The first rays of morning sunlight slipped through the window lattice and fell across Lin Fan's face.
He slowly opened his eyes, a flash of brilliance passing through them. After a night of meditation, not only had his strength fully recovered, but the vital energy within him had grown more abundant. Even more exciting, his understanding of Gale Sword Technique had deepened. It was as though he had still been practicing his sword in his dreams.
[Gale Sword Technique: Mastery Level (2987/5000)]
He was only a little over two thousand points away from Minor Accomplishment Level.
"I should be able to break through today." Lin Fan rose and stretched his limbs. His bones gave off a faint crackling sound.
"Brother Fan, you're awake?" Chen Dahu sat up on the bed across from him and rubbed his eyes. "I think I heard you muttering about sword moves all night..."
"I was practicing swordplay in my dreams." Lin Fan smiled. "Come on, let's grab something to eat. We've got to get to the arena."
The two of them washed up quickly and headed to the dining hall for breakfast. The hall was unusually lively today. Nearly everyone was talking about the monthly tournament, which was about to begin.
"Have you heard? Zhang Kuanghu said yesterday he'd take care of every opponent in ten moves!"
"Zhao Gang's no slouch either. I hear his family's Gale Blade Technique has already reached Major Accomplishment Level."
"Li Long and Sun Hu seem to have broken through to the peak of Second Rank too. The top four this time will probably be those four."
"What about that Lin Fan? Isn't he the top student in Regular Class?"
"Lin Fan? Ha. He came from a commoner family. How strong could he possibly be? I doubt he'll even make it through the preliminaries."
As the chatter swirled around him, Lin Fan ate his steamed bun in peace, as if none of it had anything to do with him.
Chen Dahu, however, was indignant. "Those people have no idea how strong you are, Brother Fan..."
"It doesn't matter." Lin Fan drained the last of his congee. "Strength isn't talked about. It's fought for."
As the hour of the Dragon approached, the two left the dining hall and headed for the academy's central arena.
The arena covered an enormous area, large enough to hold more than ten thousand spectators. Fifty platforms had already been set up in a ring. Each stood three feet high and stretched ten zhang in both length and width. Built from sturdy black granite, they could withstand any battle below the Martial Master level.
Students already packed the area around the platforms. Some were nervously preparing for their matches, others watched with excitement, and still others were taking bets. The whole place was bustling.
Lin Fan found Platform Jia-Seven and sat in the competitors' rest area. Chen Dahu's Platform Jia-Three was on the other side. Before they parted, Chen Dahu gave Lin Fan's shoulder a firm slap. "Good luck, Brother Fan!"
"You too." Lin Fan nodded.
At the stroke of the hour of the Dragon, the bell rang.
A black-robed referee climbed onto the central dais. His voice carried across the arena through an amplification array. "The monthly tournament for Jiangnan Martial Arts Academy's Regular Class begins now! The preliminary round will use a round-robin format. Each group has five competitors, and everyone must fight four matches. A win is worth three points, a draw one point, and a loss zero. The top two scorers in each group will advance to the top hundred!"
The rules were simple and clear.
"Referees, take your places at the platforms. Let the first round begin!"
As soon as he finished speaking, all fifty platforms erupted into action.
The referee at Platform Jia-Seven was a stern-looking, middle-aged woman. She unfolded the list in her hand and called out, "First round, Group Jia-Seven: Competitor One versus Competitor Two, and Competitor Three versus Competitor Four. Competitors, take the stage!"
Lin Fan stood, straightened his collar, and walked steadily onto the platform.
A burly young man with a face full of jowls came up from the other side. He carried a thick-backed saber whose blade gleamed coldly. It was Liu Mang.
"Lin Fan?" Liu Mang grinned, showing yellow teeth. "I hear your swordsmanship's pretty good. Too bad for you—you ran into me today."
Lin Fan didn't answer. He simply drew his wooden training sword.
The referee glanced at them both. "The rules: no deliberately maiming your opponent, no prohibited drugs, and no attacking a fallen opponent. A competitor loses by surrendering, falling off the platform, or losing the ability to fight. Understood?"
"Understood," they answered together.
"Begin!"
Before the referee's voice had even faded, Liu Mang burst into action!
