Chapter Fifty-Three: In the Beginning

Countless people were shaken by his words.

Although everyone knew that Zhang, the Head of Sitting Forget Peak, harbored a deep enmity against Shen Yu over the destruction of a treasured artifact, few expected Shen Yu to so brazenly humiliate a peak master in front of the three palace lords, the seven peak heads, and all the disciples. The boldness of his affront left everyone awestruck.

Yu Wenwen perhaps understood that he was merely stating the truth.

Zhang Zhi’s expression shifted rapidly, now pale, now flushed, his body trembling with rage. An endless murderous aura flowed from him; were it not for the multitude of onlookers, he would have slain this insolent fellow with his own hand.

Master Daochen of the Qing Law Palace could not help but reprimand, “Shen Yu, you are far too presumptuous. How dare you insult the Head of a Peak?”

Shen Yu glanced at him indifferently and replied, “There are things you’ve done that are too excessive—and too foolish.”

This remark caused another uproar among the crowd, with many showing confused expressions.

“Shen Yu.”

The deep voice of Master Dao Xuan brought everyone’s thoughts back to the moment.

He asked calmly, “Is there anyone else who wishes to challenge?”

Several disciples glanced instinctively at Zhang Jian, who stood covered in blood. Remembering what had transpired atop Motian Cliff, they halted, not daring to step forward.

Fan Weimin of the Yanfa Palace, however, hesitated not.

Zhou Yi, standing nearby, smiled and said, “With your current cultivation, do you even need this slot? And judging by his appearance, Shen Yu is a dual cultivator of sword and Dao—not a simple opponent.”

Fan Weimin paused at these words, then said, “You’re right; I won’t go.”

Zhou Yi’s smile was enigmatic.

Shang Yingluo’s eyes nearly closed with laughter from the sidelines, tugging at her fellow junior disciples and whispering excitedly.

Lou Lianzhao called out to her, “You didn’t win, so what are you so happy about?”

Shang Yingluo replied smugly, “If Shen Yu wins, it’s as good as my own victory. We’re on the same side.”

Lou Lianzhao affectionately ruffled her hair, saying nothing more.

Ever since the young girl had become the disciple of the former head of the True Crossing Palace, the naturally aloof Lou Lianzhao had shown her almost excessive care, even more than for her prized disciple, Yu Wenwen.

Even the white spirit fox, whose mischief caused trouble throughout True Crossing Palace, she ignored—much to everyone’s confusion.

After a brief pause, Master Dao Xuan announced, “The second match will be—”

“I’ll continue fighting.”

Shen Yu’s calm voice rang out from the high platform once more.

This time, the crowd frowned, puzzled as they looked upon the handsome young man.

He had already defeated Zhang Jian. According to the tournament rules, if no one challenged him, he need only wait for the victor between Yu Wenwen and Fang Hen.

Why would he wish to continue?

Following Shen Yu’s gaze, the crowd’s faces shifted in surprise.

He was challenging Fang Hen.

---

“Is he mad? Fang Hen ranks fifteenth on the Academy’s Lingyun List, his strength far surpasses Zhang Jian’s.”

“Last time at Motian Cliff, Shen Yu used tricks to ambush Fang Hen. In a fair fight, their cultivation difference is too vast.”

“You never know—Shen Yu is always full of surprises.”

Disciples outside the arena whispered among themselves, many recalling the events at Motian Cliff.

Some even guessed Shen Yu’s intentions.

Previously, Sitting Forget Peak, under Fang Hen’s direction, had used a mediocre female disciple to force Shen Yu into the Four Palace Tournament, hoping to restore Qing Law Palace’s reputation after Chen Jian’s humiliation. Instead, they only lost face even more.

Over the past month, they had tried every ploy, using the Shen family case in Nanhe City to press Shen Yu into the Cliff of Reflection, attempting to strip his cultivation and expel him from the sect, even manufacturing rumors to slander him.

Today, it was clear, Shen Yu was here for revenge.

But could he defeat the Qing Law Palace’s senior disciple?

Master Dao Xuan said mildly, “You may fight after the second match has concluded.”

Shen Yu stood in silence.

A tall figure broke the calm.

“No matter, as he wishes.”

