Alwin was slapped until he saw stars, his cheeks swelling like over-fermented dough. His once-handsome face was now completely unrecognizable.
He tried to fight back, but every time he made a move, that hand would land precisely on his face.
The force wasn't excessive, but it was just enough to make him grimace in pain without actually breaking any bones.
“Slap!”
“You’ve brought nothing but shame to the Moonshadow family.”
“Slap!”
“A 5th-rank losing to a 4th-rank and getting slapped silly... how are you going to remain the grade chief after this gets out?”
“Slap!”
“Daring to use a family legacy treasure to bully others? Does your father know how much ‘honor’ you’re bringing him out here?”
Every slap was accompanied by a sharp, cutting word.
Jiang Lin’s voice wasn't loud, but it carried clearly across the entire arena.
The three thousand elves in the stands were deathly silent. Everyone stared blankly at the surreal scene in the center of the field.
A 4th-rank human was slapping a 5th-rank elven magic swordsman like he was disciplining a disobedient child.
And that magic swordsman didn't have the slightest room to resist.
Elune covered her mouth, her pale purple eyes wide with shock.
She knew Jiang Lin was strong, but she hadn't expected him to be this powerful.
This wasn't a fight; it was a mockery.
However, seeing him fulfill his promise to teach Alwin a lesson, she couldn't help but giggle behind her hand.
By now, Alwin’s face had turned from swollen red to a deep purple.
His eyes brimmed with tears of humiliation, but he gritted his teeth, refusing to let them fall.
He was the heir to the Moonshadow family; he could not cry in front of three thousand people.
“I... I con...”
“Slap!”
“Concede? Did I give you permission to concede?”
Jiang Lin’s tone remained imperious.
“Didn't you say earlier that I’d have to kneel and apologize if I lost? What about now?”
Alwin’s lips trembled violently.
He finally realized that he hadn't kicked a mere iron plate—he had kicked a mountain.
This human was not someone he could afford to provoke.
“I’m... I’m sorry...”
A voice as faint as a mosquito’s buzz squeezed out of his throat.
Jiang Lin finally stopped.
He took a step back, straightened his collar which had been ruffled by the wind, and looked down calmly at Alwin, who was slumped on the ground.
“What did you say? I didn't quite hear you.”
Alwin’s face turned from purple to a deathly pale.
“I’m sorry!”
He closed his eyes, his voice hoarse.
“It was... it was my fault for provoking you... please... let me go...”
The entire arena fell into a dead silence.
Among the three thousand elves, not a single person made a sound.
The heir of the Moonshadow family and the grade chief of the swordsmanship department was actually begging a human for mercy in public.
Jiang Lin looked down at him.
There was no emotion in those golden eyes—no triumph, no pity, not even disdain.
It was as if the person kneeling on the ground wasn't a noble young master, but a speck of insignificant dust.
“Nice sword.” He turned and walked toward the Moonshadow sword embedded in the stone slab. “It’s mine now.”
He reached out and pulled the sword free. The blade shimmered with a pale blue cold light under the sun.
The triple-layered wind magic arrays were still active, and the green air currents around the blade flowed slowly.
He stored the Moonshadow sword into his spatial ring, then turned around, his gaze sweeping across the three thousand elves in the stands.
His voice wasn't loud, but it reached the ears of everyone present.
“Is there anyone else who wants to challenge me? You can all come at once.”
The arena was quiet for a moment before it suddenly erupted like a lake into which a boulder had been thrown.
“He’s too arrogant!”
“A human actually dares to run wild in our Silver Moon Academy?”
“I’ll do it!”
At that moment, a burly elf leapt down from the stands and landed steadily in the center of the arena.
He wore dark green light armor and carried a two-handed greatsword nearly as tall as himself on his back.
His features were rugged, with an old sword scar on his chin and slightly curled ear tips—marks left by years of fighting on the front lines.
“Fenrir, fourth year, swordsmanship department. 5th-rank mid-stage.” His voice was low like muffled thunder. “In that last match, you didn't use your full strength at all. I want to experience your true power.”
Jiang Lin nodded.
He raised his right hand, but this time, instead of just two fingers, he held it as if gripping a hilt.
The Eight Extremities Holy Sword condensed in his palm.
The platinum blade was entwined with deep blue ice soul power, and the eight-colored runes at the crossguard flowed slowly, emitting a heart-stopping sharpness.
The blade vibrated slightly, and the halo of interwoven deep blue and platinum was exceptionally dazzling in the midday sun.
Fenrir’s pupils constricted slightly.
