Jiang Zhiwei’s essence, energy, and spirit were all restrained internally, just like the sword in her hand, whose sharpness was concealed by its scabbard. Yet everyone present felt an overwhelming sense of dread, as if when she finally unsheathed her sword, it would unleash an indescribably terrifying strike.
Still as the underworld’s Yellow Spring, swift as thunder from the Ninth Heaven!
This was the best response… murmured Meng Qi, exhaling slowly. The ten-strike limit was itself a hidden trap set by Young Master Wang during their mental duel. It appeared arrogant and dismissive, but was actually designed to lull opponents into carelessness. It wasn’t that ten strikes were too few—it was that they were far too “many.”
Wang Clan’s “Kanxu Sword Art” was a peak Exoteric sword technique that fully embodied the principles of swordsmanship. It was similar in nature but definitely superior to the Dugu Nine Sword and the Yijian Art. Moreover, Wang Siyuan had successfully mastered the “Suanjing” manual. Using the “Suanjing” as his primary method and the “Kanxu Sword Art” as a supplement, he might even approach the level of a Dharmic Body technique!
Just imagine facing a “Dugu Nine Sword” or “Yijian Art” at the peak Exoteric or even Dharmic Body level—how terrifying would that be?
Once you thought about the ten-strike limit, thinking not to act rashly at the beginning and instead test the waters first, saving decisive moves for later strikes, once you harbored thoughts of retreat, caution, or hesitation, the “Kanxu Sword Art” would seize the opportunity. It would exploit your probing to attack your weaknesses, set up deadly formations, and seize the initiative.
Once such a sword technique gained the upper hand, it would be nearly impossible to turn the tide. Even if you used your most powerful techniques, your passive state would severely limit your effectiveness, preventing you from unleashing your full potential. Before you knew it, the ten strikes would be gone, and Wang Siyuan hadn’t even attempted a single counterattack!
Given this, for a swordsman like Jiang Zhiwei, who was accustomed to relentless offense, the best choice was to commit everything into a single decisive strike. This way, she would deny Wang Siyuan any chance to set up his sword formations. It was either success or failure—discard all schemes, abandon all contingencies, ignore all traps, and fight in an instant!
Jiang Zhiwei’s right hand was pale and slender, yet her fingers were firm and resolute. She reached slowly toward the hilt, each movement deliberate and in harmony with the current atmosphere, building up a sense of suppressed tension that promised an imminent eruption.
With every inch her hand moved closer, Meng Qi felt an illusory surge in her restrained sword intent.
When her fingers finally grasped the hilt, his heart trembled as if he had sensed a sky-piercing sword aura. Ruan Yaoguang, Wang Buchi, and others instinctively held their breath.
Wang Siyuan drew his sword. Under such intense sword pressure and spiritual impact, he had no choice but to draw early, preempting Jiang Zhiwei. Otherwise, he might not even get a chance to unsheathe his blade!
In this clash of spiritual pressure, Jiang Zhiwei had regained the initiative.
Wang Buchi sighed inwardly. To rank among the Top Ten in the martial arts world with six apertures, and ascend to the Top Five with eight—Su Wuming’s disciple was indeed living up to his master’s legacy, no less formidable than Su himself in his youth!
Wang Siyuan’s sword-drawing motion appeared ordinary, yet it harmonized with the ultimate principles of heaven and earth, mirroring the flowing river beside them. His movements were natural and seamless, as if he and the heavens were one, leaving no opening for attack.
Watching the duel, Meng Qi reflected that, whether using the Dugu techniques or the Celestial Saber, he would be unable to detect any flaw in Wang Siyuan. He would have no choice but to overwhelm him with sheer force.
Clang! Wang Siyuan slowly unsheathed his sword, as fluid as a gentle stream. The nearby great river surged violently, seemingly stirred by the sword’s momentum.
His blade was dull and unremarkable, like an ordinary iron sword, but Meng Qi knew it was the famed treasure weapon “Sansi Sword,” the heirloom of the Wang Clan.
Those who practiced the “Suanjing” moved only after “three considerations.” But if calculations were always exhaustive, it would invite heavenly jealousy!
As soon as Wang Siyuan drew the “Sansi Sword,” Jiang Zhiwei struck.
Her hand had moved slowly toward the hilt, but now it unsheathed with lightning speed, as if all that slowness, all that tension, all that time had been compressed into a single instant.
