Fang Shaobai had said that a year ago he had not been much stronger than Xin Yilong. That was naturally modesty on his part; if he had only been at that level, he never would have earned the stellar reputation of the Little Sword Immortal.
Yet claiming he had not reached his current realm back then was no lie either. Xin Yilong was by no means weak, and defeating him with a single stroke seemed exaggerated by any measure. Had his aura not remained unchanged, everyone present might have assumed he had already reached Grandmaster.
Apart from Xin Yilong himself, no one was more shocked than Ling Feiyun. He looked back to exchange a glance with Gu Nanfeng, and the same name sprang into both of their minds.
"Liu Suifeng!"
"Back then, Liu Suifeng possessed just such astonishing, peerless brilliance, besting Weiming with a single sword stroke.
"Thirty years ago, Weiming had not yet reached Xiantian, but he stood right at the threshold—it was no exaggeration to call him half-step Xiantian—yet he still could not withstand a single sword stroke from Liu Suifeng.
"Never mind Weiming; even I lost in our sword match and had to forfeit the heirloom sword of Bashan."
Beside the two elders, Yang Weiming narrowed his eyes, reflecting on Fang Shaobai's move that had shattered the ice like a blooming azure lotus. It was as if he could feel what his own master had felt all those years ago when facing Liu Suifeng.
Feng Rigan's face darkened. "Could you subdue Yilong in a single strike?"
Yang Weiming replied flatly, "I could not."
On the other side, the onlookers turned to Wang Yu in utter surprise. Qianqian asked, "What on earth did you say to him that made him use the words 'awakened me'?"
It was no wonder Qianqian was astounded. Before entering the Prince of Zhenxi's Manor, she had seen Fang Shaobai fight. While he was indeed remarkable, she had not taken it too much to heart.
Yet Fang Shaobai's strike just now had deeply impressed even her. Searching her memories, she knew she would have had no good way to counter it either and would have been forced to retreat.
"Hmm..." Wang Yu stroked his chin, wearing an expression of profound gratification. "Brother Fang possesses extraordinary talent. He was able to grasp my deeper meaning and make rapid strides in his cultivation. It is truly worthy of congratulations."
Qianqian: ???
Though she had no idea what had actually transpired, one look at Wang Yu's face told her he was talking nonsense again.
Because Yan Xiangxue did not know Wang Yu as well, curiosity showed in her eyes, while Ardai looked at him with an expression that bordered on adoration.
Yan Xiangxue had been guiding Wang Yu's cultivation over the past few days. She knew his martial arts were not weak, but he had not yet entered Xiantian. His inner force was of extraordinary quality, yet his reserves were not particularly deep—at least not compared to head disciples of the Seven Great Sword Sects like Meng Wei and Shen Zhijun. He was roughly on par with Ling Kaixuan and the other Three Steeds of Tianshan.
Such an achievement certainly made him a first-rate expert in the jianghu, but he still could not be considered among the very best beneath Xiantian.
At his age, achieving such prowess certainly earned him the title of an uncommonly gifted young master. But whether he was truly so dazzlingly brilliant was another matter. Of course, his ability to fuse ice and fire was rare under heaven, but that was beside the point of raw cultivation depth.
No matter how one looked at it, Fang Shaobai's martial comprehension should have far surpassed Wang Yu's. How could Wang Yu have enlightened him?
Having stunned the entire crowd, Fang Shaobai did not claim all the glory for himself and publicly thanked Wang Yu. Taking advantage of the moment, Wang Yu said to Qianqian, "If you ever encounter any bottleneck in martial arts or techniques you don't understand, just ask me."
Qianqian cast him a coquettish glare.
In the arena, Xin Yilong withdrew dejectedly. Fang Shaobai did not immediately challenge Yang Weiming either. Instead, he cupped his hands. "Senior Yang, please grant me fifteen minutes to rest."
Yang Weiming's gaze focused, and he spoke in unison with Feng Rigan beside him: "What an arrogant young man."
Fang Shaobai had defeated Xin Yilong in a single blow; claiming he had expended much energy would hardly convince anyone. Requesting a rest now was actually giving Yang Weiming time to ponder the crux of how his sword technique had broken through the ice.
