The Legendary Sword Saint

Li Mu smiled without saying a word. Some things could be done, but weren't suitable to say outright.

Challenging senior brothers who ranked above you wasn't unusual in the Mount Hua Sect. It happened at nearly every tournament, though most challengers ended up beaten and sent packing.

Take the renowned Sword Saint, Feng Qingyang. He had dazzled everyone at the sect tournament, nearly cutting his way through the entire field. Sadly, he had fallen short at the final hurdle.

It wasn't that he lacked skill. The main problem was the vast difference in time spent training. There were geniuses among the senior brothers ahead of him, too, and they had joined the sect more than twenty years earlier. Naturally, they weren't easy to catch up with.

Soon after, the Qing generation took the stage. Before he was even twenty, Feng Qingyang had risen to become an elder of the Mount Hua Sect and no longer took part in the tournaments.

Li Mu faced much the same situation now, except his goal wasn't nearly as lofty as cutting through the entire field. He only needed to sweep aside opponents at the same level.

As for the senior brothers who had already broken through to the first-rate realm, cautious Li Mu wouldn't risk challenging them.

In this world, being one step ahead made you a genius. Three steps ahead, and you were either a madman or a martyr.

People could accept someone crossing a minor realm. As long as their swordsmanship was advanced enough, it was basically achievable.

Crossing a major realm was another matter entirely. The Mount Hua Sect already had a Feng Qingyang. No one wanted to see a second one appear.

If he attracted that much attention, Li Mu would probably have no choice but to hole up on the mountain and rely on the sect's protection while he trained in seclusion.

A few years ago, that might have been fine. But being trapped on Mount Hua now wasn't a good choice. If he really got caught up in the great clash between the Sword Sect and the Qi Sect, Li Mu couldn't guarantee he'd make it out unscathed.

If he wanted to compete for resources without attracting too much attention, he had to strike the right balance.

"Senior Brother Liu, you should stop teasing me. Master has high hopes for you. He even glanced this way just now. If you don't do well in this tournament..."

He broke off mid-sentence. Liu Bufan's face immediately fell, as if the sky had come crashing down.

"Favor" had two sides to it. Zhou Qingyun had raised Liu Bufan himself, and they were practically father and son, so he was especially strict with him.

If another disciple performed poorly, they'd get a scolding at most. If they really couldn't cut it, the sect would simply send them somewhere far away, out of sight and out of mind. With Liu Bufan, though, he had to learn firsthand what it meant to have a "strict teacher."

"Junior Brother Li, your senior brother has always treated you well, hasn't he? You can't stand by and watch me suffer at a time like this."

Seeing this, Li Mu couldn't help but feel amused.

"Senior Brother, you know what Master's like. Pleading for you would probably only make things worse. Rather than sighing here, you'd be better off training hard and using the tournament as a chance to break through."

This wasn't gloating. For disciples stuck at a bottleneck, the tournament itself was an opportunity. Around every sect tournament, a lucky handful managed to break through.

With the Jade Butterfly's help, Li Mu's judgment had improved by leaps and bounds. Liu Bufan's cultivation difficulties couldn't escape his notice. But since Liu Bufan hadn't asked, it wouldn't have been right for a junior brother to offer advice out of the blue.

Having lived two lives, Li Mu had gained a deeper understanding of human nature. This was especially true of young people in their ivory towers: much of the time, face mattered more than anything.

Even though the two of them got along well, Li Mu chose to drop hints from the side. The tournament was the advice he offered. Using external pressure to force a breakthrough was a common method among people of the jianghu; it was nothing new, and it also spared Liu Bufan's pride.

The thuds of fighting rang out as Zhou Qingyun personally stepped in to guide his disciples. It made sense. Internal cultivation varied from person to person, while teaching swordsmanship was undoubtedly simpler—and the best way to improve combat strength in a short time.

"Bu Mu, come down and give it a try, too."

Perhaps Zhou Qingyun was worried Bu Mu had neglected his swordsmanship, or perhaps he was displeased to see him standing by and watching the show. Either way, he called him out directly.

"Yes, Master."

Li Mu had wanted to test his own martial skills for a long time, but he'd never had a suitable opportunity. Now that Zhou Qingyun had brought it up, it was exactly what he wanted.

Once Li Mu drew his sword, his whole bearing changed. A scholarly air rose around him, interwoven with a hint of Daoist detachment. It was hard to put into words.

Since this was a master guiding his disciple, Zhou Qingyun—who had his dignity to uphold—naturally couldn't make the first move. Li Mu didn't stand on ceremony either. After saluting, he attacked at once.

He began with "thrusting" and "chopping"—simple moves that made it obvious he was using the Mount Hua Sect's basic swordsmanship. Yet in Li Mu's hands, even this basic swordsmanship became extraordinary.

Everyone present was no novice in the jianghu. The moment they saw basic swordsmanship at the level of grand perfection, their expressions changed.

Martial arts might vary in strength, but once any technique reached perfection, it became extraordinary. Even the most ordinary basic swordsmanship, perfected, could unleash power on par with top-tier sword techniques.

Zhou Qingyun, facing him on the field, was under the greatest pressure. As the one directly involved, he felt it more keenly than anyone. That faint, elusive trace of sword intent woven into the basic moves had him inwardly groaning.

But as his master, Zhou Qingyun couldn't bring himself to admit defeat. He could only use his advantage in internal energy to suppress Li Mu, barely maintaining the upper hand.

As an elder of the Sword Sect, Zhou Qingyun felt helpless having to rely on internal energy to suppress his opponent. The only consolation was that his opponent was his own disciple. The student had surpassed the master—just a little sooner than expected.

Li Mu had no idea. He thought his master was deliberately holding back, and could only marvel that "ginger was still spicier with age." The last trace of pride in his heart vanished without a trace.

He stopped sticking rigidly to form and unleashed every sword technique he knew. For a time, the two fought to a standstill, and the spectacle was dazzling.

After the time it took an incense stick to burn, Li Mu had tried everything but still found himself at a disadvantage. He decisively admitted defeat, bringing the spar to an end.

Once he'd caught his breath, Zhou Qingyun stroked his beard with his right hand and offered his assessment, his face faintly flushed. "Mm. Bu Mu's swordsmanship has nearly reached the level of great mastery. Even an ordinary first-rate fighter would be a match for him.

"But you mustn't grow complacent. There's always a higher sky and a stronger person. To name just one, your Uncle Feng was already more skilled than you are at your age.

"From now on, look for opportunities to gain more experience fighting people. This was only a spar. If we'd been fighting to the death, you'd already be a corpse."

Feng Qingyang was a legend of the Mount Hua Sect. The youngest disciple of the Qing generation, he was only a few years older than Li Mu, yet he had already earned a fearsome reputation throughout the world as the Mount Hua Sword Saint.

He had broken through to the first-rate realm before turning twenty, and reached the pinnacle before he was twenty-five. With swordsmanship that ran deep, he made every peer—no matter how gifted—pale in comparison. He was a downright cheat code.