He stamped down hard, making the platform shudder, and charged at Lin Fan like a raging bull. He raised his saber high in both hands, beginning Mountain Breaking Saber's opening move—Split the Mountain and Shatter Stone!
The saber wind howled, its momentum astonishing!
The spectators below cried out. "What a powerful opening! That strike has to carry at least three thousand jin of force!"
"Lin Fan's finished. He's got a wooden sword—how's he supposed to block that?"
"Dodge!"
But Lin Fan didn't move.
He stayed rooted to the spot and thrust his wooden sword at a slant. It looked slow, yet the point shot straight for Liu Mang's wrist with pinpoint precision.
Gale Stab!
No flourishes, no buildup—just the simplest, most direct thrust.
Yet its timing was impeccable. Liu Mang had exhausted his old strength but hadn't gathered new strength. His saber was raised, leaving his guard wide open.
Liu Mang's expression changed. He hurriedly switched moves, lowering the saber to block.
But Lin Fan had already withdrawn his sword. He thrust again at once, this time aiming for Liu Mang's throat.
Liu Mang blocked again.
The third thrust went for his lower abdomen.
The fourth targeted his knee.
The fifth aimed for his shoulder.
Five thrusts in a row. Each forced Liu Mang to defend, each disrupted the rhythm of his attack. He had made the first move, and he was the stronger of the two, yet Lin Fan was using the simplest sword moves to drive him into a frantic defense.
"What's going on?" someone in the audience asked, baffled. "Why does Liu Mang keep defending?"
"Look at Lin Fan's sword!" a sharp-eyed spectator cried. "Every strike hits Liu Mang right where it's most uncomfortable, forcing him to defend. This swordsmanship... it's incredibly precise!"
The longer they fought, the more frustrated Liu Mang became.
Mountain Breaking Saber favored sheer force, charging forward without hesitation and overwhelming skill with strength. But Lin Fan gave him no chance to build momentum. Every time Liu Mang tried to unleash his power, Lin Fan's sword darted in and forced him to break his rhythm.
If this continued, he'd be worn down completely!
"Damn it, I'll risk it!" A vicious glint flashed through Liu Mang's eyes. He suddenly ignored the sword thrusting at his chest and brought his saber down with all his strength, intending to trade injury for injury!
The audience cried out. "Liu Mang's gone mad!"
The referee clenched her fists, ready to step in at any moment.
Lin Fan's expression didn't change. He abruptly withdrew his thrusting sword, shifted his footwork, and slid half a step to the side like a ghost, narrowly avoiding the blade.
At the same time, he swept his wooden sword upward.
Gale Sweep!
The strike caught Liu Mang on the inside of his wrist.
"Ah!" Liu Mang screamed. His saber flew from his hand and clattered off the platform.
Clutching his wrist, he broke out in a cold sweat from the pain. Though the sword had been wooden, Lin Fan had struck with uncanny precision, hitting an acupoint on his wrist and numbing his entire arm.
"Do you still want to fight?" Lin Fan's sword point stopped three inches from his throat.
Liu Mang's expression shifted several times before he finally gritted his teeth. "I... surrender."
"First round, Group Jia-Seven: Competitor Three, Lin Fan, wins!" the referee announced.
The spectators fell silent for a moment, then erupted into chatter.
"He won? Lin Fan won just like that?"
"That was quick! How many moves was it?"
"Liu Mang's at the early Second Rank. He lost just like that?"
"Did you see Lin Fan's swordsmanship? It looked... it looked like the most basic Gale Sword Technique."
"You're right. It was basic swordsmanship! But he used it so brilliantly. Every move landed exactly where it needed to!"
Lin Fan sheathed his sword and left the platform, his expression calm, as if he'd done nothing worth mentioning.
[Gale Sword Technique proficiency +50] [Combat Experience +20]
The system notifications flashed by.
One battle had been worth half a day of his usual practice.
As expected, real combat is the fastest way to grow, Lin Fan thought.
He returned to the rest area, sat down, and closed his eyes to regulate his breathing and absorb what he'd learned from the fight.
Not far away, several students watching the matches whispered among themselves.
"Lin Fan's no pushover."
"Liu Mang's loss was a little unfair. He didn't get to show what he could do before Lin Fan shut him down."
