baffled—they knew Tang Jingming's strength lay not in speed, and blade strikes required gathering spiritual energy to unleash power.

Yet Tang Jingming now slashed without restraint, wielding his blade in frantic, ceaseless swings, left and right, feet moving in rapid eight-step chases, each step urgent—as if desperately trying to prevent his opponent from drawing his sword.

Ji You, meanwhile, his feet surging with spiritual energy, left trails of bright silver-blue; in fluttering white robes, he repeatedly tapped his toes and landed, leaning back in flight, occasionally blocking vertically with his iron sword, parrying back and forth, his expression cautious—as if afraid to strike out freely.

Precisely because of this, every time he retreated, a blade swiftly followed.

This unending blade pressure was not strong—indeed, weaker than his opening strike; the only difference was its wind-like speed, relentless and unceasing.

The Tang family stared long, thinking Tang Jingming must have sensed his opponent's weakness and changed tactics accordingly.

What they could not see was the terror in Tang Jingming's eyes, surging like a tidal wave, one crest after another—his black pupils shrank violently, nearly to needle-point size.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Again, multiple clashes of blade and sword—the Tang family's slightly relaxed gazes froze once more.

For as Tang Jingming executed a spinning, wild slash, they suddenly noticed blood droplets dripping from his fluttering robe hem—dark in the center, lighter at the edges, clearly freshly spilled, not yet fully soaked into the fabric.

Was Jingming injured?

Or was it the opponent's blood splashed on him?

The Tang family exchanged glances, their eyes filled with shock and uncertainty.

At this moment, Ji You's spiritual energy surged abruptly—he leapt back, expressionless, then raised his sword again.

A low hum filled the air; as the plain iron sword slashed down hard, everyone felt their scalp prickle.

The posture was casual, like lifting a stick—no raging winds or surging waves.

In their view, Tang Jingming swiftly raised his blade to meet the descending sword—but still collapsed to his knees with a thud, his iron blade trembling uncontrollably, the metallic clangs ringing continuously.

Seeing this, the audience on the viewing platform instantly froze in stunned silence.

Then Ji You raised his sword again, with no technique at all—his muscles bulged, veins protruding, like a drawn bow, and he slashed down as lightly as a monk striking a wooden fish, the air hissing as if a hot iron had been plunged into water.

Another clang—Tang Jingming, straining to hold his blade, convulsed violently, stiffened for three breaths, then collapsed with a thud, motionless.

In truth, immortal duels moved at blinding speed.

From Tang Jingming's first strike to now, only a few breaths had passed.

Three swords.

Within those few breaths, Tang Jingming's blade flashed countless times—but Ji You struck only three times, each one simple: raising his hand, letting it fall.

Now, the entire arena was eerily silent.

The three ladies from Yunzhou, teacups frozen mid-air.

Huang Rou, dazed.

Ding Yao, stunned on the second floor.

Zhuo Wanqiu, face full of astonishment.

Yu Shiliu, face suddenly pale.

And the supervising judge, his hand frozen mid-stroke as he stroked his beard.

All slowly rose, eyes glazed, yet not a single word escaped their lips.

On the circular platform, the wind from the sword's pressure still churned, stirring the air into chaos, violently billowing Ji You's white robe.

The snow-white garment flapped and surged in the wind, snapping loudly.

Moments later, the swordwind began to fade, the howling subsided, dissolving into the air—and Ji You's white robe settled gently, clinging softly to his body.

At that moment, the Tang family came to their senses, screaming in disbelief as they surged onto the stage like a tidal wave, frantically lifting Tang Jingming up.

Among them, the Tang patriarch raised his trembling left hand, extending two fingers to check his son's breath; after a long while, the tension in his heart finally eased slightly.

Just then, the Tang family's chief steward softly called out "Master" twice, snapping the patriarch back to reality.

Following the steward's downward gaze, the patriarch looked at his son's hands and saw both tiger mouths had shattered, blood now streaming continuously.

The Tang patriarch clenched his fist, then passed his son into his brother's arms; he himself lifted his hand adorned with a jade ring, gripped Tang Jingming's sleeve, and yanked it upward with force, shaking it twice until it reached his shoulders—revealing both arms flushed crimson, bulging veins, and protruding blood vessels.

