Chapter 64: The Contest of Sword Intent

As the demonstration of the sword formation ended, Master Qingyou and the others were still immersed in the awe-inspiring power of the ancient array. When they returned, they would certainly report this matter to their sect, so that those old fellows who spent all day locked in seclusion would feel a little pressure.

“Fellow Daoist Qingyou, these youngsters have all gathered here today—why not let them exchange a few pointers? We elders can also offer some incentives,” suggested Master Wenyu, thus signaling the start of the customary sparring matches.

“You jest, Fellow Daoist Wenyu. I’ve brought my disciples here precisely to seek guidance. I must ask your esteemed sect’s disciples to offer us a lesson or two.” As he spoke, Master Qingyou produced a fist-sized chunk of ore. It was crimson, radiating an intense heat that distorted the air around it.

“For the first match, let us use this Flame Crystal Iron as a prize.”

“Truly generous, Master Qingyou,” Master Wenyu replied, producing a small unremarkable black stone. “Then I shall offer this Xingin Stone as a prize as well.”

Many sword cultivators on the field looked at the Xingin Stone with fervor. Xingin, being pure yin metal, could elevate the quality of a magical weapon if forged into it. Those who practiced yin-style swordsmanship coveted it dearly.

So, the first match would have such rich rewards!

Master Wenyu then turned to Lin Guanyu, who sat at the head of the disciples, and said gently, “Guanyu, you will take part in the first match.”

Lin Guanyu rose, his expression unperturbed as always, his demeanor silent and reserved. He bowed and replied, “Yes, Master.”

Master Qingyou, seeing that the Ten Thousand Swords Sect had sent forth the foremost of their younger generation in the realm of sword intent—Lin Guanyu—did not directly name a challenger. Instead, he looked to his own foundation-building disciples and asked calmly, “Who among you will step forward?”

Instantly, all eyes from the Eastern Spirit Sect’s disciples fell upon a young man with dark skin—Yu Xiu.

He was the highest in sword intent among the foundation-building disciples present. Of them all, perhaps only Yu Xiu had a chance to defeat Lin Guanyu in this exchange.

Knowing he was the only suitable choice, Yu Xiu rose without hesitation, cupped his hands, and said to Lin Guanyu, “Yu Xiu, at your service.”

At this moment, Jiang Min watched the two young sword cultivators standing on the bluestone square with rapt attention.

She had already heard from her senior sisters that Yu Xiu was the most gifted in swordsmanship among their group—resolute, steadfast in his swordheart, a man who had risen from an outer disciple to his current status, earning the respect of many elders within the sect.

As for Lin Guanyu, he was a legend among the younger generation of the Ten Thousand Swords Sect.

Yesterday, upon arriving at the sect, Jiang Min had gone with her senior sisters to the marketplace, where she learned that Lin Guanyu was the foremost in sword intent among all the young disciples of the sect.

Yet Lin Guanyu was no prodigy; every step of his rise was hard-earned through unwavering resolve. He came from humble beginnings, starting his sword cultivation at a small sword hall affiliated with the Ten Thousand Swords Sect, progressing from a registered disciple to an outer disciple, and then to an inner disciple. Born with five spiritual roots, he did not hesitate to use secret methods to sever his own roots, crippling himself and forever forsaking the chance to form a golden core, all to achieve his current accomplishments!

Jiang Min had felt deep admiration upon hearing Lin Guanyu’s tale.

Severing one’s spiritual roots was indeed a way to alter one’s innate talent, but it carried a ninety percent chance of total cultivation loss, and a sixty percent chance of death. Few dared to wager their lives in this way, for over countless generations, too many had died in the attempt. Only those truly at the end of their rope would choose such a desperate gamble.

Moreover, after severing the roots, one could never again form a golden core—even those who survived would be tormented day and night by unending pain in their dantian. It was said that the agony of crippled spiritual roots could drive a cultivator mad.

Lin Guanyu had severed four of his roots, leaving only the metal root. Such a feat was almost certain death.

Yet Jiang Min saw no trace of pain in Lin Guanyu’s expression—only an impassive calm. Perhaps that calm was numbness itself.

Jiang Min wondered, if she had no help from the Peach Branch, and could only cultivate slowly with no hope of building a foundation, would she have the courage to do the same? Perhaps only when truly cornered would she consider such a path.

Her respect for Lin Guanyu deepened as she looked at him standing in the arena.

On the bluestone square, Lin Guanyu and Yu Xiu faced each other from a distance.

Their contest would be one of sword intent.

Sword intent—formless, intangible, born of spirit yet distinct from it. If wielded to attack another’s sea of consciousness, it could shatter it in an instant.

Only by condensing sword intent could one merge it with sword energy and reach even higher realms, such as the sword-shadow avatar.

These realms were still far beyond Jiang Min’s reach. With her current cultivation, she could not discern much, but she saw the grave faces of Yu Xiu and Lin Guanyu as they faced off. After a brief silence, Yu Xiu suddenly gave a muffled grunt, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth, yet he held his ground without conceding.

At that moment, Master Qingyou waved his hand, breaking off the contest. Yu Xiu looked unwilling but knew he was no match for Lin Guanyu, and had to concede with a bow.

Lin Guanyu also bowed slightly and said, “Thank you for letting me win.”

There was a stir among the Eastern Spirit Sect. Yu Xiu was no novice in sword intent—how could he lose so quickly?

Sitting behind Master Qingyou, the young Yu Qinghe wore a look of defiance, restless and eager to challenge, but a sharp look from Master Qingyou kept him silent.

As for Jiang Min, she was utterly at a loss, understanding nothing of the contest—only that Lin Guanyu was truly formidable.

There followed two more matches, one at the sword force realm and one at the sword thread realm. Sword force was hidden and formless, while sword thread was visible to the naked eye. Thus, Jiang Min could only follow the sword thread contest. Unfortunately, in both matches, the Eastern Spirit Sect was defeated.

“How does one hone sword energy into threads…” Jiang Min felt regret at her sect’s losses, but also replayed the sword thread duel in her mind. As the sparring concluded, Master Wenyu waved his hand and exquisite dishes were brought to each guest.

Jiang Min had heard that once the banquet reached the dining stage, it signaled the end of festivities, and that soon they would proceed to the ancient battlefield, the true purpose of her journey.

“The journey to the ancient battlefield will be arduous—better eat and drink my fill now!”

The dishes prepared by the Ten Thousand Swords Sect were exquisite. Jiang Min had never tasted such spiritual delicacies and would never have spent spirit stones on them herself. She noticed others eating with restraint, merely for form’s sake, but she savored every bite, never having eaten so well.

“One day, when I no longer have to worry about spirit stones, I’ll eat like this every day.”

Though not a lofty ambition, it was still a hope for the future. After all, she did not seek strength only for a life of privation—one should not forgo the pleasures life has to offer.

The banquet ended amid a swirl of toasts.

Afterwards, the Ten Thousand Swords Sect sent a flying vessel to carry the group from the Eastern Spirit Sect to the ancient battlefield.

On the last day of the month, I humbly ask for your votes. It has been one month since the book’s release, with 150,000 words written—thank you for your support!