The Tianshan Sword Contest

Below the stage, Wang Yu had clapped until his palms were red. "What fantastic swordsmanship! What a brilliant match!" Everyone cast sidelong glances at him. Wang Yu slowly drew back his hands, sat up straight, fixed his eyes forward, and asked in a low voice, "Are we not allowed to clap?" Yan Xiangxue kept her smile steady. Ardai let out a snicker, quickly choked it back, and bowed her head. Her shoulders trembled as she struggled to suppress stifled snorts of laughter. Beside him, Li Yunxiu took a deep breath. Wang Yu could even hear the grinding of her teeth. "We are here to observe a ceremony, not to watch a theatrical performance!" Qianqian bit her lower lip, struggling just as hard to hold back her amusement. Truth be told, even if her master were here, she would never dare treat a sword duel between disciples of the Seven Great Sword Sects and the Tianshan Sect as a monkey show. Wang Yu smacked his lips. "I was only expressing my admiration." Keeping her gaze straight ahead as well, Qianqian pressed her lips together and whispered with a smile, "You'd better keep your admiration to yourself." "Huh?" Seeing Liu Wuchen return to his sect's ranks, Wang Yu couldn't help asking out of curiosity, "Why did he step back? Shouldn't he go on to challenge Senior Yang or Senior Feng?" Li Yunxiu was utterly speechless. "Do you truly not know the rules of the Tianshan Sword Contest?" Wang Yu blinked. "Nobody told me." Li Yunxiu couldn't resist rolling her eyes toward the heavens. She really could not fathom Wang Yu. At times he was shrewd, sharp-witted, and deeply guarded, as though he could see right through everything; at other times he was flighty as a child, ignorant of the most basic common knowledge. Seeing that Wang Yu genuinely knew nothing about it, Li Yunxiu explained anyway: "The Tianshan Sword Contest isn't a challenge arena where whoever steps up must keep fighting until they drop. "Anyone may take the stage freely. After completing a duel, one can step down to rest and recover their qi, and return to fight whenever they wish. As long as a contender defeats the premier disciple of the new generation and then overcomes an elder, they may reclaim their sect leader's sword. "Besides, the Bashan Sect's sword was already reclaimed by Liu Suifeng; it is merely being kept on Mount Tianshan until the other six sects win theirs back, so they can all be retrieved together. Thus, the bout between Liu Wuchen and Xin Yilong was merely an exchange between the premier disciples of two sects, with no need for him to challenge Senior Yang." "Oh, right," Wang Yu recalled. "The Bashan Sect's sword was already won back." "Furthermore, 'observing a ceremony' means just that: observation and decorum," Li Yunxiu emphasized. "Observing a ceremony means bearing witness. It is a grave and solemn matter—watch with your eyes, maintain your courtesy, and do not treat it like a spectacle or a stage play!" "Understood! Understood!" Wang Yu nodded repeatedly. Just then, they saw another young man beside Xin Yilong sweep onto the platform. Cupping his hands, he announced, "Ling Kaixuan of Mount Tianshan. Which martial brother will grant me instruction?" Ling Kaixuan was one of the Three Steeds of Tianshan, and also the grandson of Ling Feiyun, making him a third-generation scion of the Tianshan Sect. "I will!" Possessing the boldest temper of them all, Meng Wei had no patience to wait any longer. Leaping into the ring, he drew his sword with a clear clang. Moving with the momentum of surging wind and colossal waves, he slashed straight toward Ling Kaixuan. "Meng Wei of the Laoshan Sect. After you!" Ling Kaixuan met him with the Seventy-Two Forms of Wind and Snow, while Meng Wei employed the Clear Wave Swordplay of the Laoshan Sect. The Laoshan Sect was situated on Mount Laoshan at the easternmost edge of Wanghai Circuit, looking out over a boundless sea. Contemplating the ocean over generations opened one's spirit, giving the Laoshan Sect's swordsmanship a vast, grand, and sweeping magnificence. "Traversing the empyrean, an immortal on a flying sword; riding the cresting waves, crossing the sea with a single stroke." This couplet spoke of the two legendary sword styles that brought renown to the Laoshan Sect across the martial world: the Azure Empyrean Swordplay and the Clear Wave Swordplay. Meng Wei specialized in the Clear Wave Swordplay. Once unleashed, his strikes crashed like titanic billows, wave following relentless wave, meeting Ling Kaixuan's howling gusts and snow head-on—offense meeting offense, sheer force clashing against force. After exchanging some seventy or eighty blows, Ling Kaixuan's stamina finally waned, and he fell into defeat. "Thank you for the match!" Meng Wei's breathing was slightly heavy, but he clearly had strength to spare. Next, the other two of