Lijiang Sect Leader Blocks the Door of Crippled Old Village!

At the same time, inside the Sky Screen.

Chen Xin looked at Lin Feng across from him, whose face was full of arrogance, without the slightest anger on his own.

It was as if he had seen himself back on Douluo Continent, the insufferably arrogant man who had claimed to possess the world's number-one attack-type martial soul.

"Young man."

Chen Xin stepped forward and slowly took down the longsword from his back.

"This old man did indeed only just awaken his Spirit Fetus."

"But in a contest of the sword, age does not matter. Only skill does."

"If you fear earning a reputation for bullying the weak with the strong, you may suppress your cultivation to the same Spirit Fetus realm as this old man."

Chen Xin gripped the sword hilt with his right hand, his tone calm yet carrying an unquestionable force.

"A battle at the same realm."

"Let us see whether your traditional swordsmanship is sharper, or whether my Yankang Arithmetic is superior."

Hearing Chen Xin's proposal, Lin Feng's expression changed slightly, and then he let out a cold laugh.

"Fine! Since old sir insists on seeking instruction, this junior will oblige you!"

Lin Feng drew in a deep breath.

The vast vital qi in his body that belonged to the Five Luminaries realm rapidly drew inward, all of it retreating back into the depths of his dantian.

In just a few breaths, the pressure radiating from him plummeted, finally settling steadily at the early Spirit Fetus level.

"I have already sealed my Five Luminaries Divine Treasury."

Lin Feng held his sword in one hand, the tip angled toward the ground.

"Old sir, show your sword!"

Chen Xin nodded.

The wrist with which he held Wunian trembled slightly, and the longsword left its sheath.

There was no dazzling radiance, nor any deafening sword cry.

This dark-gray longsword was like the most ordinary iron rod imaginable, hanging quietly at Chen Xin's side.

"Watch my sword!"

Lin Feng shouted, exerting strength through his feet.

Although he had suppressed his realm, the foundation he had built through years of sword practice remained.

The moment he moved, his figure was like a flying swallow darting through the forest, astonishingly fast.

"Flying Swallow Corridor!"

The longsword in Lin Feng's hand traced several dazzling sword flowers through the air.

Sword light flashed and flared like rain filling the sky, sealing off Chen Xin's upper, middle, and lower paths of retreat.

This was an exquisite sword technique that had been passed down for several hundred years, emphasizing using speed to overcome slowness and seizing victory amid chaos.

Faced with the sword shadows filling the sky, Chen Xin stood where he was, his eyes narrowing slightly.

He did not retreat, nor did he raise his sword to block.

In that instant, his mind became incomparably clear.

The formulas and lines on the pages of the book Sword Principle Deduction, which he had seen last night on the ninth floor of the Library Pavilion, flashed through his mind like a revolving lantern.

"Wind speed, two and a half grades."

"Though the sword light is dense, when the wrist exerts force, the center of gravity shifts about an inch to the left."

"This sword technique pursues speed to the extreme, causing an energy gap lasting half a breath between each sword flower."

Data.

It was all data.

Under the organization of Chen Xin's pure killing sword intent, honed to the utmost extreme, Lin Feng's seemingly flawless, gorgeous sword technique was instantly dismantled into countless fragile geometric shapes.

"A flaw."

Chen Xin softly uttered the two words.

He finally moved.

His feet stepped in an extremely strange pattern, and his body leaned slightly forward.

The Wunian sword in his hand did not stir even the slightest sound of wind.

He simply thrust it forward, plainly and without the least flourish.

This thrust held no technique to speak of.

But in the eyes of the Imperial Academy students who knew what they were looking at, the angle of that sword strike was simply exquisite to the extreme!

"Ding!"

An extremely faint, crisp sound rang out.

The sword shadows filling the sky froze in an instant.

Lin Feng held his forward-charging posture, his entire body stiffening in place.

The longsword in his hand was knocked off its original trajectory, the blade giving off a violent trembling hum.

And Chen Xin's "Wunian" sword—

That dark-gray sword tip had come to a steady stop less than half an inch in front of Lin Feng's throat.

As long as Chen Xin pushed forward even the slightest bit more, that trace of blood-red killing intent on the blade could easily cut open the young genius's throat.

A light breeze swept across the Imperial Academy square.

The whole place was deathly silent.

Everyone stared wide-eyed at the motionless scene in the center of the field.

One move.

It was still one move.

Even though Lin Feng had suppressed his realm, he was a genuine sword dao genius.

Yet this old outsider had used the simplest straight thrust to find the core flaw in his sword technique in an instant and deliver a killing blow!

"This... how is that possible?"

The sword in Lin Feng's hand fell onto the bluestone slabs with a clang.

His face was pale, his eyes filled with shock he could not hide.

"I've practiced this Flying Swallow Sword Technique for a full ten years. I mastered it long ago. How could you possibly see through the path of my sword?"