Yet Fang Shaobai was not truly an arrogant person. His action stemmed from absolute self-confidence, as well as a tribute to a predecessor—for that was precisely what Liu Suifeng had done all those years ago.
Yang Weiming nodded. "Very well. In fifteen minutes, we shall cross swords."
Fang Shaobai cupped his hands and stepped back to his sect's ranks.
The square before the Hall of Inquiring Swords fell silent.
Just then, Ling Kaixuan stepped forward from the Tianshan Sect's ranks. Looking toward Wang Yu, he held his sword in a salute and called out, "Prince Zhao."
Wang Yu raised his head, only to hear Ling Kaixuan declare with his chin held high, "Young Hero Fang claims to have made rapid progress after receiving your guidance, Prince Zhao. I am most curious, and would like to ask Your Highness to enlighten me with a couple of moves, if you would be so kind?"
Seven bouts had been fought, and Tianshan had suffered six defeats.
Although it was mostly a matter of pitting inferior horses against middle-tier ones and middle-tier against superior ones—which did not mean the Tianshan Sect was genuinely as weak as the tally suggested—it was an unsightly spectacle nonetheless. A proud third-generation scion of Tianshan like Ling Kaixuan found it especially hard to stomach.
He had received word passed down from the sect that Sun Wenzhu and Wang Yu appeared to have done Tianshan a favor, for which the sect had even gifted two Tianshan snow lotuses.
Yet a favor was a favor, and the sect had already returned the courtesy. That did not mean they could not spar and exchange pointers, did it?
Besides, Wang Yu was merely a guest brought along by Fang Shaobai to observe the ceremony; he was no friend of the Tianshan Sect.
Ling Kaixuan was in the prime of his youth and naturally felt stirrings of admiration upon seeing exquisite beauties like Li Yunxiu and Qianqian. Had their husband been an unparalleled hero far beyond his reach, he might have accepted it, but in his eyes, Wang Yu was nothing more than an idle, third-generation prince.
Admittedly, the man was handsome, but his demeanor was utterly unfitting.
Having just heard Fang Shaobai sing Wang Yu's praises, Ling Kaixuan could bear it no longer. He did not believe a word of it and even felt a trace of disdain toward Fang Shaobai. The Taihua Sect in Hexi Circuit might fear the Prince of Zhenxi's Manor, but their Tianshan Sect was far out beyond the frontier and had no need to bow to Zhenxi's influence.
Thus, Ling Kaixuan stepped out decisively to challenge Wang Yu by name.
Indeed, it was a challenge. Even if Ling Kaixuan believed his martial arts were superior, Wang Yu was the Prince of Zhenxi and a guest of the Tianshan Sect, holding a status far above his own.
Moreover, over the past sixty years, it was not unheard of for guests invited by Tianshan or the Seven Great Sword Sects to be inspired by the bouts and step onto the field to spar.
Of course, those previous instances had all involved observing guests asking for instruction; a Tianshan disciple issuing the challenge first was indeed a first.
Hearing Ling Kaixuan's challenge, Yang Weiming frowned and snapped in a low voice, "Presumptuous!"
Feng Rigan shook his head. "His temperament is still too volatile."
In contrast, Ling Feiyun and Gu Nanfeng remained impassive. Gu Nanfeng even chuckled. "Youthful pride—he won't turn back until he crashes into a wall."
Ling Feiyun said indifferently, "Letting him crash might do him good. It will teach him how vast the world is, and that capable and unusual talents exist everywhere."
When testing inner force the other day, Yang Weiming had suffered a minor setback due to carelessness, and Ye Tianlin had later exposed Qianqian's true identity. Ling Feiyun did not believe that someone capable of securing the princely throne and winning the heart of a Demonic Cult enchantress would lose to his own good-for-nothing grandson.
Although Yang Weiming and Feng Rigan were displeased, and Ling Feiyun and Gu Nanfeng held little optimism, none of them moved to stop Ling Kaixuan. His words were polite enough, and intervening would only make Wang Yu appear looked down upon.
