"So if I lost, I couldn't go?"
Chen Changqing rolled his eyes, wearing an expression that said, What is wrong with you?
"What did I just say? That sword strike of yours can kill a True Lord. At the Grand Tournament, which holy land disciple could withstand that strike?"
"I'm letting you go not because you can beat me, but because you can beat everyone else."
"Understand?"
His words were domineering, yet entirely reasonable.
Chen Yuan's grip on the Starfall Sword tightened, then loosened, then tightened again.
He had lived two lives and cultivated for who knew how many tens of thousands of years. When had he ever received such "recognition"? In his previous life, he had pursued the sword alone, cutting away every bond. In the end, he stood lonely above the clouds, with not a single person by his side.
But in this life...
"Thank you, Holy Son."
He bowed and performed the standard salute of a Shushan Disciple.
There were no superfluous words, but everyone present could see the weight behind that bow—at this moment, this sword dao powerhouse who had cultivated through two lifetimes was sincerely lowering his head to Chen Changqing.
Chen Changqing patted him on the shoulder.
"Alright, cut out the empty formalities. We can spar again when we have time. Those sword techniques of yours look pretty interesting."
Chen Yuan's lips moved, but in the end, he merely nodded.
The expressions on some faces grew subtle.
Chen Yuan smiled without speaking, while Bai Wuya stroked his chin, clearly unsurprised by this outcome—those who knew Chen Changqing all understood that while this kid was arrogant and overbearing, he was by no means narrow-minded. He instead showed respect to those who truly had ability.
Wuxing let out a long breath of stale air, and his