This team of only nine people appeared particularly thin compared to Chen Ming Peak's fully staffed team of sixteen.
Xu Wen, the fourth Disciple under the Tiger 疾 Peak Lord, hovered in mid-air on his Chixiao Sword, his Golden Core Ninth Level pressure instantly silencing the Disciples from the two peaks in the back row.
As his gaze swept over Chen Ming Peak's formation, sixteen sneers simultaneously pierced the clouds, and Men Shao led his Martial Brothers in a perfectly synchronized eye-roll.
“The foundation of the Beast Taming Sect lies in balanced development,” Qin Yue said, her fingertips stroking the Sect precepts on her jade tablet. “Even if a Disciple wins the chief position, if the overall ranking is lower than the last main peak, next year’s resource allocation will still be at the bottom.”
She said this intentionally loudly, and the faces of the Tiger disease Peak members immediately turned ashen.
The sword sheath in Xu Wen's hand suddenly erupted in crimson flames, and his divine sense transmission, wrapped in sparks, exploded in the ears of the Chen Ming Peak members: “It’s best not to draw a life-and-death lot on the arena.”
The eight Foundation Establishment Disciples behind him hastily formed a formation to suppress the rampaging sword qi, a scene of such loss of control that the onlookers secretly shook their heads.
The tortoise shell left by Celestial Void Daoist still vibrated slightly in Qing Feng’s sleeve; those profound patterns seemed to resonate subtly with the scene before him.
He suddenly recalled the maxim that had emerged during his comprehension yesterday: A single tree does not make a forest; only when a hundred boats contend can the Sect's true spirit be seen. This might be the root cause of Hu Ji Peak's gradual decline.
A sneer sounded from the west side of the arena, and Men Shao turned his head, not even bothering to give Xu Wen a direct look.
Although the opponent's Golden Core Ninth Level cultivation surpassed his own eighth level, if it came down to a life-or-death struggle, he was confident he could at least achieve a mutual defeat.
Not to mention, their Chen Ming Peak's true trump card wasn't him.
“Don’t go easy on anyone wearing blue robes,” Men Shao transmitted via divine sense to his fellow Disciples, his gaze sweeping over the Ziyan Peak formation opposite.
Her plain white sleeves fluttered lightly, Qin Yue pressed one hand to her sword hilt and nodded slightly, battle intent gradually rising in her clear, cold eyes.
She never involved herself in factional disputes, but once on the martial arts arena, she would go all out.
The atmosphere in the arena suddenly tensed, with Disciples from various peaks eyeing each other with sparks in their eyes. Qing Feng was just calculating how to finish quickly when the Luogui shell in his sea of consciousness suddenly rippled, guiding him to look towards the southeast corner.
He was surrounded by others, dressed in brocade robes and a jade belt, his sword robe with cloud-patterned dark embroidery making his face appear as handsome as jade, and the mutton-fat jade pendant at his waist shimmered with a strange glow under the sunlight.
“Is that a celestial dao crystal fragment?” Qing Feng’s pupils constricted slightly.
Although it wasn't as pure as what he had obtained from the ancient tomb and had been carved into an ornament, that unique fluctuation was unmistakable. He subtly nudged the know-it-all beside him: “Fifth Senior Brother, what’s his background?”
“Yuan Feng True Lord’s personal Disciple, Zhang Shuning,” Yi Xianmin whispered. “He’s said to be a direct descendant of a reclusive Mu family in Great Liang, Foundation Establishment Ninth Level at eighteen, his talent directly comparable to Senior Sister Qin Yue. What? Are you eyeing someone else’s treasure again, kid?”
Qing Feng rubbed his chin and didn’t reply, just calculating how to approach his target, when suddenly the noble young master’s eyes lit up: “You in the gray robe! You’re the storyteller for 'Investiture of the Gods', aren’t you?”
His clear voice pierced through the crowd, “Three updates a day, who can read that much? Name your price, young master here will cover your ink and paper for ten years! Quick, tell me, did Yang Jian later split the mountain to save his mother?”
All eyes instantly focused, and Qing Feng’s face stiffened.
This familiar urging for updates reminded him of the fear of being cornered by Xia Wuji in the library: “This Senior Brother must have mistaken me for someone else.”
“I checked the roster, there’s no mistake!”
Zhang Shuning tapped his knuckles on the sword hilt at his waist, the green jade sword tassel swaying in the morning light. His gaze swept over the sword-discussion bronze bell hanging from the eaves, and his tone suddenly rose:
“Today, all seven peaks are gathered. How about we make a gentleman’s agreement? If we draw the same arena, we’ll compete fairly. If we’re not in the same group…”
He suddenly stepped half a pace closer to Qing Feng, and strands of golden thread shot out from his sleeve, wrapping around the other’s hem, “Then I’ll trouble Martial Brother Qing Feng to move to the Sword Mound behind the mountain and be my ink-slave for three months.”
