The moon hung high, shedding silver light that mirrored off the lake like a polished mirror. The illumination was so clear that the figures of the two men standing on the duel platform were visible in every detail.
"Rank 7 sword cultivator from Qinghe County, Wei Guangcheng."
Wei Guangcheng unbuckled his sword case. Inside lay a blade without a hilt, two feet long, shimmering with a cyan hue. As Wei Guangcheng flicked his mind, the flying sword darted into the night like a small cyan fish, circling him with agile grace.
This display of aerial swordsmanship naturally drew cheers from the onlookers.
Zhou Tieyi fixed his gaze on the platform. To his eyes, the sword, which seemed to fly with ethereal ease, was not truly unmoored; it was guided by a sword-intent, subtle and nearly imperceptible to the naked eye. Seen in this light, the spectacle lost much of its beauty and mystery.
"I’ve heard the old man mention that sword cultivators possess formidable lethality, giving them a distinct advantage in conflicts between lower-rank cultivators," Zhou Tieyi said to Li Jing.
Li Jing glanced at the platform and remarked dismissively, "This method of sword cultivation is derived from the Gongshu family; it’s an evolution of the 'flying swordsmen' from sixty years ago. Back then, the Gongshu family kept thousands of these swordsmen in their service. That was a truly spectacular sight."
"And then?" Zhou Tieyi asked, his curiosity piqued. The original owner of his current body hadn't been fond of books; while his status granted him some knowledge of the world's cultivation practices, it was far from comprehensive.
"And then?" A trace of disdain flickered on Li Jing's face. "A Fourth Grade master from the Mohist School broke their thousand-man flying sword formation. After that, the practice was abandoned by the Gongshu family and relegated to a minor, provincial trick."
Li Jing tossed out the history of sword cultivation casually. Though he played the role of an idle prince before others, he was no fool; his habit of dropping such secrets only served to make him seem less calculating. "These sword cultivators can only bully others in the lower ranks. They have technique, but no true path. They struggle to reach the Upper Rank."
"Rank 7 martial practitioner from the Tiger-Awe General’s manor, Zhou Moushen."
The moment the formalities ended, Ada vanished from his spot. He lunged toward Wei Guangcheng, five yards away, like a tiger breaking out of its cage.
Faced with the sudden, violent assault, Wei Guangcheng remained composed; he was no spoiled noble without combat experience. He spread his arms like a bird, pushed off the ground, and retreated, his wide, embroidered sleeves billowing.
The flying sword circling him transformed into a streak of cyan light, tearing through the air to strike directly at Ada’s face!
To Ada’s eyes, the rapidly approaching sword was like a blurred tree shadow, difficult to fully track even with a martial practitioner’s keen eyesight. More dangerously, the ear-piercing shriek of the sword was ten times sharper than it had been in the hall!
But just as the sound surged into his ears to disrupt his senses, a film of blood-energy sealed his ear canals, blocking the shrill resonance. A Rank 7 Martial Master could exert precise control over his internal blood-energy.
Facing the nearly invisible sword, Ada did not slacken his charge. His expression remained unchanged; even in the heat of a life-or-death struggle, his lightning-fast mind was sharp enough to perceive the smallest environmental details.
When the sword reached within three feet, his long blade flashed from its sheath!
A dull, dark-toned light erupted from the shadow beneath Ada’s arm. The moment the blade revealed itself, it was like a massive black fish leaping from the lake to snap its jaws around the cyan light of the sword!
Such a close-range counter required him to gamble his very life on that single stroke, but it successfully stripped the flying sword of its mobility, pinning its trajectory.
The clashing of metal shattered the sword’s shriek, sending sparks of fire dancing through the night. The cyan blade spun away from the violent impact, forcing the sword cultivator to spend several breaths to regain control.
Wei Guangcheng looked slightly surprised. He hadn't expected the young martial practitioner to be so ruthless, risking his own safety just to seize the initiative.
Ada did not give him the time to recover. He took a deep breath, his chest swelling like a war drum. He kicked off the bluestone floor, sending a spray of dust into the air, and soared forward. From a distance, it looked as if he were riding the momentum of his own blade, closing the two-yard gap in an instant.
As Ada neared, the air within a yard of Wei Guangcheng suddenly turned chaotic. Sand spiraled upward, obscuring his figure as if an invisible dragon were churning the clouds. Within the vortex, seven gusts of wind grew razor-sharp, manifesting as blades of energy!
"Middle Rank?" Zhou Tieyi whispered, his voice tense as the battle reached a fever pitch. In the original owner's memories, if a sword cultivator achieved Middle Rank, everything within three yards became a sword.
Before anyone could answer, the gusts shot outward. However, perhaps due to a lack of sufficient power, they could not be controlled as fluidly as the main sword; they could only be directed toward Ada.
"ROAR!"
A sound like a dragon and tiger combined erupted from Ada’s chest. It struck the void like a heavy hammer, not only dispersing the sand and revealing Wei Guangcheng’s dodging figure but also shattering the seven sharp gusts of wind.
Rank 7 Martial Master: 'Spirit Planting'.
Though humans are the most spiritual of beings, they lack the talons of an eagle, the teeth of a tiger, or the strength of a bear. Thus, martial clans harvest the blood of exotic beasts to build their foundation, gaining a fraction of their power to transform themselves—this is 'Spirit Planting'.
The Dragon-Blood Grass Zhou Tieyi had gifted Ada was a plant, but it had absorbed the essence of a dragon while growing; with secret arts, that essence could be extracted to serve as a foundation for Spirit Planting.
Though the roar of the *Bi'an* was less shrill than the sword’s cry, it was far more devastating to the spirit. Wei Guangcheng lacked the robust physique of a martial practitioner. At such close range, his body seized up like a rusted gear; he couldn't retreat, nor could he dodge.
The air, cleared by the roar, became as still as a calm lake. Within that yard, Wei Guangcheng could clearly track the trajectory of Ada’s blade and see the glint of certain victory in Ada’s eyes.
*Now!*
His body might be obstructed, but his mouth-held sword was not. A point of gold flew from Wei Guangcheng’s slightly parted lips, aimed directly at the center of Ada’s brow.
He chose that target because, unlike other vital spots, a strike to the brain would instantly end the martial practitioner's motion, preventing a final suicidal counterattack. At such close range, no one could dodge his hidden blade…
But Ada shifted his neck like a snake a split second early—as if he had foreseen the future and known exactly where the golden light would strike. He moved just enough to let the sword-point pass harmlessly by.
*How could he know? That’s a secret technique only masters taught me!*
The next moment, the long blade descended like a waning moon. The surprise in Wei Guangcheng’s eyes froze forever as his head was lofted into the moonlight.
Zhou Moushen of the Tiger-Awe General’s manor, victorious!