On the elevated platform, the golden light around Yuanyi shone with ever-increasing radiance. His expression was calm, yet every thrust and sweep of his staff moved like summoned wind and thunder, fierce and ferocious to the extreme.
Though Wu Leng's Northern Dipper Seven Stars Steps were wondrous, the raised platform offered little room to maneuver.
Though Yuanyi's staff techniques were simple, he effortlessly suppressed Wu Leng. In less than ten exchanges, she was backed into a corner of the platform.
Seeing the long staff sweeping toward her once more, Wu Leng could only take the risk, raising her sword to parry the incoming strike.
She had intended to neutralize the ferocious power of the staff with the Yaoguang Sword, but the instant staff and sword collided, the golden light upon Yuanyi surged with even greater intensity. Vigorous as her sword qi was, it could not withstand such torrential, brute force; with a sharp crash, the wooden sword in her grasp shattered into splinters.
Yuanyi made no further move. Withdrawing his staff, he took two steps back and pressed his palms together in salute.
Wu Leng froze for a moment. Truth be told, she felt indignant; had she been wielding her true Yaoguang Sword, and had they not been confined to this narrow platform, even if she could not win, she would never have suffered so crushing a defeat.
Even now, she had not truly lost, but she had no way to break through Yuanyi's Vajra Demon-Subduing Staff, and continuing to fight would be pointless.
Seeing Yuanyi's victory, the monks of Golden Leaf Temple beamed with delight, while many among the common folk erupted into loud cheers.
Respecting the branch abbey was one thing, but seeing Yuanyi in all his awe-inspiring might and feeling admiration was quite another.
To solidify its footing, Golden Leaf Temple had always been enthusiastic about slaying demons and exorcising evil in Yunyang City; they had also subdued many petty street gangs and ruffians, earning themselves considerable prestige among the common populace.
Golden Leaf Temple had another advantage: they accepted disciples widely, teaching them basic martial arts even when withholding incantations.
When one disciple joined the fold, their entire family naturally leaned toward Golden Leaf Temple.
Within just a few years, Golden Leaf Temple's influence had grown steadily grander.
Only when Yunlong Branch Abbey smashed the Five Dragons Gang and saw its renown soar had the abbey's prestige among the populace finally eclipsed that of Golden Leaf Temple.
Watching the cheering crowds, Zhihe sighed inwardly. Golden Leaf Temple had already struck deep roots; even if they won today's contest, they could do little to shake the temple's standing.
Battalion Commander Zhai Jun, however, took great interest in Yuanyi. "Has Monk Yuanyi cultivated his root wheel?" he asked. "From what I see, both his Vajra Incantation and Skanda Incantation are profoundly mastered. He truly possesses the might to subdue dragons and tame tigers."
Fearing Prefect Wang Yan might not understand, Zhai Jun explained, "Buddhist incantations also have distinct tiers and levels. For instance, the incantations of the Arhat realm are divided into six grades:
"Gatekeeping, Deer-Riding, Elephant-Riding, Pagoda-Bearing, Tiger-Subduing, and Dragon-Subduing."
Wang Yan could not help nodding. "The commandant is truly knowledgeable and well-traveled, possessing such insight into Buddhist incantations. Impressive."
"Your Honor flatters me." Zhai Jun cast a glance at Xinjue. "It is Master Xinjue's disciple who is truly remarkable—to possess such profound cultivation at so young an age."
Hearing Zhai Jun's praise, Xinjue hastened to demur. "Yuanyi has indeed coalesced his root wheel to advance to Rank Six, but his cultivation lacks refinement. To speak of subduing dragons and taming tigers is far too generous of the commandant."
Although Xinjue did not fear Zhai Jun, he remained wary of this newly appointed commandant.
Why praise Yuanyi so gratuitously? Did Zhai Jun think Golden Leaf Temple had grown too strong and need reining in? Or did he suspect that the recent turmoil in the prefectural seat was connected to Golden Leaf Temple?
While they spoke, Zhou Wuji had already unclasped the White Rainbow Sword and handed it to Yang Tieying. Taking a four-foot wooden sword from a bystander, he drifted gracefully onto the elevated platform.
