“The Falling Blossom Sword? Isn’t that Bian Yifei’s signature technique? He intends to crush his opponent with his strongest move right from the start!”

“Judging by the atmosphere, this is going to be a clash of titans—a true dragon warring against a tiger!”

“For us, this is excellent news. No matter who wins or loses, the spiritual consumption will be massive. Our chance to strike is coming!”

As Bian Yifei and the defender from the Ten Thousand Treasures Pavilion prepared to face off, the disciples from the four sects and three clans watched with shining eyes, their anticipation reaching a fever pitch. They were like vultures waiting for a wounded beast.

However, standing on the elevated ring, Gu Xiu’s expression remained as tranquil as a still lake. He ignored the clamor of the crowd and paid no mind to Bian Yifei’s confident, heroic posturing. He simply turned his head, his voice flat and bored.

“Can we start now?”

“This…” The Golden Core Elder presiding over the match hesitated, glancing nervously at Bian Yifei.

“Hmph! I didn’t expect a mere merchant guard from the Ten Thousand Treasures Pavilion to be this arrogant!”

Feeling slighted by Gu Xiu’s indifference, Bian Yifei’s expression twisted in rage. Yet, despite his anger, he dared not recklessly call for the match to begin. The precedent of Niu Xifang’s instant defeat was a bloody warning etched into his mind.

He did not dare to be negligent. Without waiting for the signal, he took the initiative to summon his flying sword.

His fingers danced, forming complex sword seals.

Whoosh!

The blade at his hip soared into the heavens instantly. Its speed was blistering, flickering against the azure backdrop a few times before vanishing without a trace.

Just as the spectators thought the sword had completely disappeared, the sky changed.

Streaks of sword light suddenly flickered into existence, erratic and elusive. Amidst this dazzling display of lethal light, crimson petals began to materialize out of thin air, drifting slowly down from the firmament.

It looked like a gentle rain of flowers.

This was the true form of Fallen Petals Lying in Profusion.

But this was a killing art, not a scenic view. Contrary to their delicate appearance, every exquisitely beautiful petal drifting down carried a terrifying payload of compressed Spiritual Qi. Beauty concealed the blade; serenity masked the slaughter.

Any single petal could remain harmless, or it could instantly transform into a shredding vortex of lethal intent.

“Is this the true power of the Falling Blossom Sword?” A disciple gasped. “Terrifying!”

“Falsehood within truth, truth within falsehood. It’s impossible to track. If I were facing this, I wouldn’t even know how to begin dodging.”

“I never imagined Bian Yifei had mastered such a profound technique. If I had encountered him today unprepared… who could possibly stand against him?”

By the edge of the ring, Fan Yangtai of the Golden Blade Sect and his peers discussed the sight in hushed tones. The glances they cast toward Bian Yifei were now heavy with wariness.

“Elder Chen, what do you think?” Wan Xiaobei asked, her brow furrowed with worry as she turned to the old man beside her.

Elder Chen frowned deeply. “This Falling Blossom Sword is indeed profound. His mastery of telekinetic sword control is superb. By continuously manipulating a single blade at high speeds, he creates the illusion of a sword formation.”

He paused, his eyes narrowing. “Even a Golden Core cultivator with developed Divine Sense would suffer if their concentration slipped for a fraction of a second. Without Divine Sense… blocking this is nearly impossible.”

“Then, compared to Feng Bugui’s swordsmanship, who is stronger?” Wan Xiaobei pressed.

“That… is hard to say,” Elder Chen pondered. “Although I have caught glimpses of Feng Bugui’s style, I cannot see its depths. His technique relies too heavily on pure comprehension of the Dao of the Sword, and it places immense demands on the weapon itself. I cannot judge.”

“Can Feng Bugui win?”

Elder Chen fell silent. He didn’t speak, but his grim expression shouted the answer.

Feng Bugui’s sword was a mystery, but his cultivation realm was a known quantity—and it was too low.

Bian Yifei was a prodigy with seven Dao Platforms. The gap in raw power was fundamental. Furthermore, Feng Bugui had already cut down seven opponents in a row. While each victory had appeared to be a single strike, the energy consumption behind such decisive blows was undoubtedly massive.

By now, Feng Bugui’s Spiritual Qi must be teetering on the brink of exhaustion.

Facing a fresh Bian Yifei? Victory would be a miracle.