Ardai, on the other hand, wrinkled her nose. "How impolite!"
Wang Yu laughed, rising with an air of complete leisure and nonchalance. He casually ruffled Ardai's hair. "Wait until I beat some manners into him."
Ardai stared with wide, clear eyes. In this world, only her parents and master had ever touched her hair—who did he think he was?
"Ahem." Wang Yu gave two dry coughs, picked up his Kangwei Sword, and stepped out into the square.
Qianqian curled her lip, while Li Yunxiu's eyes flickered. Neither of them overthought it; Ardai was adorable, and they had felt like petting her themselves.
Seeing the crouching tiger and coiling dragon carved upon Wang Yu's scabbard, inlaid with gems and polished brass like a brand-new toy, Ling Kaixuan felt only greater disdain. Pointing his sword diagonally in the opening stance of Snowy Peak, Chilly Plum Blossom, he called out, "A visitor is a guest—please!"
Wang Yu smiled. "Then I won't hold back."
Off the field, Fang Shaobai smiled as well. Meng Wei was even more blunt: "Ling Kaixuan is no match for Brother Zhao."
"Oh?" Xie Fuyun asked curiously. "They say this young prince spent his days idling in brothels and winehouses in the capital, indulging in liquor and women. Could he truly possess remarkable martial arts?"
Wang Yu had fought alongside Fang Shaobai, Meng Wei, and Shen Zhijun to slaughter over a hundred mounted bandits, but the other four disciples had not witnessed it.
Shen Zhijun said, "Zhao Zheng was a Xiantian Grandmaster and tailored the Seven Forms of the Setting Sun specifically for Brother Zhao. In my view, purely in terms of sword technique, it is by no means inferior to the sword styles of our Seven Great Sword Sects."
"Oh?" Liu Wuchen and the other three all turned their gazes to the square.
At that exact moment, Wang Yu drew his sword.
With a clear ringing note, Ling Kaixuan's blade trembled slightly. Just as he prepared to observe before making his move, an unbroken expanse of golden haze unfurled before his eyes.
The dazzling sword shadows almost entirely filled his vision. A lone wild goose flashed through the golden mist—seemingly slow, yet blindingly fast. In an instant, it arrived before his chest, splitting into three distinct silhouettes that struck toward three major acupoints.
Ling Kaixuan paled in shock. He retreated rapidly, his sword thrusting out in a relentless flurry as the Seventy-Two Forms of Wind and Snow swept forward like a blizzard.
Clang!
A crisp chime sounded. Ling Kaixuan suddenly realized the clash of their blades had not landed on any of the three geese; Wang Yu's sword tip had been concealed within the continuous golden haze all along.
He had been momentarily dazzled by the Lone Shadow in the Golden Haze and failed to locate the true point of the blade. Had his own swordcraft not been extraordinarily swift, he would have been struck down on the very first exchange!
Never expecting Wang Yu's swordsmanship to be so profound, nearly suffering a humiliating defeat in a single move, Ling Kaixuan abandoned every shred of complacency. Focusing his eyes, he pushed his true qi to its absolute limit, darting forward and thrusting his sword with fierce intensity.
Wang Yu felt a hint of regret that he had failed to finish the fight in one stroke and show off, but he paid it little mind. His longsword wound and twisted like the Nine Bends of the Long River, carving an open path straight through the endless storm of snow toward Ling Kaixuan's throat.
"Hah!" Ling Kaixuan roared, filling the air with wind and snow that threatened to submerge the river.
After only two exchanges, Ling Kaixuan knew beyond doubt that, purely in terms of sword technique, he was no match for Wang Yu. His opponent's swordcraft was superior even to Meng Wei's of the Laoshan Sect; Meng Wei could never have exerted such immense pressure in just two moves.
How is this possible?
Though Ling Kaixuan was loath to accept it, the reality stood right before him. Tapping his foot against the flagstones, his body seemed to dissolve into a violent gust of wind, swirling rapidly around Wang Yu.
The Seventy-Two Forms of Wind and Snow was a sword art that depended heavily on lightness skills!
The greater the lightness skill, the stronger the sword!
Chapter 85