"It wasn't unfair. Lin Fan's swordsmanship was the perfect counter. He used speed against slowness and skill against strength. It was a tactical victory."
"Looks like he really can fight for one of the top two spots in his group."
The first-round matches gradually came to an end.
Half an hour later, the second round began.
"Second round, Group Jia-Seven: Competitor Three, Lin Fan, versus Competitor Five. Competitors, take the stage!"
Lin Fan went up again.
This time, his opponent was a tall, lean young man wielding a pair of short spears. He had clearly watched Lin Fan's previous match. As soon as the fight began, he adopted a circling strategy, his two spears darting like snakes to target Lin Fan's legs. He was trying to use speed to counter speed.
Lin Fan still used Gale Sword Technique, but he changed his strategy this time.
Rather than trying to defeat his opponent with a single strike, he combined his swordsmanship with his footwork, moving around the platform and searching for an opening.
After ten moves, the tall young man grew impatient. His twin-spear attacks grew more and more forceful, but his openings multiplied as well.
On the twentieth move, Lin Fan seized an opening. His wooden sword shot forward like a venomous snake, striking the opponent's right shoulder.
The tall young man grunted, and one of his spears slipped from his hand.
"I surrender." He was straightforward about it.
"Second round: Lin Fan wins!"
The spectators burst into another uproar.
"He won again?"
"This time it took twenty moves, but he still seemed completely at ease."
"Have you noticed? Lin Fan's swordsmanship seems to be improving. He was a little rough in the first match, but now it's much smoother."
"Monster..."
In the third round, Lin Fan faced a brawny man who wielded a hammer. The man was tremendously strong; when he brought his hammer down, the platform shook.
Lin Fan still countered with Gale Sword Technique. This time, however, he added more footwork, sometimes rushing in close to attack and sometimes keeping his distance, leading his opponent in circles.
After thirty moves, the brawny man ran out of strength. Lin Fan tapped him in the chest with his sword, and he surrendered.
"Third round: Lin Fan wins!"
Three straight victories and nine points. Lin Fan had secured his place in the next round ahead of time.
Meanwhile, the first round on the other platforms had only just ended, and the second round was beginning.
The area around Platform Jia-Seven was already packed. Everyone was talking about this dark horse who had suddenly risen to prominence.
"Three straight wins, all with a basic sword technique!"
"His opponents weren't weak either. Liu Mang's at the early Second Rank, and the other two were both at the peak of First Rank."
"The scariest part is that he still doesn't seem to be using his full strength..."
"Look at his cultivation. Isn't he still at First Rank? How's he doing this?"
As the spectators talked, Lin Fan stepped down from the platform, readying himself for the fourth round.
But as soon as he sat down, a furious shout rang out from the platform next to his. "I surrender!"
It was Chen Dahu's voice.
Lin Fan furrowed his brow and hurried to Platform Jia-Three.
On the platform, Chen Dahu was kneeling on one knee, blood at the corner of his mouth. His right arm bent at an unnatural angle—it was clearly broken. Standing opposite him was a young man in black, his hands behind his back and his expression cold.
"Zhang Kuanghu!" someone murmured.
He was one of the four strongest students in Regular Class.
The referee announced, "Fourth round, Group Jia-Three: Zhang Kuanghu wins! With that, Zhang Kuanghu finishes the round-robin undefeated and advances as the group's top seed!"
Zhang Kuanghu didn't even glance at Chen Dahu. He turned and stepped down. Passing Lin Fan, he paused and shot him a sidelong look, a cold smile curling his lips. "You're next."
Then he walked away.
Lin Fan ignored him and hurried onto the platform to help Chen Dahu up. "How are you?"
"I'm fine..." Chen Dahu grimaced in pain. "Just broke my arm. It'll heal in a few days. Brother Fan, Zhang Kuanghu's too strong. His Fierce Tiger Fist has reached Major Accomplishment Level. He hits with over five thousand jin of force. I couldn't block him at all..."
"Let's get you treated first." Lin Fan helped him over to the medical team.
On the way, Chen Dahu lowered his voice. "Brother Fan, Zhang Kuanghu did it on purpose. He could've beaten me easily, but he dragged it out for over twenty moves. Every time, his fist wind shook my internal organs. Then he finally broke my arm with one punch... He was showing off, making sure you saw."
