Shocking the Crowd

While Li Mu was lost in thought, the challenge match began.

Perhaps Cai and Yao's earlier actions had frightened everyone, or perhaps they all knew their own limits. Either way, no one showed any interest in challenging the first and second rings, where the two were stationed.

If no one came to challenge them, the ring holders couldn't very well ask people to come up themselves. And Yao Buzhou, as the senior disciple of the sect, certainly couldn't challenge the junior disciples who came after him.

The two who should have been the stars of the show had now become "idle spectators." All they could do was awkwardly stare at each other from across the ring.

By contrast, the other three rings were bustling with activity. The challengers were all at least in the late second-rate stage, and most were at the peak.

Many had signed up for this challenge not to compete for rank, but to push their own potential through combat and seek a breakthrough beyond their current level.

They could also seek breakthroughs through battle at other times, but breaking through was dangerous. Not everyone was a protagonist who could make a breakthrough in the middle of a fight.

The sect's tournament was different. Everyone they fought was a fellow disciple. If they gained some insight, they could simply stop and begin cultivating, and their opponent would cease attacking.

Besides, an elder watched over every ring and would intervene when necessary. This minimized the chance of accidents as much as possible.

Their cultivation levels were close, and they had all made their way through the jianghu. They were experienced fighters, so the matches were naturally fierce.

"Since no disciples have stepped forward to challenge them, Buli and Buzhou, come down and make room on the rings for the others."

The voice was not loud, but it carried an unquestionable authority. No matter where you stood, it sounded as if it had rung right beside your ear.

Ning Qingyu's sudden display of power left the crowd stunned. More than ten thousand guests had come to watch today; sending his voice clearly to every one of them would have been impossible without profound internal energy.

"Half-step to the innate realm!"

Someone cried out. The entire venue fell silent. Since Zhang Sanfeng's time, no innate master had appeared in the martial world, making the peak level the highest anyone could reach.

Ning Qingyu had been famous for years. He had already been a peak-level master a decade ago, and in recent years he had devoted himself to cultivation within the sect, rarely displaying his skills in public. But no one had imagined that his cultivation had reached this level.

Li Mu was stunned, too. He had assumed Feng Qingyang was the Mount Hua Sect's strongest fighter. He had never expected Sect Leader Ning Qingyu to have hidden his strength so deeply.

The only thing he couldn't understand was why Ning Qingyu had revealed his cultivation now, when he usually kept to himself.

Even if he meant to rein in the Sword Sect, he could have done so behind closed doors. Though the two sects fought fiercely, as far as Li Mu knew, no one had ever dared to provoke Ning Qingyu, their sect leader.

With two more rings available, the tournament moved much faster. There was no need to organize a draw; the senior disciples who had come seeking a breakthrough simply stepped forward themselves.

Seeing this, many of the watching elders smiled. By contrast, many guests in the stands wore grim expressions.

Those who chose their own opponents faced evenly matched fighters, which brought out their potential to the fullest and increased their chances of breaking through.

Of course, an even match often ended with both sides badly hurt. After one bout, they would usually have no part in the later contests for rank.

Those who could take this step had seen to the heart of the matter. They understood that "one's own cultivation is what truly matters," and, more importantly, they believed they could break through.

Once they understood this, then barring any accidents, most of them would likely reach the first-rate level. The only question was when.

The jianghu was vast, so vast that no one could travel it all in a lifetime; yet it was also small, small enough that people fought over a few taels of loose silver.

For Mount Hua, this meant the next generation was in good hands. To the other jianghu factions, it looked like a looming threat. No doubt many among the guests had grown more wary of the Mount Hua Sect.

The tournament continued, but the atmosphere outside the rings grew more animated.

The fighters in the rings might all be second-rate martial artists, but that didn't mean second-rate martial artists were a dime a dozen. In truth, they were already skilled fighters in the jianghu.

Though the jianghu was full of experts, that was only because the pool of martial artists was enormous. Most people in the jianghu had mediocre skills.

Ordinary escorts, caravan guards, and household guards were mostly not even first-rate fighters; they could take on seven or eight strong men.

Third-rate martial artists could already serve as escort chiefs. Most independent fighters and wandering knights in the jianghu were at this level.

Ordinary disciples of the major sects were at about the same level. They could take on more than a dozen elite soldiers in armor, putting them well beyond the limits of ordinary people.

Second-rate martial artists were already local powers with reputations of their own in the jianghu. They could establish a small martial family or a minor gang.

The middle ranks of the major sects were also at this level. In some sects, they could even serve as elders. They could take on more than a hundred elite soldiers in armor.

Of course, this was only a rough estimate. Martial artists could fight very differently depending on the terrain.

Even a first-rate martial artist would bleed on the battlefield if he charged straight into an army's formation. But in steep, rugged mountains, a single second-rate martial artist could send an elite force into disarray.

Perhaps that was why all the major sects had established themselves in famous mountains and great ranges. After all, no one could guarantee that the emperor wouldn't get it into his head one day to wipe out the rogue armed forces beyond his control.

Most of the guests who had come to watch were second- or third-rate martial artists. The matches were right within their frame of reference, so the response was naturally enthusiastic.

"Li Bumu requests your guidance, Senior Brother Wang!"

Before his voice had even faded, Li Mu had already appeared on the ring in a flash. Many people hadn't even seen how he got there.

That was exactly what Li Mu intended. To challenge someone a minor realm above him and win, he needed to show something extraordinary.

Rather than reveal his swordsmanship, Li Mu thought it better to show off his lightness skills. They would make people wary of him, too, but that was still better than making them think of him as "another Feng Qingyang."

"Junior Brother, please!"

It was only three short words, but the grave look on Wang Buyao's face revealed his deep wariness.

Li Mu didn't stand on ceremony. After greeting him, he drew his sword and launched a swift attack.

With his lithe footwork paired with the ethereal Thirteen Styles of Gentle Breeze, his entire figure seemed "present yet absent, real yet unreal, shifting yet unchanged," opening the spectators' eyes to a whole new world.

That left Wang Buyao in a miserable spot. He had seen the Thirteen Styles of Gentle Breeze before, and even seen many people use them more skillfully than Li Mu. But none of them had moved this fast!

The lightness skills Li Mu displayed could rival those of almost any first-rate martial artist. Several times, Wang Buyao tried to counterattack, but each attempt struck empty air.