Chapter 1001: “Prince”

The Fangtian Painting Projection loomed vast, obscuring the sky and earth. Ink-like shadows swirled across it, displaying in real time nearly a hundred duels from the Sword Debate—full of twists, turns, and thrilling clashes.

Near the center of the projection, Mo Hua’s figure flickered into view, finally appearing slowly.

On the Shangguan family’s viewing platform, Yu’er spotted him immediately. His eyes lit up, and he clapped his hands in delight.

“Brother Mo! Mother, look!”

Dressed in a palace gown, the graceful Wenren Wan gazed up at the projection. There, Mo Hua stood in the Taixu (Great Void) Sect’s black-and-dark-gray Sword Debate robe, bright-eyed and composed. He already carried the calm poise of one who could face thousands without fear, and her lips curved into a gratified smile.

Meanwhile, in the vast ocean of onlookers outside, many eyes—some openly, some covertly—locked onto Mo Hua.

The emotions in those gazes varied.

Some were expectant, some doubtful, some amused, others cold and indifferent…

Yet many still didn’t recognize him.

“Which one is Mo Hua?”

There were five Taixu (Great Void) Sect disciples in total.

First to be ruled out was the big, burly Cheng Mo—after all, the strong-limbed, simple-minded sort was hardly an array master.

That left four, and those were harder to guess.

“That guy with the smug, unruly look—clearly the spoiled young master type who does whatever he wants in his sect—isn’t that Mo Hua?”

“That’s a disciple from Tai’a Mountain…”

“What about the cold-faced one, with no manners, who has that ‘genius’ air?”

“That’s Linghu Xiao, the sword prodigy from Chongxu Mountain.”

“Then is it that boy carrying the Li Fire Sword?”

“Idiot. He’s carrying a sword—how could he be an array master?”

“Then…”

Everyone exchanged puzzled looks, then turned together to the last one in line—a youth with refined features, bright eyes, crescent brows, and a sunny warmth to his face that made one feel instantly at ease, like a spring breeze. He was slightly shorter than the rest.

“Is that… Mo Hua?”

The noisy Debate Mountain fell silent for a moment.

Many who’d never met him looked utterly baffled.

“Wasn’t he supposed to be gloomy?”

“Wasn’t he supposed to be a spoiled wastrel?”

“Who’s this bright-eyed, handsome boy with brows like the moon?”

“Who called him a pervert again? Why does he look… kind of cute?”

“A youth like that is actually an undiscovered array genius?”

Among the crowd, quite a few female disciples and cultivators were already gazing at Mo Hua with sparkling eyes.

Many male disciples’ expressions darkened in dissatisfaction as they muttered:

“Looks can be deceiving.”

“Cute or not, he could still be a pervert. Never judge a book by its cover.”

“Exactly. The sunnier the smile, the darker the heart might be…”

“Besides, this is a sword debate. Looks won’t win you the match…”

“I want to see for myself what this so-called Taixu (Great Void) Sect array genius, Qianxue Prefecture’s array leader, can actually do—daring to enter the Sword Debate and compete with true prodigies in the Dao of the Sword…”

…

Countless cultivators, countless eyes, all bore down on Mo Hua.

Debate Mountain – Inner Grounds.

Mo Hua couldn’t help but shiver.

Looking around, through the sky-filling projection screen, he could faintly make out the mountain’s surroundings—densely packed with cultivators, swarming like ants or surging like a tidal sea.

But he couldn’t see them clearly, nor hear what they were saying.

A fifth-grade grand formation blocked sight and sound, preventing the spectators from disturbing the contestants.

It also served as protection—lest some demonic fiend, madman, or ill-intentioned high-level cultivator in the crowd suddenly lash out to slaughter the Sword Debate’s young prodigies.

After all, the contestants were only at Foundation Establishment.

But Qianxue Prefecture was a fifth-grade territory—capable of housing Nascent Soul and even Hollow Void Realm cultivators at full power.

If such a massacre broke out, the young geniuses would have no chance to resist, and the loss to the great clans and sects would be devastating.

Unable to see clearly, Mo Hua withdrew his gaze and focused on the Sword Debate before him.

This was his first match.

His opponents: a small but fairly high-ranked sect among the Hundred Sects of Qianxue—Qingshuang Sect, whose core technique was the Qingshuang Art.

Because this was an initial “Yellow” bracket match, the rules were simple: five versus five, winner takes all.

The arena was a small forested hill.

Both teams circled for a while before encountering each other, and then battle broke out immediately.

Cheng Mo charged in first.

Ouyang Xuan fused man and sword, attacking from the flank, while Situ Jian followed up.

Linghu Xiao unleashed his Chongxu sword qi.

And then… nothing.