Though Zhou Wuji did not employ the Tianji Steps, his mastery of the Flowing Cloud Movement Technique allowed him to glide as if treading on drifting clouds, every motion ethereal and weightless.
Most spectators could not appreciate the subtlety of the art; they only felt that Zhou Wuji seemed to ride the wind, his bearing exquisitely refined and spiritually transcendent—strikingly different from any other Daoist or monk present.
A wave of excited clamor immediately swept through the crowd.
The gathered dignitaries and nobility wore looks of admiration as well; this elegant demeanor, wide sleeves billowing like an immortal descending to earth, suited their tastes to perfection.
This was precisely the poised nobility they aspired to in everyday life. In Zhou Wuji, they saw the ideal reflection of themselves.
Jin Ying's eyes sparkled with delight, and she murmured under her breath, "Senior Brother Wuji looks like an immortal stepped straight out of a painting, my goodness..."
Zhang Yun was more reserved than Jin Ying, and as a daughter of the Zhang family she felt a lingering estrangement toward the abbey, yet even she had to admit that Zhou Wuji possessed a truly captivating charm.
She murmured softly, "That monk is formidable. I'm afraid he won't be able to win."
"Indeed. That monk has clearly coalesced his root wheel. Reinforced by the Vajra Incantation, his body is like iron, and the Skanda Incantation grants him a thousand jin of brute strength. Daoist Wuji is likely to lose..."
Practically everyone who knew the craft thought the same. After all, this cramped platform worked heavily in Golden Leaf Temple's favor.
Furthermore, magic implements were forbidden, and altars could not be erected. Daoist incantations functioned quite differently from Buddhist ones, leaving the Daoists at a disadvantage in every respect.
Even if Zhou Wuji were also Rank Six, he would stand little chance of victory.
Zhai Jun glanced at Zhihe, but could read nothing on the old Daoist's face. He fixed his gaze intently on Zhou Wuji.
Zhai Jun was suspicious of every expert now. Zhihe and Xinjue were both suspect. Yuanyi and Zhou Wuji were hardly simple figures either; they warranted close scrutiny.
Zhou Wuji especially—this kid was far too active; his hand was in everything!
Even Prefect Wang Yan watched Zhou Wuji with keen curiosity. Could this strikingly handsome young Daoist maintain such grace after suffering a crushing defeat?
Zhou Wuji stepped onto the platform, cupped his hands to salute Yuanyi, and then bowed to the crowds below.
"I am Zhou Wuji of Yunlong Branch Abbey. It is my great honor today to experience the secret traditions of Golden Leaf Temple."
Raising the wooden sword, he flicked it lightly and said, "The sword art I study is known as the Xiaoxiang Sword, created by my master, Daoist Yiyuan, after observing the natural transformations of snow, rain, sun, and moon across the Xiaoxiang.
"My mastery is shallow. Should my skill fall short, I ask for your generous forbearance."
While Zhou Wuji spoke, Yuanyi recast his incantations and regulated his breath.
Defeating Wu Leng had not been overly difficult, but it had drained some of his energy. Facing Zhou Wuji, he dared not show the slightest carelessness.
When Zhou Wuji finished, Yuanyi said in a deep voice, "Your renown precedes you. I look forward to experiencing Fellow Daoist's Xiaoxiang Sword. Please show mercy with your blade."
In martial contests, the true measure was martial arts, spells, and cultivation. Courteous, humble words were merely to display poise. Only coarse and uncivilized folk would spout threats before even crossing blades.
Zhou Wuji exchanged a few more pleasantries, then flicked his sleeve to activate the divine talisman woven into his Starmetal Cloud-Brocade Daoist Robe, causing a radiant coat of azure light to emerge around him.
At the sight, the spectators broke into another round of murmurs and sighs. The very same invocation of protective arts was performed by Zhou Wuji with effortless elegance, a pleasure to behold.
Yuanyi paid it no heed; he could tell the robe contained its own Northern Culmen Heavenly Dipper Divine Talisman, requiring only true qi to trigger.
Strictly speaking, the robe counted as a magic implement, but there was no need to quibble over it.
"Please."
"Please."
Yuanyi cast aside further courtesy. With a flick of his hands, the six-foot wooden staff swayed unpredictably like a striking serpent's head, enfolding Zhou Wuji's upper body.
