On either side of the arena.
Eight legacy disciples stood or sat, each occupying a corner.
Apart from the eight, only Chu Yunfei wore the gray robes of an inner disciple.
Gazes swept across the arena, repeatedly turning toward the ancient black sword at the center of the raised platform.
The Giant Que Sword.
At least upper-grade earth-tier.
For Spirit Martial Realm disciples, a suitable spirit weapon could increase their combat strength by ten or twenty percent.
That ten or twenty percent was not to be underestimated.
In sect tournaments and battles for treasures in secret realms, that sliver of difference was often all it took.
Ten percent stronger, and they came out alive.
Ten percent weaker, and not even their bones remained.
No one wanted to miss this chance.
At the far right of the competitors' area, Yan Guining wore a plain white dress, its hem swaying gently in the wind.
Her gaze swept across the waiting area and settled on the gray-robed figure resting with his eyes closed.
Chu Yunfei.
The instant she recognized him, Yan Guining's expression cooled, and her fingers unconsciously drew her collar tighter.
She had not forgotten what had happened by the pool.
That lecher had not only barged into her bathing spot but stared at her for so long.
Worse still, he had run off after looking his fill.
Relying on a bizarre movement technique and that earth-tier sword technique of unknown origin, he had fled faster than anyone, leaving her no chance to settle the score.
Now he actually dared to compete for the Giant Que Sword.
Yan Guining pressed her lips together.
She admitted that there was indeed something strange about Chu Yunfei.
At the eighth level of Qi Condensation, he had been able to take one of her attacks head-on.
Now that he had broken through to the ninth level of Qi Condensation, he could only be stronger.
But in a three-way melee, taking one attack did not count as winning.
Every legacy disciple here had entered the Spirit Martial Realm, and none would give him the chance to perform his sword technique at leisure.
Especially Ling Feng.
That man already had a grudge against Chu Yunfei. Once they entered the arena, he would only strike to kill.
"Asking for trouble."
Yan Guining murmured the words and looked away.
She had come today solely for the Giant Que Sword.
At the fourth level of the Spirit Martial Realm, with her family's Frost-Defying Sword Technique, she had what it took to contend for it.
As for that lecher...
He could talk after surviving the first round.
On the other side, Ling Feng leaned against a stone pillar with his arms folded, his gaze never leaving Chu Yunfei.
He had waited a long time for this day.
To trample Chu Yunfei into the mud before every disciple in the sect.
To cripple his dantian and shatter his meridians, leaving him unable to rise again.
Just cripple his cultivation?
Not enough.
Ling Feng pushed his tongue against his cheek, his expression cold and sinister.
The rules had already been loosened. As long as he did not kill him on the spot, anything went.
Since that was the case, he would leave Chu Yunfei one last breath.
Make his life worse than death.
Not far away, a burly young man sat on a stone bench.
He had broad shoulders and a thick back. Beside him stood a broad-bladed saber nearly as tall as a man, and his hand stroked its hilt again and again, his knuckles thick and covered in calluses.
This was Liu Jie.
Third level of the Spirit Martial Realm.
He did not look at Chu Yunfei. His attention remained on the Giant Que Sword, and with every glance, his grip tightened a little more around the saber's hilt.
Clang!
The bell rang across the training grounds.
The noisy discussions quickly died down.
The presiding elder came before the arena, infusing his voice with spiritual power to drown out every other sound.
"Nine disciples will participate in today's contest."
"The winner will gain possession of the Giant Que Sword."
The spectator stands fell completely silent.
The presiding elder surveyed his surroundings and continued his announcement:
"The nine will be divided into three groups, with three people fighting a melee on the same stage."
"The last person remaining on the stage will advance to the final round."
"The winners of the three groups will compete in a second round until the Giant Que Sword's ultimate owner is decided."
He paused there.
In the elders' seats, quite a few gazes had already settled on Chu Yunfei.
Expressionless, the presiding elder spoke again:
"There is one further rule."
"Heavy blows are not forbidden on the stage."
"As long as no one is killed on the spot, the sect will hold no one accountable for severe injuries, broken bones, or damaged meridians."
"The guardian elders will intervene only when a contestant's life is in imminent danger."
In other words.
They would protect lives, not cultivation.
As long as someone still had a breath left, whatever state they were beaten into was fair game.
Boom!
The entire spectator stands instantly erupted.
"Heavy blows aren't forbidden?"
"Is this still a sect competition?"
