"As you wish!"
Amid the crowd's astonished anticipation, Chen Zong moved with lightning speed.
His fingers danced across the table—tapping, flicking, and sliding—as he retreated swiftly to his seat. His left hand gripped the hilt of the sword lying quietly on the table, while his right hand swept inward in a perfect arc.
A faint, melodious sword hum filled the air—the sound of the blade sliding into its scabbard.
His feet staggered into a staggered stance, body lowered, weight forward, torso twisted slightly to the left. His left hand secured the scabbard near his waist, while his right hand, fingers splayed loosely, hovered near the hilt. His eyes sharpened to an unnerving intensity, piercing through the crowd's gaze.
An indescribable aura of lethal sharpness coalesced around Chen Zong, radiating outward until he seemed to transform into a divine sword itself. Its peerless edge threatened to pierce the mortal realm, yet gradually receded, concealing itself entirely within the scabbard—awaiting the moment to erupt forth with earth-shattering, ghost-wailing, god-weeping force.
True Sword Eight Forms... Hidden Sword Stance!
"What kind of sword technique is that?"
"It feels incredibly sharp!"
Gasps of astonishment rippled through the crowd.
Yang Yigu, Li Zhenshi, and other sword practitioners nearly rose to their feet, their faces etched with shock. They could sense the unparalleled sharpness gathering around Chen Zong with even greater clarity.
An unparalleled aura, utterly unique.
It was as if... as if he had perfectly merged with the sword in his hand, becoming one.
As if... he himself had transformed into a true sword—a lethal blade!
Golden light blazed from Tang Junluo's eyes. With a roar that echoed like a dragon's, he thrust his spear through the air. The spear transformed into a golden flood dragon, bursting forth from the abyss with mountain-shattering power, hurtling toward Chen Zong.
A razor-sharp edge erupted. Chen Zong's body trembled slightly as he spread his right hand wide, then gripped the sword hilt and drew his blade!
The sword sang a melodious note, its resonant hum lingering in the air, echoing for days.
A blinding arc of steel sliced through the air, like a sliver of the moon streaking across the night sky—a peerless stroke, unmatched throughout history.
The Drawing Sword Stance!
Fueled by the Fierce Tiger Art, Chen Zong's Qi Blood Power surged. The perfected Drawing Sword Stance, executed with two thousand pounds of arm strength, unleashed an unstoppable force. No fortress could withstand it, no shield endure it. The Precious Iron Sword's edge was honed to its utmost, ready to cleave through any obstacle.
With a single stroke, the golden flood dragon seemed to cry out in anguish. Its severed head shattered, its form collapsing into nothingness.
Thanks to his mastery of the Basic Eighteen Forms and his Quick, Accurate, Steady training, combined with achieving the Subtlety Realm in three Foundation Establishment Sword Techniques, Chen Zong's True Sword Eight Forms had advanced beyond the Perfection Realm, drawing ever closer to the Subtlety Realm.
His movements flowed like surging waves, his momentum unstoppable as he advanced and retreated, cutting through obstacles with unwavering resolve.
A sword unleashed knows no retreat!
Momentum like a thousand armies!
Thrusting Sword Stance!
Tang Junluo's spear trembled, transforming into a soaring dragon dance.
Soaring Dragon Stance!
But the dragon was crushed by the overwhelming force of Chen Zong's Thrusting Sword Stance, its power utterly unmatched.
"What exactly is that?"
"Why is it so terrifying?"
The surrounding crowd stared in wide-eyed horror.
Their shock wasn't unwarranted. Chen Zong's sword technique possessed astonishing power, easily rivaling or even surpassing the first rudimentary level of ordinary Low-Grade Human-Rank sword techniques.
After all, Foundation Establishment Sword Techniques didn't require the explosive expenditure of Qi Blood Power.
Pure exhilaration!
That was the sensation Chen Zong derived from wielding a fine sword—as if he could cleave through a thousand legions with a single strike.
A surge of heroic spirit arose within him: Who in this world can stand against me?
Circling Sword Stance!
Chopping Sword Stance!