Her sword intent surged into the heavens. Several large trees along the riverbank shed countless green leaves, their petioles cleanly severed, as if sliced by autumn winds turned into blades.
Jiang Zhiwei had not yet reached the level of harmonizing with heaven and earth, but by wielding the “Baihong Guanri Sword,” an Exoteric-level blade she had cultivated and bonded with since childhood, she had merged her sword intent with the profound principles of the cosmos, indirectly achieving a state akin to unity between man and heaven.
Over the past six months, despite being on the verge of the ninth aperture, Jiang Zhiwei had not made a breakthrough because most of her efforts had been devoted to re-familiarizing and harmonizing with the “White Rainbow Piercing the Sun Sword,” eliminating any sense of unfamiliarity and restoring the unity between herself and her sword.
For a swordsman, the sword is an extension of the hand. If the sword has reached the Exoteric realm, and the hand has reached the Exoteric realm, how could the swordsman not ascend in cultivation?
Suddenly, the sky darkened, light was swallowed. Meng Qi had just seen Jiang Zhiwei unsheathe her sword when a blinding, indescribably sharp sword beam surged into his eyes, already slashing toward Wang Siyuan. It was unimaginably fast, as if the act of drawing the sword and the sword beam striking Wang Siyuan were happening simultaneously within Meng Qi’s pupils.
This sword beam was graceful as a startled swan, swift as a coiling dragon, dazzling and brilliant. It seemed almost demonic, capable of capturing all attention, drawing every gaze. Those with insufficient mental fortitude would forget themselves in awe, their souls suppressed, unable to resist.
In the eyes of the onlookers, Jiang Zhiwei herself had vanished; all they could see was this singular, radiant sword strike.
The sword beam was refined, its energy surging, vast and boundless, yet utterly silent.
The surging river suddenly split apart, a deep fissure rapidly spreading toward Wang Siyuan as if cleaved by an invisible force.
The mist and clouds in the sky dissipated, revealing a clear blue sky, the light drizzle ceasing abruptly.
There were no excessive traces of sword energy on the ground, only a single fissure splitting the grass and black soil.
The river roared, waves crashing, yet the bright sky dimmed, for within the entire area, only that single sword beam shone with blinding brilliance.
The sword energy rippled outward for dozens of zhang, altering the winds and clouds!
Such terrifying sword intent, such fearsome sword light—Meng Qi instinctively felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness. Even if he unleashed the “Heaven’s Wound” or the “Thunderous Shock of the Nine Heavens,” he would be unable to stop it. Jiang Zhiwei’s cultivation realm and control far surpassed his own. If he were to clash head-on, it was likely he would be the one struck in a vital spot, with his saber missing by the slightest margin.
If he were to fight Jiang Zhiwei, he must strike first, not allowing her to build momentum, preventing her from elevating her “Sword of No Self” to such a peak!
“Truly reached such a level…” Wang Buchi, standing behind Wang Siyuan, had the clearest view of this sword strike. He was the one most deeply affected, aside from Wang Siyuan himself. If he were in Wang Siyuan’s place, he knew he couldn’t treat it lightly either—he would have to give it his all.
As the sword beam neared Wang Siyuan, suddenly a dark iron sword jutted out.
Yes, jutted out! That was Meng Qi’s most immediate impression.
It seemed utterly at odds with heaven and earth, every aspect defying natural law, provoking unease, impossible to describe.
This sword stroke was deceptively simple, appearing heavy yet light, lightly thrusting into the empty space beside Jiang Zhiwei’s sword beam.
Instantly, light flared. The sword, seemingly one with heaven and earth, now appeared discordant with nature, no longer perfectly harmonious. It was as if this strike had pulled it out of alignment, causing it to expel all the radiance it had absorbed, restoring the surroundings to normal.
After this strike, Jiang Zhiwei’s sword wavered, returning from its transcendent, selfless state to the mundane.
Yet her sword light remained unwavering, the sword energy undispersed, carrying the residual force to sever all, breaking through the “Sansi Sword’s” obstruction and striking toward Wang Siyuan.
Wang Siyuan’s feet moved rapidly, circling in place. His steps were exquisitely precise, following the Eight Trigrams, elusive and hard to grasp, creating multiple illusions in an attempt to evade the sword light.
