At the gathering place for Undying Flame disciples, Jing Cangyi suddenly frowned slightly and raised a hand to gently rub the tip of his nose.
"Strange." He murmured to himself, "My nose feels itchy."
The disciples beside him immediately grew tense and leaned closer in concern. "Eldest Senior Brother, could it be that you were injured yesterday and can't withstand Sword Qi of this intensity today?"
"How could that be!" another disciple immediately retorted. "That's Eldest Senior Brother!"
Qu Lin did not join their meaningless argument. Her attention was wholly fixed on the arena. After focusing for a while on the frost-white sword intent pouring down in an overwhelming torrent, she could not help drawing in a sharp breath.
"What a monster," she muttered.
Disciples from other sects nearby heard that assessment, and their expressions immediately became complicated. Several exchanged glances, the same thought rising in all their minds at once: You actually have the nerve to call someone else a monster?
Lu Qingzhuo watched the arena intently, his gaze following that figure weaving between sword light and thunderstorms. His eyes narrowed slightly, his brow faintly furrowed, before he nodded after a moment.
"He became a Nascent Soul cultivator at around the same age as Senior Sister. It's only natural that a prodigy like him has a few tricks up his sleeve." His tone was steady, carrying his usual earnestness and a barely perceptible note of appreciation.
"But this idea really is interesting—" His gaze swept across the scattered frost-white marks on the arena, which seemed to follow no pattern at all. "Once all the fixed points are completed, victory is basically guaranteed."
Qu Lin raised a brow at that, clearly disagreeing. "Not necessarily. Twenty-One, don't talk nonsense with your eyes open. That Ling Clan senior brother can obviously still