Amid the deathly silence, Xu Changqing's pupils contracted violently.
This outcome struck harder than any words could.
Yet Chu Yunfei gave him no chance to catch his breath.
Spiritual power surged through his meridians like a tide, pouring into the Divine Movement Art's circulation pathways in his legs at an entirely new level. The sensation of lightness was countless times greater than it had been in the Qi Condensation Realm.
Chu Yunfei vanished from where he stood-not to dodge, not to retreat, but to attack.
Xu Changqing barely had time to feel a fierce gust strike his face before a dark-gold sword gleam appeared in his vision.
It came too fast, so fast that he could not even raise his sword to block. He could only twist aside on instinct.
The wind from the sword brushed his sleeve, slicing half of it clean off.
"Impossible."
Xu Changqing's expression finally changed. Despite the split webbing between his thumbs and forefingers, he forcibly unleashed the Flowing Cloud Sword Technique. Silver-white sword light rippled outward like flowing water once more, attempting to engulf Chu Yunfei in an unbroken chain of sword strikes.
But this time was different.
Chu Yunfei was no longer at the ninth level of Qi Condensation.
The dark-gold light on the Abyss-Devouring Sword flared, and driven by Spirit Martial Realm spiritual power, the sword intent of the Heaven-Severing Slash took on an entirely different aspect.
The flood dragon that had previously poked its head out of the abyss had now broken free of its shackles completely, soaring skyward with the might to destroy heaven and earth.
One slash.
Just one slash.
The dark-gold sword gleam fell from above like a celestial river hanging upside down.
Wherever it passed, the air tore apart, and storms of spiritual power swept furiously to either side. The already shattered arena floor collapsed again beneath the aftershock of this slash, sending great chunks of dark rock flying into the air.
"Heaven-Severing Slash!"
Xu Changqing mustered every last bit of strength to erect the Flowing Cloud Sword Technique's defenses. A silver-white curtain of light formed before him.
His previous move had already consumed most of his spiritual power. Barely maintaining his defense with what remained was the limit of what he could do.
The dark-gold sword gleam struck the silver-white curtain.
The curtain shattered.
Like thin ice smashed by an iron hammer, the silver-white light splintered in an instant, becoming a skyful of scattered glimmers that dissipated into the air.
The sword gleam pressed onward without losing momentum, striking Xu Changqing's blade squarely.
A shrill sound of snapping metal rang out.
The treasured family sword in Xu Changqing's hand, passed down for hundreds of years, broke in two at the middle of its blade.
The severed upper half spun out of the arena and plunged into the ground ten zhang away, still humming incessantly.
The force of the sword gleam hurled Xu Changqing backward. He tumbled several times through the air and spat out a mouthful of blood, drawing a shocking crimson line in midair.
Pfft!!
His body slammed heavily onto the edge of the arena and slid several more feet, leaving half of him hanging over the side. Rubble and dust covered his white robes. Sword Qi had torn a long gash across his chest, and beneath it, blood seeped from a wound deep enough to expose bone.
Xu Changqing struggled to stand, but his body, drained of spiritual power, no longer obeyed him. His arms shook violently. After barely managing to prop himself halfway up, he collapsed helplessly again.
"Fuck, I haven't lost."
He raised his head, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the blood-drenched figure standing in the center of the arena. Deep within his eyes lay disbelieving shock.
Then his body slipped over the edge and fell heavily from the arena.
The entire venue was deathly silent.
That silence lasted a long time.
So long that everyone forgot to breathe.
"He won."
Someone was the first to come to their senses, letting out a murmur like someone talking in a dream.
Then, as though awakened by that murmur, the entire martial training ground erupted into a deafening uproar.
"Chu Yunfei won."
"He really won."
"From the ninth level of Qi Condensation to the Spirit Martial Realm-he broke through in the arena, then defeated Xu Changqing, who's at the fifth level of Spirit Martial. Am I dreaming?"
"A genius. This is a true genius."
"No, being a genius can't explain this. This is..."
The speaker opened his mouth but could find no suitable words. In the end, he merely shook his head, disbelief written all over his face.
In the elders' seats, several elders wore a remarkable array of expressions: shock, astonishment, resentment, and wariness they could scarcely conceal.
Zhou Huanzhang stood there, his face livid and his lips pressed into a tight line. He stared darkly at Chu Yunfei in the arena, both hands clenched into fists inside his sleeves.
Zhao Baimei stroked his beard, his cloudy old eyes filled with approval. Beside him, the figure wearing a bamboo hat lowered their head slightly, their expression hidden from view.
At the edge of the martial training ground, Yan Guining's gaze had followed that gray-clad figure all along. At some point, the corners of her lips had curved upward ever so slightly, but she quickly and deliberately suppressed them.
In the honored guests' seats.
Situ Shuang'er gripped her sleeve so tightly that her fingertips had gone white. Looking at that figure, covered in blood yet standing straight-backed, she felt as though something had blocked her chest, leaving her unable to say a word.
She did not notice that all her attention had been occupied by the person in the arena.
The person she had once thought was trash.
The person whose engagement to her she had broken off herself.
He stood there, drenched in blood and covered in wounds, yet like an unshakable mountain.
