Peak Showdown

On Ring Thirty-Seven, Shen Hao and Wang Hu stood facing each other. A fierce wind whipped up their robes, making them snap and flutter.

Wang Hu's gaze was sharp as an eagle's. The Flying Sword in his hand hummed and trembled, Azure Spiritual Light flowing endlessly over it. He took a deep breath, then stomped fiercely against the ground and shot forward like an arrow released from the bow. Wrapped in a fierce gale, his Flying Sword cleaved down at Shen Hao's head. In this sword cleave, he poured all the spiritual energy of the Early Qi Refining Third Layer into the strike. The move was fierce and domineering, carrying the howl of splitting wind.

Shen Hao's eyes remained calm. His feet shifted slightly as he executed the Basic Footwork Technique he had comprehended, his body sliding three feet to the side like a ghost. Wang Hu's Flying Sword grazed past his shoulder and struck empty air, slamming heavily into the Green Stone floor of the ring and scattering shards of stone and sparks.

"What quick footwork!" Wang Hu was inwardly startled. With a twist of his wrist, he turned the slash into a thrust, the sword tip pointing straight at Shen Hao's throat, swift as lightning.

Shen Hao remained unhurried. With a light flick of his wrist, the Basic Flying Sword in his hand precisely parried against the spine of Wang Hu's blade. With a crisp clang, both men were knocked half a step back. Wang Hu felt a thick surge of spiritual energy travel up the sword, numbing the web between his thumb and forefinger and leaving his arm faintly sore.

"The spiritual energy of the Perfected Qi Refining Third Layer truly is deep and robust!" Wang Hu gritted his teeth. Rather than retreating, he advanced, wielding the three sword formulas of the Purple Sun Basic Sword Codex. Cleave, thrust, sweep—they linked together as smoothly as drifting clouds and flowing water. Sword Light wove like a net, shrouding Shen Hao from all sides.

The disciples below watched dumbstruck, cheering loudly. Zhang Shan clenched his fists, fine beads of sweat seeping from his temples as he shouted softly, "Senior Brother Shen, keep it up!"

Shen Hao responded with composure. His footwork shifted unpredictably as he moved freely through Wang Hu's Sword Light. His sword moves were not flashy; every stance was plain and unadorned, yet each precisely seized the flaws in Wang Hu's attacks. Spiritual energy flowed smoothly through his tempered meridians, and every strike carried exactly the right amount of force.

After several dozen exchanges, Wang Hu's breathing gradually grew ragged, and sweat covered his forehead. Though his sword moves were fierce, they consumed far more spiritual energy than Shen Hao's. If this continued, defeat would be inevitable.

"I can't keep this up!" A trace of ruthlessness flashed through Wang Hu's eyes. He abruptly bit the tip of his tongue and sprayed out a mouthful of Essence Blood, scattering it all over his Flying Sword. In an instant, the sword's spiritual light swelled severalfold, radiating a savage and baleful aura.

"Blood Sacrifice Flying Sword?" The elders below the stage frowned slightly, yet none spoke to stop him. This was a disciple's life-or-death method. So long as it did not endanger a life, the sect did not forbid it.

"Shen Hao, take this move!" Wang Hu roared, raising the Flying Sword wreathed in blood light and cleaving down at Shen Hao again. This strike was several times more powerful than before. Even the air was torn apart, releasing a shrill scream.

Shen Hao's expression finally turned grave. He knew he could not take this sword head-on. He drew a deep breath and mobilized all the spiritual energy within his Sea of Qi. At the same time, he activated the Companion Jade Pendant. The jade pendant emitted a faint blue glow, refining his spiritual energy to its utmost purity.

He stomped hard, but instead of retreating, he advanced. The Flying Sword in his hand traced a mysterious arc, avoiding Wang Hu's blade edge and pointing straight at his wrist. This sword was swift as a streak of light, its angle incomparably tricky.

Wang Hu's pupils contracted sharply. He tried to pull back his sword to block, but it was already too late.

Splurt!

The Flying Sword struck Wang Hu's wrist with perfect precision, and blood gushed out. With a clang, the Flying Sword in Wang Hu's hand fell to the ground. He let out a muffled groan of pain, staggering back several steps, his face pale as paper.

"I concede!" Wang Hu said through gritted teeth. His eyes were filled with unwillingness, yet he could do nothing about it.

Shen Hao sheathed his sword and stood still, then bowed to Wang Hu. "Thank you for letting me win."

"Shen Hao wins!" the elder on the ring announced loudly, his voice carrying throughout the entire Training Ground.

Thunderous applause and cheers erupted from below the stage.