Chapter 325

Chapter 325: Wang Jie vs Yuan Mu

Hou Qing Ge’s blood surged up, twisting into a sword that stabbed straight for Qin Xiao Shu. He answered with a single finger, driving through her again—clean and ruthless. This time, though, a single drop of her blood splashed onto his shoulder.

It exploded.

His shoulder shattered. Qin Xiao Shu staggered back a step, then another, eyes narrowing as he realized he’d been injured.

“The Hou family’s Bridgeway Art… turning blood into a sword.” He clenched his jaw. “Impressive.”

Hou Qing Ge’s face had gone paper-white, the pallor of someone bleeding herself dry.

Qin Xiao Shu pressed a hand to his ruined shoulder. “But how many more times can you use it?”

Before she could answer, he moved again—Wondrous Roaming Art. His body became a spinning vortex. No matter how fierce her starforce or sword qi was, it got dragged toward the void, shredded and swallowed. The arena was already soaked in void power.

It was over.

The crowd watched Hou Qing Ge’s blood-soaked figure in silence. Even if she used Bridgeway Art again, at most she’d cripple Qin Xiao Shu. The moment this match ended, he’d recover enough to fight as if nothing had happened. It wouldn’t affect his next round.

A wave of regret rippled through the spectators.

Hou Qing Ge had shown talent worthy of this stage, yet she still couldn’t cross the threshold of the void.

At the Sword Pool, Hou Xiao’s eyes dimmed. Sister Qing Ge… you did everything you could. If the family had truly backed you, truly fed you resources—who could say you had no chance? This loss wasn’t yours alone. It belonged to the whole Hou family.

Qin Xiao Shu was just about to strike when a chill descended—sharp, sudden, impossible to name.

He instinctively triggered Wondrous Roaming Art to evade.

A cold flash cut across his vision.

His view spun. Sliding backward, he saw his own back—his own body—still standing there.

For a heartbeat, his mind went blank.

Was his head… gone?

How?

Ahead, Hou Qing Ge lowered her sword and calmly closed her eyes, as if the fight had ended exactly as it should.

The crowd didn’t even have time to react.

“What just happened?”

“Wasn’t she being suppressed?”

“She was losing—how did it flip?”

“And with one strike!”

Someone shouted, stunned and furious. “What kind of sword art was that?”

“I’ve never seen it. I don’t even understand what happened.”

“That sword art killed Qin Xiao Shu even after he entered the void—why didn’t she use it earlier?”

A woman’s voice rose, venomous and shaking. “That bitch must have stolen sword arts from outside! Interrogate her—now!”

It wasn’t only rage. It was fear.

That was Qin Xiao Shu—Qin Xiao Shu of Bu Zou Guan. Someone who could enter the void, someone nearly impossible to kill.

If Hou Qing Ge could kill him, she could kill them. She could kill her. She could kill her child.

No. Absolutely not.

The Sword Pool fell into dead silence.

Even those who had been cheering for Hou Qing Ge didn’t dare speak. Who wouldn’t want a sword art like that?

“When she returns, she will hand over this sword art.”

The voice that pronounced it carried finality. No one dared argue, because the speaker was the Sword Lord—the master of the Sword Pool.

Wang Jie stared at Hou Qing Ge, awed despite himself.

That sword strike had been breathtaking. If he was honest, it might have been the strongest sword art he’d ever seen.

Where had she learned it?

So this was the cultivation world. No one should ever be underestimated.

He’d climbed to this point with the bracer and the farming method, but others had their own fortunes. The bracer was only one piece of some larger set of external objects. And that holy star-linked bridge had to hide even more outrageous paths to power.

Even these four great bridge-pillars… who could say what they held?

Si Yao had been right. If Wang Jie were still the version of himself from the Ying Yang Battlefield, he wouldn’t even have made the top twenty.

Back then, he’d been arrogant enough to believe a Star-Breaking Realm cultivator could beat a Roaming-Star Realm cultivator. His confidence had been real—and his perspective had been narrow.