He gripped the greatsword on his back. The moment the blade left its sheath, a heavy sense of pressure filled the air.
It was a pure, heavy sword intent—no flourishes, only the killing intent forged through a thousand trials.
“Please.”
Fenrir gave a low roar, raising his greatsword over his head as it erupted with blinding golden light.
He charged forward, every step making the ground tremble slightly. The greatsword swung down with the force of ten thousand pounds, the sword light falling like a golden waterfall that enveloped half the arena.
Jiang Lin did not retreat.
He raised his sword, the tip pointing upward, and gave a light tap.
That single point landed precisely on the weakest part of the spine of Fenrir’s greatsword.
Deep blue and golden light collided. Fenrir’s greatsword was diverted by an irresistible soft force, crashing heavily into the stone slab beside Jiang Lin and smashing a crack several inches deep.
Before Fenrir could recover his sword, Jiang Lin’s blade was already pressed against his throat.
It was as gentle as a breeze brushing across water, yet it made the battle-hardened elven swordsman’s hair stand on end.
“I win.”
Fenrir froze in place, his greatsword still embedded in the stone.
He looked down at the sword tip at his throat, then up at Jiang Lin’s calm golden eyes.
After a long silence, he let go of the hilt, took a step back, and performed a solemn elven warrior’s salute.
“I lost. I am truly beaten.”
The arena fell into a dead silence once again.
If defeating Alwin was merely shocking, Fenrir being defeated in a single move was terrifying.
Fenrir, a 5th-rank mid-stage powerhouse and a standout in the fourth-year swordsmanship department who had slain dozens of high-tier magic beasts on the front lines, had been defeated in one strike.
“Who else?”
Jiang Lin’s voice remained calm, yet it felt like a heavy hammer striking the heart of every elf.
At the highest point of the stands, Carlos’s fingers had stopped tapping.
He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
“I’m afraid his swordsmanship...” his voice was dry, “is even beyond my own!!”
Zoe didn't speak. She just stared at the golden figure in the center of the arena, the starlight in her pale silver eyes swirling faster and faster.
She was re-evaluating the value of this human youth in her mind.
Perceiving space elements from scratch in a single day, sword intent only a step away from consummation, and a 4th-rank early stage crushing a 5th-rank mid-stage.
This wasn't just a genius; this was a monster!
In the center of the arena, Jiang Lin waited for a moment. Seeing that no one else was stepping up, he dispelled the Eight Extremities Holy Sword and turned toward the exit.
But after only a few steps, another figure leapt down from the stands.
It was a slender female elf wearing a pale green dress, with a light sword as thin as a willow leaf hanging at her waist.
Her dark brown hair fluttered slightly in the wind, and her pale gold eyes were as calm as water.
“Alicia, fifth year, swordsmanship department. 5th-rank peak.”
Her voice was as cool as an icy spring.
“I want to see exactly how strong your sword intent is.”
Jiang Lin stopped and turned around.
He studied her, sensing the faint, subtle sharpness surrounding her.
It was a sword intent prototype.
She was also trying to comprehend sword intent.
“You are not my match,” Jiang Lin said.
“I know,” Alicia replied calmly.
“But I need to truly experience what real sword intent is like, just once. I saw the strike you gave Fenrir. In that strike was something I’ve been searching for.”
Jiang Lin was silent for a moment before nodding slightly.
He raised his right hand. This time, he didn't condense the Eight Extremities Holy Sword. Instead, he pressed his index and middle fingers together, a point of deep blue light condensing at his fingertips.
It wasn't a sword technique; it was pure sword intent.
He tapped lightly forward.
Alicia did not dodge.
She closed her eyes, sinking her entire mind into perception.
She could ‘see’ that wisp of sword intent. It was like the deepest undercurrent beneath a polar glacier—cold, pure, and containing a will that bordered on the Dao.
The desire to become stronger.
The desire to break through.
The desire to see the end of the path.
The sword intent touched her brow and then brushed past like a veil of silk. There was no harm, only a transmission of understanding.
Alicia opened her eyes, a flash of realization crossing her pale gold gaze.
She took a step back and bowed solemnly.
“Thank you for the guidance. From today on, you are also my master in the way of the sword.”
The stands erupted in a commotion once more.
Alicia, the fifth-year grade chief and a 5th-rank peak swordsman, had actually addressed a 4th-rank early-stage human as ‘master’?
Jiang Lin withdrew his hand and said,
“Your path is still long. Comprehending sword intent isn't something that happens overnight. Without enough time to temper it, it’s difficult to break through that final bottleneck.”
