Across from him,
It made Wang Han's teeth itch with hatred.
"You little beast, enjoy your last moments of smugness. At the Grand Ceremony martial contest, if any disciple of my
Fortunately, the first round of competition had finally come to an end.
The draw results for the second round were produced quickly, and Jiang Chen's opponent turned out to be a seventh-level True Qi Realm genius from a Fifth-Rank sect.
This genius was named
Jiang Chen had watched this man's performance in the first round — his swordsmanship embodied the essence of "speed" to its core.
Of all martial arts under heaven, only speed is invincible.
Many grandmasters of the sword would train in no more than three techniques over their entire lifetimes, but within those three techniques alone, they would ceaselessly excavate, deduce, elevate, and break through.
On the path of "speed," they pursued breakthrough after tireless breakthrough.
Any martial art or profound mystery, so long as it was cultivated to the ultimate realm in a single domain, would make its practitioner a grandmaster — one who could look down upon all others.
The path of "speed" was the ultimate pursuit for countless sword geniuses.
And this Feng Pao was clearly a devoted follower of that same profound mystery.
"Feng Pao of the Wind Apex Sect. I humbly request your guidance."
Feng Pao was brisk and to the point. The moment he stepped onto the stage, he wasted not a single unnecessary word. He cupped his fist toward Jiang Chen, the sword intent in his hand flickering between presence and absence, murderous intent surging beneath.
Jiang Chen gave a mild nod. "
Feng Pao nodded slightly and murmured, "Sword and blade leave no shadow — be careful."
As he spoke, the three-foot emerald blade in his hand swept upward. Countless arcs of sword light sliced through the air, reflecting the sunlight overhead, and the area around the arena shimmered as though countless ripples of reflected light danced across its surface.
If Jiang Chen hadn't been disguised as Mu Gaoqi, dealing with a mere seventh-level True Qi Realm opponent would have been a matter of a single strike.
However, considering that the two had no prior grudge, and that this man was genuinely honest — his sword technique brimming with lethal force, yet devoid of true murderous intent — Jiang Chen recognized the difference.
He knew that as a genius of a Fifth-Rank sect, this man still harbored caution toward his identity. Even in a martial exchange, there was restraint; Feng Pao had not unleashed a killing blow from the very start.
Since the man was not of a cruel nature, Jiang Chen naturally decided to hold back as well.
His body flickered like a startled rabbit. In a blur of motion, he slipped past the shimmering curtain of sword light.
"Excellent footwork — again!"
Before the words had even faded, the man merged with his sword, hurtling forward like a violent gale. The sword intent shifted dramatically, transforming into boundless surging waves that crashed one after another in relentless assault.
It had to be said — the genius of a Fifth-Rank sect was ultimately inferior in strength to one from a Fourth-Rank sect.
Back when Jiang Chen had sparred within the Dan Qian Palace, he had fought
Even Rong Zifeng had been far more formidable than this current opponent, Feng Pao.
Feng Pao's comprehension of the sword was clearly not lacking, but the depth of a Fifth-Rank sect's foundation was what it was — it left his sword intent looking rather sparse by comparison.
Though he had glimpsed the true meaning of the sword, he had not truly entered its hall.
But there was no denying it — this man was a sword fanatic. His sword intent, while not fully mature, carried an air of unstoppable forward momentum.
Fast, fierce, and reckless.
Clearly, this was a swordsman who wielded his blade with his very soul. Every technique he performed seemed to burn away his life force, fusing every ounce of vital energy into his strikes to deliver a fatal blow.
This level of devotion to the sword commanded Jiang Chen's respect.
An opponent like this, though not yet powerful enough, deserved to be honored.
Because this man's love for the sword had already surpassed his love for his own life.
"I never imagined that a Fifth-Rank sect could produce such a sword fanatic. Someone this devoted to his Dao — if fortune ever graces his martial path, he will surely surpass his peers by a wide margin. This Feng Pao is someone with real potential."
For a moment, Jiang Chen felt a stirring of appreciation for talent.
He tapped the tip of his foot, and a dry branch suddenly fell into his hand.
Jiang Chen smiled. "Let us exchange insights on the way of the sword."
Feng Pao never underestimated any opponent, nor did he fear any.
Before stepping onto the stage, he had known that Mu Gaoqi's reputation in alchemy far exceeded his reputation in martial prowess.
But Feng Pao did not let that lull him into carelessness.
The moment they engaged, Feng Pao immediately sensed that this was an unfathomable opponent.
From the spectators' perspective, it might have appeared that Feng Pao's sword energy soared like a rainbow, his momentum surging like waves in a relentless assault, while "Mu Gaoqi" merely dodged and weaved, powerless to fight back.
But in truth, Feng Pao understood perfectly — his opponent was toying with him.
This opponent used no dazzling footwork, no powerful external techniques — just pure, simple steps. Great skill concealed within clumsiness, effortlessly sidestepping his overwhelming tide of sword strikes.
To an outsider unfamiliar with the sword, Jiang Chen's frantic evasions would have looked utterly pathetic.
But Feng Pao, the one in the thick of it, grew more astonished with every exchange, cold sweat beading on his brow.
No matter how his sword intent surged, no matter how fiercely it crashed forward, his opponent seemed to see through the true meaning of his swordsmanship every single time — a single step, and every edge was avoided.
If his opponent hadn't seen through his sword intent, how else could he evade so effortlessly?