Peak Showdown

On the thirty-seventh platform, Shen Hao and Wang Hu stood facing each other, the fierce wind whipping their robes with a sharp crackling sound.

Wang Hu's gaze was as sharp as an eagle's, the flying sword in his hand humming with tremors as azure spiritual light swirled without pause. He took a deep breath, stomped his foot hard against the ground, and shot forward like an arrow from a bowstring. The flying sword in his hand, wrapped in a fierce gust of wind, cleaved down toward Shen Hao's head. This single sword strike poured all the spiritual energy of his Early Qi Refining Third Layer into it, the technique fierce and domineering, carrying the sound of splitting air.

Shen Hao's eyes were calm. He shifted his feet slightly, executing the Basic Footwork Technique he had comprehended, and slid three feet to the side like a phantom. Wang Hu's flying sword grazed past his shoulder, striking empty air and slamming heavily into the green stone floor of the platform, sending up a spray of stone chips and sparks.

"Such fast footwork!" Wang Hu's heart jolted. He twisted his wrist, turning the cleave into a thrust, the sword tip aimed 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 the spine of Wang Hu's blade. A crisp clang rang out, and both of them staggered back half a step. Wang Hu felt a thick surge of spiritual energy travel along his sword, numbing his tiger's mouth and sending a dull ache through his arm.

"Perfected Qi Refining Third Layer's spiritual energy—truly formidable!" Wang Hu gritted his teeth. Instead of retreating, he pressed forward, unleashing the three sword techniques of the Purple Sun Basic Sword Codex with his flying sword: cleave, thrust, and flick, flowing together seamlessly. The Sword Light wove into a net, enveloping Shen Hao entirely.

The disciples below the platform watched with wide eyes, cheering loudly. Zhang Shan clenched his fists, fine beads of sweat forming at his temples, and muttered under his breath, "Senior Brother Shen, keep going!"

Shen Hao responded with ease, his footwork shifting unpredictably as he wove through Wang Hu's Sword Light. His own sword moves were not flashy—each was plain and unadorned—yet they precisely seized upon the flaws in Wang Hu's techniques. Spiritual energy flowed smoothly through his tempered Meridians, and every strike carried just the right amount of force.

After several dozen exchanges, Wang Hu's breathing grew ragged, his forehead drenched in sweat. Though his sword techniques were fierce, they consumed far more spiritual energy than Shen Hao's. If this dragged on, defeat was certain.

"I can't let this continue!" A glint of ruthlessness flashed in Wang Hu's eyes. He bit the tip of his tongue, spat out a mouthful of Essence Blood, and sprayed it all over his flying sword. In an instant, the sword's spiritual light surged several times over, radiating a savage, murderous aura.

"Blood Sacrifice Flying Sword?" The elders below frowned slightly but did not intervene. This was a life-staking technique for disciples; as long as it didn't cost a life, the sect did not forbid it.

"Shen Hao, take this move!" Wang Hu roared, gripping the blood-enshrouded flying sword as he once again swung it down at Shen Hao. This strike was several times more powerful than before, tearing through the air with a piercing shriek.

Shen Hao's expression finally turned serious. He knew he could not meet this blow head-on. He took a deep breath, channeling all the spiritual energy from his Sea of Qi while activating the Companion Jade Pendant. The pendant emitted a faint azure glow, refining his spiritual energy to its purest state.

He stomped his foot hard, charging forward instead of retreating. The flying sword in his hand traced a mysterious arc, dodging Wang Hu's blade and aiming straight for his wrist. This strike was as fast as flowing light, its angle impossibly tricky.

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

Pfft!

The flying sword struck Wang Hu's wrist with precision, blood spurting out. With a clatter, Wang Hu's sword fell to the ground. He let out a pained grunt, stumbled back several steps, his face as pale as paper.

"I concede!" Wang Hu gritted out, his eyes filled with unwillingness but helplessness.

Shen Hao sheathed his sword and stood upright, bowing to Wang Hu. "Thank you for yielding."

"Shen Hao wins!" The elder on the platform announced loudly, his voice carrying across the entire Training Ground.

A thunderous wave of applause and cheers erupted from below the platform.