Guided by her intent, the sword pursued relentlessly. Wang Siyuan could not escape its lock. The sword energy slashed through illusion after illusion, drawing ever closer.
Clang!
At an unknown moment, the “Sansi Sword” reappeared before Wang Siyuan, standing vertically to block the dazzling white rainbow.
“You win.” Jiang Zhiwei sheathed her sword and stepped back, radiant and energetic, as if she wished to continue fighting, even though Wang Siyuan had been forced to defend himself, and despite her body trembling slightly.
Wang Siyuan coughed violently, blood once again staining the white silk in his left hand. After a while, he finally said, “Miss Jiang is truly formidable. Your ‘Sword of No Self’ is indeed overwhelming. I concede defeat wholeheartedly.”
Meng Qi secretly marveled. Although forced into defense, Wang Siyuan was likely the first Qi-opening expert to face the “Sword of No Self” without injury, aside from those at the Exoteric level!
That sword strike, so utterly at odds with heaven and earth—was it perhaps a Dharmic Body technique?
Still, was Young Master Wang truly unharmed?
He was coughing blood at every moment; how could anyone tell otherwise? And his energy remained harmonized with heaven and earth, not having exited the state of unity with the cosmos. Even if injured, it was likely only a matter of heavy consumption, not serious damage.
Wang Buchi smiled toward Ruan Yaoguang, gesturing, “Please.”
Please them to choose first.
Ruan Yaoguang glanced at Meng Qi, Jiang Zhiwei, and Ruan Yushu. As a senior, it was inappropriate to make unilateral decisions, and he was merely assisting.
“How about the Donghua Qing Shu?” Meng Qi directly asked Jiang Zhiwei and Ruan Yushu.
This was his considered choice. Since the Ruan elders had helped, it would be impolite to send them away empty-handed. If he were too stingy, how could he visit the Ruan household in the future? It would only cast a shadow over the relationship between the young glutton and her family.
Among the four items, aside from the uncertain Jiezi Ring, only the Donghua Qing Shu was suitable for sharing. Even if the Ruan Clan didn’t lack martial arts techniques, “stones from other mountains can polish jade.” It could also serve as a reserve for future recruitment of guest experts. As for themselves, they could always exchange it for merit points later, even without dividing their focus on cultivation.
“Fine.” Jiang Zhiwei, indifferent to sword techniques, agreed readily.
Ruan Yushu understood Meng Qi’s intentions and whispered, “Actually, there’s also Old Zhong’s treasure weapon and the Qianyuan Dingshen Pearl. One item each would be perfect. Still, a martial arts manual isn’t bad either.”
“Then let’s go with the Donghua Qing Shu. Senior Ruan has worked hard; getting an extra manual isn’t much.” Meng Qi declared generously. Building good relations now would make future requests easier, and getting along well with his companions’ parents would make them happy too.
With that, Ruan Yushu naturally had no objections.
Seeing Meng Qi’s firm choice of the Donghua Qing Shu, Ruan Yaoguang nodded slightly in approval. Knowing how to restrain greed would allow one to go further in the future.
With a distant gesture, a zither melody echoed through the void, a moist breeze swirling as she retrieved the Donghua Qing Shu. Flipping through it briefly, her eyes suddenly lit up: “There’s a formula for the Dongji Changsheng Pill. Even now, it can extend one’s lifespan by sixty years. Although it’s just an ordinary Exoteric manual, this pill formula alone surpasses many others.”
The Dongji Changsheng Pill was one of the pills refined by the Green Emperor. In ancient times, a single pill could extend one’s life by a thousand years, possessing miraculous healing properties nearly capable of reviving the dead.
Excellent! Meng Qi’s face lit up instantly. Even if they shared this pill formula with the Ruan Clan and his companions, exchanging it for merit points would likely yield a thousand or so!
Wang Siyuan’s expression remained unchanged, still pale: “We’ll take the Solar Fire Essence.”
To him, the Dongji Changsheng Pill was useless. Without reaching the Dharmic Body level, he wouldn’t live beyond fifty anyway. Would the Wang Clan, with its ancient heritage, lack longevity pill formulas?
After Wang Buchi retrieved the Fire Essence, Wang Siyuan spent a moment recuperating. Meng Qi stepped forward, ready for the second match.
“Master Wang, please.”
He stilled all distracting thoughts, his presence as steady as a deep abyss or towering mountain.
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