Chen Xin slowly withdrew his longsword and carried "Wunian" behind his back.

He looked at the dazed Lin Feng, his tone extremely calm.

"Your sword technique is indeed practiced, but you only know how to copy the moves your ancestors left behind, while forgetting that everything in this world is constantly changing."

Chen Xin extended two fingers and drew a diagonal line in midair.

"Just now, a crosswind blew through."

"Your sword is too light. The wind made your sword tip deviate by half a fingernail's width."

"And this old man merely calculated that distance and stopped his sword in the opening you exposed because of your mistake."

Chen Xin looked into Lin Feng's eyes and enunciated each word.

"Sword moves are dead. Arithmetic is alive."

"If you do not calculate the changes of heaven and earth, your sword will forever be nothing more than a piece of dead iron."

Those words landed with resounding force.

After Lin Feng heard them, he seemed to have been struck by lightning, retreating three steps in a row.

The sword dao belief he had always taken pride in was shattered to pieces in that moment by this new system supported by Arithmetic.

Bashan Libationer, who stood to the side, also put away the amusement on his face at this moment.

He walked up to Chen Xin and reached out, patting Chen Xin heavily on the shoulder.

"Well done."

Bashan's eyes shone with undisguised admiration.

"You only looked over the diagrams for one night, and today you can already perfectly integrate Arithmetic into your original killing intent."

"Old man, in order to pursue the perfection of this one sword strike, you even threw away the habits you'd trained for decades."

Bashan burst into laughter and gave an extremely high evaluation.

"That kind of obsession where you can't live unless you go mad for it."

"You old bastard, you're a true sword fanatic!"

A sword fanatic!

For that evaluation to come from Bashan Libationer's mouth carried enormous weight.

Outside the light screen, Douluo Continent was also thrown into towering waves at this moment.

Within the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect.

Ning Fengzhi let out a long breath, his eyes full of pride and reverence.

"Uncle Sword is still Uncle Sword."

Ning Fengzhi lightly waved his folding fan, a trace of emotion in his voice.

"To abandon a lifetime of honor and start learning from scratch in a whole new world, even integrating the most basic arithmetic into his very bones with meticulous care..."

"Only a true sword fanatic could achieve such purity."

On the streets of Heaven Dou Imperial City, countless young soul masters stared at the Sky Screen, a light unlike anything before kindling in their eyes.

"Arithmetic... It really can defeat traditional cultivation methods!"

"That old man didn't even use a soul skill. He just calculated the wind direction and angle, and broke that genius's move with one strike!"

"So strong! This way of fighting is terrifying!"

The Douluo Continent's view of cultivation was being reshaped bit by bit by the images in the Sky Screen.

Everyone realized that blindly pursuing higher-aged soul rings might not be the only path to the peak.

Wisdom and calculation could likewise grant someone terrifying combat power that crushed others of the same level!

Inside the Sky Screen.

The few young men from Hidden Sword Pavilion sheepishly picked up their longswords from the ground and squeezed out of the crowd without looking back.

They knew that in today's sword debate, they had lost utterly.

The students of the Imperial Academy burst into waves of cheers.

When everyone looked at Chen Xin, there was now a sincere respect in their eyes.

Bashan Libationer carried his wine gourd and tilted his head at Chen Xin.

"All right, you've had your moment."

"Now come with me to the Divine Strategy Battalion. Those soldiers are still waiting for you to go back and teach them."

Chen Xin nodded.

He turned and followed Bashan out of the Imperial Academy's square.

The early autumn breeze swept past.

The old ginkgo tree in front of the Imperial Academy shed several golden leaves.

Chen Xin walked over the bluestone slabs.

He could sense that the Wunian sword on his back was giving off a faint warmth, almost there and not there.

It was the peace that came after setting foot on the right path.

The scene shifted, and the dark clouds above the Imperial Academy slowly faded.

The enormous light screen in midair rippled twice like water, drawing the gazes of all the Douluo Continent's viewers back to that Great Ruins, full of the unknown and danger.

Crippled Old Village.

The afternoon sunlight passed through the old willow trees at the village entrance, scattering mottled light and shadow across the yellow dirt road.

The atmosphere in the village was still leisurely.

Mute was bare-chested in the blacksmith shop, hammering iron, while Cripple leaned against a low wall, dozing.

Qin Mu was squatting beside Village Chief's large bamboo bed, holding a branch as he drew something in the mud.

Hu Liena sat on a small wooden stool to the side, holding a chipped porcelain bowl and sipping water in small mouthfuls.

After the fright of the past two days, her delicate face carried a sickly pallor.

Just then, from the ancient road outside the village came the sound of orderly footsteps.

"Rustle, rustle..."

The footsteps were not fast, but they carried a suffocating pressure.

Hu Liena's hand trembled as she held the water bowl, and several drops spilled onto her lapel.

She instinctively raised her head and looked toward the village entrance.

At the end of the ancient road, a group of people slowly approached.