In that instant, the disparity in their strength seemed to vanish, leaving only the dazzling brilliance of the sword light, poised to pierce and shatter everything in its path.
Tang Junluo gritted his teeth, completely taken aback. He had never imagined that Chen Zong, wielding the Precious Iron Sword and executing that sword technique, could be so terrifying. It far exceeded his expectations. He also realized that while he had made significant progress recently, Chen Zong's advancement was likely even greater.
But what did it matter?
With the Dragon Spear in my hands, who can break through my defenses?
His conviction surged, his momentum coalescing into an even more formidable force. Faintly, the roar of a dragon seemed to echo from beyond the heavens, or perhaps from deep within Tang Junluo himself. In a way, the pressure from Chen Zong's True Sword Eight Forms had spurred a subtle transformation within him.
Chaotic Sword Stance!
Sword light erupted in a dazzling display, dancing like butterflies flitting through blossoms and pouring down like torrential rain. The relentless onslaught of strikes filled the air, a seemingly endless deluge crashing like tidal waves against the shore.
Retreat! Retreat! Retreat!
Tang Junluo gripped the Dragon Spear with both hands, desperately parrying, yet he couldn't help but stumble backward step by step.
The clash of sword and spear produced an ear-splitting metallic clang that shattered stone. Countless sparks burst forth like shooting stars on a summer night, their dazzling dance hypnotizing the eyes, stirring the heart, and igniting the blood.
Swift Sword Stance!
The sword struck with the speed of a gale tearing through the air, like a meteor chasing the moon, as if descending from the distant void. It pierced through dazzling sprays of flowers, soared over towering mountain ranges, and cut through skies darkened by endless clouds.
A point of cold light, like a distant star, magnified before Tang Junluo's eyes, filling his entire world. It expanded in the eyes of the crowd, a solitary beacon of power.
Faster than the eye could follow!
Tang Junluo's arms swelled, veins bulging like pythons as his strength surged beyond its limits. His hands whirled, the Golden Dragon Spear spinning like a cartwheel, its movements impenetrable.
The sword tip struck and withdrew instantly, yet its power exploded in that fleeting moment, sending tremors through Tang Junluo's golden spear and his arms, forcing him to stagger backward.
He planted his left foot heavily, twisting his body to the right. His right arm pulled the sword back like a drawn bow, while his left hand formed a sword-finger gesture, pointing directly at Tang Junluo. Power surged upward from the soles of his feet, channeled through his waist, and erupted from his right arm, which bulged visibly. Qi Blood churned like molten lava, threatening to burst forth. This overwhelming force demanded release.
Exploding Sword Stance!
The final and most powerful form of the True Sword Eight Forms.
A strike capable of shattering boulders, piercing mountains, and splitting the earth. It would tear through the heavens, shattering stars and eclipsing the moon, leaving celestial bodies in ruins.
Everyone felt a terrifying sharpness, as if they were about to be shattered into dust, sending shivers down their spines.
"Azure Dragon Stance!"
Tang Junluo bore the full brunt of the pressure, nearly suffocating and on the verge of collapse. But with unwavering resolve, he unleashed his full power, roaring like an Azure Dragon rising from the sea to patrol the heavens.
The Dragon Spear was pushed to its limit, its dragon patterns radiating a crimson glow, as if a Flood Dragon were about to burst forth, claws bared, from the weapon.
His roar merged with the spear's momentum, pouring every ounce of his strength and presence into a single strike. In that instant, he shattered an invisible barrier and ascended to a new realm.
The Hidden Dragon Spear Technique... had reached the Subtlety Realm!
One strike, the Azure Dragon Stance—with me, none shall stand!
This was the ultimate clash, the outcome deciding victory or defeat.
Sword against spear, sword tip against spearhead, Exploding Sword Stance against Azure Dragon Stance!
Collision!
A piercing screech tore through the air, followed by deafening silence. Countless sparks erupted before his eyes, their colors fading to monochrome. The world dissolved into a distorted, empty void.
One breath. Two breaths. Three breaths.
