Chapter 65

Chapter 65: Entry Realm Sword Cultivator

This would be the second bout for both of them. They could only take the stage after the first-round matches ended.

That earlier punch had been nothing more than Zhao Chun loosening her joints. It barely cost her any spiritual qi at all.

She sat quietly in her seat and kept watching.

In the first-round draw, the eight disciples at the ninth layer of the Qi Refining Stage didn’t end up facing one another. Each dealt with their opponent cleanly and stepped down proud and unruffled.

A great many mid-stage Qi Refining Stage disciples were eliminated in the process, leaving only a few dozen still standing.

The gap between the sixth and seventh layers looked small on paper, yet the seventh layer meant a full circuit formed within the body and the birth of a first breath of true qi. Only after spiritual qi was compressed and refined did it become true qi—something no mere layer count could properly measure.

Even so, a cultivator with a solid foundation and exquisite techniques could defeat someone above their level. Zhao Chun was proof of that, as were several other sixth-layer disciples drawing attention on the platforms. The spectators watched them with bright hope, eager for an upset against seventh-layer opponents.

From her seat, Zhao Chun measured herself against the rest, weighing strengths and weaknesses with a cool eye.

The ninth-layer disciples were clearly beyond her. Whether speed or power, they outstripped her by too wide a margin for empty bravado to bridge. Zhao Chun had never been arrogant enough to believe she could shake enemies like that.

Even among the eighth layer, there were plenty with deep foundations and fully perfected arts. If she met those, she would lose—without question.

Only the ones who had just broken through, or who were mediocre and hadn’t revealed anything exceptional, might be within reach.

As for those at the sixth and seventh layers, she was confident she could take them.

Before she was called up, one of the three matches on the platform featured a sixth-layer disciple unlucky enough to draw an eighth-layer opponent. The poor fellow had barely finished his salute when he was knocked off the stage by a casual lift of a hand.

No one mocked him, but battles decided purely by realm suppression rarely inspired awe.

That was why Zhao Chun’s bout with Guo Leng drew so much attention. To many eyes, it was the true main event.

Beating a peer with a single punch was, in the crowd’s minds, already one step into the world of crossing realms.

Guo Leng, however, was anything but weak. He had a reputation within the sect—someone who had entered only a few years ago and already reached the seventh layer of the Qi Refining Stage. He walked the path of body refinement; among cultivators of the same realm, almost no one could match his raw strength.

Only when Zhao Chun stood opposite him did she understand just how imposing he was.

He was even taller than Meng Han by a full head. In front of him, Zhao Chun looked small enough to be swallowed by his shadow.

“Guo Leng!”

“Please!”

His voice rang like a great bell, the sound alone carrying a pressure that made the onlookers straighten.

Zhao Chun kept her back straight, expression unchanged. She raised her hands in a formal salute and pushed them forward, her tone cold and steady. “Please.”

The Crimson Edge Dagger in her hand was longer and slimmer than an ordinary dagger, but it was still no true sword. If Zhao Chun wanted to fight aggressively, she would have to close the distance and step into Guo Leng’s range.

Into the range of a body refiner.

If anyone heard what she meant to do, they would call it reckless.

Body refinement did not only temper strength. It forged flesh, tendon, and bone into a single resilient whole. Close-quarters techniques came to them as naturally as breathing—and it wasn’t only their power that was terrifying. Their speed was excellent, too.

But among the many paths of the Dao, there was one that married speed and force as well.

The sword cultivator.

Zhao Chun tightened her grip and moved first. Her footwork slid and shifted, always turning aside at the last instant. Guo Leng chased, forcing his body to respond with every ounce of trained instinct, yet again and again he found himself a half-step behind, his attacks snapping through empty air.

“Footwork?” he thought, frowning. “Or…”

He refused to be led around. His mind spun fast, searching for the thread beneath her movements. Then the blade in her hand flashed—a clean, ruthless gleam—and his brows drew together.

A sword cultivator?

