Chapter 57: A Single Strike
With a swift lift of his arm, Wang Jie executed a move—Cold Light Descends—sending a crisp metallic clash echoing through the air. His left arm trembled from the impact, and a sharp pain radiated from his wrist. Gritting his teeth, he extended his right hand, a single finger striking out with precision. The attack landed on Shu Mu Night’s shoulder, piercing straight through. Blood splattered midair.
Shu Mu Night had underestimated his opponent. He had never expected Wang Jie to withstand Moonlit Celestial Flow head-on. How was this possible?
His sharp gaze fixated on Wang Jie’s left wrist—there was something there.
But Wang Jie did not grant him the time to scrutinize further. He raised his hand and struck again.
[If not for the wrist guard, I would have died last time,] Wang Jie thought. [But that’s precisely why I’ve discovered how to counter Shu Mu Night’s blade technique—by using the wrist guard to absorb the impact.] The artifact was truly remarkable. No matter how formidable Shu Mu Night was, he was still only at the Eight Seals level. The guard should be able to withstand his attacks.
And the result was just as Wang Jie had anticipated.
As long as he could track the trajectory of the blade, he could block it head-on.
These trial participants entered Blue Star without any external artifacts—that was their greatest weakness.
Shu Mu Night refused to accept it. There was no equipment on Blue Star that could possibly withstand his blade techniques. He slashed out strike after strike, each one blocked by Wang Jie’s wrist guard. Taking advantage of every opening, Wang Jie retaliated. This time, however, Shu Mu Night was prepared—he managed to avoid a fatal blow, though occasional wounds still marked his body.
From an outsider’s perspective, Shu Mu Night was attacking while Wang Jie defended. Yet, paradoxically, Shu Mu Night was the one sustaining more injuries.
The tide of battle had completely shifted, reversing the outcome of their first two encounters.
The Three Great Bases erupted in excitement, their millions of inhabitants roaring with anticipation.
Lying atop the sacrificial altar, Bai Yuan clenched his fists. [We have to win. Too many have died. All of Blue Star has fought to buy us time. We must win.]
In the distance, Qi Five smacked his lips in astonishment. “Young Miss, if this battle gets broadcast outside, the entire universe will explode. Who would have imagined Shu Mu Night being forced to this point? Even after three rounds of re-cultivation, he still can’t suppress a mere native. This native is defying the heavens!”
Qi Xue Yin could not respond. Anyone witnessing this fight would be struck speechless. Since when had the Star-Guardian People ever been pushed back by someone of the same cultivation level?
It defied all reason.
Shu Mu Night unleashed a total of eighty-nine slashes—and consequently, Wang Jie was granted eighty-nine counterattacks. By now, Wang Jie’s left arm was completely numb, barely capable of movement. While the wrist guard could withstand the blade’s edge, it could not absorb the shockwave of force.
But Shu Mu Night fared even worse. His body was covered in a dense network of wounds. Though none were fatal, his robes were dyed in blood—an outcome unimaginable to the outside world.
Just as Wang Jie was about to block the next strike, Shu Mu Night suddenly halted.
His eyes locked onto the golden wrist guard peeking through Wang Jie’s tattered sleeves.
“That is a Star Artifact! Why do you have a Star Artifact?”
Wang Jie glanced at his wrist guard. Its smooth surface bore no trace of damage despite enduring countless strikes. “A white-bearded old man descended from the stars and gave it to me. He took me as his disciple and told me to seek him out in the cosmos one day.”
Shu Mu Night was momentarily at a loss. Was this true or false? Blue Star should not have Star Artifacts.
Star Artifacts were weapons and equipment infused with Star Force. Their quality varied, but weaker ones should not have survived this many strikes. Wang Jie’s wrist guard had not even sustained a scratch, proving that it was far from ordinary.
At Armor One Sect, Wen Si Yuan and the others fixated on Wang Jie’s wrist guard. [Is such a thing possible?] Blue Star was just a remote and insignificant planet on the Armor One Sect’s Star Wall. Even if there was something of value on this world, how could outsiders have entered without their knowledge?