The gap between geniuses and ordinary people could be monstrous. So monstrous it broke common sense.

The Star Vault Vista’s authority held firm.

Hou Qing Ge won.

She was in the top twenty.

The arena battles rolled on. Eyes shifted to the next match.

Wang Jie.

Yuan Mu.

Wang Jie drew his gaze back and faced forward.

Yuan Mu looked at him at the same time.

They held each other’s stare.

Now it was their turn.

Yuan Mu sized Wang Jie up, cold satisfaction stirring in his chest. He hadn’t expected he’d truly get a chance to end him.

Before the starry sky martial tournament, someone had gone to the Sword Court and forced the higher-ups to pass him a message: if he met Wang Jie, he had to win.

Of course he would win. That much was obvious.

But the way the message had been delivered—like an order even the Sword Court couldn’t refuse—had rattled him.

Now that “obvious” task was standing in front of him.

So arrogant, that Wang Jie. So damn smug.

Fine. Yuan Mu would beat the smugness out of him.

The barrier between them dissolved.

Wang Jie didn’t waste time. He raised a hand and flicked a finger, sending a compressed burst of air to test the distance.

For Yuan Mu, the most humiliating moment of his life had been the distribution of enlightenment tea.

Seven cups.

Not one of them had been his.

He could never forgive it.

Born of the Sword Court’s Madam Yuan line, he’d been hailed since childhood as a sword prodigy, recognized not only by the Sword Court but by the entire ancient sword bridge-pillar. They’d said his talent wasn’t inferior to Yuan Bai’s. Madam Yuan had expected him to become a Guarding Star Realm powerhouse. So from the time he could hold a sword, he’d set that realm as his only goal. Everyone else—every other cultivator—was meaningless in his eyes.

Even the marriage alliance with the Cold-Smoke Ferry had been, in name, marrying in. In truth, it had been conquest.

He’d believed that once he entered the Cold-Smoke Ferry, he would fold it into the Sword Court’s control. That was his conviction. Among his peers, none could match him.

And then the enlightenment tea had been handed out like a public slap.

He hadn’t protested. He hadn’t argued. But inside, he’d been burning to challenge any of the recipients. The best target had always been Shao Gu Chen—because their backgrounds mirrored each other too well.

Madam Yuan.

Madam Shao.

If Shao Gu Chen could receive enlightenment tea, why couldn’t he?

That bitterness wasn’t his alone. The entire Sword Court had been swallowing it.

Wang Jie was a lesser prize, all things considered. The crowd didn’t rank him with Shao Gu Chen and the other famous monsters. But it didn’t matter. Someone had to be the first step.

Yuan Mu lifted a hand, condensed starforce at his fingertip into sword qi, and dispersed Wang Jie’s probing strike with contemptuous ease.

“I don’t have time to play with you,” he said flatly. “Use everything you’ve got.”

The contempt in his voice was open. “Didn’t you want to beat me up?”

At Black-White Heaven, countless disciples watched the light screen, and even those who disliked Wang Jie felt their blood heat. Whatever they thought of him, he represented Black-White Heaven now.

Who was Yuan Mu to look down on him?

Zhi Xing Xue’s expression was grave. Little Lan frowned beside her. “Master… can Wang Jie win?”

“It’ll be difficult,” Zhi Xing Xue said without taking her eyes off the screen. “If he hadn’t received enlightenment tea, no one would even consider it. Right now, the outside world believes his odds don’t come from him. They come from the Star Vault Vista’s judgment.”

Little Lan exhaled slowly. “A Full-Star Realm cultivator matching a six-path roamer… that’s unheard of in the fourth nebula. I thought he would sweep the starry sky martial tournament. I didn’t expect every opponent to be this terrifying.”

“This tournament gathers the most monstrous talents from the four great bridge-pillars,” Zhi Xing Xue said. “Matching a six-path roamer is the baseline. The only question is how far beyond that Wang Jie truly is.”

