Ling Kaixuan, a third-generation martial artist, grandson of Ling Feiyun, and one of the Three Steeds of Tianshan.
Among the new generation of disciples, his martial arts ranked as first-rate second only to Xin Yilong. Even if placed in the Central Plains, he would be a top-notch expert, a formidable contender for chief disciple across the Seven Great Sword Sects.
For such a person, pride and self-confidence were only natural.
Yet after realizing he had misjudged his opponent, though filled with disbelief, he showed neither shame nor rage. Instead, he immediately shifted his combat strategy, using his strengths to target the enemy's weaknesses—which was all the more commendable.
Gu Nanfeng remarked, "Back in the day, Zhao Zheng was never known for his lightness skills. Though Kaixuan cannot match him in swordplay, by substituting attack for defense, he should be able to hold out for a hundred exchanges."
At this point, Gu Nanfeng could not help but sigh with emotion. "Zhao Zheng was indeed a heaven-sent genius. The Seven Forms of the Setting Sun he created for his son is in no way inferior to our Tianshan's Seventy-Two Forms of Wind and Snow. That his son could master this sword technique to such a consummate degree also shows much of his father's flair."
Ling Feiyun nodded. "It is a pity about Zhao Zheng, underestimating the Twin Stars of the Xingxiu Sea. But his son does not merely show his father's flair—the pupil has surpassed the master."
Gu Nanfeng raised an eyebrow. "At his age, Zhao Zheng had already reached Xiantian."
Ling Feiyun explained, "This young man was delayed too long in the capital. But given his talent for creating his own dual cultivation of ice and fire, his future is full of promise."
Even as the two spoke, their eyes remained fixed on the battleground. Then, they saw Wang Yu's figure leap upward like a swallow soaring through wind and snow, shifting and darting with nimble, elusive grace.
Gu Nanfeng instantly blurted, "Your grandson is done for."
Ling Feiyun nodded. "To fall by the hand of such a figure, Kaixuan cannot feel wronged."
Ling Kaixuan's lightness skill was not weak, but Wang Yu's was even stronger. Ling Kaixuan could not even force Wang Yu to deploy the Three Turns of the Flying Swallow from Swallow Carrying Spring before Wang Yu tore right through his cage of wind and snow.
Ling Kaixuan danced his sword into a storm of wind and snow around himself, yet Wang Yu darted freely through that tempest.
Ling Kaixuan was stunned. Circulating his inner strength to the utmost, he thrust his longsword out with blinding speed.
In the next breath, Wang Yu vaulted into the air, rising like a swallow soaring toward the heavens.
Ling Kaixuan had no idea why Wang Yu made such a move, but with no time to overthink it, he slanted his longsword upward, aiming straight for Wang Yu's calf. But then he saw Wang Yu make a sharp turn midair. The sword in his hand seemed to reflect the setting sun, flashing golden radiance directly into Ling Kaixuan's eyes.
The two crossed paths and each landed firmly.
Wang Yu sheathed his sword, turned around, and cupped his hands with his usual casual demeanor. "Well fought."
After all, this was Tianshan Sect territory, and his opponent was Ling Feiyun's grandson; it would not do to stir up too much animosity.
Whoosh.
Ling Kaixuan likewise turned around, recalling the sensation from a moment ago when they crossed paths—the tip of the other's sword lightly tapping against his shoulder.
Had the other intended to kill, he would already be a corpse.
Ling Kaixuan gritted his teeth, yet still cupped his hands in return. "Thank you for showing mercy."
The plaza before the Hall of Inquiring Swords fell into dead silence once more.
"What marvelous swordplay!"
"How could he change direction in midair?"
"I feel his swordplay is even stronger than our Seventy-Two Forms of Wind and Snow..."
"Do not lose heart! It is not that his sword technique is stronger than ours, but that he as a swordsman is more formidable. When our founder swept through the Seven Great Sword Sects with this very sword art, establishing his renown as the number one swordsman under heaven, how could we belittle ourselves?"
"True, very true! Thank you, Senior Brother, for clearing that up!"
On and off the platform, the ordinary Tianshan disciples who could only watch for spectacle were merely stunned, but those who understood the subtleties marvelled even more.
