Hearing the disdain in Ling Yue's tone Fang Han, many people in the audience turned their gazes towards him, with a hint of amusement in their eyes.
Fang Han glanced at Ling Yue, said nothing, but simply raised his right hand and slowly placed it on the hilt of the sword at his waist.
The white-haired old man glanced at the two of them, his voice calm:
"Start."
The moment the words fell—
Fang Han made a move.
He simply drew his sword and thrust it out.
The moment the Cloudsplitter Sword was drawn, a clear and melodious sword cry, like a dragon's roar, resounded throughout the venue.
The Dark Cyan blade shimmered with an understated brilliance. Where the tip of the sword passed, a fine, straight crack silently appeared in the air. The crack remained, like a dark fissure, clearly visible in the morning light.
The people in the audience who had been whispering just moments before suddenly fell silent.
Everyone's gaze was involuntarily drawn to the sword light, as if their vision had been captured by some invisible force.
The smile on Ling Yue's lips froze at that moment.
His pupils contracted sharply, and almost at the same instant the sword light appeared, a deadly sense of crisis shot from his tailbone straight to the top of his head.
He wanted to draw his sword, to dodge, to retreat—
But it was too late.
The sword light was so fast that he didn't even see how Fang Han drew his sword.
He only had time to see a streak of blue light flash before his eyes, and the next moment—
"Laugh!"
A soft sound.
A fine, dense sword scar appeared on his waist.
The clothing was ripped open, revealing the soft armor underneath, which was also ripped open, as well as the skin.
A crimson stain appeared on the skin, followed by thin streaks of blood seeping out.
It's not serious; it can only be considered a minor injury.
It was clearly not that Fang Han lacked strength, but rather that he refrained from using his Fang Han power due to the rules of the Martial Arts Tournament.
The entire Combat Platform fell into a deathly silence.
Ling Yue stood frozen in place, his right hand still pressed against the hilt of his sword, but his fingers remained suspended in mid-air, hesitant to fall.
He looked down at the wound on his waist, then looked up at Fang Han, who had retreated three zhang away.
Fang Han had already sheathed his sword and was calmly looking at him. There was no mockery in his eyes, but it was something that was even more infuriating than mockery.
He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but found his throat too dry to make a sound.
His previous words were like an invisible thorn, piercing his face and causing a burning pain.
His face changed from fair to flushed, then from flushed to pale, and finally turned into an indescribable bluish-gray.
He clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug deep into his palms.
After a brief silence from the audience, some people finally came to their senses and began to murmur among themselves.
"One sword strike, just one sword strike and he was defeated!"
" Golden Mausoleum Prefecture is Central Thirty-Six Prefectures, yet it was defeated without even drawing its sword..."
"Full of confidence, yet defeated with a single sword strike, Ling Yue has truly lost face!"
The whispers weren't loud, but they felt like needles, each word piercing Ling Yue's heart.
He suddenly looked up, his gaze fixed on Fang Han, his eyes filled with a mixture of shame, resentment, and anger.
Without saying a word, he turned around and strode off the Combat Platform.
His gait appeared normal, but to a discerning eye, it looked somewhat disheveled.
As he walked through the crowd, people automatically made way for him, their gazes falling on him and then on the sword wound at his waist, their expressions varied.
Ling Yue lowered his head, quickly walked through the crowd, and disappeared into the passageway on the side of the venue.
Fang Han sheathed his sword, turned around, and walked unhurriedly off the stage.
From below the stage, Zhen Feixuan's gaze fell on Fang Han.
A very subtle ripple flickered in her eyes, which were as clear as autumn water.
She saw that sword strike very clearly.
Clean, efficient, without any unnecessary movements, just pure speed and destructive power.
Where the sword's edge passed, even the air itself was torn apart.
Even she couldn't help but sense the danger.
Her suspicion was confirmed at that moment—this young man, whom she had met once at the Exquisite Pavilion, was no ordinary person.
This person is likely to be a formidable rival.
"Definitely a formidable rival!"
Not only Zhen Feixuan, but also the contestants who were originally either indifferent or scrutinizing looked at Fang Han with serious eyes.
Many people lingered on Fang Han for a long time before looking away.
Qingyang Prefecture was just an ordinary county, ranking in the middle to lower range among the 108 counties, and was not worth paying too much attention to.
But that sword strike just now forced them to reassess this person's strength.
Fang Han stepped off the stage, preparing to leave Combat Platform number ten to check on Luo Yuntian's situation at stage number twelve.
But then the white-haired old man's voice rang out again:
"Match 19: Zhen Feixuan from Brahma Heaven Prefecture versus Shi Xiong from Yellow Sand Prefecture."
Fang Han paused slightly, then stopped.
He turned around and his gaze fell on Zhen Feixuan's figure, who was dressed in a white outfit.
Upon hearing her name called, Zhen Feixuan calmly walked onto the Combat Platform.
Opposite her, a burly, dark-skinned man strode onto the stage.
The burly man held a heavy spiked club, its shaft jet black and covered in sharp spikes, gleaming with a cold, eerie light in the morning light.
He glanced at Zhen Feixuan, grinned, revealing a set of white teeth:
"Miss Zhen, fists and feet have no eyes, so please don't be offended if I accidentally hurt you later."
Zhen Feixuan did not answer, but simply nodded slightly in response.
The white-haired old man glanced at the two of them, his voice calm:
"Start."
As soon as he finished speaking, Shi Xiong made the first move.
He took a step forward, and the platform beneath his feet trembled slightly. The spiked club, accompanied by a Break the Wind, smashed straight towards Zhen Feixuan.
This strike was incredibly powerful; even an ordinary Second Grade martial artist would have to temporarily avoid its edge.