There were nine in total.

The one leading them was a middle-aged man.

He wore a loose, moon-white sword robe and a purple-gold hair crown, his face thin and refined.

His hands were clasped behind his back, his steps steady, and every movement carried the bearing of a grandmaster who had long held a high position.

Behind the middle-aged man followed eight elderly men carrying longswords on their backs.

Each of them looked solemn. Though the sword qi around them was restrained, the occasional sliver of sharpness that leaked out still sliced the roadside weeds to pieces.

Outside the light screen.

On Shrek Academy's sports field, Dai Mubai narrowed his eyes, staring at the uninvited guests in the Sky Screen.

"The sword-flower pattern embroidered on the chests of their clothes... It's exactly the same as the five old men Granny Si killed earlier."

"The Lijiang Sect has come looking for revenge!"

Tang San stood off to the side, watching the middle-aged man in the lead with a somewhat grave expression.

"The man leading them has an unfathomable aura. When he walks, not even the dust on the ground touches the soles of his feet. With that level of cultivation, he's absolutely not someone those old men from before can compare to."

"Judging by this formation, the Lijiang Sect Leader must have come in person."

Inside Spirit City.

Bibi Dong watched the Sky Screen coldly, her fingers tapping lightly on the armrest of her seat.

"Beat the young ones, and the old ones come. That really is a truth that never changes."

"I just don't know whether those few old, weak, sick, and disabled people from Crippled Old Village can still be as tough as before when facing the leader of a so-called righteous sect."

Within the image on the Sky Screen.

The Lijiang Sect Leader led eight elders forward, then stopped about a dozen steps away from the stone statues at the village entrance.

"The Lijiang Sect Leader, together with eight elders under my command, has come to pay a special visit to the esteemed experts of Crippled Old Village."

His voice carried deep vital energy, echoing over the little village.

But when the old people in the village heard the shout outside, they acted as if they had heard nothing at all.

Mute kept swinging his hammer, the clangs ringing out without pause.

The cripple turned over, found a more comfortable position, and went on sleeping.

Only an one-armed old man sitting beside the large bluestone at the village entrance took two slow puffs from his pipe.

The old man was missing his right arm, and in his left hand he held a long tobacco pipe.

He wore a coarse cloth jacket washed almost white, his face full of wrinkles, looking just like an ordinary old farmer weathered by hardship.

He was Grandpa Ma of Crippled Old Village.

Seeing that no one in the village paid him any attention, the Lijiang Sect Leader did not get angry.

A gentle smile hung on his face as he strode forward and came before Grandpa Ma.

"I have long heard that Grandpa Ma of Crippled Old Village has a craftsmanship for making things that is unmatched in the Great Ruins."

The Lijiang Sect Leader looked at Grandpa Ma's empty right sleeve. His tone was extremely polite, but a trace of icy killing intent was hidden in the depths of his eyes.

"I have taken the liberty of visiting today because I would like to ask Grandpa Ma for a small favor."

Grandpa Ma tapped the ash from his pipe against the stone.

He raised his head, his slightly cloudy eyes glancing at the Lijiang Sect Leader, then slowly opened his mouth.

"Wouldn't call it that. What does our guest want made?"

The Lijiang Sect Leader smiled faintly.

"Not much."

"I want nine coffins."

The moment those words came out, the air at the entire village entrance seemed to freeze.

Hu Liena sat not far away, so frightened that even her breathing stopped.

He wanted nine coffins? There were exactly nine of them here. This was clearly either a resolve to seek revenge even if it meant death, or a warning prepared in advance for the people of Crippled Old Village!

Outside the light screen, the people of Douluo were even more stunned by the Lijiang Sect Leader's arrogance.

"What nerve this sect leader has!"

Ma Hongjun's mouth hung open as he muttered quietly.

"Running into someone else's territory to ask for coffins—he's obviously here to smash the place."

Faced with such naked provocation, Grandpa Ma did not even furrow his brow.

He tucked the pipe into his belt and stood up from the large bluestone.

"Nine coffins, eh? Fine. Guests come from afar. I'll take the job."

After saying that, Grandpa Ma turned around and, with unhurried steps, walked to an ironwood grove at the edge of the village.

The ironwood of the Great Ruins was as hard as iron, difficult for blades and swords to damage.

Usually, when the villagers used it for firewood, they had to have Mute heat the furnace red-hot before it could be chopped apart.

Then Grandpa Ma walked up to an ironwood tree so thick it would take two people to wrap their arms around it, and slowly raised his only remaining left hand.

The instant he raised his hand, an incomparably fierce and forceful aura suddenly erupted from that shriveled body of his!

Grandpa Ma's left hand turned from a palm into a blade, and he lightly chopped down at the thick ironwood tree.

Shh!

A soft sound like tearing silk rang out. Before Grandpa Ma's bare palm, that incomparably hard ironwood tree was actually like a soft block of tofu, wood chips flying everywhere.