"Zhao Yu has already cultivated this sword technique to an extremely high realm; beneath Xiantian, none can rival him," Gu Nanfeng assessed. "He could even contend against those above Xiantian."
Ling Feiyun nodded. "With his inner strength, lightness skills, and swordplay, even Yilong would not find it easy to best him."
Gu Nanfeng changed the subject. "Indeed. And then there is that lightness skill of his. When borrowing force from the ground, he retains a surge of power within himself and suddenly releases it in midair to make an aerial turn. That requires extraordinarily delicate inner strength circulation and a profound technique."
"Indeed," Ling Feiyun said. "That is also a top-tier lightness skill."
The Tianshan Sect was renowned for lightness skills as well, yet it possessed no technique for changing direction midair, which showed just how rare such a secret was.
Of course, this did not mean Tianshan's lightness skills were inferior to Swallow Carrying Spring. After all, Swallow Carrying Spring relied purely on agility, and its ultimate finishing move was the single midair turn of Return of the Swallow—all its skill points were poured into that one facet, but after that single turn, all remaining momentum was exhausted.
In a true comparison, Tianshan's lightness skills still possessed greater overall utility.
Wang Yu had been able to deliver such an astounding performance entirely thanks to the turtle shell doing the heavy lifting, which had forcibly elevated Swallow Carrying Spring by two entire grades with ample energy.
He had had no choice in the matter—who told him to have only this single lightness skill?
Moreover, roaming the martial world required safety first. When encountering powerful masters, running away was paramount. How could he do without a peerless lightness skill?
Returning to the viewing platform and sitting down amid the complicated gazes of the surrounding Tianshan disciples, Wang Yu winked at Ardai. "I was very polite, wasn't I?"
Ardai beamed and gave Wang Yu a thumbs-up.
Li Yunxiu gave a faint, knowing smile. "Look at you showing off."
Qianqian, meanwhile, gave Wang Yu plenty of emotional validation in front of everyone, leaping up to wrap her arms around his. "Brother Yu! You're so amazing!"
Watching Ling Kaixuan step down from the platform, Fang Shaobai strode into the arena once more and looked toward Yang Weiming. "Senior, if you please!"
In this Tianshan sword contest, this was the final match.
Although Meng Wei, Shen Zhijun, Xie Fuyun, and Xu Qingquan had each defeated one of the Three Steeds of Tianshan, they knew their own limits. Setting aside challenging Yang Weiming or Feng Rigan, competing against Xin Yilong offered little suspense, and would not even serve as a meaningful exchange.
Rather than that, why seek humiliation?
After returning to their mountains, they would cultivate diligently, continue strengthening their sects, take in extraordinary disciples, and ascend Mount Tianshan again ten years from now!
All eyes gathered upon Fang Shaobai and Yang Weiming.
Yang Weiming and Feng Rigan were known as the Tianshan Twin Eagles, with Yang Weiming being the superior of the two. He had long been regarded as the future sect leader; Ling Feiyun had always groomed him according to the standards of a sect leader, and he had always taken his master as a role model, performing admirably throughout.
Yet for thirty years, Ling Feiyun had harbored a lingering regret: losing a sect leader's sword to Liu Suifeng.
Now, thirty years later, would Yang Weiming be able to hold back the newly risen genius of the Seven Great Sword Sects?
Swish—
Yang Weiming's figure swept forward like a goshawk hunting prey. In virtually a breath, he moved from his seat into the center of the ring; those with slightly weaker vision could not even catch his movements.
Clang.
His longsword unsheathed in that exact same stance, Cold Plum of the Snowy Ridge. Yet as Yang Weiming assumed it, he was as profound as an abyss and as steady as a mountain. His body stood unmoving like a snow-clad ridge, while the sword tip quivered gently in the wind like a cold plum blossom. Stillness and motion combined, reaching the pinnacle of poise.
"Come!" Yang Weiming said calmly.
Fang Shaobai's gaze narrowed, and his sword shot out abruptly.
In the next breath, a sword lotus bloomed before everyone's eyes. Twelve lotus petals formed twelve streaks of sword light, appearing gentle as spring waters and elegant as green lotuses, devoid of any trace of murderous intent.
