Liu Xianyang stopped, turned, and stood on the steps, looking at the Zhengyang Mountain sword cultivator responsible for the third sword challenge.
Judging by the trace of her sword light, she came from Little Lonely Mountain on Lovers Peak. Dressed in Night Clothes, her face stern and her bearing steady, she was plainly no pushover.
She had clearly watched the earlier fights closely from Little Lonely Mountain, especially the second. Yu Lin's defeat had been too strange. It seemed that anyone who drew close to Liu Xianyang would fall into some kind of formation restriction. So she had not flown straight to the mountain gate of First Line Peak. Instead, she stopped between the ancestral mountain and Full Moon Peak, hovering on her sword and facing Liu Xianyang and his extraordinarily uncanny Natal Flying Sword from afar.
After all, distance had never been the real issue in a sword challenge between sword cultivators.
The wind blew high in the sky. Dressed in black, the woman rode a long sword that trailed a snowy-white ribbon of light. Behind her rose peaks lush with green; she looked like a fairy riding her sword out of a blue-and-green landscape painting.
Liu Xianyang looked at the woman. She was not pretty, but her bearing on the sword was remarkably otherworldly. He felt he had learned a great deal. Next time he challenged some sect's Patriarch Hall, he absolutely could not listen to Chen Ping'an's arrangements again. Landing like an idiot at the mountain gate and hiking up? He ought to learn from this senior instead: stand atop a long sword, arrive in a rainbow streak, then stop abruptly in midair. Most crucially, he had to pick a scenic spot with a magnificent view, so that everyone watching would see him as a figure in