The crux of this move, Strange Python Shakes Its Head, lay in the swaying shake—the long staff whirled into a blossom of blurs, defying attempts to discern substance from illusion.
If the opponent hesitated for even an instant, the staff would instantly solidify from false into real, stabbing forward to claim a life in a single blow.
How keen Zhou Wuji's eyes were, and how rich his combat experience; he saw through the variations of Yuanyi's staff technique at a glance.
Winning was not difficult for him, yet he could not win too decisively, lest it arouse suspicion. Nor could he drag things out too long, which would fail to display his brilliance.
Zhou Wuji turned his wooden sword. It flowed like drifting white clouds, ceaseless and shifting with the wind.
Drawn in by the wooden sword, the erratically swaying staff was met by subtle, insubstantial sword qi on the blade, giving the fierce, rigid power of the staff nowhere to discharge.
Yuanyi felt deeply uncomfortable. He could push his power further, but feared exerting force wrongly and falling into Zhou Wuji's calculations; yet if he held back while they remained entangled, his advantage of fierce hardness could not be brought to bear.
Yet he possessed a steady temperament after all. Though forced onto the defensive, he kept his composure and continued to tangle with Zhou Wuji.
Back and forth they traded moves, advancing and retreating as staff and sword clashed incessantly, locked in close combat.
The spectators could only see two figures flitting to and fro, shadows of staff and sword dancing in a blur ten times fiercer than the previous bout.
Ordinary onlookers widened their eyes, unable to make out the details, feeling only the stray gusts sweeping from the platform, whipping up swirls of dust across the drill grounds.
The monks of Golden Leaf Temple looked tense. Yuanyi was clearly being compelled to follow Zhou Wuji's sword movements, an extremely bad sign.
Yuan'an and the others fretted inwardly, wondering why their senior brother was not yet unleashing his full power. Zhou Wuji's swordplay was elusive and unpredictable; fighting like this put Yuanyi at an enormous disadvantage!
The Daoists of Yunlong Branch Abbey were even more nervous. They felt Zhou Wuji was going to win, yet none dared let joy show on their faces.
Moreover, while they trained in the Big Dipper Seven Stars Sword, they could not quite comprehend the flow of this Xiaoxiang Sword. They only sensed that this sword style was like clouds drifting across the sky, ethereal yet endless, hovering between illusion and reality.
After dozens of intense exchanges, Yuanyi felt as though he had fallen into a spider's web. The light long staff in his hands felt increasingly sluggish, clearly trapped by the opponent's dense, entwining sword qi.
If this continued, he would truly suffer defeat.
At this thought, Yuanyi immediately channeled the Heart Lamp at his chest. Its spiritual light blazed like a radiant wheel, stirring the root wheel in his lower dantian to drive the circulation of his true qi.
From the depths of his coalesced root wheel, the Thunder Roar Incantation surfaced, unleashed directly under the guidance of his true qi.
"Merciful Buddha!" Yuanyi suddenly chanted in a solemn voice. The four words were not loud, yet the concentrated thunder roar converged through the incantation into four characters of blazing golden light, striking toward Zhou Wuji like thunderbolts.
The thunder roar was immense, jarring the spirit within and shattering the flesh without—an authentic esoteric method of Buddhism. Though Yuanyi's mastery of the Thunder Roar Incantation was still modest, unleashed with full force, it truly possessed the terrifying majesty of thunder.
Zhou Wuji's Heart Mirror had already reflected Yuanyi's shift. Before the thunder roar arrived, he was fully prepared and directly unleashed the Sunset Sword.
A wooden sword could not emit dazzling sword light, yet with blazing sword qi converted from Tianshu true qi, it still bore the radiant majesty of a shining solar orb.
While directing the sword, he had to divert thirty percent of his true qi to suppress his sea of qi, preventing any unusual stirrings and keeping onlookers from discerning his true physical state.
Even so, his true qi cultivation was remarkably pure, far surpassing Yuanyi's.
As the wooden sword slashed down, the thunder roar formed by the four golden talismanic characters shattered with a roar. Zhou Wuji followed up with another slash.