Had she already entered a Dao realm?

He didn’t dare let the fight drag on. This had to end quickly.

Zhao Chun was thinking the same.

In the few breaths they circled, a plan formed in her mind.

Trying to break his techniques with brute force was pointless. Yet if she relied only on speed to harry him, she would drain her spiritual qi first—especially with Guo Leng holding the advantage in realm.

Still, he was only at the Qi Refining Stage. Even as a body refiner, he hadn’t yet reached the Foundation Establishment Stage, where skin and bone were tempered like metal and openings were nearly nonexistent.

If she aimed for the obvious vital points—abdomen, head, throat—she would be striking where body refiners invested their greatest effort. Those would be the hardest places to break through.

Then she would go elsewhere.

Tendons. Joints. The small hinges that moved the mountain.

She would cut them with speed, chip by chip, until his strength had nowhere to go.

To the spectators, all of this happened in the span of a few breaths.

Suddenly, Zhao Chun’s steps changed. Her swordplay turned sharp and decisive, and light burst from her blade. Sword light flared like a net, dropping over Guo Leng from every angle.

“Sword Dao First Realm!”

“She’s entered the Entry Realm!”

The cry came from the high platform, and it sent a ripple through the crowd.

The difference between an Entry Realm sword cultivator and one who had not entered was almost the difference between heaven and earth.

This “realm” was not a cultivation realm. It referred to the Dao realm of the sword.

Dao realms for killing weapons—sword and blade alike—were uniquely cruel. They had nothing to do with one’s cultivation level. A Qi Refining Stage disciple could step into them; in rare cases, even a mortal with monstrous talent could brush that threshold.

Yet that did not make it easy. If anything, it made it harsher. The demand for talent was almost merciless. Some cultivators practiced the sword for three hundred years and never entered. Others held a blade for three days and, with insight that defied belief, stepped across the line.

Sword cultivators were notoriously powerful compared to others at the same cultivation level, and the Heavenly Dao kept its balance. That was why the vast majority of sword practitioners never made it into the Entry Realm.

When Zhao Chun had entered, she hadn’t even known of the Five Realms of the Sword Path. She struck too quickly and showed herself too rarely for many to recognize the Sword Light Realm. More people suspected, but without walking the sword path themselves, they didn’t dare claim certainty.

On the high platform, a blue-robed young man inclined his head. “It’s the Entry Realm, without doubt. Zhao Chun’s talent in the sword Dao is remarkable. Senior Brother Du has gained a rare treasure for his lineage—congratulations are in order.”

Du Fan Zhi offered a few modest replies, but his expression still betrayed his delight.

The blue-robed youth was an Entry Realm sword cultivator himself, and he had even stepped into the second realm, the Sword Radiance Realm. With his authority, the murmurs turned into astonished exclamations. The Inner Sect was about to gain yet another gifted sword cultivator.

Among the outer spectators, most could only see a sudden blaze of light and instinctively hold their breath. No one felt it more keenly than Guo Leng.

The sword light wove into a net he could not escape. With no room to dodge, he clenched his jaw and took it head-on.

The Crimson Edge Dagger was a top-grade Mortal Rank magic tool—terrifyingly sharp. It carved open his skin, and blood splashed across his body in a brutal spray.

Yet both fighters knew the truth: for a body refiner, such wounds were only surface deep.

Guo Leng swung again, his fist heavy with blood. Zhao Chun slipped aside, her body turning like wind. When she looked back, her blade was already moving, and the fully mastered Swift-Stride Sword Method poured out in a relentless stream.

Wind rose under her feet. This time, it was no figure of speech. As she struck, the rush of air howled across the platform, sweeping through the arena like a sudden storm.

Swift-Stride Sword Method was only a low-grade Mortal Rank technique. Zhao Chun had refined it slightly to better match her footwork, but the core moves remained. Those who knew it recognized it at once, and their faces changed.

“The sword draws the wind… She’s mastered it.”