Yet, the wrist guard undeniably existed.
Could the native’s words be true? And yet, this same native had practiced Lock Force, utterly ruining his own potential.
Nobody could determine if Wang Jie was lying, but he had no interest in arguing further. He surged forward, his palm striking out.
After three battles with Shu Mu Night, his mastery of force had improved immensely. More importantly, he had been studying Moonlit Celestial Flow, slowly grasping its essence. Replacing sword with palm, he executed Rainbow-Drinking Sword Style.
But this time, Shu Mu Night did not engage.
He let Wang Jie’s palm sweep past, its edge slicing the ocean itself, splitting the seabed in two—nearly striking Chu Yao.
Above them, the crimson clouds thickened ominously. A sound, faint but distinct, drifted through the air.
The sound of a flute.
The moment it resonated, Wang Jie’s body stiffened, his mind thundered in turmoil. His vision blurred, as if an invisible force had struck him squarely.
And it wasn’t just him—every living being on Blue Star, whether human or beast, faltered upon hearing the melody.
At Armor One Sect, Gu Moon’s expression twisted in shock. “Flute Technique! He can still use Flute Technique?!”
Wen Si Yuan’s gaze remained locked on the image projected over the lake, equally stunned.
Sincere One Dao was known for a legendary flute technique: Black Night, White Day.
This technique was so profound that not even an expert at the Star-Breaking Realm could learn it, let alone someone at Eight Seals. At his peak, Shu Mu Night had wielded this technique to a level of unparalleled mastery. But he had undergone re-cultivation. His realm was still just Eight Seals—there was no doubt about that.
It should have been impossible for him to use this flute technique.
[How is he doing this?]
[Is this the true genius of Shu Mu Night? The most prodigious talent of the modern universe?]
The last time, his display of Star Method had already astounded everyone. But this flute technique required an even higher level of mastery. One could only use Black Night, White Day if they had already mastered Star Method as a foundation.
It was far beyond merely lifting Heavenly Prefecture Base into the sky.
“This was beyond his ability the last time he lifted the base,” Wen Si Yuan confirmed.
Gu Moon was shaken. “We’ve been so focused on how fast that native was growing, we overlooked Shu Mu Night. He has also been refining himself, deliberately remaining at this level to push his limits.”
“A phenomenon rarely seen in history.”
“The battle is decided,” Wen Si Yuan stated. Just eight words.
And in them, the weight of fate.
Blue Star
Chu Yao drifted upon the scarlet sea, his body swaying with the waves, eyes fixed upon the sky as the relentless melody of the Flute Method tormented his very soul.
[That lunatic… Using the Star Method was already overkill, but to employ the Flute Method as well? That’s cheating.]
Silent, Wen Star Ru, Insect Xuan, and the others all crouched upon the ground, unable to stand. Lian Qin and Hong Sword could not even kneel; they lay prone, utterly powerless.
As for the warriors of the Three Great Bases, they too had collapsed, their bodies pressed against the ground. The sea of Blue Star was littered with floating bodies—none able to resist the Flute Method.
All of Blue Star had been swallowed by this nightmarish sound.
Wang Jie gritted his teeth, his body hunched as he supported himself upon his knees, struggling to keep his gaze forward.
Above him, Shu Mu Night hovered in midair before descending upon the sacrificial altar. From his elevated position, he looked down at Wang Jie with cold indifference. Though his robes were stained with blood, the fierce wind made him appear even more domineering, his presence growing ever more profound.
“I never grant a man a second chance, and you are the first.”
His voice carried across the battlefield, reverberating against the fallen.
“Wang Jie, I, Shu Mu Night, offer you a second chance today. Follow me—step into the cosmos.”
“You will be second only to me in the entire universe.”
“If you accept, kneel.”
Wang Jie lifted his head, blood trickling from the corners of his eyes. His consciousness wavered as the flute’s melody hammered his mind like a relentless storm, an invisible force heavier than any sword or spear. It made him want to vomit, to collapse.
Above him was the altar; below him, the shattered remains of those who had fought. Blood had painted the heavens red, and yet… in the center of it all, bathed in golden light, stood Shu Mu Night—divine and untouchable.