Alicia nodded vigorously.
“I have learned much.”
Jiang Lin said no more and continued toward the exit.
This time, no one else leapt down from the stands.
Three thousand elves watched as that golden back disappeared behind the arena’s archway, and for a long time, no one spoke.
Only after he had completely vanished did the stands explode into a frenzy of discussion.
“Where did he come from?”
“Are humans from the East Continent all this strong?”
“Impossible. I heard Mentor Carlos say that although humans are numerous in the East Continent, swordsmen of this level are as rare as phoenix feathers.”
“Then what’s his deal?”
No one could answer that question.
At the highest point of the stands, Carlos let out a long breath.
“Where do you think his limit is?”
“He hasn't shown his limit at all.”
There was a rare trace of hesitation in Zoe’s voice.
“Those three matches were just warm-ups for him. For that Alwin, he only used one finger. For Fenrir, he only used one strike. For Alicia, he didn't even use a sword—he just released a wisp of sword intent.”
She turned, her pale silver eyes looking at Carlos.
“What do you think he would look like if he went all out?”
Carlos didn't speak.
He suddenly felt that in his twenty-seven years of traveling this continent, all the geniuses he had ever met combined were not as dazzling as this youth he had only known for two days.
...
In the center of the arena, Fenrir was still standing before his greatsword, which was still embedded in the stone.
He looked down at the several-inch-deep crack, and a bitter smile suddenly tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Monster,” he cursed softly, then yanked the sword out. “But that was refreshing. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this crushed. The last time was probably when I ran into that 7th-rank magic beast at the border.”
He shouldered his greatsword and strode after Jiang Lin.
“Hey! Matthew! Wait up!”
Jiang Lin stopped and looked back at him.
Fenrir ran up to him, took a deep breath, and performed a solemn warrior’s salute.
“I want to learn the sword from you!”
Jiang Lin looked at him, seemingly lost in thought.
“I don't give lessons for free.”
Fenrir was stunned for a second, then grinned.
“Of course I won't let you teach me for nothing. I know the rules. How much do you want?”
Jiang Lin thought about the mission rewards he had seen at the Silverleaf Town Adventurer’s Guild.
Slaying a Corrupted Treant was worth two thousand gold coins.
Teaching a 5th-rank mid-stage elven swordsman should be worth more than chopping down a tree.
“Two thousand gold coins a week.”
“Deal!”
Fenrir agreed instantly, as if two thousand gold coins were just a few copper bits.
He unclipped a heavy coin pouch from his waist and stuffed it directly into Jiang Lin’s hand.
Jiang Lin weighed it; it was quite substantial.
“Starting tomorrow, three hours every morning. You pick the location.”
“The academy’s Seventh Training Ground. Usually, no one uses it.” Fenrir rubbed his hands together, his eyes full of anticipation. “So... can you give me a hint? What are you going to teach me tomorrow?”
Jiang Lin glanced at him.
“Go back today and forget every sword technique you’ve ever learned.”
Fenrir’s face instantly fell.
“For... forget them all?”
“Your techniques are too rigid. Every strike follows the standard posture from a textbook—power, angle, footwork—all perfectly precise.
“But real combat isn't a textbook. Enemies won't attack according to the routines you’ve practiced.
“By turning your techniques into muscle memory, you’ve actually restricted your intuition and imagination with the sword.”
Fenrir was silent for a moment before nodding heavily.
“I understand. See you tomorrow, Master Matthew.”
He shouldered his greatsword and strode away.
Jiang Lin watched his departing figure and casually tucked the coin pouch into his spatial ring.
Paying for knowledge... it seems a lot easier than making money through manual labor.
He silently calculated in his head. Once he had saved enough money, he would go to the magic materials shop in the Royal Capital to buy a complete set of spatial magic experimental equipment. The device Zoe mentioned in her notes that could stabilize spatial rifts cost tens of thousands of gold coins for just one set.
“Matthew!”
Another voice came from behind him.
Jiang Lin turned to see Alicia walking toward him quickly, a rare hint of urgency in her pale gold eyes.
“I want to learn from you as well.”
“You want to learn too?”
“Yes.” Alicia stopped in front of him and said solemnly, “That finger strike just now showed me what sword intent truly looks like. I’ve been stuck at the 5th-rank peak for half a year, searching for the opportunity to break through. Today, I finally found it.”
Jiang Lin studied her.
This fifth-year grade chief and 5th-rank peak elven swordswoman had a look in her eyes that was very similar to his own when he first met Loren on the ice terrace of Shuangyu Feng.
...
Rate on N.U.
