Chapter 66

Chapter 66: Sword Pointing at the Eighth Layer

To fully master a technique meant reaching the limit of skill. Beyond that, only true understanding remained—grasping the essence and making it one’s own.

On the stage, every ninth-layer Qi Refining Stage cultivator had at least one technique perfected, often several. Even among the eighth layer, there were those who had reached the same level.

But Zhao Chun was only mid-stage Qi Refining Stage, and she had joined the sect less than three years ago.

Entry Realm sword Dao. A sword method brought to mastery.

In cultivation, she might be merely above average. In the sword, her talent was frightening.

Guo Leng crossed his arms in front of his chest, trying to guard his core, but a perfected sword method was not something one could block by simply bracing. Zhao Chun’s attacks were sharp and deliberate, cutting at the weak hinges of the body again and again. One clean hit to a joint could numb half the limb.

Arms, knees, torso—his mountain-like body finally gave way. He crashed onto the platform with a boom, eyes wide and furious.

The referee waited three breaths. When Guo Leng still did not rise, he lifted his hand and shouted, “Winner: Zhao Chun!”

For a heartbeat, there was silence.

Then the crowd erupted.

Guo Leng—seventh layer of the Qi Refining Stage, a man who could trade blows with the eighth—had fallen to Zhao Chun, whose cultivation was lower than his.

No tricks. No crooked methods. She had beaten him head-on with her own skill. How could anyone not praise that?

Zhao Chun stepped down without a word and returned to her seat. The number of eyes on her only grew.

There was another upset later: a sixth-layer disciple defeating a seventh. But that seventh-layer fighter had taken a light injury in the previous match and expended a great deal of true qi. Compared to Zhao Chun and Guo Leng’s clash, it carried nowhere near the same weight.

By the time the field narrowed to forty, Zhao Chun’s luck seemed to improve. She drew a same-realm opponent once, and even when she faced the seventh layer again, the opponent was far weaker than Guo Leng.

Among those eliminated, aside from Zhao Chun, every sixth-layer disciple had already been sent off the stage. The seventh and eighth layers had been thinned dramatically as well. In one draw, two ninth-layer cultivators even met, and one was forced to concede.

Fortunately, there was still a final chance: a second round where they could challenge again to seize a place.

In the second round, the forty were ranked by cultivation. Zhao Chun naturally sat at the very end.

Within each realm, the order was judged by Du Fan Zhi and the Foundation Establishment Stage cultivators based on first-round performance. The first seven were ninth-layer Qi Refining Stage. After them came thirteen at the eighth layer. From twenty-first to thirty-ninth, all were seventh layer.

The rule for the second round was simple: challenge upward. Win, and the positions shifted.

When the great drum sounded, many in the stands turned to look at those seated at the very bottom.

There were twenty available spots.

And there were, by coincidence, exactly twenty ninth- and eighth-layer cultivators among the forty.

Which meant that to break into the top twenty, anyone below the eighth layer would have to defeat someone above their realm.

Everyone knew Zhao Chun, ranked fortieth, could fight seventh-layer opponents. But even if she beat every seventh-layer cultivator present, she still would not secure a spot. Many sighed, lamenting that her time in cultivation was simply too short. Give her a few more years, and she would surely claim a place.

Du Fan Zhi, however, watched Zhao Chun’s calm face—no bitterness, no disappointment—and nodded to himself. Perhaps he could report to Master Li Shu and bring her along as an exception.

He had already begun to think about how to approach her, how to draw her closer.

On the stage, two seventh-layer cultivators—ranked twenty-second and twenty-sixth—challenged Xia Shen De at twentieth. Both fought well, but each fell short by a single step and lost.

The disciple ranked twenty-first grew even more cautious, brow furrowed as he weighed his chances.

Before he could decide, a clear female voice rang from the very end of the seats.

“Rank fortieth, Zhao Chun, wishes to challenge Rank seventeenth, Senior Brother Shen You Zhen. Please don’t hold back in your guidance, Senior Brother!”

The referee froze. Only when he saw the seriousness in her expression did he dare raise his hand. “Rank fortieth, Zhao Chun, challenges Rank seventeenth, Shen You Zhen!”

A deep silence swallowed the arena.

“Too rash,” Du Fan Zhi sighed.

Beside him, Liu Xuan smiled faintly. “They haven’t fought yet, Junior Brother. How can you call it rash?”

Her voice was gentle. “Earlier, people thought Junior Sister Nineteen would surely lose against the body refiner, but she won cleanly. Since she chose Senior Brother Shen You Zhen herself, she must have a plan.”

“Guo Leng’s fame at the seventh layer isn’t even worth mentioning next to Shen You Zhen,” Du Fan Zhi said, regret thick in his tone. “If she challenged Xia Shen De, she might have a real chance. But Shen You Zhen is stronger by far. Her temperament is too hard…”

He truly felt it was a pity. With talent like hers, too much rigidity could lead to breaking.

Still, Zhao Chun had not chosen blindly.

If she only beat Xia Shen De—who ranked last among the eighth layer—someone below might cling to hope and challenge her again and again. The two seventh-layer disciples who had just fought Xia Shen De had both lost narrowly. That alone would tempt others to try their luck.

And Xia Shen De’s rank itself was precarious. Winning it could still leave her vulnerable.

Zhao Chun had already measured the eighth-layer disciples during the first round. Of the thirteen, the top five were opponents she could not defeat and would not touch. Among the remaining eight, those ranked thirteenth through sixteenth were close enough in strength that their positions could shift at any time.

From Shen You Zhen at seventeenth down to Xia Shen De at twentieth, strength dropped in clear steps.

Zhao Chun wanted a different result.

She wanted to win with thunder, to shock those below into caution. If she could take Shen You Zhen’s position, her rank would become far more stable. Without certainty, others would not waste their energy challenging her. She could avoid being dragged into repeated battles—why wouldn’t she?

Those with sharp minds saw her intent. Some scoffed at her arrogance. Others admired her boldness.

Shen You Zhen’s face darkened to a bruised purple. In his eyes, anyone below the eighth layer usually chose Xia Shen De. The overly confident might challenge Gan Yuan at nineteenth. Yet Zhao Chun—a mere sixth-layer Qi Refining Stage disciple—had dared come straight for him.

He strode onto the platform, long saber held across his chest.

A blade cultivator.

Zhao Chun had watched him fight earlier. When he swung, faint radiance flickered along the edge, and he seemed close to stepping into the Entry Realm of the blade.

More than that, his saber art had been perfected. Among cultivators of the same realm, he ranked second only to the Inner Sect’s top geniuses. Judging by what Zhao Chun had shown so far, she should lose.

But was what others had seen truly all she had?

She stepped onto the platform and lifted her dagger like a sword, pointing it straight at Shen You Zhen. A fierce joy rose in her chest.

After this fight, she would be the foremost sword Dao disciple of the Ling Zhen Sect at the Qi Refining Stage.

Light gathered at a single point on her blade, drawn tight as a bowstring—sharp enough to cut the air.