The Legend of That Night

"Do you need to rest for a while?!"

Li Qingmeng asked. Her crisp voice held the vitality of a young girl, yet carried a hint of gentleness; the combination was incredibly pleasant to the ear.

"No need. In such a short time, I wouldn't be able to recover much mental or physical strength anyway."

Zhao Cheng replied.

Ever since the third battle, he had not once voluntarily ended his Breathing Visualization Method.

Because once ended, it meant that breath was scattered, and his mental and physical strength would plummet, impossible to recover in a short time.

And right now, although he could not maintain high-intensity combat for much longer, he was at least still at his peak!

Hearing this, Li Qingmeng said no more.

She was not a particularly warm person; her previous words had merely been out of respect for an opponent.

Of course, her heart was filled with astonishment now. She had not expected that the other party could actually stand before her on the very first day, alone with a single sword.

This was no longer something that could be achieved by the talent of a mere Sword Ghost.

From that body, which was not tall and even somewhat lean, she sensed a powerful mental strength.

The strength of power was only temporary; only the strength of the heart was eternal, and only that could be called true strength.

Thus, she could not help but feel curious: what had this ordinary boy, who looked gentle and sunny at first glance, experienced in the past to forge such a powerful mental will?

They say suffering leads to growth, but what kind of suffering could make someone of his age possess such a powerful will?!

In an instant, many terms she had heard from classmates in daily life flashed through her mind, such as parents deceased, a ten-year pact, a brother wiping out an entire family...

All sorts of things!

However, the thoughts came and went quickly. As Zhao Cheng raised his sword and made a sound, she instantly cut away all distracting thoughts and, within a breath, entered the state bolstered by the Breathing Visualization Method.

With Sword Art at lv7, the mastery stage, the bolstered state no longer required preparation time.

And it was at this moment, when truly facing Zhao Cheng, that Li Qingmeng suddenly realized why those previous people had appeared so strange and restricted in their sword paths in certain places.

The sharpness pressing upon them was faint, but at the critical moment of battle, it was highly likely to sway the outcome.

Although her sword art had reached a state of refinement and mastery, she had not been able to cultivate such a Sword Momentum in her own heart.

At the same time, she was certain that if the other party's sword art were on the same level as hers, she would have absolutely no possibility of winning.

As for now, with her sword art a major level higher, looking through history, there had never been a record of someone successfully counter-killing across a major level.

And Zhao Cheng, at this moment, facing the strongest enemy he had encountered today, was indeed trembling slightly.

It was not fear, but excitement.

The effect of Battle Blood was just like this: the stronger the enemy, the more it activated the spirit and triggered positive mental feedback.

Of course, Fist Art Master was an exception.

With a height of over three meters and fists the size of winter melons, facing such an enemy, one died too quickly, which was more likely to cause psychological trauma.

Beneath the heart lake, the heart lake was clear and bright, but the long sword hanging above the heart lake was surging with blood-red light at this moment.

Bang!

The two swords collided. Zhao Cheng felt as if he had struck a solid, immovable rock. A massive counter-shock force surged forth, making his arm go numb.

From this single strike, Zhao Cheng judged that the other party's sword art was already approaching lv8.

The refinement and delicacy of her force manipulation were beyond anything he could compare to.

At the same time, whether comparing speed or explosive power, he held no advantage.

And the only thing she lacked compared to him was that her combat consciousness had not yet been fully unleashed, nor had she cultivated the sharpness of the sword in her heart.

But this alone was not enough to bridge the gap between the two.

This was why Shi Tianyi had said that practical combat ability could hardly compensate for the gap in basic attributes.

This was an objective fact.

But for Zhao Cheng to give up just like that was impossible.

Because if one stopped fighting just because they felt they couldn't win, such a sword would be too weak.

Of course, if it were a true life-or-death struggle, Zhao Cheng would have run away long ago, waiting until his sword art was higher before returning.

Different situations required different responses.

A person must have a flexible moral bottom line.

Giving up was impossible.

He had already said he would seek life within death; if he hadn't even died yet, how could he seek life?!

Back when he was nearly beaten to death by the Fist Art Master, Zhao Cheng had understood this truth.

Thus, Zhao Cheng's sword became even more ferocious. He did not attempt to score points, but instead, as his sword path swung, he aimed specifically at her face and forehead.

If Li Qingmeng were just a little more ruthless and let Zhao Cheng strike her face, Zhao Cheng would have lost.

But as a girl, and a beautiful girl at that, how could she be so cruel to herself?!

At the same time, she could not strike back at Zhao Cheng, for the moment she made a move, she would be disqualified for breaking the rules.

Such a tactic was shameless, yet undeniably effective.

Li Qingmeng had a very clear sense of her own positioning; she did not practice the sword to compete in feats of strength or to become the best in the world, but rather to cultivate her health and protect herself.

Thus, although she remained uninjured, she felt a wave of stifling frustration.

As for Zhao Cheng, had he not repeatedly employed this tactic of targeting her weaknesses, he surely would have lost long ago.

It was not until the thirty-second move that Zhao Cheng finally failed to find an opportunity to reverse the Momentum, and by this point, his physical stamina and mental energy were reaching their limits.

In an instant, his sword rhythm slowed by more than a beat.

Immediately after, he was struck by a Throat-Sealing Strike.

In truth, Li Qingmeng could have knocked Zhao Cheng's sword away, but perhaps out of a desire for retaliation, she chose to use the very Throat-Sealing Strike that Zhao Cheng excelled at.

As Zhao Cheng was defeated, many students breathed a sigh of relief, though they also felt a faint sense of disappointment.

The disappointment stemmed from the fact that they ultimately failed to witness the birth of a legend.

Yet at the same time, the Qingyuan Sword Trial class had not been swept by a freshman overnight after all.

Of course, fighting his way to third place in a single night was already miraculous enough.

It was only because they had previously imagined he might sweep the entire class that they felt less stirred now, much like the theory of opening a window.

Only now, seeing Zhao Cheng nearly exhausted, did the crowd realize that Zhao Cheng was human too, that he could get tired, and that he was no tireless god of war.

As for Zhao Cheng, although he failed to complete the achievement of sweeping the sword class in one night, this final defeat did not affect his mood.

While it was true that failure could cause psychological trauma, a tiny shadow like this—even if it happened ten thousand times—could not compare to the punch of a martial arts master that tossed a person away like scattering sand.

For Zhao Cheng, who had experienced such scenes, the defeat before him was no different from playing house.

After several simulations, his greatest gain was not the refinement of his swordsmanship, but the broadening of his perspective and state of mind.

Once you have seen the vast ocean, other waters are hard to admire.

Having witnessed grander scenes, the Qingyuan Sword Trial before him felt more like a trivial game of house.