Chapter 327

Chapter 327: Wang Jie’s Steadiness

Under the broken rain, every thread of sword qi surged toward Yuan Mu’s thrust—

and was erased.

One strike, and the storm fell apart. Six-sword Rain Sword Art crumpled like paper before the blade.

Wang Jie struck back, merging Myriad-Stars Finger into the attack. His finger art met the thrust—

Yuan Mu’s sword pierced into it, crawling along lockforce like a living thing. The tip tore through Wang Jie’s finger, blood beading and dripping, and then it punched through the finger art itself.

Wang Jie threw out Thunder Pattern.

Pierced through.

He smashed down with lockforce, forming a shield that crashed like a mountain—Shield Mountain Peak.

The thrust hit it.

Pierced through.

The shield shattered.

Wang Jie drew his sword and thrust at the same time, meeting steel with steel. The moment their blades connected, pressure slammed down like heaven’s wrath—so overwhelming it felt as though Wang Jie’s sword had never been meant to leave its scabbard.

His sword broke.

Yuan Mu’s blade drove into Wang Jie’s body.

Yuan Mu’s eyes widened.

That wasn’t right—his target had been Wang Jie’s head. And yet the sword only sank in a fraction, halted in flesh and resistance.

It didn’t pierce through.

Wang Jie’s protective qi held. Years of tempering his tendons and bones, his strength pushed to the Star-Breaking Realm’s limit—his body’s defense was terrifying. Under Qi-Qi Convergence, after Yuan Mu’s thrust had already chewed through layers of offense and defense, it no longer had enough to fully penetrate him.

In the end, Yuan Mu was still only Full-Star Realm.

That he’d gotten this far was monstrous.

Wang Jie had known there were geniuses outside. He just hadn’t believed anyone at the same realm could drive a blade through so many of his defenses.

No wonder so many people had complained about Yuan Mu not receiving enlightenment tea.

Wang Jie clapped his palms together and trapped the sword edge between them. His gaze locked onto Yuan Mu. “I said I’d beat you up,” he said evenly. “So I’ll beat you up. Where’s the arrogance in that?”

A sharp crack rang out.

Yuan Mu’s sword shattered.

Wang Jie seized the broken fragments and slashed once, casual and vicious.

Blood sprayed across the arena.

Yuan Mu lowered his head slowly, staring at the red spreading down his robe as if he couldn’t understand it.

He was Yuan Mu.

He had never imagined he could lose a fight at the same realm.

His opponent was supposed to be Shao Gu Chen. Wu Ming. Someone like that.

And yet—

he had lost to Wang Jie.

The moment Wang Jie won, the Star Vault Vista’s authority rose to a peak so high it became unquestionable.

A lockforce cultivator from the fourth nebula—some remote place. A native cultivator without Bridgeway Art—defeating the Sword Court’s genius from the Madam Yuan line.

And that genius had even hidden sword arts the Sword Court itself didn’t know.

Only the Star Vault Vista had seen it coming—giving enlightenment tea to Wang Jie instead of Yuan Mu.

Wang Jie’s victory was the clearest proof yet.

Hou Qing Ge’s victory over Qin Xiao Shu had been another.

The next arena match began, but the crowd barely noticed. Too many eyes were still glued to Wang Jie, to the shock of what they’d just witnessed.

At the Sword Court, Yuan Mu reappeared on a meditation cushion, expression flat and quiet.

An old man stepped forward from behind, moving with unhurried authority, and stopped at Yuan Mu’s back.

Yuan Mu rose and dropped to his knees. “Junior was incompetent. I beg Old Ancestor to punish me.”

The old man looked into the distance.

Then he laughed.

Not coldly. Not mockingly.

He laughed with genuine delight.

Yuan Mu looked up, confused.

“All this time,” the old man said, “I have favored Yuan Bai more.”

Yuan Mu wasn’t surprised. Everyone in the Sword Court knew.

“Because he is ruthless.” The old man’s smile thinned into something sharp. “Sword-Heart Devil Seed and Path-Guiding Sword are both secrets never taught outside our Court, but they are not the same.”

“Path-Guiding Sword seeks advantage by avoidance.”

“Sword-Heart Devil Seed forces the self.”