"They won't even intervene over broken bones or crippled meridians? That's too brutal."
"Anyone who runs into an enemy today will probably have to be carried off."
In the past, sect sparring matches had emphasized stopping short of injury.
If someone occasionally failed to hold back, the guardian elders would immediately intervene rather than let things spiral out of control.
But today was different.
The guardian elders would protect only that final breath.
Whether a dantian remained intact, whether meridians were severed, whether limbs could be preserved-none of that fell within the rules.
This was no sparring match.
It was clearly a beast-fighting pit dressed in the guise of a competition.
In the waiting area, Chu Yunfei slowly opened his eyes.
His gaze passed across the arena and the crowd, settling on Zhou Huanzhang in the elders' seats.
Zhou Huanzhang was looking at him too.
Their eyes met. The old man lifted his teacup and gently gestured toward him from afar, his smile as warm as that of a kindly elder.
Chu Yunfei smiled too.
He knew this trick all too well.
In the ten thousand years of his previous life, he had encountered at least eight hundred smiling tigers, if not a thousand.
The rules seemed to target all the competitors, but in truth, that blade was being thrust at him.
Crippling him would count as an accidental slip.
Forcing him to withdraw would count as knowing his place.
Whatever he chose, the Giant Que Sword would never end up in his hands.
So-called fairness was nothing more than hiding dirty hands inside the rules.
Chu Yunfei withdrew his gaze, his expression utterly unchanged.
A dead end either way?
When the ninefold heavenly tribulation had descended in his previous life, a sea of lightning had covered ten thousand miles, and even the void had been blasted into scorched earth.
That had been a true dead end.
These little tricks amounted, at most, to children digging a pit-and, afraid he might miss it, deliberately planting a sign beside it.
The presiding elder took out the group roster.
"First group: Xu Changqing, Han Chong, Qin Ruoshui."
"Second group: Chu Yunfei, Ling Feng, Liu Jie."
"Third group: Yan Guining, Zhao Yuanwu, Chen Ye."
When the second group was announced, the voices in the stands paused before erupting in an uproar.
Chu Yunfei.
Ling Feng.
Liu Jie.
Ling Feng, at the fourth level of the Spirit Martial Realm, was an elite among the sect's younger generation. Ruthless in battle, he repaid even the slightest grievance, and his feud with Chu Yunfei was known to everyone.
Liu Jie, at the third level of the Spirit Martial Realm, possessed innate divine strength and specialized in the broad-bladed saber.
He had once slain a fourth-level Spirit Martial Realm demonic beast alone in a secret realm. Even if some clever maneuvering had contributed to that feat, it was enough to prove his ferocity.
As for Chu Yunfei.
Eighth level of Qi Condensation.
The only one among the nine competitors who had not entered the Spirit Martial Realm.
His cultivation ranked dead last, yet he had landed against two vicious opponents.
This was no group assignment.
It was a funeral procession.
"The second group is far too brutal."
"One at the fourth level of Spirit Martial and one at the third level of Spirit Martial. What's Chu Yunfei supposed to fight them with?"
"His life, obviously."
"Was this grouping really drawn by lot?"
"Do you have a death wish? You dare say something like that?"
The speaker hastily shut his mouth and cast a cautious glance toward the elders' seats.
A disciple beside him lowered his voice:
"I bet Chu Yunfei won't last three moves."
"Three moves?"
Another shook his head with a cold laugh.
"Ling Feng has a grudge against him. His very first move on that stage will be a killing blow. Forget three moves-it's hard to say whether he'll even leave the arena in one piece."
The discussions rose, wave after wave.
After hearing the group assignments, Ling Feng finally straightened.
He twisted his neck, his joints giving a series of sharp cracks.
His cold, sinister eyes locked onto Chu Yunfei, and the smile on his face deepened.
We drew the same group.
That saves me waiting any longer.
Chu Yunfei, today is the day you die.
Liu Jie also rose from the stone bench and hefted the broad-bladed saber beside him.
The blade dragged across the ground, throwing up a trail of sparks.
He looked at Ling Feng first, then glanced at Chu Yunfei without speaking.
But his gaze had already said everything.
Qi Condensation Realm. The easiest to clear out.
"First group, take the stage."
The presiding elder gave the order.
Xu Changqing was the first to leap onto the stage.
Han Chong and Qin Ruoshui followed close behind, landing on opposite sides.
Xu Changqing stood in the center.