"I know." Lin Fan's eyes turned cold.
After handing Chen Dahu over to the medical team, Lin Fan returned to Platform Jia-Seven.
The fourth round was about to begin.
"Fourth round, Group Jia-Seven: Competitor Three, Lin Fan, versus Competitor One. Competitors, take the stage!"
Lin Fan's last opponent was a young man in white who wielded a sword. He had a cool, detached air about him, and his swordsmanship was no weaker. He too had won all three of his matches, tying with Lin Fan for first place.
This fight would decide the group's top seed.
The two stepped onto the platform and faced each other.
The young man in white cupped his fists. "Zhao Qing. I look forward to your guidance."
"Lin Fan."
The referee announced the start.
Zhao Qing attacked first, his long sword shooting toward Lin Fan's face like a streak of rainbow light. His swordsmanship was clearly a cut above that of Lin Fan's earlier opponents. His swordlight formed a dense web of attacks, balancing offense and defense.
Lin Fan still countered with Gale Sword Technique.
But this time, he felt the pressure.
Zhao Qing's swordsmanship had reached Mastery Level, and his foundations were solid, leaving almost no openings. The two exchanged more than thirty moves without either gaining the upper hand.
The spectators watched without blinking.
"Zhao Qing's pretty strong too. His swordsmanship is steady."
"Lin Fan's finally found a worthy opponent."
"Look, Lin Fan's swordsmanship seems to be changing again..."
It was. Lin Fan's swordsmanship was changing.
For the first thirty moves, Zhao Qing had kept him on the back foot. But from the thirty-first move onward, Lin Fan's sword suddenly grew a little faster, a little surer, a little more ingenious.
[ Gale Sword Technique proficiency +30 ]
[ Gale Sword Technique proficiency +30 ]
[ Gale Sword Technique proficiency +30 ]
The system notifications flashed wildly.
In battle, Lin Fan's understanding of swordsmanship rose rapidly. Each of Zhao Qing's strikes was like a mirror, reflecting the flaws in his technique. As he parried, he was also learning, absorbing, improving.
On the fortieth move, Lin Fan's sword suddenly thrust from a bizarre angle, slipped through Zhao Qing's web of sword strikes, and stopped before his throat.
Zhao Qing froze, then gave a bitter smile. "I lost."
He sheathed his sword and clasped his hands. "Brother Lin, your swordsmanship is exquisite. I, Zhao, am impressed. Especially in those last ten moves—your technique improved by leaps and bounds. It was simply unbelievable."
"Brother Zhao, you let me win." Lin Fan sheathed his sword and returned the salute.
"Group Jia-Seven, fourth round: Lin Fan wins! With that, Lin Fan has won all four matches and advances as the group's top contestant!"
Thunderous applause erupted from below the stage.
Four victories in four matches—and with nothing but a set of basic sword techniques, he had defeated every opponent, including a 2nd Grade Martial Artist.
A record like that was enough to make everyone see him in a new light.
As Lin Fan stepped down, countless gazes fell on him. Some were startled, some admiring, some jealous, and some hostile.
He walked through the crowd without expression and returned to the rest area.
In his mind, the Status Panel appeared clearly:
[ Gale Sword Technique: Mastery Level (4123/5000) ]
He was just over eight hundred points away from the Minor Accomplishment Level.
And the top hundred tournament would begin tomorrow.
"Wang Hao, Zhang Kuanghu..." Lin Fan murmured. "Then bring it on."
He got up and left the competition grounds, heading toward the back mountain.
The setting sun stretched his shadow long behind him.
Behind him, countless gazes followed his retreating figure as people buzzed with discussion.
"Is that Lin Fan? The guy who won all four matches with basic sword techniques?"
"I heard he crossed Wang Hao. This should be fun to watch."
"Wang Hao's a young master of the Wang Family, with resources to spare. Lin Fan will probably be stopped before the top hundred."
"Not necessarily. I think Lin Fan still has tricks up his sleeve."
"Whatever happens, tomorrow's matches are sure to be exciting..."
Night fell deeper.
In the small woods on the back mountain, Lin Fan had already begun another round of training.
The sound of his Wooden Sword cutting through the air rang especially clear in the still night.
Before you continue