Chapter Fifty-Five: The Top Three

Between heaven and earth, chaos reigned, and countless gazes fixed upon the Celestial Inquiry Sword.

Boom!

It was as if two colossal mountains had collided, and a deafening roar split the air. In the Grandmaster Hall’s plaza, some of the great Dao laws began to collapse, shattering like mirrored glass. Countless ripples carrying a breath of destruction surged from the sword’s tip toward the four corners of the sky.

At the center of the plaza, the high platform of azure stone could no longer withstand the force and shattered instantly. Cracks, like a spider’s web, spread madly, while many young disciples were buffeted by the raging winds, tumbling to the ground.

There, before everyone’s eyes, clashed two powers that nearly rivaled the might of cultivators at the Third Realm.

Yu Wenwen stood at the side of the platform, her blue-black hair fluttering in the wind, her figure immovable as a boulder, her expression somber as she stared into the sky.

As the aftershocks faded and the dust settled, all eyes turned to the scene, only to find Shen Yu wielding his sword, confronting the giant palm print head-on.

Crack.

A faint sound of fracturing echoed between heaven and earth—a change had finally come. Those with profound cultivation saw that the palm print, bearing the breath of annihilation, had split with a subtle fissure, and more cracks followed, spreading like a shattered mirror.

With the dispersal of the overwhelming aura, the giant palm could no longer hold, swaying and on the verge of collapse.

“You really are too weak.”

Shen Yu’s sleeves fluttered as he stood calmly, his handsome figure exuding an unspoken arrogance and dominance.

Boom!

The sword light around Shen Yu surged once more, his aura climbing higher. The enormous palm print finally crumbled, shattering unceasingly, then vanished, leaving only a wisp of vital essence drifting between heaven and earth.

Faint points of light, like stars in the night, fell into the mortal realm.

At that moment, shock filled the eyes of all present, elders from the Seven Peaks and Four Halls among them.

During the trial at Treasure Division Cliff, most believed Shen Yu had won by luck and cunning. But now, before all eyes, despite the overwhelming gap in cultivation, he had crushed Fang Hen with absolute force.

An indisputable victory.

By now, the sword’s aura had faded, leaving only a trace, yet that remnant was still enough for Shen Yu to accomplish much.

For instance—kill.

He took a step forward, his aura swelling, and everyone’s expression changed.

Fang Hen seemed lost in defeat, or perhaps utterly devoid of strength. He stood there numbly, waiting for the wooden sword to pierce his chest, making no move to evade.

“That’s enough.”

A gentle voice echoed on the platform, and time itself seemed to slow. An elderly figure appeared between the two.

Daoist Master Dao Xuan extended two fingers, effortlessly pinching the tip of Shen Yu’s sword. The wooden blade halted instantly, its overwhelming force dissipating.

“Fellow disciples of the Dao, there is no need for death.”

Master Dao Xuan looked at Shen Yu and said quietly, “You have won.”

Shen Yu met those cloudy, wise eyes without a word, then turned and descended to the ground.

With a sweep of his sleeve, Master Dao Xuan brought the gravely wounded and humbled Fang Hen back to the platform.

“Shen Yu of the Abyssal Saint Hall—victorious.”

The proclamation of victory resounded.

“Is this real? Shen Yu has defeated the chief disciple of the Pure Law Hall...?”

Around the platform, everyone remained rooted in shock, countless Dao Sect disciples unable to believe their eyes.

This was the fifteenth-ranked talent on the Academy’s Soaring Cloud List, a peerless prodigy of the Spirit Wasteland Continent—defeated by a mere Golden Core disciple?

Staring at that proud figure in blue standing alone, countless gazes grew complex.

Though only at the third realm of cultivation—the Golden Core—he could already merge with his weapon, and even wield the Dao Sect’s foremost arcane art.

If he possessed such strength at the Golden Core, what heights would he reach upon entering the Spirit Roaming Realm, or even the Upper Three Realms? What world-shaking wonders might ensue?

Geniuses are always the focus of the world.

Some disciples, once filled with hatred for Shen Yu due to rumors from Nanhe City, suddenly found the refined young man pleasing to the eye, even admirable.

Shen Yu closed his eyes to their awed stares, circulating his spiritual energy through his meridians, letting pure power flow through his limbs and bones, beginning to mend his wounded body.

The crowd gradually quieted.

All eyes were on Shen Yu, even the three Grand Hall Masters, cultivators of the Upper Three Realms.

Shen Yu had become the center of Dao Sect’s storm.

“I had thought Dao Sect boasted prodigies such as Fang Hen, Yu Wenwen, and Chen Jianzhi, yet today I have seen one even more monstrous,” sighed Lu Wenyu of the Academy, dressed in rippling blue, standing gracefully in the distance. “Master Huike did not deceive me—Shen Yu is truly formidable.”

“If they were of equal cultivation, Fang Hen would have lost even faster,” said Master Huike, hands pressed together, watching the fading sword aura. “Of all those I have seen on the Soaring Cloud List, Shen Yu’s talent is unmatched.”