“You and Yuan Bai have comparable talent, but he is harsher on himself. That is why I favored him.”

He paused, then looked down at Yuan Mu. “But after this battle…”

His smile returned.

“I favor you more.”

Yuan Mu blinked. “Because of my Myriad Transformations of Being and Nothingness Sword Art?”

The old man shook his head. “No.”

“It’s because you lost.”

Yuan Mu’s breath caught. “Lost…?”

“Yuan Bai has never lost,” the old man said. “He longs to challenge the four great wandering gods, but he knows he isn’t their match. So he cultivates, endures, waits for the Roaming-Star Realm martial tournament. Before then, he never allows himself to lose.”

He tilted his head. “You were the same. You believed you could never lose at the same realm.”

“But this fight knocked you into the dust.” His voice turned calm and heavy. “And it woke you up.”

“It taught you there is always someone stronger.”

“Only someone who understands that can walk farther on the sword path.”

The old man’s gaze sharpened. “Remember this: sword dao has never been an invincible law.”

Yuan Mu’s body jolted. He stared, shocked.

In the Sword Court, they believed sword dao was supreme.

The old man sighed, as if remembering distant blood. “There is no eternal invincible law. Even star dao chen arts are the same. Those who believe themselves invincible will be broken.”

“You have already lost once. I hope you won’t lose again at the Roaming-Star Realm martial tournament.”

“I hope you go farther.”

Yuan Mu bowed deeply. “Junior will never lose again—especially not to Wang Jie.”

The old man chuckled and shook his head. “He is only a lockforce cultivator. There are rumors he has a star dao master behind him, but the stronger he is now, the harder it will be for him to break out later. At best, he’ll reach Roaming-Star Realm.”

“After that, he will fade among the crowd.”

“You do not need to make him your target.”

Yuan Mu didn’t answer right away.

Was that really true?

Wang Jie hadn’t beaten him with some overwhelming, invincible force.

He’d beaten him with steadiness.

No matter how sharp Yuan Mu’s sword was, it couldn’t pierce Wang Jie’s body. Steady. Unyielding. A wall.

Would someone like that truly fade?

Arena after arena ended, and at last, the third match everyone was watching for arrived.

Hou Qing Ge and Wang Jie had both justified the Star Vault Vista’s trust, proving the worth of their enlightenment tea.

But what about Wen Qing?

His opponent was Jing Hong.

This young man carried a strength that made no sense. Everyone was scrambling to uncover who he was.

The barrier rose between them. Jing Hong smiled at Wen Qing, eyes bright and playful.

Wen Qing met his gaze without flinching.

As the inheritor of the Jia Yi Sect’s Madam Wen line, as the brother of Tian Cang’s Guarding Star Realm powerhouse, he had every reason to aim for the crown—and to chase his brother’s footsteps.

No matter how strange Jing Hong was, Wen Qing would win.

The barrier dropped.

As if on cue, Jing Hong walked forward with a red packet in hand, grinning like he was handing out gifts.

Wen Qing didn’t speak. He struck.

One of the Jia Yi Sect’s eighteen ultimate techniques—Void-Grasping Hand.

The void clenched. Starforce warped and bent, twisting even sight itself as pressure collapsed toward Jing Hong.

Jing Hong pouted. “If you don’t want the red packet, you don’t have to be so rude. You’re even ruder than the last guy.”

He tapped out with his index and middle fingers. The Void-Grasping Hand’s starforce was checked. The crushing pressure didn’t vanish, but it slowed, as if something had seized its throat.

Wen Qing didn’t care. He stepped with Jia Eight Steps and closed in.

If one Void-Grasping Hand could defeat Jing Hong, then he’d be insulting Old Man Du Mu.

Xi Ci had lost far too miserably for that to be true.

Jing Hong kept the restraining posture, eyes flicking. When he saw Wen Qing appear to his right, his lips curled. Fingers became a palm—

and he grabbed.

Wen Qing tried to retreat, but starforce twisted the space and pinned him in place.

The Jia Yi Sect went rigid.

“Void-Grasping Hand?”

Wang Jie’s eyes narrowed. It was Void-Grasping Hand—exactly. The starforce flow was the same as Wen Qing’s.