However, Zhen Feixuan merely swayed slightly, like a willow catkin blown by the wind, and dodged the blow in the nick of time.
At the same time, she reached to her waist with her right hand, and a soft sword emerged like a silver snake, its blade flashing—
"Laugh!"
On Shi Xiong's right wrist, where he held the stick, there was a fine, dense scratch.
The spiked club slipped from his hand with a clang and landed on the table with a dull thud.
Shi Xiong looked down at his slightly trembling right hand, then looked up at Zhen Feixuan with an expression of disbelief on his face.
He opened his mouth as if to say something, but ultimately said nothing.
The white-haired old man announced in a calm voice.
"Match 19, Zhen Feixuan wins."
Zhen Feixuan sheathed her sword, turned around, and walked off the stage.
From beginning to end, it's all just one move.
Fang Han watched Zhen Feixuan walk off the stage without any surprise.
It is only natural that First Grade martial artist can defeat Third Grade martial artist in one move.
He didn't look any further, turned around, and walked towards the number twelve Combat Platform where Luo Yuntian was.
The atmosphere at Combat Platform number 12 was even more tense than at table number 10.
Fang Han's gaze fell on the stage.
On the stage, Luo Yuntian was fighting against a young man dressed in a dark blue outfit.
Luo Yuntian's Sword Technique was steady and powerful. Each thrust carried a dense and firm force, and the sword light intertwined in front of him, like an impenetrable blue cloud.
This is the origin of his nickname, Azure Cloud Sword.
The blue-clad man's fist techniques were extremely fierce, with howling winds and each punch carrying the power to split mountains and cleave rivers, causing the sword light to tremble continuously.
The two exchanged blows, quickly going over a hundred moves in total.
Luo Yuntian's breathing became rapid, and fine beads of sweat began to appear on his forehead.
The man in blue was in no better shape; large beads of sweat slid down his forehead.
Although his fist techniques were fierce, they were firmly restrained by Luo Yuntian's Sword Technique, and he was unable to break through that sword net.
"Clang--"
In another clash, the man in blue slammed his fist into the sword, causing Luo Yuntian's longsword to hum and his figure to sway slightly.
Instead of retreating, he advanced, and with that sudden movement, his longsword transformed into a streak of azure light, rising from below and aiming straight for the blue-clad man's ribs.
The man in blue's expression changed, and he withdrew his fist to defend, but he was a beat too slow.
"Sizzle--"
The sword's edge sliced through the hem of the garment, raising a wisp of fabric.
The man in blue glanced down at the sword wound under his ribs, then at Luo Yuntian, remained silent for a moment, and finally clasped his hands in a fist salute:
"I lost."
Luo Yuntian sheathed his sword, slightly out of breath, and cupped his hands in a respectful gesture towards the man in blue:
"Thank you for your concession."
The man in blue didn't say anything, turned around and walked off the stage.
Luo Yuntian also stepped down from the stage, his forehead still damp with sweat and his breathing still a little rapid, but his calm eyes held a sense of relief.
He took out a handkerchief from his pocket, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and looked up to see Fang Han standing below the stage.
"Senior Brother Fang, you won too, right?"
"Um."
Fang Han nodded slightly.
"Let's go check on the others."
The two walked side by side toward the number fourteen Combat Platform where Mad Blade was located.
In the afternoon, the sun was setting in the west.
The first round of the Martial Arts Tournament has concluded.
Fang Han and his group walked out of the venue, the sunlight shining on them and casting long shadows.
Mad Blade, carrying the massive, door-like sword, swaggered ahead, humming an unknown tune, seemingly in a good mood.
Liu Bai was still dressed in a moon-white long robe, his steps were composed, and his expression was indifferent, revealing neither joy nor anger.
Wuxiang clasped his hands together, his expression serene.
Hua Jieyu smiled as she walked side by side with Xu Qing, whispering something to him.
Luo Yuntian followed beside Fang Han, in a rather good mood.
Behind them, Meng Xian of the Nether Pavilion and several other prodigies from Qingyang Prefecture remained silent, their expressions somewhat grim.
They all lost in the first round.
Of the top ten on the Qingyang Prefecture Prodigy Ranking, only seven made it through the first round.
Fang Han, Luo Yuntian, Liu Bai, Mad Blade Dao, Wuxiang, Xu Qing, and Hua Jieyu – seven people.
The remaining three, including Meng Xian from the Nether Pavilion, were all eliminated.
Meng Xian pursed his lips and walked at the back of the line without saying a word, his face quite grim.
Just then, a noisy conversation came from not far away.
Fang Han looked over and saw a group of nine people walking out of the venue about twenty steps away from them.
The nine individuals, each dressed in a different style, were the prodigies from East Foothills Prefecture participating in the Martial Arts Tournament.
One of them asked with a puzzled tone:
"That's strange. Wasn't Wang Zhen from the Thunderlight Pavilion supposed to participate in the Martial Arts Tournament this year? Why isn't he here?"
The other person shook their head, their voice also filled with doubt:
"Could something have happened on the way?"
"What could possibly go wrong? I heard that Elder Lei Zheng is leading the Thunderlight Pavilion team this time. He's First Grade Late Stage martial artist. With him protecting them, what could possibly happen on the road?"
The first person to speak frowned and said:
"That's true... Oh well, it's none of our business anyway, why bother?"
As they talked, they gradually walked away.
Fang Han and Luo Yuntian walked side by side. After hearing those few words of conversation, they exchanged a glance without making a sound.
Immediately, the two looked away, their expressions unchanged, as if they hadn't heard anything.
The group walked along the wide streets of the Imperial Capital towards the Royal Annex.
The setting sun cast their shadows long and thin, which moved slowly across the bluestone pavement.