Chapter Thirty-One: An Earth-Shattering Punch

Fragments of the Free Sword lay scattered across the ground, and countless disciples remained stunned, unable to regain their senses for a long time. It was only when the boy’s voice rang out again that the crowd awakened from their trance. This was the life-bound spiritual treasure of Zhang Zhi, the head of the Sitting-Forget Peak, and the boy had destroyed it.

Zhang Zhi was a grand cultivator, nearly stepping into the upper three realms, his cultivation having reached the pinnacle of the Spirit Roaming stage many years ago. Before the sword was destroyed, another had spoken to stop him—someone of even greater status. That was Xun Ju, the master of the Pure Law Hall.

Facing two titans of the Daoist order, the boy had not hesitated in the slightest; before all eyes, he destroyed the life-bound spiritual treasure that had accompanied Zhang Zhi his entire life.

A hero, indeed, emerges from youth.

“This boy is truly courageous.”

On the viewing platform, the heads of the other six peaks looked at the boy with awe and curiosity, mingled with a hint of admiration. Yu Wenwen’s gaze lingered on Shen Yu; once again, this person had shaken her deeply.

The Evolution Hall remained quiet. Fan Weimin, dressed as an old farmer, kept his eyes fixed on the boy in the arena, full of astonishment and curiosity, sighing quietly that this was a young man of true character.

Fan Weimin had heard the tale: the mediocre female disciple from Sitting-Forget Peak had her spiritual treasure destroyed by Fu Yi and was gravely injured. Only nine days later, Shen Yu had done the same, but this time, he destroyed a life-bound treasure belonging to a Spirit Roaming peak cultivator.

Fan Weimin exclaimed, “His courage is commendable. I respect him.”

At the highest point of the viewing platform, Xun Ju’s expression was like a still pond, betraying nothing of his thoughts.

Zhang Zhi, the head of Sitting-Forget Peak, swayed as if about to collapse, his face bloodless, his eyes full of hatred fixed upon Shen Yu. As one of the seven peak heads, due to certain unspeakable secrets, he dared not make a move to reclaim the Free Sword, forced to watch as it was destroyed.

With his life-bound spiritual treasure gone, his Dao heart shattered instantly, barely able to maintain his current cultivation, let alone advance further.

The other elders of the Four Halls were still recalling the techniques Shen Yu had displayed during the duel, their faces filled with shock and confusion.

The Free Sword was a high-grade innate spiritual treasure; how could a disciple who had entered the Dao less than two years ago destroy it so easily?

Not to mention the duel with Fu Yi, disciple of Sitting-Forget Peak. Though both were of the same realm, Shen Yu had effortlessly sent him flying with a mere wave of his hand, leaving him gravely wounded.

The crowd’s expressions varied as they saw the boy gazing toward the Pure Law Hall, sensing that today’s events were far from over.

A tall figure descended into the arena.

“So this is the strength you’re so proud of?” Lan Yingxing stood with effortless grace opposite the boy, gazing at the bloody wound on Shen Yu. After a moment of silence, he continued, “Your strength seems impressive; you haven’t even summoned the life-bound treasure you obtained at Treasure Divide Cliff. But now that I’m here, nothing that follows matters. Your pride will be trampled beneath my feet.”

Lan Yingxing had every right to say this; no one thought he was boasting.

He had become a Daoist disciple in the same year as Fang Hen, the senior brother of Pure Law Hall. Within the strongest hall of the order, Pure Law Hall, he ranked seventh, and every annual competition, he was seventh.

Some disciples still remembered certain habits of this Seventh Brother during fights: he was not fond of speaking.

Yet today, he had broken his usual silence, perhaps indicating a change in his mindset.

Shen Yu’s expression remained calm, his voice indifferent: “Let’s begin.”

No one knew why Shen Yu was so calm—calm enough to inspire fear.

Even Dao Fan, who had been resting with closed eyes in the distance, opened them now, his gaze grave as he looked toward the stone platform.