He was tall and slender, dressed in an indigo robe with a longsword at his waist. His expression was calm, without the slightest hint of tension over the possibility of the other two joining forces.
The presence of the fifth level of the Spirit Martial Realm slowly spread.
He did not deliberately unleash it, yet he was like a sword already drawn from its sheath, its edge bearing down so heavily that it was difficult to breathe.
Han Chong tightened his grip on his spear.
The flexible sword in Qin Ruoshui's hand also drew gently taut.
Both were in the early Spirit Martial Realm.
Neither was Xu Changqing's match in single combat.
Their only chance was to join forces and force the strongest contender off the stage before deciding the winner between themselves.
The two exchanged a glance.
Without speaking, they had already reached an understanding.
"Begin!"
The presiding elder lowered his hand.
Xu Changqing moved.
He made no probing moves and gave the two no time to join forces.
His figure left an indigo afterimage across the stage, and in the blink of an eye, he was upon Han Chong.
So fast!
Han Chong's pupils contracted. Gripping his spear with both hands, he poured all his spiritual power into its shaft.
"Cloud-Piercing Spear!"
The spear thrust straight out, spiritual light flickering along its tip as it shot toward Xu Changqing's chest.
Clang!
Sword and spear collided head-on.
Sparks burst outward.
Han Chong felt both hands jolt. The webs between his thumbs and forefingers split on the spot, his spear was forcibly knocked aside, and he staggered back three steps.
Before he could steady himself, Xu Changqing's second sword strike was already upon him.
Each strike was faster than the last.
There was little flourish to his moves, only speed, precision, and ruthlessness.
Han Chong was driven back again and again, his spearwork growing increasingly disordered.
The third move.
The fifth move.
The seventh move.
Xu Changqing's sword struck the armor over Han Chong's chest.
Bang!
The armor caved inward, and Han Chong was blasted off his feet, hurled over the edge of the stage, and slammed heavily into the ground below.
"Pfft!"
He spat out a mouthful of blood.
Han Chong struggled twice but ultimately failed to rise.
Gasps erupted throughout the crowd.
Seven moves.
Xu Changqing had defeated Han Chong head-on in just seven moves.
Qin Ruoshui stood on the other side, gripping her flexible sword, her face already pale.
She cultivated a water-element cultivation method, and her swordsmanship followed the path of overcoming hardness with softness, dissipating force through flowing, entangling movements.
But Xu Changqing's sword was too fast and too heavy.
Even Han Chong's spear had been overwhelmed head-on. Her meager force-dissipating techniques had no room to work at all.
Xu Changqing turned around.
His sword tip pointed diagonally at the ground, and he did not attack immediately.
"Concede."
Qin Ruoshui gritted her teeth.
The flexible sword in her hand drew taut, then slowly relaxed.
She had no chance of winning if she continued.
If she suffered serious injuries, it would only hinder her subsequent cultivation.
After several breaths, she lowered her blade.
"I concede."
Xu Changqing sheathed his sword.
Seven moves to defeat Han Chong.
One sentence to force Qin Ruoshui to concede.
The first group's match ended swiftly and cleanly.
A wave of cheers soon rose from the spectators' seats.
"As expected of Senior Brother Xu."
"The fifth level of the Spirit Martial Realm-they're simply on different levels."
"The Giant Que Sword will probably be his and no one else's."
Standing at the edge of the stage, Xu Changqing looked past the spectators' seats toward the gray-robed figure in the waiting area.
"Chu Yunfei."
"I hope you can hold on until the final round."
"I'd like to see just how much weight you carry now."
With that, his gaze swept over Ling Feng and Liu Jie.
One was at the fourth level of the Spirit Martial Realm.
The other was at the third level of the Spirit Martial Realm.
And Ling Feng clearly intended to kill.
If Chu Yunfei wanted to reach the final round, he first had to walk off the second group's stage in one piece.
Xu Changqing looked no further and turned to leave the stone stage.
In the elders' seats, several elders exchanged glances, all looking very satisfied.
Strong enough.
A suitable background.
Most importantly, obedient.
Only someone like that deserved to become the Giant Que Sword's new master.
As for Chu Yunfei, he was merely going through the motions.
Zhou Huanzhang lifted his teacup and leisurely took a sip.
As the fragrant tea slipped down his throat, the smile on his face deepened.
The presiding elder walked back to the front of the stage.
His gaze swept toward the waiting area.
"Second group."
"Chu Yunfei, Ling Feng, Liu Jie."
"Take the stage."