The crowd stirred as the clash on the platform intensified. Dust danced around the stage, caught in the faint sunlight piercing through the cloudy sky.
Yun Han smiled — not the smile of a warrior facing a challenge, but of a man securing his future. Li Zheng charging at him was nothing more than a formality. Yun Han's thoughts drifted briefly, recalling the letter he had received just two days prior. Yang Han had promised him a reward — a King-level cultivation method — if he humiliated the younger generation of the Li family. A King-level technique… His heart trembled even now at the thought.
To the cultivators of the capital, it might be common. But for someone born in this remote outpost, such a treasure was akin to receiving the heavens themselves. With it, Yun Han could ascend from the mediocrity of this forgotten city, rise above those who sneered behind his back, and carve his name into the annals of the cultivation world. All it required… was the complete destruction of a few hopefuls like Li Zheng.
The clang of metal snapped him back to the present.
Li Zheng's saber whistled through the air, narrowly missing Yun Han, who side-stepped with a practiced grace and swung in response. The impact wasn't gentle. The younger Li was forced back, feet dragging against the stone tiles, leaving twin grooves in their wake. He stumbled, the edge of the platform biting at his heels.
Yun Han didn't press the attack immediately. Instead, he let his saber fall to his side and spoke, voice laced with contempt."This is the standard of the Li family's youth? I haven't even used half of my strength."He turned his gaze toward the Li pavilion and sneered. "Perhaps you should send someone who isn't destined to be stepped on."
His words cut deeper than any blade. The Li elders' faces turned ashen. Rage simmered behind narrowed eyes, but none dared act. High above, seated in solemn authority, Wang Ji of the City Tower remained impassive — the very presence of a King Realm cultivator rendering retaliation suicidal.
Li Zheng spat blood from between clenched teeth and pushed himself to his feet, eyes burning."You dare insult the Li family?" he roared, his aura suddenly swelling.
A ripple passed through the crowd. It was faint, but unmistakable — a sliver of intent, sharp and alive. The elders leaned forward, disbelief and delight flickering across their faces.
Saber energy.
He had broken through. Even if only the rudimentary stage, it was still saber intent — the mark of a true cultivator stepping onto the path of comprehension.
In the Li pavilion, the Grand Elder slowly stroked his beard, lips curling in grudging admiration. He'd never favored Li Zheng, whose temper often overshadowed his discipline. But talent was talent. And now that he had touched the intent realm, he might yet be the clan's hope.
But Yun Han wasn't impressed.
He yawned lightly, resting his saber across his shoulder. "So you've learned to scratch with a sharper stick. Is that supposed to impress me?" He beckoned lazily. "Come, I'll show you the difference between wild instinct and true mastery."
Li Zheng howled and surged forward, saber burning with newfound intensity. This time, it was no reckless charge — his blade moved with rhythm, his footwork precise. The crowd held its breath.
The clash happened in an instant.
Yun Han didn't dodge. He stepped in and drew his saber with deliberate slowness — as if mocking Li Zheng's efforts — and brought it down in a single arc.
The result was devastating.
Li Zheng was hurled across the stage like a broken doll. Blood sprayed from his mouth. A deep gash split across his chest, armor torn, pride shattered. He lay motionless, limbs twisted unnaturally.
Gasps echoed.
"Too strong…""He was supposed to have saber intent…""How… how could he lose like that?"
The Li family elders stood, stunned. It was unthinkable. That a youth like Yun Han could crush someone who had just touched the intent realm with such ease—
"He's comprehended sword intent," the Grand Elder whispered grimly. "And not just the beginning phase… no wonder."
Yun Han descended from his stance slowly, savoring the moment. His saber glinted in the sun, and with each step he took toward the fallen Li Zheng, a cruel satisfaction painted itself on his face.
He crouched beside the bleeding youth, voice soft and venomous.
"You should be honored. Because of you, I will receive a King-level method. A stepping stone like you should be grateful."
He raised his saber. The point glinted, hovering above Li Zheng's abdomen — aimed not to kill, but to cripple. A single thrust, and his dantian would shatter. A cultivator no more.
"NO!"
The Li family elders erupted from their seats, fury lighting their eyes — but a presence blocked their path. Yun Hai, the old patriarch of the Yun family, stepped forward, his sword already drawn.
"You old thing!" the Grand Elder of the Li family shouted.
Yun Hai smirked. "This is a tournament between youths. Do you plan to disgrace your clan by interfering?"
The Grand Elder trembled, but Yun Hai's words held weight — and his sword intent wasn't a bluff. One wrong move, and blood would flow.
"You bastard…" the Grand Elder growled. But he sat down, fists clenched. He could not risk the lives of the other Li youths.
On the platform, Li Zheng lay paralyzed, despair pooling in his eyes. Everything he had worked for, all the arrogance, all the pride — gone. He was about to be crippled, and there was nothing he could do.
He closed his eyes. I don't want to die…
Yun Han's saber descended.
And then — a flash of blue.
A ripple tore through the air like thunder. The crowd saw a blur, a streak of cerulean light, and before they could process it, Yun Han was flung backward, blood spraying from his lips as he crashed to the edge of the platform.
His saber clattered beside him.
Silence gripped the square.
"What… was that?"
Everyone looked around wildly, trying to see who had interfered. But there was no figure. No warrior standing in defiance.
Only a sword — a beautiful, sheathed blade, floating in midair, vibrating like it was alive.
Yun Han's eyes widened in horror. That strike — he had nearly died. If he hadn't instinctively defended, his head might've been severed. He coughed up blood and turned toward the direction the sword had flown from.
From the shadows of the crowd, he emerged.
Draped in black robes, walking slowly, confidently, as if the chaos around him were beneath notice. His long hair danced in the breeze, and a calm, enigmatic smile graced his face. His presence was soft… yet every step felt like a storm building on the horizon.
Li Yang.
The crowd turned, whispers erupting.
"Who is that…?"
"Isn't that the crippled young master of the Li family?"
Lu Yan, who had until now been leaning back lazily in her seat, finally stood up, her tea forgotten. Her eyes locked on the approaching figure.
He was different.
When he wore white, she had thought of him as gentle — perhaps even harmless. But now, in black, with that sword trembling as if it had found its master, she realized something:
He had never been gentle. He had been waiting.
Her eyes widened slightly. "Will he finally unsheathe his sword today…?"
She couldn't look away.
Why had he hidden his strength? Why did he stay silent in this forgotten city? What had she seen in his eyes the day they first met — that cold, piercing gaze that felt like it could see through everything?
The blue sword trembled in joy as he neared.
And Lu Yan, for the first time in a long while, felt her heart beat faster.