Jing Hong knew it.

Wen Qing’s expression tightened. He tried to break free with Jia Eight Steps, but Jing Hong’s Void-Grasping Hand was stronger than his. Even Jia Eight Steps couldn’t escape.

With no choice, Wen Qing blurred—an afterimage left behind as he reappeared a hundred meters away.

Jing Hong looked delighted. “Nice movement. But it’s not just movement, is it? Not bad. Another Jia Yi Sect secret technique?”

Most people couldn’t tell.

A small number could: it wasn’t from the Jia Yi Sect at all. It was Wen Ze’s signature art—Wondrous Origin Nine Changes.

Jing Hong’s grin widened. “Again. I want to learn it.”

Wen Qing’s eyes sharpened, humiliation flaring. He thrust out a palm. The void poured like a falling curtain of heavy droplets, each one crushingly dense, forming a palm seal that slammed toward Jing Hong.

Jing Hong smiled, stepped with Jia Eight Steps, and dodged.

The crowd trembled.

Again.

Jia Eight Steps again.

Either Jing Hong came from the Jia Yi Sect—

or he was learning on the spot.

That second possibility made people’s scalps go numb.

Wang Jie knew Jia Eight Steps himself. Learning it on the spot shouldn’t look like this.

Yet Jing Hong moved as if he’d worn it for years.

Wen Qing attacked again and again, throwing nearly ten secret techniques in succession, and not one touched Jing Hong.

The Jia Yi Sect fell silent.

At Tian Cang, Wen Ze closed his eyes.

Some gaps were visible at a glance.

They could not be bridged.

Jing Hong sighed, almost offended. “Why aren’t you using that movement technique again? It’s really good. I want to learn it.”

Wen Qing didn’t answer. He kept striking, eyes locked on Jing Hong, trying to map every footfall, every shift.

It was useless.

Jing Hong’s use of Jia Eight Steps was beyond Wen Qing’s. No matter how Wen Qing attacked, he couldn’t catch his path.

Then Jing Hong finally struck.

A palm snapped out—White Dew, Southern Sky. Heavy droplets condensed into a crushing palm seal and slammed into Wen Qing’s chest.

Wen Qing spat blood and stumbled back.

It was Jing Hong’s first real attack, and it had already wounded him.

To outsiders, it looked almost plain—like Wen Qing showing his strength only to be brushed aside.

Only Wen Qing felt the truth: the pressure of being seen through from the first breath to the last.

Jing Hong’s Jia Eight Steps and White Dew, Southern Sky came from Wen Qing’s own side, yet they surpassed him—and Jing Hong didn’t even bother to hide the traces. It was almost insulting in its openness.

Wen Qing stopped.

He looked at Jing Hong and asked something that made the arena freeze. “If I accept your red packet… what happens?”

Jing Hong’s eyes lit up. “Nothing. It won’t hurt you.”

Wen Qing held out his hand. “Give it to me.”

The crowd went still.

Who dared accept a red packet in a place like this? The universe was full of bizarre Bridgeway Arts, and the stranger the behavior, the less you should touch it—especially from someone like Jing Hong.

And yet Wen Qing asked for it.

Jing Hong stepped forward, smiling, and placed the red packet into Wen Qing’s hand.

Wen Qing took it and put it away.

He really took it.

Jing Hong looked impressed. “You’re not very sharp, but you’ve got guts. Why accept it?”

Wen Qing didn’t answer. “Continue.”

To outsiders, it made no sense. No one understood what Wen Qing was doing.

At Tian Cang, Wen Ze stared at the light screen and exhaled slowly.

He understood.

His brother was scouting the road for him.

Jing Hong was too terrifying, too oppressive. The more pressure Wen Qing faced, the more he thought of Wen Ze. By taking the red packet, Wen Qing was testing the consequences—because Jing Hong would reach Roaming-Star Realm, Hundred-Star Realm, and beyond, and he would eventually set his sights on Guarding Star Realm powerhouses.

Wen Ze’s jaw tightened.

Wondrous Origin Nine Changes… he would not use it again.

In the entire universe, only he and Wen Qing possessed that art. Wen Ze would not give Jing Hong a chance to glimpse its flaws in advance.