Qin Yue’s wide sleeve gently vibrated, and three inches of cold light flickered in and out from her cuff.
The bronze bell under the eaves rang without wind, and its clanging sounds actually condensed into sword qi trajectories, forcing Zhang Shuning back into the shadow of the corridor pillar. Her fingertips brushed the silver butterfly hair ornament by her temple, the light spots reflected by the glazed butterfly wings falling precisely on Zhang Shuning’s throat.
“Scared?” Zhang Shuning stiffened his neck and forced out a cold laugh, the golden threads quietly retracting into his sleeve. “I heard Martial Brother Qing Feng has been studying the 'Thousand Mechanisms and Hundred Solutions' recently. Could it be that he’s preparing to change professions and become an accountant?”
Qing Feng unhurriedly twirled the bamboo-patterned folding fan in his palm, the fan ribs lightly tapping Qin Yue’s sword sheath: “Senior Brother Zhang is so eager, could it be that he also wants to experience Senior Sister Qin Yue’s Startling Swan Sword Intent?”
He suddenly closed his fan and pressed it against his chin, a hint of cunning flashing in his eyes: “However, Senior Brother’s suggestion does have some interesting points. If I fortunately win, may I borrow Senior Brother’s Qiankun Bag, Qingming Pendant, and…”
His folding fan opened with a “whoosh,” pointing directly at the other’s waist, “this gilded cloud-wrapped sword to play with for three days?”
“Deal!” Zhang Shuning slapped his palm on the vermilion-lacquered corridor pillar, making the bronze bell on the eaves hum. When he turned, his dark Xuan-colored cloak billowed, revealing the dark embroidered crimson flame pattern on the back, the mark of Ziyan Chief's personal Disciple.
In the distance, the Tiger disease Peak members had already gathered in front of the sword-discussion platform, where purple smoke for drawing lots was rising from a giant bronze cauldron.
The rules for sword discussions have always been clear: seven arenas are set up for Foundation Establishment and Golden Core respectively, with eight people from each peak chosen to compete. After seven rounds of chaotic battles, seven chiefs are determined. If a Disciple in secluded cultivation emerges, they can also contend for a position with their sword.
Qing Feng casually crushed the floating purple smoke talisman, and the green smoke condensed into the characters “Tianxuan,” which was the location of the seventh arena.
As he stepped on the bluestone slabs and turned through the winding corridor, he saw the flame patterns on the Tiger disease Peak Disciples’ robes flickering like fire beneath the seventh arena. The person walking towards him held twin daggers, and a crimson mark like blood was on his forehead, none other than Zhang Shuning’s most favored Martial Brother.
Qing Feng’s eyebrows twitched slightly, and information about his opponent flashed in his sea of consciousness: Hu Tao of Tiger disease Peak, Foundation Establishment Sixth Level, fiery temperament often leading to a berserk state, strong offense but weak defense, ample explosive power but insufficient stamina.
“It’s actually this person!”
Hu Tao’s eyes gleamed with ferocity, and the heavy Xuan-iron sword in his hand hummed softly. It truly was the celestial dao’s favor; his first battle was against a descendant of the Chu family, who had a grudge with Tiger disease Peak. If he could establish his prestige here, his status within the Sect would surely rise in the future.
On the viewing platform, Qi Yuancheng stroked his beard and smiled.
The difference of two cultivation realms was like a chasm, not to mention that Hu Tao's cultivation was honed through bloody battles, while the opponent's foundation was merely a superficial one built on pills.
A cold sneer played on his lips as he raised an eyebrow at Qin Heng: “Senior Brother Qin, rest assured, my Disciple knows his limits. At most, your Disciple will suffer some minor injuries.”
“To jump to conclusions before the outcome is decided, no wonder you haven’t broken through the Nascent Soul bottleneck in a hundred years,” Qin Heng scoffed coldly.
Everyone said the Uncontending and Unfailing Technique was useless, but they didn't know the profound mysteries of this Heaven-tier secret art.
Yuan Feng True Lord looked at the two people, whose swords were drawn and bows bent, then turned to Yun Qingrao and apologized, “I’m sorry to make Immortal Maiden laugh.”
The white-robed Immortal Maiden nodded, but an almost imperceptible qi-gathering vortex swirled around her.
This prodigy, renowned throughout the Northern Region, was still cultivating and breathing even while observing the battle.
A dragon's roar suddenly erupted in the arena.
Hu Tao swung his giant Juque sword, as broad as a door, and his crimson true essence transformed into a nine-foot wave of fire that swept across the arena.
Qing Feng’s sword tip trembled lightly, and his soft sword transformed into a swimming dragon, a startled swan, while a Taiji phantom circulated in front of him, absorbing all of the violent attacks into the yin and yang polarities.