The fight was over. The other side was down.

From start to finish, Mo Hua had stood motionless, hands still tucked in his sleeves, without so much as lifting a finger.

The instant battle had ended in an instant.

On the projection, Mo Hua’s team’s victory flashed, the image blurred, then shifted to the next match.

The crowd outside was silent for a heartbeat.

Then the noise surged.

“That’s it? Already over?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“This is the Sword Debate—he didn’t even lift a finger?”

“All on his teammates?”

“Well, with teammates that strong, he didn’t even get the chance to make a move…”

“Still, he could’ve at least done something! Even a token gesture—cast a fireball or something—so we’d know he was actually in the match.”

“Or maybe… he’s hiding his strength?”

“Yeah right—does he look like someone hiding anything? His spiritual power’s weak, his body’s frail—one close hit and he’s done for. What could he possibly be hiding?”

“If his spiritual energy’s too low for high-grade techniques and he’s so skinny he can’t take a hit, I don’t see what he’s capable of.”

“I’m telling you, he’s just here to coast…”

Those who had expected much felt disappointed.

But those who actually knew Mo Hua—Murong Caiyun, Hua Qianqian, Shangguan Xu—merely smiled wryly.

This was exactly Mo Hua’s style.

If he could avoid acting, he would never lift a finger.

Even so, in such a grand event, with so many big names watching, his refusal to show even a glimpse of his skill left them both amused and exasperated.

Yu’er, however, cared nothing for such things, clapping in delight.

“Brother Mo is amazing—he didn’t even need to move, and they all went down!”

Having endured the nightmare of demons, Yu’er believed that Mo Hua was the strongest—whether he acted or not.

Wenren Wan chuckled and ruffled his hair, though a small regret lingered in her heart.

It was the first match of the debate, the eyes of the world upon him—she had wanted to see him make at least one move, show his face to the crowd.

But keeping a low profile was the safer choice.

She knew Mo Hua’s status was different, and guessed that he had secrets he couldn’t easily reveal.

There would be plenty more matches ahead—no need to rush.

Outside, however, debate over Mo Hua was heating up.

Most who didn’t know the truth still saw him as a freeloader.

On duty nearby, Gu Changhuai listened to the murmurs, shook his head, and said nothing.

In the days that followed, Mo Hua fought several more matches.

And each time was the same—his teammates did all the fighting while he strolled behind them, hands in sleeves, watching the show.

Over time, his reputation only worsened—especially when compared to the genuine prodigies of the Four Great Sects and Eight Great Gates.

Those other prodigies always led from the front, sweeping the field with dazzling skill and winning thunderous applause.

Mo Hua alone let his “little brothers” do the work.

The gap was obvious, and the criticism grew sharper.

Every time he stepped into the arena, a chorus of voices followed:

“I’ve figured it out—this Mo Hua’s just here to freeload.”

“He’s just clinging to the two strongest in his team for an easy ranking.”

“I heard his two teammates are a once-in-five-centuries sword genius from Chongxu and one of Tai’a’s top prodigies. The other two are his personal cronies from Taixu (Great Void).”

“So basically, Taixu (Great Void), Tai’a, and Chongxu teamed up to carry him?”

“This is like babysitting the crown prince.”

“No—this is sparring practice for the crown prince.”

“Tsk, tsk…”

“Why is Taixu (Great Void) Sect propping him up like this?”

“Didn’t you hear? He’s the Sect Master’s illegitimate son.”

“Nonsense! He’s clearly the direct grandson of the Taixu (Great Void) Sect’s Ancestor!”

“Not much difference either way…”

“No wonder…”

Someone sighed. “Poor Linghu Xiao — a once-in-five-hundred-years sword genius, and his one chance in a lifetime to compete in the Sword Debate Tournament… completely wasted.”

“These past few days, I’ve watched every match. Linghu Xiao’s sword heart is pure, and his sword qi is truly formidable.”

“If he didn’t have that Mò Huà ‘dead weight’ dragging him down, and had a stronger teammate instead, with his ability he might really have been able to stand toe-to-toe with the prodigies of the Four Great Sects. But now… what a pity.”

“Couldn’t he just change partners?”

“You don’t understand. No matter how much of a genius he is, he’s still just a disciple. If the Sect Master and the Patriarch tell him to bring Mo Hua along, what can he do? Refuse?”

“True enough… sigh, what a waste of a ‘prodigy’…”

“Abusing power for personal gain, nepotism at its finest. If you ask me, the Taixu (Great Void) Sect is doomed…”

“Taixu (Great Void) Sect is doomed!” Many nodded in agreement.

Someone frowned. “Wait… if I’m not mistaken, isn’t Taixu (Great Void) Sect currently ranked first in the tournament?”