A dozen breaths passed before a faint sound reached them, gradually growing clearer as if carried on the wind from a distant horizon. The monochrome world before their eyes began to fill with color, slowly returning to its original vibrancy.
Chen Zong staggered back five steps, his feet leaving deep impressions on the hard stone floor. His sword trembled violently in his trembling right hand, the skin between his thumb and forefinger split open, a thin trail of blood flowing down the hilt.
Tang Junluo stood empty-handed, his palms scraped raw and dotted with crimson beads of blood, still shaking uncontrollably. The Golden Dragon Spear, its golden shaft quivering, had somehow lodged itself in the back of the chair behind him.
Yet their gazes remained sharp and commanding.
The surroundings were deathly silent, not even the sound of breathing audible. Only the faint tremors of the sword and spear shafts pierced the stillness.
Another dozen breaths passed before any other sound broke the silence.
"Chen Zong, you've won this round," Tang Junluo declared magnanimously, tucking his hands behind his back.
"As it should be," Chen Zong replied without false modesty, sheathing his sword. He grabbed a nearby white cloth and wiped the blood from the hilt.
In the end, despite the seemingly even match, one combatant still held his sword while the other's spear lay discarded. The victor was clear.
Chen Zong carefully examined his sword. Astonishingly, it showed no damage from the fierce clash—a testament to its Precious Iron Grade quality. He found himself even more enamored with the blade.
"Magnificent!" Tang Junhao exclaimed, clapping enthusiastically, his admiration unreserved. Even with his sixth-layer Qi Blood Realm cultivation base, he found the duel breathtaking and flawless, a spectacle that made his blood boil with excitement.
Thunderous applause erupted, its intensity washing away all lingering grudges. In that moment, every martial artist present shed their resentments, united by their shared identity.
When the applause finally subsided, Tang Junluo asked, "Chen Zong, what is the name of your sword technique?" The crowd leaned in, eager to hear the answer.
"True Sword Eight Forms," Chen Zong replied calmly.
"True Sword Eight Forms?" Murmurs rippled through the crowd. No one had ever heard of such a technique, not even Li Zhenshi, the young leader of a prominent Sword Clan.
Yet, from that day forward, the name would be forever etched in their memories, a testament to the extraordinary display of skill they had witnessed, a memory they would carry to their graves.
"True Sword Eight Forms... your sword truly deserves the title 'True Sword Unrivaled'," Tang Junluo said.
"Far from it," Chen Zong replied, not out of modesty, but with conviction.
The Soaring Dragon Assembly's duels had largely concluded. Chen Zong and Tang Junluo tended to their wounds, stopping the bleeding.
The crowd lingered, eager to discuss their insights and exchange martial arts experiences.
"Thank you for the banquet. Farewell."
"Farewell."
"Farewell."
As all gatherings must end, the prolonged Soaring Dragon Assembly drew to a close. One by one, the participants rose to bid farewell to Tang Junhao and Tang Junluo.
"Chen Zong, today's battle was exhilarating. But mark my words, I will challenge you again in the future, and I will defeat you without fail," Tang Junluo declared, meeting Chen Zong's gaze with unwavering determination. He showed no hint of discouragement from his temporary setback, his fighting spirit burning brightly.
"I won't be standing still either," Chen Zong replied with a smile, brandishing the Precious Iron Sword. "And thank you for this blade. I quite like it."
"Tang Junluo, I'm deeply dissatisfied with today's battle. Next time, I'll make sure you unleash your full power," Zhao King City declared, his face grim and fierce.
"You'll never keep pace with me," Tang Junluo retorted with arrogant confidence.
"Let's go, let's go! Fancy a drink somewhere?" Yang Yigu asked, patting Chen Zong on the shoulder.
"Some other time," Chen Zong replied with a smile. He had other matters to attend to, and drinking wasn't a priority.
"Chen Zong, remember, I owe you one. I'll seek you out for another spar when the opportunity arises," Li Zhenshi said as he passed by.
"Brother Li, wait!" Chen Zong called out, hurrying after him. He wanted to ask what realm lay beyond the Subtlety Realm.