Second Kill

Only the instructors on the field truly grasped the nuances of the battle that had just transpired.

The sharpness of the sword, honed through Zhao Cheng's mental cultivation, was secondary; the most formidable aspect of his swordsmanship lay in his keen insight and a decisiveness that surpassed the ordinary.

Swordsmanship was never a tool for the weak to defeat the strong, but rather a means for the weak to become strong, and for the strong to overcome the strong.

Unlike sword levels, combat capability was difficult to quantify, yet it remained absolutely critical.

Life and death were decided beneath the blade, and only with such decisiveness could one transcend life and death in a single strike!

Decisiveness, while simple to state, was by no means easy to cultivate.

Everyone understood the logic, but when it came to actual combat, putting it into practice was exceedingly difficult.

It was not something one could achieve simply by telling oneself to be decisive and resolute in one's heart.

A person's true nature could be glimpsed through the sword they wielded.

Had it not been for the words of Shi Tianyi earlier, the instructors might have been astonished, but witnessing this scene, they only sighed inwardly: "As expected of a Sword Ghost who seeks the Dao through slaughter; even as a mere seed, he already displays traits that others struggle to attain."

They also felt a sense of admiration for Shi Tianyi, thinking: "As expected of Director Shi, his eyes are truly sharp. This budding killer looks like a well-behaved youth at first glance, and were it not for his actions, one would never guess his murderous nature. Yet, even so, he could not escape the discerning gaze of Director Shi."

"'Cheng' for a successful career—I almost believed it."

On the field, the student who had been held at knifepoint by Zhao Cheng was already being dragged away by acquaintances.

He had been truly frightened out of his wits, reduced to a stunned goose, unable to offer any subjective reaction to the changes in his surroundings.

Even Zhao Cheng had not anticipated such an outcome.

Although his sword was indeed fierce, this reaction was truly exaggerated.

However, despite this, Zhao Cheng had no intention of holding back. His swordsmanship was just beginning to take shape, and the sword demanded ferocity.

He was far from the stage where a demon could become a Buddha. At this moment, if he were to restrain his claws and suppress his "fierce" nature simply because his opponent was a classmate, it would only cause his swordsmanship realm to regress.

A sword struck without regret was a manifestation of intent; it could not be reined in just because one wished it so.

Such thoughts flashed through his mind in an instant.

It actually gave Zhao Cheng some new insights into swordsmanship and the Sword Dao.

In this life, Zhao Cheng had read many miscellaneous books, encountering numerous tales of those who, in pursuit of the Sword Dao, slaughtered their fathers, mothers, wives, and children, wiping out their own kin.

Zhao Cheng had been puzzled, assuming these were exaggerations by novelists, but now that he had touched upon the mysteries of swordsmanship, he understood that such accounts were not exaggerated at all.

The sharpness of the sword was honed by the heart; often, it was a change that followed the Momentum.

If one's sword intent was newly formed and one chose to suppress it rather than nurture it, the mental intent could never grow strong.

Of course, one could not blindly strengthen it either. Once it reached a certain level, one's own will had to detach from it and establish dominance; otherwise, one would fall into the demonic path, becoming not the master of the sword, but a sword demon.

The benefits of having read so many miscellaneous books were immediately apparent as he grasped so much at once.

More importantly, he took them as a warning.

Using the past as a mirror to reflect upon oneself.

Soon, the second opponent took the field.

In the first battle, Zhao Cheng had challenged the twenty-eighth rank and won, raising his own rank to twenty-eighth. Now, in the second battle, he skipped five ranks to challenge the twenty-third.

This time, because of the previous incident, the students ranked five places above Zhao Cheng had prepared in advance, so Zhao Cheng did not have to wait long.

"Please!" Zhao Cheng said.

"Please!" The opponent returned the gesture. This time, his opponent was a girl wearing her hair in a bun.

In terms of practicing swordsmanship, girls actually had an advantage over boys; they matured psychologically earlier and were more meticulous, though they were inherently weaker in physique.

However, this only applied to the starting phase; once they reached the level of a Swordsman, gender held no advantage.

By the time they reached the level of a Sword Master, women often found it difficult to cross that threshold precisely because they were too meticulous.

A Sword Master was a hero of the sword; only those with great spirit could break through.

To be a hero of one's time—how difficult that was.

However, in the current Sword Dao class at Qingyuan, girls only accounted for one-third of the students, with the majority being boys.

This was not because the boys at Qingyuan were more outstanding, but rather a social issue—a standard case of more men than women.

The girl opposite Zhao Cheng looked slender, with fair skin, appearing soft and delicate, but in reality, her explosive power was definitely not lacking.

Her fair and soft skin was the result of good care.

Cultivation in the Quietude stage was not about desperately training muscles, but aimed at stimulating the nervous system to enhance explosive power.

In this stage, the deeper one's realm, the more refined and fit one's physique became; unless one had exceptional talent or practiced a specialized "hard training," it was impossible to grow into a bulky mass.

Zhao Cheng did not know this girl, but she was very pretty and full of youthful vitality. She was not the literary girl type like Wu Yiran, but rather the cute type.

This type was not yet popular in high school; it would only become sought after in the later years of university or even after graduation.

From the details, Zhao Cheng judged that her family background was likely quite good. There were not that many people born with such natural beauty in the world, and although cultivation could cleanse the marrow and cut the bones, that was not something achievable at this stage.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Three more strikes in quick succession, yet the girl remained steady. She had clearly learned from the previous loser's experience, though it also helped that her swordsmanship was far more refined.

A gap of five rankings is neither large nor small.

However, the charm of swordsmanship lies in its variability; the sword is inanimate, but the person wielding it is alive. If one only knows how to use fixed routines, it only proves their swordsmanship has yet to reach mastery.

Thus, after the third strike, Zhao Cheng's sword path shifted abruptly. Gathering a sliver of momentum, he ignored all defenses, much like Zhuan Zhu Stabs Liao, and thrust directly toward his opponent's brow, completely disregarding the fact that she was a cute girl.

If this strike from Zhao Cheng were to land, although it wouldn't be fatal due to the wooden sword, it would certainly cause a lingering pain. Of course, Zhao Cheng would also be immediately eliminated.

On the other side, as Zhao Cheng launched his strike, his opponent naturally could not stand still. Her sword tore through the air, slicing straight toward Zhao Cheng's arm.

Faced with this situation, the girl's brain had not yet reacted, but her body's instincts responded far faster than her mind ever could.

The sword path in her hand shifted, parrying Zhao Cheng's blade while her body subconsciously retreated.

And that retreat, naturally, was where the problem lay.

By the time the girl's mind caught up, it was already too late.

Another strike to the throat!

This time, a wave of gasps erupted from outside the arena.