Simultaneously, Yuanyi swept his staff across, bringing forth all the unyielding hardness of the Vajra Incantation and the thousand-jun might of the Skanda Incantation.
The staff emitted a shrill howl as it cut through the air; though not as booming as the thunder roar, its ferocious momentum was ten times sharper.
Zhou Wuji did not evade. Meeting the staff head-on, he brought his sword down. With a muffled bang, the staff snapped upon impact.
Yuanyi's reflexes were lightning fast. Instantly dropping the broken staff, he clapped both palms toward Zhou Wuji, his incomparably fierce true qi coalescing into what resembled a giant golden palm slamming straight toward his foe.
Zhou Wuji's wooden sword morphed into a wheel of sword light and slashed down; under the sword qi, the giant golden palm fragmented into streams of radiant light.
Such an overbearing sword momentum drained the color from the spectators' faces, and many cried out in shock...
Even Zhai Jun raised his brows slightly, thinking: *What pure true qi, what fierce and domineering swordsmanship.*
Facing a sword momentum that severed all things, Yuanyi unfurled his wide sleeves. His palms, concealed within, had already formed the Formless Seal.
Dharma transcends all marks; hence, it is called Formless.
The Formless Seal could dismantle all outward appearances and forms, capturing Zhou Wuji's wooden sword through subtle, profound transformations.
This was the fundamental seal that Yuanyi had truly cultivated with painstaking discipline.
Driven to desperation, Yuanyi had no choice but to bring out his supreme technique. His palms moved within his sleeves and seized the swiftly slashing wooden sword.
With the variations of the Formless Seal, he could dissipate all the sword qi on the blade.
Just as Yuanyi was about to destroy the wooden sword, his grasp suddenly went light; somehow, the blade slipped from his control and out of the grip of the Formless Seal.
A faint chill and numbness spread across his palms, followed by his arms and shoulders, instantly stiffening his upper torso.
Just as Yuanyi tried to channel true qi to resist, his vision dimmed, and the tip of the wooden sword came to rest against his brow between his eyes.
The chilling sword qi made Yuanyi's forehead turn cold, and his heart turned colder still.
Before Yuanyi could react, Zhou Wuji had already pulled his sword back and stepped away.
Yuanyi lightly touched his brow. There was no wound there, not even a red dot, yet he knew full well that had that thrust truly driven home, even with the Vajra Incantation's protection, he could never have stopped it.
That strike reminded him of misty rain south of the Yangtze—strands and threads, endless as smoke, seeping imperceptibly into his clothes, soaking into his sinews and bones, even saturating his true qi.
Yuanyi was silent for a moment, then pressed his palms together and bowed to Zhou Wuji. "Fellow Daoist's sword arts are supreme. I concede defeat willingly."
"You were generous," Zhou Wuji smiled, cupping his hands in return.
Feeling too ashamed to linger, Yuanyi turned and descended the platform.
The monks of Golden Leaf Temple looked bewildered; most of them had no idea how Yuanyi had lost.
Though the crowd was vast, few had clearly seen that wondrous Night Rain Sword.
Zhai Jun was one of the few who had seen the strike clearly. Clapping in praise, he exclaimed, "A magnificent strike!"
Looking at Zhihe, he added earnestly, "Swordsmanship refined to this degree has reached supreme perfection."
He had harbored suspicions about Zhou Wuji, but seeing this strike, all doubts vanished. Leaving aside the notion that the sword reflects the man, to hone sword arts to such a pinnacle in one's early twenties meant that, no matter how extraordinary Zhou Wuji's innate talent was, he could not possibly have had time to cultivate anything else.
Zhihe considered for a moment and said, "It does indeed capture something of nature's wonder."
Upon the platform, Zhou Wuji felt quite pleased with himself—not because defeating Yuanyi was any great feat, but because he had displayed the exquisite beauty of his sword art, doing justice both to his master and to himself.
Unable to resist, he brushed the wooden sword and recited:
"The Northern Culmen sets heaven's cardinal guide;
The Seven Stars illuminate the ten directions.
Yunlong transmits the orthodox dharma;
Sword qi sweeps across the Xiaoxiang."
Though the spectators below could not fully parse every nuance, they grasped the general meaning. Swept away by Zhou Wuji's immortal-like bearing, the crowd erupted into thunderous cheers.
