Challenges Without End, Strength Soaring

Dawn broke bright, and the wind in the valley carried the scent of dry grass and earth. I sat in the center of the stone platform, one hand resting on Flowing Abyss's hilt, my breathing steady. The heat of the previous battle had already faded, but my body still remembered—the spiritual power pathway through the Jianjing Acupoint was clearer than before, every circulation flowing through it like water through a channel, smooth and powerful.

The spirit beast lay at my feet, its ears twitching now and then. It did not move, but I knew it was listening. There were more than three times as many footsteps in the distant woods as there had been that morning. Some people came, some left, and even more stopped at the boundary to watch.

I no longer sat with my eyes closed, reading.

I closed the Nine Revolutions Profound Origin Art and tucked it into my sleeve. The tiny new line of writing at the corner of the page was still there: "If the heavens and earth seem unusual, observe the shifts in the stars' positions." I had not figured out who had written it, nor did I have time to study it closely.

By the time the first presence drew near, I was already on my feet.

That man emerged from the eastern woods. He was lean and tall, dressed in a gray robe, with a short bone-spike staff in his hand. He said nothing, and his steps were not fast, yet every time his foot fell, the ground sank slightly, as though he were walking on soft mud.

I knew he was an earth-element cultivator.

He stopped at the mouth of the valley and raised a hand, driving his bone staff into the earth. A ring of brown ripples spread outward, and several fist-sized stones rose into the air, slowly circling above his head.

This was a challenge.

I did not wait for him to strike first. After my battle with Yan Jin, I understood that some opponents were not afraid of you accepting their challenge—they feared being ignored. What they wanted was to crush you with momentum.

I raised my blade and took three steps forward, stopping at the edge of the stone platform with Flowing Abyss held across my body.

"If you want to fight, then fight."

He stared at me for a breath, the corner of his mouth twitching before he suddenly swung his hand. The stones above him instantly accelerated, flying toward me in a fan-shaped spread.

I did not dodge.

Those stones were neither fast nor powerful enough to be dangerous. The true danger lay beneath my feet. The instant the stones flew out, I sensed a faint tremor from the ground—the sign that his technique was drawing upon the earth veins.

I tapped lightly with my left foot and leaped half a foot into the air. At the same time, I slashed downward, sending a burst of force from my blade. The soil split apart, and an arm-thick rock vein that had just begun to emerge was severed.

His expression tightened, and he immediately retreated half a step, forming seals again.

I pressed the attack. In three strides, the spiritual power within me advanced along the newly practiced pathways in three streams, converging at the tip of my blade. This was not the original circulation method of the Nine Revolutions Profound Origin Art, but a rhythm I had altered over the past three days.

When the blade light descended, he had only just raised his other hand.

Flowing Abyss struck the side of his bone staff, numbing his palm from the impact. I followed with a kick to the outside of his knee. He staggered back two steps, one knee touching the ground.

"Do you concede?" I asked.

He gritted his teeth, looked up at me once, then finally pulled his bone staff from the ground and turned to leave.

I did not pursue him. That fight had not cost me much strength, but I could not relax. The second presence was already approaching from the west.

This time, it was a female cultivator dressed in green vine-woven garments, strange runes painted across her face. The moment she entered, she scattered a handful of powder, and a bitter, fishy stench immediately filled the air.

Poison mist.

I held my breath and retreated two steps. This poison was not fatal, but it could leave one dizzy and disoriented, slowing their reactions. The Calming Heart Talisman the system had rewarded me with was still on me, so I immediately tore open its seal and pressed it to my chest.

The mist thickened, swallowing her figure.

I knew she was circling around me. This kind of fighting style favored dragging things out—waiting for you to gasp, waiting for you to blink, waiting for your spiritual sense to slacken.

I did not close my eyes. Instead, I spread my spiritual sense along the ground. Her footsteps were light, but every step made the dust tremble faintly. I waited for the instant that rhythm stabilized.

On the third circuit, she attacked.

Three fine needles shot from the mist at tricky angles, aimed directly at my eyes and throat.

I lowered my head and twisted aside, sweeping my blade horizontally to knock the needles away. At the same time, I rushed forward into the densest part of the mist.

She had not expected me to enter voluntarily.

I locked onto her position with my spiritual sense and swept Flowing Abyss upward at an angle. The blade grazed her shoulder, slicing through the vine garment and leaving a bloody gash.

She let out a muffled groan and hurriedly retreated.

The mist dispersed quickly. She stood five steps away, clutching her wound, her face pale.

"You won't use poison?" I asked.

She shook her head, put away the remaining poison powder, and turned to leave.

The third challenger was a giant ape, nearly ten feet tall and covered in iron-gray fur. He did not take the forest path, but strode directly through shattered rocks, every step making the ground tremble.

He stood in the open space, beat his chest, and let out a deep roar.

This was a pure strength-type opponent. Meeting him head-on would consume too much spiritual power, and a prolonged battle would not favor me.

I remained on the stone platform, watching his movements. His feet were spread apart, his center of gravity low. He was clearly accustomed to fighting steadily and solidly. But his right leg was slightly bent, always landing half a beat slower—there was an old injury there.

When he charged, I did not meet him head-on.

I leaped to the right and let him miss. He turned slowly, so I circled around him, testing his reaction speed. The second time he closed in, I deliberately struck his arm with the flat of my blade to see how he would block.

He raised his arm to block, the movement clean and decisive.

But I noticed that whenever he exerted force, his shoulder blade drew in first.

That was the opening.

In our third exchange, I feigned a fierce attack but changed moves midway. Flowing Abyss withdrew half its force, its edge trembling faintly. The instant it touched his arm, it slid along the direction of his muscles and into the inner side.

That single tremor cut into the site of his old injury.

His entire arm jerked violently, his strength slipping out of control as he stumbled forward.

I seized the chance, detonating the spiritual power I had held in reserve in my dantian, and struck his back with my palm. He crashed to the ground, smashing out a shallow pit.

He lay there for several breaths before slowly climbing up. He glanced at me, then silently walked out of the valley.

Three battles, three victories.

I was not even breathing heavily. The spiritual power in my body had indeed dropped by thirty percent, but its circulation remained smooth. More importantly, in that final battle, I had extended my spiritual sense onto Flowing Abyss's blade for the first time.

The sensation was extraordinary. It was not seeing with my eyes or hearing with my ears, but sensing the contraction of the opponent's muscles through the blade, the direction of their power, even the faint vibrations caused by their heartbeat.

It was as though the blade had become another hand of mine.

I stood where I was and slowly closed my eyes. My sea of consciousness automatically replayed what had just happened: the angle of every strike, the rhythm, the points where I withdrew force—all of it was crystal clear.

[Detected that the host has independently completed the initial application of "Spiritual Sense Attachment." Generate an advanced training plan?]

The system prompt surfaced in my mind.

I shook my head.

I did not need it to teach me what to do right now. I needed to remember the process, remember how every battle had been fought, remember how my body had felt.

The spirit beast rose to its feet, walked over to me, and gently rubbed against my leg.

I knew it was reminding me—there were still people watching.

I opened my eyes and looked deep into the woods. Two unfamiliar figures stood there. One carried twin swords on his back, while the other leaned on a serpent-headed cane. They had neither entered nor left.

But they would not be the last group.

I slung Flowing Abyss over my shoulder, its edge facing outward. Sunlight fell across the blade, reflecting a cold gleam.

The first one, the man carrying twin swords, finally moved. He stepped into the valley, his right hand resting on a sword hilt.

I did not wait for him to settle into place.

"Next."