Chapter 67

Chapter 67: She Is Sword Dao Second Realm!

The Sword Radiance Realm was not like the Sword Light Realm. It was not a net of brilliance spreading wide—it was a single focused spark, and in an instant it erupted into blinding splendor.

Zhao Chun knew Shen You Zhen was not a body refiner. This strike would go straight for a vital point. And as a blade cultivator, he also favored fast, aggressive exchanges.

In this fight, everything depended on one thing: the initiative.

So Zhao Chun did not hide.

She poured everything she had into one sword—no, one strike—and in the blink between breaths, victory and defeat would be decided.

Shen You Zhen felt the affront, but he did not underestimate her. Saber raised, he lunged and slashed in a flash.

Yet a blade that had not entered the Entry Realm could not be faster than a sword in the second realm.

Zhao Chun’s strike made no tearing sound. It was violence born from perfect stillness. To the onlookers, it looked like a star flaring once—and then the tip of her blade rested against Shen You Zhen’s throat.

His saber was still in midair, unfinished.

Zhao Chun was a head shorter than him. Yet the way she lifted her eyes, cold and steady, made it feel as though she were looking down.

Her breathing was not yet smooth, and a faint pallor had crept into her face. That single sword had nearly emptied her dantian.

Shen You Zhen hadn’t even completed one strike. If he truly wished to kill her in that instant, it would have taken only a lift of his hand.

But not only he—every cultivator watching understood what it meant.

On the platform, they stopped at the point of contact. If this were life and death outside the sect, Zhao Chun’s blade would have already opened his throat.

“I lost.”

For a heartbeat, the bitterness of losing to someone younger and far weaker in cultivation flashed through Shen You Zhen. Then it was swept away by something hotter—fighting spirit.

The world was vast. Geniuses rose without end. Those who lacked resolve saw only tragedy in being born alongside them. Those who burned to advance saw it as fortune.

Zhao Chun withdrew her blade, sheathed it, and let out a long breath. “Thank you for the match.”

She understood, too, that the martial platform and the outside world were not the same. Here, rules and space constrained them. Outside, there were no limits. She had won because she seized the first move. If Shen You Zhen had been allowed even half a breath more, the outcome would be uncertain. Even if she prevailed, it would likely be at a terrible cost.

Perhaps the spectators understood that logic.

But the shock of that sword did not fade.

A sixth-layer Qi Refining Stage cultivator standing in the Sword Radiance Realm—talent like that would shine even in the Southern Domain’s leading sect, the Zhi Yue Sect.

Du Fan Zhi’s breath tightened. One step beyond the Sword Radiance Realm lay the Sword Qi Realm. In the entire Ling Zhen Sect, only Elder Qiu Silhouette had reached it.

“I’ve trained the sword since the day I began cultivating,” the blue-robed youth said, voice tight with emotion. “It took me more than thirty years to enter the Sword Radiance Realm by luck.”

“Fellow Daoist Zhao, you’re a rare young genius. You truly make me ashamed.”

The speaker was Jiang Yun. Like Zhao Chun, he stood in the Sword Radiance Realm. Among sword cultivators, they rarely measured status by cultivation level, and so he addressed her as Fellow Daoist without hesitation.

Jiang Yun was also known in the Inner Sect as a battle addict; even now, he was already thinking of visiting her to test blades.

Liu Xuan, openly pleased, praised Zhao Chun again and again. As Zhao Chun’s senior sister, she could speak without restraint, and the others could only echo her. Jiang Yun and Meng Han were the quickest to add their voices, while Xu Feng—never skilled with words—simply nodded.

The Foundation Establishment Stage cultivators seated above remained measured and controlled.

The outer spectators, by contrast, were already roaring with cheers, shouting Zhao Chun’s name until their throats grew hoarse.

To them, the difference between a casual strike and an all-out one was invisible. It was still only one move.

A sixth-layer Qi Refining Stage disciple defeating an eighth-layer opponent—crossing two minor levels, and the gap between mid-stage and late-stage on top of it—was enough to turn the arena upside down.

By today, Zhao Chun had made a name among the tens of thousands of Outer Sect disciples. Even some eighth- and ninth-layer Outer Sect disciples were quietly asking themselves whether they could withstand that single sword.

Invincible among peers. Defeating higher realms as easily as drinking water.

This was the might of a sword cultivator.

Zhao Chun took Shen You Zhen’s seventeenth seat. The positions below shifted down, and Xia Shen De—formerly twentieth—was pushed out of the top twenty.

Yet Zhao Chun had claimed her rank with undeniable strength, and the cultivators below felt a growing reluctance to challenge her.

Just as she hoped, no one chose her afterward. Zhao Chun finally gained a moment of peace.

Meanwhile, the cultivators ranked thirteenth through sixteenth were so close in strength that none would yield. They fought again and again, producing several evenly matched battles that delighted the Outer Sect audience.

Two other moments drew particular excitement.

The first came when Zheng Chen Qing, newly advanced to the ninth layer of the Qi Refining Stage, boldly challenged Zhuang Kun for first place. After hundreds of exchanges, Zheng Chen Qing won by a narrow margin—one move.

Zhuang Kun had lingered at the ninth layer for a long time, only one step from the Foundation Establishment Stage, yet he still fell to the sect master’s true disciple. Even the most skeptical had to admire it.

The final clash produced another realm-crossing upset. Qu Zhan Xing, pushed down to twenty-second after Zhao Chun’s rise, challenged Gan Yuan, who now held twentieth.

By coincidence, both were wood-element spell cultivators. The techniques they inherited from the sect even shared similarities.

In most eyes, the result was obvious. Gan Yuan was eighth layer; with similar techniques and higher cultivation, she should win.

But Qu Zhan Xing had prepared. He had brought Flying Leaf Art to mastery, and with an excellent magic tool suited to his Dao, he defeated Gan Yuan.

Only then did Zhao Chun remember hearing that Elder Wu Yun Zhang had a disciple in this tournament—likely Qu Zhan Xing. Wu Yun Zhang was famously obsessed with forging; a disciple carrying exceptional magic tools was hardly surprising.

A few who knew the details felt uneasy, believing he had won by relying on a tool rather than his own strength.

Gan Yuan’s expression shifted several times before she finally sat down in a lower seat. Whether she truly accepted it was another matter.

When no one else stepped forward, it seemed the top twenty might be set.

But the thirteen beyond the seven ninth-layer cultivators did not dare relax.

Because in the third round, among those eliminated in the first, one more ninth-layer cultivator was about to take the stage—Fang Cai Ran.

Of all the eliminated, Zhao Chun was most wary of her.

Fang Cai Ran had run into Zhuang Kun in the first round and lost by the thinnest margin. In pure strength, she could easily place among the top three, second only to Zheng and Zhuang.

For her, there were plenty of soft targets among the twenty.

When Fang Cai Ran stepped onto the platform, her smiling eyes swept the crowd. They paused on Zhao Chun for the briefest instant—almost like a quiet acknowledgement—before she spoke.

“The one who relied on a magic tool earlier,” she said lightly, “step out. With that level of strength, keeping a spot here is… out of place.”

Everyone knew exactly who she meant, and the air turned strange as attention gathered on Qu Zhan Xing.