On Windwhisper Star, Qing Zheng spat to the side. “Show-off pretty boy. Old Boss—smash him.”

Old Five, Hong Jian, and the others watched in tight silence.

Zong Cheng Ping and the rest stared as well. Once, Lockforce Interspace hadn’t even been qualified to watch the starry sky martial tournament. Now, because of Wang Jie, they could.

And they wanted to see how far he went.

On the arena, Wang Jie lifted a brow and nodded. “I’m not in a hurry. You can start.”

“Good.” Yuan Mu’s voice was calm. “Then we’ll end it quickly.”

He raised his sword-hand and pointed—not at Wang Jie, but toward Shao Gu Chen’s arena.

Slowly, he turned his head. “I hope my next opponent is you.”

Shao Gu Chen spoke rarely, but his answer came clean. “Same.”

Yuan Mu vanished.

He crossed the distance like a blade thrown by the wind and chopped down with a single brutal strike—no flourish, no wasted motion. Starforce condensed to an extreme, and as the sword fell, it looked as though the void itself split. Two visible rifts tore outward like twin blades.

Wang Jie’s eyes widened. He’d expected agility. Instead, this was pure, violent dominance.

And the target wasn’t only him.

It was the entire arena.

The sword qi split and gathered overhead, forming a second sword in the sky, as if the battlefield itself were being carved into shape.

Yuan Mu’s gaze was icy. Star Vault Vista, watch. Watch the one you chose stumble under my sword. Shao Gu Chen—this is for you, too.

Shao Gu Chen watched with heavy focus. It was a terrifying sword. In the entire Full-Star Realm bracket, fewer than ten could take it head-on. If he placed himself beneath it, he wouldn’t clash directly. He’d look for the flaw.

To the right.

There.

Could Wang Jie find it?

Then Shao Gu Chen’s gaze froze.

Wang Jie hadn’t moved.

Not a step.

Not even a tilt of his stance.

The same thought flashed through the crowd like a spark: Is he too slow to react?

If Yuan Mu’s sword was allowed to build, it would only become heavier, sharper, worse.

Even Yuan Mu hesitated. He’d intended to make Wang Jie bleed and stumble—to shame the Star Vault Vista’s judgment, not end the match instantly.

Was Wang Jie truly unable to take even this?

At the last moment, Wang Jie finally bent his arm. Qi and strength fused cleanly. His sword dropped into his hand—and with a casual diagonal slash, he cut straight into Yuan Mu’s sword.

Sword met sword.

A soft chime rang out.

Then the force detonated.

Wang Jie not only stopped Yuan Mu’s momentum—he blasted it back, driving Yuan Mu dozens of meters away. Yuan Mu landed hard enough that his feet slid, and he actually had to take a step back to steady himself.

Yuan Mu stared, stunned.

A head-on clash?

The crowd erupted in shock. Wang Jie hadn’t avoided the sword. He’d answered it in the most direct way possible.

Wang Jie lifted his gaze. “I have time to play with you,” he said calmly. “Use everything you’ve got.”

The same words. One word changed. A different speaker.

Yuan Mu’s expression shifted—surprise cracking into something like delight. “I underestimated you.” His smile sharpened. “Good. I have methods. Try them one by one. Let’s see how many moves you can last.”

He launched forward again and chopped into the arena.

Wang Jie raised his sword and read the count of Yuan Mu’s strikes, meeting each one head-on with a ringing clash. In an instant, sword shadows filled the platform.

They moved too fast for ordinary eyes—two figures colliding again and again, without battle arts, without flashy techniques, trying to crush each other through pure swordplay.

Yuan Mu’s pride wouldn’t allow anything else. He was the Sword Court’s most elite disciple, trained since childhood. How could someone like Wang Jie possibly match him?

Wang Jie didn’t care about pride. He knew how to use a sword, so he tested the Sword Court’s famed genius the only way that mattered.

The crowd fell quiet, held in place by the storm of steel.