the Three Steeds of Tianshan took the stage one after the other. Representing the Seven Great Sword Sects were Shen Zhijun of the Mushan Sect and Xie Fuyun of the Yucang Sect, both of whom claimed victory. The founding master of the Mushan Sect had observed the Three Friends of Winter to create the Mushan Swordplay: solitary pine, bitter bamboo, and winter plum, marked by an archaic simplicity that returned to quintessential purity. The disciples of the Yucang Sect were all refined gentlemen, yet lacking nothing in grand ambition. As the saying went: "Rain striking flying blossoms inspires three odes; wind sweeping drift clouds reaches the ninth heaven"—aptly capturing the boundless romance and grace of the Yucang tradition. Shen Zhijun and Xie Fuyun were the premier disciples of their respective sects. Although they had not yet attained the Xiantian realm, they were top-tier figures beneath it. While they could not best Xin Yilong, against the Three Steeds of Tianshan—who lagged behind them in age, inner strength, swordcraft, and experience—they won with ease. Four bouts, four defeats for Tianshan. Although they had known from the start that the premier disciples of the Seven Great Sword Sects were no ordinary figures, the disciples of the Tianshan Sect could not help feeling dejected. They knew, of course, that if Xin Yilong stepped forward, he could easily overcome these three. But Xin Yilong had already entered the Xiantian realm; defeating them would hardly be a fair or honorable victory. In their eyes, while the Three Steeds of Tianshan fell short of Xin Yilong, they were still first-rate experts beneath Xiantian. Facing premier disciples of the seven sects who likewise remained in the Houtian realm, they should have been able to secure at least a victory or two. Yet they had not won a single one! "The Seven Great Sword Sects truly live up to their reputation." "The Grandmaster's greatness does not make us great. If we want to safeguard the trophies won by the Grandmaster, we must work much harder!" "Well said! Exactly!" Although the Tianshan Sword Contest was meant to temper the disciples' pride while spurring them on, failing to secure even one win looked far too unsightly. Xin Yilong stepped onto the stage once more. "Junior Sister Leng, let us meet on the platform!" Leng Jiangzhu strode forward. Glancing around, her eyes caught Sun Wenzhu, who had suddenly appeared behind the spectator seats. A smile abruptly touched Leng Jiangzhu's habitually cold, ice-like face. Drawing twin swords from their scabbards, she glided toward Xin Yilong, her robes fluttering like a heavenly maiden descending into the mortal dust. The Meishan Sect, one of the Seven Great Sword Sects, possessed a heritage spanning centuries. Its direct line consisted entirely of women. For its renown to endure across hundreds of years without faltering, it naturally possessed unique consummate arts to uphold the sect's name even during eras lacking exceptional prodigies. The Seven Exquisite Forms hid needles within cotton, overcoming firmness with softness; the Rainbow Feathered Garment Sword Dance was ever-shifting, kaleidoscopic, and breathtakingly exquisite. The Seven Exquisite Forms was a single-sword style, whereas the Rainbow Feathered Garment Sword Dance employed twin swords. With both blades drawn, Leng Jiangzhu naturally wielded the latter. Originating as an artistic dance of blades, the founding matriarch of Meishan had reworked it into martial combat, preserving its magnificent grace while introducing endless variations and concealing myriad killing intents. Ideally, wielding this style called for ornate garments and silk ribbons tied to the pommels to unleash the dance's full potency. Though Leng Jiangzhu had none of these embellishments, she had already attained the Xiantian realm. Her footwork was graceful and nimble, her blades flashing with dazzling brilliance, lacking nothing in sheer power. Xin Yilong's gaze sharpened, and he drew his sword to meet her. One resembled a divine dragon churning wind and snow, wild and overbearing; the other seemed like a heavenly fairy descending from above, graceful and sublime. Both moved with breathtaking speed and agility, brandishing their swords with effortless mastery. The onlookers watched, utterly mesmerized. Yang Weiming could not help sighing with feeling. "The Central Plains is truly a land of spiritual grace and remarkable talent. The Meishan Sect has produced yet another outstanding talent." Feng Rigan nodded. "Indeed. Her talent surpasses that Liu Wuchen. Ten years from now, I might not even be her match." Speaking of ten years later, Yang Weiming could not help looking toward Fang Shaobai among the disciples of the seven sects, who had not yet taken the stage. The next moment, a crisp ding rang out from the stage. Xin Yilong, possessing the