“Even you, Master?” Lu Wenyu asked in surprise.

Huike shook his head seriously. “I’ve never been one for fighting. In the future, this young man is sure to rank among the top three on the Soaring Cloud List.”

“I see.” Lu Wenyu smiled faintly. “It appears the Academy’s candidate from Dao Sect has already been decided.”

Huike looked to the platform and shook his head. “Not necessarily.”

On the platform, the countless disciples made no sound—clearly, not all had lost heart.

After a moment, Master Dao Xuan asked, “Shall we continue?”

His unassuming voice rekindled anticipation in everyone’s eyes, countless gazes darting between Shen Yu and Yu Wenwen.

In the Dao Sect’s three-thousand-year legacy, never had anyone achieved a string of three consecutive victories before the Grandmaster Hall. Was a miracle about to occur today?

Shen Yu slowly opened his eyes, glanced at the imposing statue, and turned to leave.

“It’s over.”

His casual words sparked an uproar.

Many sighed in regret, but then, as if recalling something, they instinctively looked at Yu Wenwen.

For years, rumors had swirled in Dao Sect that Shen Yu and Yu Wenwen shared a bond deeper than mere fellow disciples. Not long ago, they had even returned to the sect together.

Could it be they were already...

Yu Wenwen had always stood quietly beside her master.

She watched Shen Yu’s departing figure, ignoring all other eyes, her expression tranquil.

She was not surprised by Shen Yu’s decision—she had known from the start this would be the outcome.

A moment later, a complex look flickered in Yu Wenwen’s eyes.

Back in the Southern Barbarian Demon Domain, Shen Yu had once told her to grow strong as swiftly as possible—to advance her cultivation, to comprehend more of the sword’s true meaning, to become the world’s mightiest female sword immortal, and at that time, to fight him once more.

She had not understood his feelings then, but today, seeing his smile in battle against Fang Hen, Yu Wenwen suddenly knew.

Shen Yu yearned for a true rival.

Not only her, but Ye Zhiqiu, Jiang Shaoqiu—those unrelated to him—Shen Yu hoped all gifted souls might rise quickly.

He was even willing to personally guide their cultivation.

He did all this, simply to create a worthy opponent for himself.

He was too proud.

Yu Wenwen had once asked when she might fight him, but Shen Yu’s answer was only, “When I believe you can stand against me, then we shall fight.”

So Yu Wenwen knew today was not that day.

Even so, her gaze remained difficult to decipher.

Countless cultivators in the world lament their lack of talent, their inferior arts and techniques, yet he viewed such things lightly—even the Academy’s Saint’s Baptism was cast aside without a care.

He truly was a strange man.

From the first meeting, she had found him intriguing; at Treasure Division Cliff, he became a worthy rival; at Abyssal Saint Hall, she saw him as a genius of the sword.

For the first time in her life, Yu Wenwen admitted someone pointed out as her equal was actually stronger.

Yet she felt no abnormal emotion—no jealousy, no resentment—as if it were only right and natural.

Watching that departing figure, something subtle and indescribable flickered in Yu Wenwen’s limpid eyes, as if her heart had gained something new.

...

Shen Yu wove through the crowd to join Su Mo and the others. “I’m a little tired,” he said.

Su Mo nodded. “Let’s go rest, the Azure Luan waits below the mountain.”

“You really are full of surprises,” said Dao Fan, shaking his head with a sigh. “You know what an opportunity you’re giving up by missing the Academy’s baptism?”

Yang Liu raised her small fist proudly. “I always knew Brother Shen Yu didn’t need the Academy’s support to be the greatest cultivator!”

Shen Yu said nothing, his gaze drifting elsewhere.

Zhang Zhi, head of Mount Forgetting, was already gone.

He felt a trace of regret—he had promised Ding Yi he would teach that fellow a lesson. Now, that promise would have to wait a long time.

Because he was about to leave Dao Sect.

Suddenly, two figures blocked his path.

It was Lu Wenyu, with Monk Huike at his side.

“This matter was handled with some carelessness. Please forgive us,” Lu Wenyu said, still gentle as jade. “I will personally investigate the matter of Daoist Zhishan from Yunyang Temple.”

The first sentence was for Shen Yu, the second for Su Mo.

Su Mo nodded slightly.

“In the future, you must be wary of one man,” Monk Huike said to Shen Yu. “Li Chan is the younger brother of Li Yi from Azure Emperor City. For the loss of his arm, Li Yi will come for you himself.”

Shen Yu asked blandly, “What’s his rank?”

Monk Huike replied, “He’s not listed on the Soaring Cloud List.”

Shen Yu responded simply.

No one believed that Song Nu’s chief disciple from Azure Emperor City could rank lower than the top ten—there was only one possibility.

He was top three, or even higher.

Having said all this, the two had lost interest in staying, and took their leave.

Daoist Master Dao Fan straightened and said, “Let’s head back.”

Above Dao Sect, the Azure Luan let out a long, distant call, then spread its colorful wings and gradually disappeared into the sky.

In midair, Shen Yu gazed at the ever-diminishing, imposing statue, lost in thought.