The Twelve-Petaled Azure Lotus—the Xiantian sword intent of the Taihua Sect's Azure Lotus Sword Song. Exquisite and magnificent, with endless marvelous variations, the number of lotus petals would increase as one's cultivation deepened. It was said that at the Grandmaster realm, one could execute twenty-four petals, and at the absolute peak, thirty-six petals.
Thirty-six petals of the azure lotus meant an azure lotus universe, where all things in heaven and earth were azure lotuses—irresistible and unmatched under heaven.
Of course, this was merely legend; whether the founding ancestor had ever reached that realm remained unknown. At the very least, the sword manual Fang Shaobai cultivated merely mentioned it in passing without elaborating.
Still, boastful claims had to be made. After all, when traveling abroad, if one did not boast a little, how could one establish a foothold in the martial world? Just look at the Laoshan Sect with their 'one sword soaring immortal, one sword crossing the sea'—why not ask one of them to actually try flying?
Returning to the matter at hand, Fang Shaobai's Twelve-Petaled Azure Lotus this time differed from the swordplay he had displayed against Hongzhao of the Great Vajra Monastery back then. It seemed even more natural and nimble, even carrying a faint hint of wine fragrance.
Yang Weiming's pupils shrank to pinpricks, and his entire aura shifted drastically. A strike of the Ice Spirit Divine Sword aimed straight at the heart of the azure lotus.
Since Xin Yilong had mastered the Ice Spirit Divine Sword, Yang Weiming naturally knew it as well. The frigid chill of the ice spirit was piercing, like a glacial peak pressing down upon the azure lotus, intent on freezing the radiant bloom into an ice sculpture.
Clink!
A crisp sound rang out. Fang Shaobai could not secure victory with a single stroke as he had against Xin Yilong, but neither did Yang Weiming shatter his Twelve-Petaled Azure Lotus.
After that exchange, the two drifted apart by several paces, only to close in once more.
Yang Weiming shifted and leapt like a Tianshan soaring eagle. The Ice Spirit Divine Sword became eagle beak and talons, circling and diving above the snowy ridge; every thrust was the dive of a divine raptor striking with full force.
Fang Shaobai's footwork wove in measured steps, each stride accompanied by a sword thrust like blooming azure lotuses. Before one withered, another blossomed; after more than a dozen paces, the plaza before the Hall of Inquiring Swords seemed to transform into a springtime lotus pond, blanketed in lotus petals.
"Marvelous swordplay!" Gu Nanfeng praised.
"Marvelous indeed." A look of reminiscence surfaced in Ling Feiyun's eyes. "Liu Suifeng's comprehension of the Wind-Swirling Dancing Willow Sword back then was essentially at this level."
Gu Nanfeng looked toward the arena and sighed. "Alas, Weiming still falls short of you in your prime."
"No need to regret," Ling Feiyun said calmly. "Figures such as my revered master, Liu Suifeng, and Fang Shaobai are geniuses seen once in a century. To witness them and cross swords with them is a blessing in itself.
"After this defeat, so long as Weiming can overcome it, he will have hopes of becoming a Grandmaster and safeguarding our Tianshan Sect's prosperity for another thirty years. How can one speak of regret?"
Gu Nanfeng nodded in sudden realization. "Well said!"
Even as Ling Feiyun and Gu Nanfeng spoke, the victor in the ring had already been decided.
Though the Tianshan divine eagle circled and soared, darting left and lunging right, it could not break free from this springtime lotus pond and its blooming azure blossoms woven amidst the winter snows of Mount Tianshan.
Yang Weiming concentrated his inner power at the tip of his blade. A white, ethereal glow flickered as he pushed his Frost-Soaring Jin to its absolute limit, thrusting straight toward the largest lotus flower in the pond—where Fang Shaobai stood.
Clang!
The lotus blossomed fully; eighteen petals opened one by one, completely engulfing Yang Weiming's sword light.
Crack!
The tip of Yang Weiming's sword snapped, and he retreated while coughing up blood.
Fang Shaobai stood in the center of the ring, sword held in one hand.
The contest was decided!
"Bravo!" Cheers erupted once again.
Wang Yu abruptly leaped to his feet, clapping and shouting praise, before slowly sitting back down and easing his hands away. "Got a bit carried away, got carried away. I'll watch it next time, definitely won't happen again."
Li Yunxiu and Qianqian said in unison, "There won't be a next time!"
Chapter 86