superior martial cultivation, flicked aside the sword in Leng Jiangzhu's left hand, sending it flying. Yet Leng Jiangzhu advanced rather than retreating. Pressing down, turning, and thrusting her right-hand sword in one fluid motion, the blade's tip halted just three inches before Xin Yilong's chest. It was the fourth stance of the Seven Exquisite Forms: Serve Fresh Tea. Startled, Xin Yilong pulled back his sword and wheeled his body around, unleashing his blade anew. Left with only a single sword, Leng Jiangzhu shifted entirely to the Seven Exquisite Forms: Trace Fine Brows, Apply Rouge, Stir the Broth, Serve Fresh Tea, Pluck Flower Sprigs, Embroider Red Robes, and Work the Loom. Every stance was gentle and exquisite, yet every stance harbored hidden lethality. Cold sweat formed on Xin Yilong's forehead. He was forced to bring out the hidden trump card he had originally saved for Fang Shaobai. Clang— With a ringing chime, Xin Yilong's swordcraft ceased to resemble swirling wind and snow, growing sharply defined and angular. Yet the icy chill on his blade grew even more intense, and a faint blue glow coalesced at the sword tip. Fang Shaobai's eyes lit up. "The Ice Spirit Divine Sword! Xin Yilong truly mastered the Ice Spirit Divine Sword." The Ice Spirit Divine Sword was one of the Tianshan Sect's supreme sword arts. Its demand on internal strength was exceedingly rigorous, impossible to practice without having reached the Xiantian realm. Switching his technique, Xin Yilong emanated an even thicker frost. Every strike carried biting cold true qi. Leng Jiangzhu, who had previously matched him blow for blow, found her blade growing sluggish. After a dozen-odd exchanges, unable to withstand the freezing pressure any longer, she leapt backward and withdrew from the combat zone. The Tianshan Sect had finally claimed a victory. "Thank you for the match!" Xin Yilong cupped his hands, letting out a long breath of relief. Next, Xu Qingquan of the Qingyang Sect won another duel. At this point, all eyes turned toward Fang Shaobai. "Brother Xin, having fought two bouts in a row, would you like to rest a while longer?" Fang Shaobai asked. "No need, I have rested enough." Xin Yilong walked into the arena. "I know I am most likely no match for you, but without fighting a match, I simply cannot rest content." Fang Shaobai chuckled. "To tell the truth, I have also been eager to witness the power of Brother Xin's Ice Spirit Divine Sword." "Please!" Xin Yilong gave a low shout and thrust his blade toward Fang Shaobai. Though seemingly a straightforward central thrust, it held seven concealed variations, and the tip gleamed like a frosty crystal shard, exuding a chilling aura that struck fear into the heart. Fang Shaobai laughed heartily. "When Brother Xin visits the Taihua Sect this coming summer, we won't need ice from the cellars to chill our wine!" Before his laughter faded, Fang Shaobai's sword materialized before Xin Yilong's blade. In eight rapid feints, his sword bloomed like an azure lotus opening eight petals, parrying away every subsequent variation and frosty chill. Then, with a ninth point, the sword struck directly against the tip of Xin Yilong's blade. "Magnificent Azure Lotus Sword Song!" Xin Yilong shook all over. Rather than checking his momentum, he thrust forward once more, frost swirling ominously around him. If Xin Yilong using the Seventy-Two Forms of Wind and Snow had resembled a dragon of wind and snow, airy and ethereal, now he was a dragon of solid glacial ice—dense and unyielding. Yet Fang Shaobai tapped his sword again, and another azure lotus blossomed into view. An exquisite twelve-petaled azure lotus sent gentle ripples through the ice crystals, and the encroaching frost dissolved, as if melting into spring water beneath the lotus blossom. This thrust was like the spring breeze thawing winter snow. The hard ice crystal had seemed eternally frozen, yet beneath the gentle spring wind, it melted cleanly away without even knowing it. Xin Yilong's eyes widened. He could not comprehend how Fang Shaobai had broken his swordplay, but now he seemed to catch the faint, lingering scent of wine. By the time the wine aroma dispersed, Fang Shaobai's sword had already come to rest three inches from Xin Yilong's chest. Xin Yilong stared in disbelief at the sword tip hovering before his chest. He had known Fang Shaobai's swordsmanship was superior to his own, but never imagined the gap could be so vast. "In truth, a year ago I was barely stronger than you," Fang Shaobai said as he stepped back and sheathed his sword. Turning toward Wang Yu, he added, "However, a single remark from Brother Zhao awakened me, allowing me to make rapid strides over this past half year. If we emerge victorious in this contest, Brother Zhao deserves the primary credit." Wang Yu pointed to himself. "Me?"