Outside the Martial Arena, the crowd grew larger, and several more powerful auras appeared high up amid the clouds and mist.
He Lansong did not reveal himself.
Xu Wei stood behind an ancient pine, watching the Martial Arena stage. Wen Fei had arrived as well, standing a bit further off. Fang Huaifeng stood at the end of the stone steps with his arms crossed over his sword, his expression dark and contemplative.
Upon the stage, He Zhou's sword was already unsheathed. Its blade shone bright and clear, wrapped in a shimmering aura of spiritual light.
He looked at Yun Heng, his tone remaining calm.
“Since this is a spar, let us stop once a point is made.”
Yet no sooner had his words fallen than his sword intent bore down on her.
The first strike came with terrifying speed. A cyan-white streak of sword light slashed across the arena, cutting through the air with a sharp whistle. He Zhou had not used his full strength, yet it was more than enough to force an ordinary Golden Core cultivator to dodge.
Yun Heng stood her ground. Raising two fingers, she condensed a streak of frost-colored sword Qi at her fingertips.
The two flashes of sword light collided midair, causing the array boundary to tremble slightly. He Zhou's sword light shattered, scattering into faint specks of spiritual light that dissolved into the wind.
“She blocked it.”
“No, she sliced right through it!”
He Zhou's eyes darkened slightly. Though that strike had merely been a probe, Yun Heng had countered it far too effortlessly. Twisting his wrist, he unleashed a second strike.
This time, the sword light split into three streaks, sweeping toward Yun Heng from the left, center, and right. Each line of sword Qi carried the formidable spiritual energy of the Nascent Soul realm, swirling up the dust from the stage before even reaching her.
Yun Heng pushed off the balls of her feet, stepping back half a pace.
A frost-colored streak of sword Qi slashed out past her sleeve, shattering the left attack first, then parrying the center blow. The final streak grazed past her shoulder, leaving a shallow mark as it struck the array boundary.
The onlookers could tell that this move had strained her slightly more than the first.
“You have some skill.”
He raised his sword, its spiritual light flaring intensely.
“Then let us try another.”
Before his words even faded, the atmosphere across the entire Martial Arena shifted.
He Zhou released his full spiritual energy outward. Waves of sword Qi surged toward Yun Heng, layer upon layer. In this moment, the gulf between the Nascent Soul realm and the Golden Core realm was laid bare.
Yun Heng was forced back two steps by the pressure.
The audience held their breath. Standing amidst the crowd, Su Mingyuan kept her eyes locked onto Yun Heng.
On the stage, Yun Heng raised her hand, summoning the Tianheng Broken Sword to her grip. As soon as the frost-white blade manifested, the temperature across the arena plunged.
Fang Huaifeng's eyes shifted slightly. That was not a sword of the Xuanxiao Sect, nor was it any stance from Cangjian Peak.
Yun Heng gripped the hilt, angling the tip downward. In the next instant, she stepped forward right into He Zhou's surging sword momentum.
Tianheng Sword Art, A Line of Frost. A razor-thin beam of frost-colored sword light slashed out from the tip of her blade.
The light was as fine as a white thread, yet the moment it sliced into He Zhou's sword momentum, it forcefully cleaved through those surging layers of sword Qi.
He Zhou's eyes narrowed, and he swung his sword across to block.
Clang!
As the two swords collided, Yun Heng's wrist went numb, a hairline tear splitting open the web between her thumb and forefinger. He Zhou was also forced back half a step.
Behind the ancient pine up above, Xu Wei's eyes flickered.
Wen Fei murmured in a low voice, “This sword art does not belong to the Xuanxiao Sect.”
Fang Huaifeng saw it clearest of all.
Though He Zhou was not a disciple of Cangjian Peak, he cultivated the direct transmission sword styles of Xuanwei Peak. His strikes were grand and majestic, his spiritual energy heavy and solid, carrying the grand, righteous aura native to the lineage of Xuanwei Peak.
Yet Yun Heng's sword was completely different. Her sword did not build overwhelming momentum, nor did it flaunt dazzling radiance. It focused entirely on a single point; once that point was breached, the opponent's entire momentum crumbled.
Fang Huaifeng's brow furrowed tighter and tighter. He had never seen such a sword art before.
On the stage, He Zhou also sensed that something was amiss.
He had originally assumed Yun Heng relied on strange treasures and secret arts to forcibly raise her realm, which would surely leave her real combat ability unstable. But after exchanging several blows, he found her sword extraordinarily steady—far too steady for someone who had only recently formed a Golden Core.
Her spiritual energy was not as deep as his, nor was her cultivation as high, but every time she struck, it was as if she already knew exactly where his blade would land.
A touch of chill finally entered He Zhou's eyes. He could not allow her to continue like this.