The ladies in attendance, including Jin Ying and Zhang Yun, watched with shining eyes. Superb swordsmanship, poetic talent, and such strikingly handsome, transcendent elegance—such a person truly captured the heart...
Zhihe, however, could not help frowning. The boy was getting a little carried away, yet the abbot could hardly scold him in public.
Zhai Jun and Wang Yan both smiled. They could understand Zhou Wuji's youthful insolence and heady pride. Only this made him seem like an ordinary young man...
Monk Xinjue sighed inwardly. They had lost clearly to that sword, leaving nothing to be said on the matter. But for Zhou Wuji to recite poetry on top of it—crude and plain verses boasting of the Arctic Sect's greatness and his own sword prowess—it was sheer arrogance.
If this poem spread, it would be no different from splashing it across Golden Leaf Temple's front gates!
Yet on second thought, he could not allow the abbey—or Zhou Wuji—to bask in smug glory unchecked. As the saying went, *boiling oil over a raging fire*; since Zhou Wuji's momentum was surging and hard to suppress, he might as well add dry wood and oil to make the flame burn even hotter.
The higher one rode the crest of fame, the swifter one would fall!
Monk Xinjue rose and projected his voice, "Daoist Wuji's sword technique is truly wondrous, capturing the full splendor of the setting sun and the spirit of night rain.
"With swordsmanship like this, let alone Yunyang, who across the breadth of Chu Prefecture could stand as your equal? It is Yuanyi's honor to have fallen before your blade.
"The man is pure and bright as jade, the sword misty and gentle as rain. Even this old monk feels profound admiration. You truly deserve to be called the Xiaoxiang Sword Lord..."
Monk Xinjue's voice boomed like a great bell, carrying clearly to every one of the one to two thousand people in the drill grounds.
As abbot of Golden Leaf Temple, Monk Xinjue enjoyed immense prestige in Yunyang Prefecture. With this single pronouncement, he firmly crowned Zhou Wuji with the title of Xiaoxiang Sword Lord.
Many lovers of excitement in the crowd took up the cry, chanting along: "Xiaoxiang Sword Lord!"
"Xiaoxiang Sword Lord!"
Zhihe's complexion changed. He hastened to say, "He is but a junior; to call him any kind of 'Sword Lord' would only invite mockery from the realm's heroes!"
Monk Xinjue chuckled heartily. "Why be overly modest, Daoist Brother?"
Zhihe cursed inwardly. *The damn old bald monk is wicked to the core.* Propping Zhou Wuji up so high by force would draw endless trouble down upon him and feed the young man's arrogance. Worse still, by exalting Zhou Wuji, losing to him became natural and expected—not a shred of shame attached to Golden Leaf Temple...
Though Zhihe cursed in his heart, he could think of no countermove. He could hardly declare in front of everyone that Zhou Wuji was inadequate and unworthy of the moniker. It was not an imperial title bestowed by the court, after all, merely a moniker; making a fuss would seem petty and overly serious. Furthermore, Zhou Wuji had just flaunted his verse, so it was hardly Zhihe's place to belittle his own disciple.
He only hoped Zhou Wuji would be clever enough to decline the title publicly...
Upon the platform, however, Zhou Wuji's eyes lit up. *Xiaoxiang Sword Lord... that title sounds dashing and grand. Not bad at all.*
He knew the old monk was trying to kill him with praise, but how could he refuse such a splendid title?
How could a man live without a little vanity? A man couldn't!
On the surface, of course, Zhou Wuji still had to be polite. "Master Xinjue praises me excessively. How could I dare accept such honor?"
Monk Xinjue said gravely, "This title belongs to none other than you! As a dignified sword cultivator, why be overly modest?"
"I am humbled, truly humbled."
Zhou Wuji brushed his wooden sword and cupped his hands to the old monk. Seemingly modest, he accepted it with utter relish.
Seeing this, the old monk's broad, square face filled with benign, compassionate warmth...
A smile touched Zhai Jun's face, but in his heart he concluded that Zhou Wuji was merely young, frivolous, and conceited. His sword talent was indeed exceptional, but he was nothing to worry about...
Chapter 145