Three sword-feathers at the point where Cangwu's wingtips crossed had shattered, their breaks scorched black.
A hair-thin sword mark had also been left on the tip of Xu Yang's spear.
The two faced each other across the air, both their breaths slightly unsteady.
Below them, not a sound could be heard.
Everyone craned their heads to watch the scene, unable to believe it.
"This man... can actually fight Cangwu to a draw?"
"He said he was a Rogue Cultivator? How is that possible?!"
"That spear art... I've never seen one so tyrannical. Even Cangwu's sword-feathers were shattered!"
A buzzing clamor of discussion rose up. Everyone was guessing at Xu Yang's origins, but no matter how they searched their memories, no one could name him.
It was as if he had appeared out of thin air, carrying an unfathomable spear art fit for ghosts and gods, simply stepping forth like that.
Cangwu slowly lowered his head and glanced at the broken sword-feathers on his wingtips.
After a breath of silence, he suddenly smiled.
It was neither mockery nor disdain, but excitement.
Like the smile of a predator that had finally encountered prey worthy of taking seriously.
"Good."
Cangwu spoke a single word, then slowly drew back his wings and stood tall. His right wing extended forward, its tip aimed at Xu Yang.
"Your first three spears are worthy of making me draw my sword."
The sword-feathers on his wingtip abruptly lit with violet light. That light extended from the tip, condensing into a three-foot violet long sword.
The blade was formed entirely from the pure origin of the Sword Dao, crystalline as water, with fine lightning patterns flowing along its edge.
For the first time, Cangwu had taken the initiative to wield a sword.
Xu Yang's pupils contracted slightly, but his