Fang Hen strode to the center of the platform and looked at Shen Yu with cold indifference. “I once thought you relied solely on petty tricks, but it seems you do have some skill.”

He had suffered a serious injury at Motian Cliff at Shen Yu’s hands, but deep down, he believed Shen Yu had only won through cunning, never considering him an equal.

To Fang Hen, the gap between the Golden Core stage and the Spirit Wandering stage was insurmountable.

But since this reckless fellow dared to provoke him openly, it was only fitting to reclaim his lost honor.

As for Zhang Jian, a failure who relied on innate spiritual treasures, he was not worth mentioning.

Sensing Fang Hen’s scorn, Shen Yu responded coolly, “My cultivation is still too low. Otherwise, I wouldn't be challenging you, but someone else.”

His meaning was direct—and arrogant.

During the Four Palace Tournament, Blue Yingxing had repeatedly provoked and schemed to force Shen Yu into competition, yet Shen Yu sought to kill the one hiding behind the scenes: Fang Hen.

This time, the root of the matter lay with Zhang Zhi of Sitting Forget Peak, Daochen of Qing Law Palace, and perhaps even the distant palace lord Xun Ju.

But as he said, his cultivation was still too low, so he could only challenge Fang Hen, whose level was less unattainable.

Fang Hen caught his meaning and sneered, “Let’s hope your words aren't too hollow.”

Shen Yu said nothing. Pure spiritual power radiated from within him, and a dense white mist enveloped his right hand along with the blood-colored wooden sword.

Fang Hen scoffed, “You are a Dao disciple, yet you favor sword techniques. Is abandoning your roots so appealing?”

Boom!

A surge of overwhelming spiritual energy burst from Fang Hen’s hands, blazing like red flames.

The force of his power sent his long hair billowing upward, and a faint, strange fire mark appeared on his brow—he seemed a god of war descended to earth.

---

Shen Yu paid him no mind, stepping lightly forward until he stood before Fang Hen, utterly disregarding the searing, wild crimson energy.

A sword strike.

A simple, unremarkable stroke.

Just like Shen Yu himself—casual, effortless, as if all matters of the world could be settled with a single sword.

Fang Hen responded without hesitation, stepping forward as a red spear materialized in his grasp.

A thrust.

Spear tip met sword point in a sudden collision, violent currents swirling and splintering the stone beneath their feet, crashing against the stone pillars of the platform.

The spear’s tip erupted in fierce flames, instantly engulfing the three-foot wooden sword shrouded in white mist. Then, behind Fang Hen, countless spear shadows appeared.

Shen Yu did not know whether this spear technique was a Qing Law Palace legacy, but it mattered little to him.

In an instant, countless sword shadows burst from the flames at astonishing speed.

Shen Yu retreated slowly, his wooden sword elegant and leisurely, using the same technique, drawing circles in the air to perfectly neutralize each attack.

Yet unlike his previous battle with Zhang Jian, Shen Yu’s expression now carried a hint of seriousness.

Fang Hen’s strength was indeed far superior to Zhang Jian’s—his spiritual treasure, cultivation, and inherited techniques all unmatched.

This had nothing to do with individual talent, but with the natural disparity between the Four Palaces and Seven Peaks.

Shen Yu seemed once more at a disadvantage.

Spear intent surged, and with each strike Fang Hen unleashed unmatched dominance, his imposing figure pressing Shen Yu beneath a storm of spear shadows.

Yet what amazed everyone was Shen Yu’s eternal calm, as if none of these hardships mattered to him.

With a fierce shout, Fang Hen’s spear shot forward.

Although he now had the upper hand, Fang Hen did not wish to prolong the battle, intending to use his higher cultivation level to decide the outcome.

At the Spirit Wandering stage, the Yin spirit transforms into Yang, allowing one to travel thousands of miles even in broad daylight and manifest avatars outside the body.

A cruel smile curled at Fang Hen’s lips as he split into three figures, charging ahead.

Shen Yu, without hesitation, raised his wooden sword before him.

A moment later, a resounding crash rang out.

The wooden sword collided with the speeding spear, erupting in a violent explosion.

The three imposing figures split further, enclosing Shen Yu in a sea of fire.