Wan Xiaobei pursed her lips, her resolve hardening. “If that’s the case, then no matter what happens, Elder Chen, you must save him. You absolutely cannot let Feng Bugui die!”

Elder Chen nodded solemnly, his muscles tensing in preparation.

“I am ready. Honored Elders, we may begin,” Bian Yifei announced, his voice ringing with authority.

“Since both sides are ready,” the presiding Elder shouted, “Let the defense match… Begin!”

As the command fell, Bian Yifei’s hands blurred into a final seal.

The sky full of petals seemed to be seized by a sudden gale, sweeping swiftly toward Gu Xiu like a crimson tide.

The sheer pressure of the move seemed to finally register on Gu Xiu. He narrowed his eyes, staring intently at the dancing storm drifting toward him. For the first time, he did not end the fight the moment it began.

This hesitation made Bian Yifei’s eyes light up with savage joy.

Little Martial Uncle’s sword technique is invincible!

Even if this merchant guard had remarkable skills, he would have to bow his head before the supreme arts of the Azure Mystic Sacred Land!

However…

Just as triumph began to swell in his chest, Bian Yifei noticed something odd. After staring at the petals for a moment, Gu Xiu suddenly looked up. His gaze pierced through the mesmerizing storm of flowers, fixing on a seemingly empty patch of sky high above.

The crowd missed it, but a chill of foreboding shot through Bian Yifei’s heart. Gu Xiu’s eyes were tracking a faint, nearly invisible shadow in the clouds.

He… is he tracking my real sword?

Impossible! How could he see through it?!

Just as panic began to take root, Gu Xiu withdrew his gaze and shook his head slightly. His face was calm, but the luster in his eyes seemed to convey a silent verdict:

This technique is mediocre.

The next moment.

ROAR!

A faint, high-pitched vibration tore through the air, sounding eerily like a dragon’s roar.

Terror exploded in Bian Yifei’s heart. His instincts screamed at him to dodge, to flee, to do anything but stand there. But just as his muscles began to fire, he realized the grim truth.

It was too late.

Before the sound of the sword’s resonance had even reached his ears, a searing pain had already erupted in his chest. A bone-chilling cold invaded his marrow, forcing his knees to buckle.

Thud.

Bian Yifei knelt on the ground. His pupils dilated, filled with shock and disbelief.

I lost?

I… lost?

Even Little Martial Uncle’s sword technique… lost?

A split second later, a terrifying surge of foreign spiritual power clamped down on his heart meridian. His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed, fainting dead away.

Silence.

Then, chaos.

“He actually… still defeated him with a single strike!”

“Damn it! Why can’t I see through his attack? If this continues, what chance do we have?”

“Such a powerful move must drain oceans of Spiritual Qi! How can he keep doing it?”

Bian Yifei had fallen. Even wielding the technique of Jiang Xun, the Azure Mystic Sacred Land’s famed Little Martial Uncle, he had been swatted aside like a fly.

The spectators could no longer maintain their composure. The remaining challengers frantically whispered strategies, while the Elders from the five sects and three clans narrowed their eyes, their gazes locking onto Gu Xiu with predatory intensity.

This young man… was too dangerous.

With his strength, if he continued to hold the ring, the Falling Rain Valley might become a forbidden zone for their disciples.

Subconsciously, several Elders exchanged glances. A tacit understanding passed between them—a gleam of malice.

But before they could act, a figure stepped out from the Ten Thousand Treasures Pavilion’s camp. Elder Chen, who had been standing inconspicuously beside Wan Xiaobei, strode to the edge of the ring.

“Venerable Feng is mighty!” Elder Chen bellowed, his voice laced with qi. “However, does Venerable Feng require a rest?”

As he spoke, Elder Chen cast a subtle, meaningful glance toward the hostile Elders. He allowed a fraction of his own powerful aura to leak out—a warning.

The Elders raised their eyebrows, sensing the threat, and shifted their gazes away from Gu Xiu.

On the stage, Gu Xiu understood the signal. The Ten Thousand Treasures Pavilion was a merchant organization; they thrived on profit, not war. They had the strength to hold the line, but taking all 250 spots would be a declaration of war against the local powers.

If they were too greedy, the five sects and three clans would unite to crush them.

Gu Xiu glanced at Wan Xiaobei.

The girl blinked, stunned for a moment, before realization dawned. She hurriedly waved her hands. “Enough, enough! Venerable Feng, one hundred spots are plenty!”