A duel between juniors should not have warranted such attention, but a grand cultivator at the peak of the Unity stage was now watching with unprecedented focus.

Dao Fan recalled a scene from a few days prior, during the Four Halls’ performance.

Shen Yu had sought him out and asked a few questions.

The delicate youth had calmly inquired what would happen if he killed his opponent in the competition.

The question startled Dao Fan, but the boy’s tranquil gaze held unmistakable certainty.

Then Shen Yu asked, what if he killed a particularly important disciple of the Pure Law Hall?

Dao Fan remained silent for a long time, unsure how to answer.

Accidental death during a duel was not uncommon.

Yet Dao Fan never voiced this aloud, only thinking perhaps he could intervene if he were present.

Thus, for the first time in years, Dao Fan attended the Four Halls’ performance, intending to prevent any impending tragedy.

If he could not prevent it,

He would protect that boy, at any cost.

For on that boy’s shoulders, too many shadows of that person lingered.

…

The boy’s pride soared as high as the clouds.

Lan Yingxing struck first, his hands weaving through the air like butterflies flitting among flowers, dazzling and swift, forming a brilliant seal that shot toward Shen Yu.

Radiant and resplendent, faint sounds of wind and thunder accompanied it.

Shen Yu tapped lightly with his foot; his figure vanished. Moments later, the seal crashed onto the hard ground, shattering countless fragments of stone.

Lan Yingxing pressed on without pause, weaving seals with hands at a speed several times faster than before. Instantly, nine luminous seals descended from the sky.

A sharp cry pierced the air.

The nine seals merged, surging rapidly toward Shen Yu, trailing a blurred afterimage.

Boom.

Shen Yu’s form shifted constantly, each seal exploding at the spot he appeared, blasting over a dozen large holes into the blue-glowing stone floor, the sound of explosions continuous.

The disciples in the viewing stands watched the duel unblinkingly, unwilling to miss a single moment.

A quarter hour passed.

Many marveled at Lan Yingxing’s mastery of the Nine-Colored Lotus Seal, yet more were astonished by the other youth.

Even under such a dense barrage of seals, the boy’s movements remained effortless, not a hint of strain.

Shen Yu’s graceful form changed ceaselessly, often stepping out to appear more than ten yards away.

“Teleportation? Isn’t that a spell only Spirit Roaming cultivators can use?”

“Look closely. He doesn’t disappear and reappear instantly—it’s an extremely fast movement to that spot. It must be a footwork technique from the Abyssal Sage Hall, rarely seen.”

“You’re right. That’s the exclusive footwork of the Master’s lineage.”

On the viewing platform, elders of high seniority murmured their analysis.

Lan Yingxing’s face grew grim; he realized the youth was deliberately toying with him.

Abruptly, he withdrew his seals and stood facing the wind.

By now, the spiritual power in his dantian’s spirit lake was nearly spent, unable to continue using the Nine-Colored Lotus Seal. Yet the boy opposite him looked entirely at ease, showing no sign of fatigue.

This was highly unusual; his realm was a full stage above Shen Yu’s, yet Shen Yu seemed more relaxed.

While channeling his remaining spiritual power, Lan Yingxing pondered this, but deep within, a voice urged him to make a decision swiftly.

The spiritual energy in the air began to swirl violently around Lan Yingxing.

He traced symbols with his fingers in the air.

A massive mountain of spiritual energy coalesced, gathering above Shen Yu’s head.

The boy paid it no mind, quietly watching Lan Yingxing perform the Pure Law Hall’s Daoist art.

His expression was serene, as if the one casting spells before him was of no consequence.

Unable to contain his anger, Lan Yingxing roared,

“Three Mountains Technique!”

With his right finger pointing skyward, the mountain of spiritual energy suspended in midair instantly crashed down.

The Pure Law Hall’s Three Mountains Technique—its strongest, broadest Daoist art.

Lan Yingxing poured all his spiritual power into this single move, intent on settling the outcome under its force, as the vast spiritual energy formed mountains.

