"First place in the second round, Cheng Xinzhan."
His name rang out across the city and the tower once again, and everyone cheered for him. Someone who cultivated two forms of swordsmanship-it had been a long time since they had seen such a person.
"The third round."
Huanzhu Louzhu's voice rang out again. He paused, and countless flying sword cultivators throughout the city and tower stirred with anticipation. "The flying sword round. Those who practice the Flying Sword Art may enter. Those who wish to enter must first send out their swords."
Everyone was puzzled. No mounting the stage, no entering the mirror-just send out their swords?
"All swordsmen, descend to the ground, then send your swords upward. The thirty-six whose swords fly highest may enter."
Everyone froze, then understood.
Of course. Even the Dharma Sword contest had drawn several thousand entrants, so the flying sword contest would undoubtedly draw more. If they really settled the rankings through combat, how many years would it take?
Flying swords were meant to take heads from a thousand miles away. Height and distance were the simplest and most direct ways to select the best. But flying high was harder than flying far: a sword that could travel a hundred miles outward might struggle to rise a single mile. With the whole city watching, height would settle things faster.
The swordsmen in the towers and pavilions leaped down. Even those sitting on walls or steps jumped to the ground. That little distance made no difference now; better not give anyone cause to say they had gained an advantage on the ground when heights were compared in the sky.
People rained down from the Pearl-Retaining Tower, thousands upon thousands leaping from every side of the tall building. It was a magnificent sight.
Cheng Xinzhan, who