She had indeed boasted about taking all the spots earlier, but that was a joke! A fantasy! Who could have predicted that this ‘Feng Bugui’ would actually be capable of doing it?

Gu Xiu was pragmatic. He waved his hand dismissively. “The consumption today was indeed heavy. Everyone, you may continue playing without me.”

With that, he walked off the ring.

He wasn’t lying. His cultivation realm was, after all, his limiting factor. The Roaming Dragon Sword was a technique that devoured energy. Nine consecutive strikes had drained nearly twenty percent of his reserves.

Such massive consumption… Gu Xiu hadn’t felt this kind of drain in a long time.

As he exited the ring, Gu Xiu paused. He turned back, glancing at the prodigies who were visibly exhaling in relief at his departure.

He smiled internally.

The opportunities of the Falling Rain Valley do need some outsiders to act as laborers, after all.

I just wonder… which sect’s ‘lucky ones’ will have the honor of working for me?

While the drama at the Falling Rain Valley ring concluded, the atmosphere at the Azure Mystic Sacred Land was reaching a crescendo.

For days, the Artifact Resonance Peak had been shrouded in a ten-thousand-foot rainbow glow. Now, that light burst forth with blinding brilliance. Above the peak, strange phenomena began to manifest in the heavens—illusory projections of divine Buddhas chanting in silence.

Zoom!

A three-foot-long, snow-white blade shot out from the peak, soaring into the nine heavens like a streak of lightning.

Immediately following it was Yuchi Chunlei. The burly, sweat-drenched female smith stepped onto the air, standing amidst the clouds. She looked down at Jiang Xun, who had been waiting at the foot of the mountain for days.

“Junior Brother Jiang, what are you waiting for? Quickly receive the sword and drip your blood to claim it!”

Jiang Xun nodded heavily. He took a step forward but hesitated, casting a nervous glance at the sky. Seeing only the auspicious omens and no signs of tribulation or enemies, he secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

He flashed to the side of the hovering divine sword.

Up close, the blade was breathtaking.

“A Heaven-grade Dao Sword!” Jiang Xun’s face flushed with ecstasy. “Second Senior Sister, you actually forged a Heaven-grade weapon!”

“While forging, I was struck by sudden inspiration,” Yuchi Chunlei boomed, her voice thick with pride. “Coupled with the sect’s abundant resources, I was lucky enough to birth a Heaven-grade treasure. Junior Brother, bind it quickly!”

“Nurture it well. In the future, if it births a weapon spirit, its power will soar to another level!”

Jiang Xun nodded vigorously. Without hesitation, he forced a drop of essence blood from his fingertip.

The crimson bead fell onto the pristine white blade.

A Heaven-grade sword possessed spirituality; it was not easily tamed. But Jiang Xun’s cultivation was profound. After a brief struggle, the sword began to greedily absorb the essence blood.

The connection was established.

When the last trace of blood vanished into the steel, Jiang Xun opened his eyes, a sharp light flashing within them.

“Little Junior Brother, are you satisfied?”

“Satisfied. Very satisfied! Thank you, Second Senior Sister!”

“No need for thanks. It lacks a name. bestow one upon it.”

“A name…” Jiang Xun pondered for a moment, his expression turning solemn. “This sword contains Second Senior Sister’s heart and soul, and the exhausting efforts of the sect. I name it…”

“Unfailing.”

“It implies that in the future, I will never fail the trust placed in me, nor the high hopes of my Master and Senior Sisters!”

Hearing this, the stern faces of the Azure Mystic Sacred Land’s masters and disciples softened. Jiang Xun was indeed a man of honor.

However.

Just as the sentiment settled, the newly named Unfailing Sword suddenly trembled.

Whoosh!

It tore through the air, rocketing straight up into the high heavens, pulling away from Jiang Xun!

The sudden movement startled everyone. The sword had not yet birthed a spirit—why was it moving on its own?

“Congratulations, Little Junior Brother! Congratulations!”

Yuchi Chunlei, seemingly realizing something, burst into hearty laughter. “The name ‘Unfailing’—the sword must love it!”

“See how it flies into the sky? It is overjoyed! This signifies that it won’t be long before a weapon spirit is born!”

Her eyes shone with fanaticism. “With enough luck, perhaps this sword, on the very day of its completion… will give birth to a spirit right now!”