An exceedingly complicated emotion flashed through the depths of Situ Shuang'er's eyes, but only for an instant before she forcibly buried it in her heart.
In the arena.
Ignoring the clamor around him, Chu Yunfei put away the Abyss-Devouring Sword and turned toward the weapons rack beside the arena.
An ancient, unadorned longsword rested there.
Its blade was blue-black and entirely plain, with neither the flowing radiance of a treasure nor flickering spiritual patterns. It looked like nothing more than an ordinary iron sword.
But a closer look would reveal a faint layer of exceedingly fine patterns on the blade, buried deep within the grain of the metal, seemingly formed by nature rather than carved by human hands.
The Giant Que Sword was the sword Chu Yunfei's father, Chu Batian, had carried during his lifetime.
Chu Yunfei reached out, closing all five fingers firmly around its hilt.
The moment he grasped it, a warm presence came from the hilt, like an old friend greeting him after a long separation.
It was his father's presence, a lingering imprint left by more than a decade of companionship. Though so faint it was almost imperceptible, Chu Yunfei still caught it.
His eyes grew slightly hot.
But he soon suppressed that emotion.
Chu Yunfei turned to face the elders' seats, holding the Giant Que Sword horizontally before his chest. His voice was quiet, yet carried clearly throughout the martial training ground.
"This is my father's keepsake. No one is taking it away."
As his words fell, the discussions throughout the venue abruptly quieted somewhat.
Yet the silence lasted only a few breaths.
"Wait."
A low, heavy voice came from the elders' seats.
Zhou Huanzhang rose, his expression dark as water. A sinister light flickered in his triangular eyes as he stared straight at Chu Yunfei in the arena.
"You cannot take that sword."
Chu Yunfei stopped in his tracks and turned back. Looking at Zhou Huanzhang's sinister face, he slowly raised the corners of his mouth in a smile devoid of warmth.
"On what grounds? According to the rules, I won the match, so the Giant Que Sword belongs to me. Elder Zhou, are you going to go back on your word in front of everyone?"
Zhou Huanzhang narrowed his eyes.
"Chu Yunfei, the fluctuations of spiritual power within you are entirely different from those of righteous cultivation methods. I sensed the presence you released when you broke through to the Spirit Martial Realm perfectly clearly. That spiritual power was brutal, frenzied, and intensely corrosive. You cultivate an evil-path cultivation method."
It was as though someone had muted the entire martial training ground. Then an even greater uproar erupted.
"What? An evil-path cultivation method?"
"No wonder he could advance several levels in half a month. No wonder he could withstand Spirit Martial Realm attacks head-on while in the Qi Condensation Realm. So he cultivated an evil art!"
Voices rose one after another. Before the words "evil-path cultivation method," all the earlier admiration and astonishment vanished in an instant.
An almost imperceptible curve appeared at the corner of Zhou Huanzhang's mouth. He walked to the front of the elders' seats and looked down at Chu Yunfei in the arena, speaking unhurriedly. "For someone cultivating an evil-path cultivation method to compete in a sect tournament makes any victory dishonorable. The result is invalid. Chu Yunfei, hand over the sword, and I can hold you accountable only for cultivating an evil art without investigating anything else."
At these words, several more elders rose in succession.
"Elder Zhou speaks reasonably. The evidence that this boy cultivates an evil art is as solid as a mountain. The match result should be voided."
"Chu Yunfei, surrender the Giant Que Sword and submit to capture. Otherwise, do not blame us for disregarding our bonds as fellow sect members."
Standing in the arena, Chu Yunfei listened to the denunciations rising all around him and looked at the elders' sternly righteous faces. Suddenly, he laughed.
"Truly shameless."
His gaze swept across the faces in the elders' seats. The same thing lurked in the depths of every pair of eyes-greed.
The Giant Que Sword-they had never intended to let him take it away. If he won the match, they would use cultivating an evil art as an excuse. If he lost, all the better: they could simply divide the spoils.
These people were nothing but jackals and wolves wearing a different skin.
Chu Yunfei took a deep breath and turned his gaze toward the figure at the highest point of the elders' seats, who had remained silent throughout.
"Sect Master, what do you say?"
Everyone turned to look there at once.
A middle-aged man sat in a red sandalwood chair at the highest point of the elders' seats.
He had a lean, refined face and a scholarly bearing. Golden cloud patterns were embroidered on his black robes. He was none other than Zhang Qingfeng, Sect Master of the Azure Mystic Sect.
Zhang Qingfeng slowly opened his eyes, his gaze settling lightly on Chu Yunfei.
"Chu Yunfei."
"Put down the sword. There is indeed something abnormal about the cultivation method within you, and this matter requires a thorough investigation. In consideration of your youth and ignorance, I will not pursue your past offenses. If you abandon evil and return to righteousness, you will remain a disciple of the Azure Mystic Sect."
His words were measured and balanced, watertight.
But Chu Yunfei heard him clearly: Zhang Qingfeng also wanted him to surrender the Giant Que Sword.
Chu Yunfei lowered his head and looked at the sword his father had left behind.
The blue-black blade reflected his blood-covered face. At this moment, that young face was filled with icy coldness.
"What a fine Azure Mystic Sect. What a fine sect."
"Today, I, Chu Yunfei, am taking the Giant Que Sword. Who dares stop me?"