As if the heavens were collapsing.

…

Shen Yu raised his eyes, moved lightly.

A dazzling light shone at his brow, and a red wooden sword appeared in his uninjured left hand.

Spirit Sword Jingqing, its first appearance before the world.

Facing the mountain of spiritual energy, Shen Yu took a simple step forward.

Then, with his left hand, he thrust.

No flashes of light, no Daoist art or spell—just a plain, simple strike.

Yet this sword was the greatest in the world.

Flesh and blood splattered.

With a muffled groan, Lan Yingxing clutched his chest and staggered back.

The mountains of spiritual energy dispersed in an instant.

…

Utter silence.

Shen Yu approached Lan Yingxing and murmured, “Not enough.”

He stretched out his right hand and punched the opponent’s chest.

Still dazed and shocked, Lan Yingxing offered no resistance as he was sent flying.

Shen Yu stepped forward, his figure reappearing beside Lan Yingxing, suspended in midair, his wooden sword thrusting at Lan Yingxing’s heart.

Witnessing this, someone in the audience cried in alarm, “Lan Yingxing has already lost consciousness—does he mean to kill?”

At the same time, someone reacted even faster.

Chen Jianzhi rushed from the viewing platform, his figure slicing through the sky.

Fang Hen frowned, his eyes filled with hatred. He saw the middle-aged man on the platform move his finger, hesitated no longer, and vanished instantly.

Both arrived in the arena almost simultaneously.

Chen Jianzhi summoned a book-shaped spiritual treasure, aiming it at Shen Yu’s left-hand wooden sword, intent on saving him.

Fang Hen formed a seal with his right hand, and a blood-colored broken blade shot forth like lightning, targeting Shen Yu’s back.

Fang Hen’s eyes brimmed with disgust.

Regardless of whether Shen Yu stopped, this strike would surely kill him. Even if the Abyssal Sage Hall and the Master pursued the matter afterward, he could justify it—after all, Shen Yu struck first, breaking the sect’s rules.

Yet at that moment, Lan Yingxing, previously lost, suddenly shouted frantically, “Senior Brother, dodge!”

In an instant, Shen Yu’s figure vanished, appearing directly before Fang Hen.

Their gazes met; the youth smiled faintly.

…

“If I were to kill a particularly important disciple of the Pure Law Hall, what would happen?”

“A key disciple of the Pure Law Hall!”

Dao Fan suddenly recalled the boy’s earlier words, leaping to his feet in horror.

…

At the highest point of the viewing platform, a straight figure soared skyward.

…

In the skies above Skycliff, Shen Yu’s left-hand wooden sword erupted with fierce spiritual power.

The red blade’s dazzling light stained the entire sky crimson.

Entering the Dao, Golden Core, True Cavern… the aura climbed relentlessly, reaching the pinnacle of Spirit Roaming.

Shen Yu had waited nine days in the sky alongside the azure luan bird.

He absorbed the dense spiritual energy within a thousand miles into his body, storing it all in his right hand.

Thus, when facing Fu Yi, a mere wave of his right hand sent Fu Yi flying helplessly, the accumulated spiritual energy overwhelming.

No Daoist arts, no spells—pure spiritual power domination.

But if a hundred people tried this, ninety-nine would be unable to bear the violent spiritual energy within.

Shen Yu cared not.

He used a certain method, allowing him to unleash a sword strike at the peak of Spirit Roaming.

His target was not Lan Yingxing.

But Fang Hen.

…

Chen Jianzhi’s face changed dramatically, spiritual power surging as he desperately commanded the book-shaped treasure to block the boy’s sword.

On Fang Hen’s calm face appeared an unprecedented panic as he struggled to recall the broken blade that had already flown forth.

…

“You once said you would reclaim the dignity of the Pure Law Hall here.”

Shen Yu spoke softly: “Can you bear this dignity?”

A single sword from the youth.

All his life poured into that strike.