Logically, when a person loses consciousness, muscles relax and veins should quickly deflate—but these vessels remained grotesquely swollen, showing no sign of subsiding.

Blood stagnated; meridians distended.

The Tang patriarch cast one glance, his eyes filled with shock and fury.

After some time, Ji You had left the circular platform and walked out with Cao Jingsong, Ban Yangshu, Wen Zhengxin, and Pei Ruyi.

Wen Siyuan followed behind them, silent the whole way, still not recovered from his earlier daze.

Meanwhile, the battle at Jingyang Daochang gradually subsided.

He Lingxiu secured his first victory, defeating his opponent outright; Chai Ze also displayed astonishing magical techniques that drew continuous gasps.

Disciples from Lingjian Mountain and Wenda Sect each won their matches.

As the crowd streamed out, they walked away from the crowded venue, discussing the battles of these past days.

Others who had gone to observe matches at other Daochangs now converged here, exchanging news.

Yan Shujing, the direct disciple of Lingjian Mountain's chief, won her first match; Jiang Chenfeng of Wenda Sect won his first match; Huo Hong of Shanhaige won his first match; Xiao Hanyan of Tian Shuyuan won her first match…

Additionally, Zhu Yao of Wenda Sect, in the Tongxuan Realm, won his first match; Wei Bo, son of the Wei family from Yongzhou, won his first match after hiding his strength for years; Zhuang Zixin, younger brother of Zhuang You, the top disciple of Tianjian Peak, won his first match; Wei Yingmeng, daughter of the branch master of Shanhaige, won her first match.

And Yu Zhou's Murong family's daughter Murong Yu won her first match; Zhongzhou's former imperial clan Li family's Li Yunlang won his first match…

The Tian Dao Hui had now lasted two days; though no fiercely intense battles had occurred yet, and some still held back their hidden strengths, many felt the slots to enter the Sage's Sacred Ground would likely be claimed among these competitors.

Meanwhile, Princess Changle stepped out from the crowd, followed by Princess Jia Ren and Princess Chang Jing.

They were deeply shaken by today's duels, still discussing them as they left.

But as they neared Cangwu Daochang, Zhao Yunyue suddenly halted, glancing inside.

She knew Ji You had a first match today—and that his opponent was Tang Jingming of the Tang family.

It was said Tang Jingming had awakened late, but his actual talent was not weak—he was far stronger than most aristocratic youths.

Some even claimed Tang Jingming had the potential to become an inner disciple of a celestial sect.

She did not wish Ji You well; in fact, she secretly hoped he would suffer a crushing defeat, to humble his arrogance and pride, to make him realize that as a backcountry self-cultivator, he was nothing special among the vast sea of cultivators.

But because she wished to draw closer to Lingjian Mountain's disciples, she had not come to watch Ji You's match.

Yet now, glancing at the sun, she reasoned that if matches proceeded at normal speed, Ji You should still be on the arena.

Even if she missed the full bout, she could still see the outcome.

After a moment's thought, Zhao Yunyue stepped into Cangwu Daochang—only to find the two fighters on the stage unfamiliar to her.

Had it not started yet?

Or had it been delayed for some reason?

Puzzled, Zhao Yunyue turned and found a junior official of the Si Xian Jian stationed at the Daochang.

The Si Xian Jian oversaw all Tian Dao Hui affairs, so each Daochang had someone stationed.

Though the Si Xian Jian and Qin Xian Pai were rivals, a junior official had no authority to be disrespectful to a princess.

Seeing the princess approach, the Si Xian Jian official bowed instinctively: "Your Highness, what may I do for you?"

"Tell me, what number match is this today?"

"Your Highness, this is today's final match."

Zhao Yunyue frowned slightly: "Final match? Then where is Ji You's duel with Tang Jingming?"

The Si Xian Jian official replied: "Prince Ji's match has already concluded."

"When did it end?"

"About… half an hour ago."

Zhao Yunyue calculated in her mind, glancing uncertainly at the official.

For she knew that half an hour ago was precisely when Ji You and Tang Jingming's match should have just begun.

Without further thought, she asked again: "What was the result?"

"Naturally, Prince Ji won."

"…."

(End of Chapter)