Wang Jie clenched his fists, forcing his foot forward, stepping into the crimson tide. Slowly, he advanced toward the altar.
Shu Mu Night’s gaze remained unwavering. “Kneel.”
The world around Wang Jie twisted, torn asunder by unseen forces. Everything blurred—everything except the altar. The golden figure above shone with unshaken clarity.
Another step forward.
No matter how difficult, he would press on.
From a distance, Wen Zhao coughed up blood, barely able to grip a tree for support. Her veil had fallen away, revealing her face, now pale with despair.
Wang Jie’s back seemed so… lonely. In this vast world, he alone continued forward.
[Give up.]
Three words echoed in Wen Zhao’s mind. She wanted Wang Jie to surrender. At the very least, he would survive.
No one—no one at this level—could ever defeat Shu Mu Night.
He was the Limit Beyond Limits.
A God Beyond Man.
This was the true Shu Mu Night.
He defied impossibility at Eight Seals. He created myths at Eight Seals.
And yet, Wang Jie alone walked forward, stepping toward the impossible. Blood vessels ruptured across his body, his skin seeping red. But still, he ascended the altar. The footprints he left upon the bloodstained sands could no longer be discerned—his or others’.
Kneel? What a joke. So many had died to buy him this moment. He had sworn—sworn that even in death, he would fall before all of Blue Star.
Shu Mu Night watched as Wang Jie reached the foot of the altar and began to climb. His brows furrowed.
“Why won’t you give up? You should have reached your limit.”
A shadow of fatigue touched his expression. Even for him, maintaining the Flute Method had pushed him to his utmost.
They were both struggling.
But Wang Jie did not hear him. He climbed, pulling himself up over the bodies that littered the altar.
Bai Yuan’s vision blurred as the world spun. Yet through the haze, Wang Jie remained clear, his figure cutting through the chaos.
A hoarse, desperate cry tore from Bai Yuan’s throat. “Win!”
Wang Jie continued his silent ascent.
Bai Yuan roared again, “Win!”
Shu Mu Night’s gaze darkened, blood spilling from the corner of his lips. “Kneel, and I will let you live.”
Wang Jie did not stop.
Win!
None were more aware of the Flute Method’s torment than those trapped beneath its power. Even Chu Yao, who could endure a coffin’s darkness for an eternity, had surrendered to the waves, allowing the ocean to carry him—to lessen the pain.
How then, had Wang Jie climbed? Step by agonizing step, bleeding himself dry?
He saw nothing but the light ahead.
He heard nothing but that single word—win.
Shu Mu Night could bear it no longer. He raised his blade.
Slashed.
“Watch out!” Bai Yuan bellowed.
In that instant, Wang Jie’s head snapped up. He lunged forward, catching the sword’s edge barehanded. His palm split open, but he did not falter. Instead, his entire body crashed into Shu Mu Night’s chest, forcing him backward.
The impact was light.
But Shu Mu Night staggered.
Wang Jie pivoted—Armor Eight Steps. His body’s inertia swung his numbed left arm forward, and with all his remaining strength—
He slapped Shu Mu Night across the face.
The sound resounded like a thunderclap.
Shu Mu Night was sent flying several meters.
The Flute Method ceased.
The warriors of Armor One Sect stood in stunned silence.
Time froze.
All eyes turned toward the altar, where Shu Mu Night had been struck—
Slapped.
And in that moment, they remembered Wang Jie’s words before the battle began.
He had said he would slap Shu Mu Night.
Gu Moon took a hesitant step forward. If this scene were broadcasted across the universe, it would shake the stars themselves. But without witnessing the battle firsthand, who would believe it?
No one—no one would believe that the great Shu Mu Night had been struck by a mere native.
Ting He laughed, clenching her fists, exhilarated.
Wen Si Yuan exhaled, his voice heavy. “The Flute Method must have exhausted Shu Mu Night to his limit. Otherwise, that little native would never have stood a chance.”
But regardless of the reason—
Shu Mu Night had been slapped.
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