Taking a step forward, his sword light suddenly pulled inward. The overwhelming sword Qi pressing down from all around converged completely into the tip of his blade.
Below the stage, the expressions of several Xuanxiao Sect disciples changed.
“The Mountain-Suppressing Strike?”
“Senior Brother He is getting serious!”
Su Mingyuan watched Yun Heng on the stage. That plain-robed figure stood directly before the incoming sword light, her sleeves fluttering in the violent pressure as if she would be swallowed whole the next second. This time, if she doesn't die, she'll at least be critically injured.
He Zhou brought his longsword down. A cyan-white beam of sword light descended straight toward Yun Heng's chest.
The array pillars flared simultaneously, trying to suppress the shockwaves. Yet as the sword light descended, the array boundary still emitted a strained, groaning hum.
The audience below could no longer see Yun Heng. All that remained visible was the cyan-white sword light engulfing half the arena.
High above, Wen Fei's expression shifted slightly. Fang Huaifeng took a step forward, only to be stopped by He Lansong's voice.
“Keep watching.”
He Lansong had arrived without anyone noticing. Standing at the high vantage point, he gazed down at the stage with a somber expression.
Amidst the blinding light, Yun Heng tightened her grip on the Tianheng Broken Sword. He Zhou intended to kill her with this strike.
Against her chest, the Moon Soul Heart-Protecting Pendant grew faintly warm, as if detecting the deadly intent.
Yun Heng did not retreat; she knew she could not dodge this blow.
The Profound Bone Body-Forging Art instantly began operating within her body, sending fine, piercing pains through her bones and meridians. Her dantian's Golden Core vibrated as all her spiritual energy surged into the blade.
The Tianheng Broken Sword gave off a clear hum, and its frost-white radiance blazed to life.
A Line of Frost—slash!
Yun Heng raised her blade, slashing upward directly against the descending cyan-white sword light.
The fine line of frost struck right into the center of the beam. The entire arena shook violently, and the spiritual light on the array pillars flared wildly.
The cyan-white and frost-white glows intertwined, instantly engulfing both figures on the stage. Shattered sword Qi slammed against the array boundary in a rapid, clattering din.
The onlookers below were forced back several paces.
“I can't see anything!”
“Who won?”
“Senior Brother He's strike... how could she possibly block that?”
Standing among the crowd, Su Mingyuan clutched her sleeves tightly. She could not see through the haze, but she refused to believe Yun Heng could win.
A major realm separated a Golden Core from a mid-stage Nascent Soul. Furthermore, He Zhou was the Eldest Disciple of the Xuanxiao Sect, practicing the sect's top-tier sword styles. No matter how peculiar Yun Heng was, it should be impossible to bridge such a gap.
The array light finally began to fade, and the dust on the stage settled. The first thing to appear was a broken scabbard, followed by He Zhou.
He collapsed near the edge of the arena stage, his white robes stained with blood. His longsword lay discarded at his side, its blade coated in a thin layer of frost. That face of his, usually so refined and composed, was now deathly pale without a speck of color.
He tried to push himself up, but coughed up a mouthful of blood and slumped right back down.
A dead silence fell over the crowd.
A moment later, someone looked toward the other side.
Yun Heng was still standing.
She leaned on the Tianheng Broken Sword with one hand, while her other hand pressed against her chest. Blood stained the corner of her lips, her sleeves were shredded by sword Qi, and crimson slowly seeped between her fingers.
The victor was clear.
The crowd below finally erupted.
“Senior Brother He lost?”
“A mid-stage Nascent Soul... lost to a Golden Core?”
“What kind of sword art is she cultivating?!”
Su Mingyuan stood frozen in place, her earlier certainty crushed to pieces by the scene before her. As she stared at Yun Heng on the stage, the color drained from her face bit by bit.
Impossible... Why does every single time turn out completely different from what I expect?
High above, several elders remained silent for a long time.
Looking down at the frost marks across the arena, Wen Fei spoke in a voice so faint it was barely audible.
“Defeating a Nascent Soul across realms...”
Fang Huaifeng tightened his grip on his sword. He understood what this fight signified better than anyone else.
He Zhou was the Eldest Disciple placed with the highest hopes of this generation in the Xuanxiao Sect, yet he had lost—and lost to Yun Heng, who was merely in the Golden Core realm.
On the stage, Yun Heng raised her hand to wipe away the blood at the corner of her lips.
In her sea of consciousness, System prompts lit up one after another.
[Awe Points +200.]
[Awe Points +300.]
[Awe Points +500.]
[Awe Points +800.]
This haul was massive.
She lowered her gaze to look at He Zhou. He Zhou was looking back at her as well.
In his eyes were shock, unwillingness, and a nearly humiliating sense of wretchedness.
Yun Heng stowed away the Tianheng Broken Sword, turned around, and walked down from the Martial Arena.
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