Everyone fell silent.

A few faces turned red.

Then another white-robed cultivator scoffed:

“First place? Big deal. This is just the beginning. Taixu (Great Void) Sect got that ranking through cheap tricks.”

“The further it goes, the harder it’ll get for them.”

“Especially in the ‘Earth’ and ‘Heaven’ rounds — that’s where the real top prodigies compete.”

“After the three sects merged, Taixu (Great Void) Sect finally managed to snag Linghu Xiao from the Chongxu Sect. They could’ve climbed even higher.”

“But now, I don’t know what their Sect Master was thinking — adding a burden like this… I’m afraid it’ll be difficult.”

“In my estimation, by the ‘Xuan’ round, Taixu (Great Void) Sect will start to falter; by the ‘Earth’ round, their true colors will be revealed; they won’t even need to reach the ‘Heaven’ round before their ranking plummets.”

“They might not drop out of the top eight, but the top four? Forget it…”

The man spoke with righteous certainty, as if his words were gospel.

The crowd nodded along. Someone cupped his hands. “Brother, you seem quite knowledgeable?”

“But of course.” The cultivator lifted his head proudly.

“To tell you the truth, my surname is Bai, given name Xiaosheng. I graduated from Qianxue State Academy, and have focused on the Sword Debate for over a hundred years. I’ve watched no fewer than ten thousand matches, big and small. In the trade, they call me the ‘Sword Debate Know-it-all.’”

“When it comes to the tournament’s momentum, the strength of each sect, and the background of each disciple, one glance from me and I can see the truth without the slightest error.”

Bai Xiaosheng’s face was full of confidence.

“And this Mo Hua…”

“Without a doubt, a freeloader,” Bai Xiaosheng declared. “Frankly, I even suspect that his title of ‘Formation Dao Leader’ is nothing but a sham — bought through backdoor connections.”

“That… can’t be possible,” someone objected.

“Exactly, with so many elders from noble clans and sects watching, how could it be fake?”

“If his title were fake, the Four Great Sects wouldn’t let it slide.”

Bai Xiaosheng shook his head. “You people know nothing about noble clans and sects. With enough benefit at stake, their bottom line can sink lower than you can imagine.”

“Besides — surpassing one realm in spiritual sense, I can barely believe; surpassing two realms, suspicious; surpassing three realms? That’s treating people like fools.”

“It’s a pity I don’t care to watch Formation Dao tournaments, otherwise I’d have already exposed their little act.”

Bai Xiaosheng sighed and shook his head. “You don’t understand. The upper echelons of the cultivation world today are nothing but a stage for fame and profit.”

“Noble clans falsify, sects fan the flames, the whole thing’s a show to prop up a so-called ‘eye-catching genius’ for a meteoric rise. This sort of thing happens all the time…”

Whether truth or nonsense, Bai Xiaosheng spoke with conviction.

The cultivators listening looked half convinced.

“Is there any chance…” someone muttered, “that this ‘Mo Hua’ actually can debate swords?”

Bai Xiaosheng smirked. “Debate swords? Him? The way he holds a sword looks like it’s heavy enough to topple him over. If he can actually display any sword technique, I’ll swallow my high-grade natal spirit sword right here in front of everyone!”

Bai Xiaosheng’s bold declaration shocked the crowd — not only for his confidence, but for daring to wager his own natal sword over something so trivial.

Some, upon hearing “high-grade natal spirit sword,” were surprised to realize that this seemingly ordinary, bragging, bookish-looking cultivator was in fact a Golden Core stage expert.

Still, in Qianxue State, where immortals often flew overhead and Golden Cores walked the streets, it wasn’t that unusual.

In the days that followed, under this cloud of doubt, Mo Hua completed the preliminary rounds of the ‘Huang’ bracket.

Record: Undefeated.

But not once did he make a move.

It was his teammates doing the fighting, taking the hits, while Mo Hua merely “stood by,” reaping the rewards of their victories.

This “second-generation young master” act truly stoked public anger.

Even the senior and junior sisters from other sects who had once defended him — perhaps swayed by his delicate, handsome features — could no longer bring themselves to speak up for him.

From then on, Mo Hua’s reputation completely collapsed.

Without lifting a hand or saying a word, he had transformed from a “possibly extreme, gloomy, maybe deranged, and mysteriously talented Formation Dao prodigy”…

…into Taixu (Great Void) Sect’s pampered ‘Young Master,’ a freeloader exploiting his sectmates, a burden in the Sword Debate Tournament, and a teammate-dragging liability.

Mo Hua’s reputation plummeted.

By contrast, Linghu Xiao’s reputation only soared higher.

His astonishing sword talent and flawless techniques were winning more and more admiration.

Many pitied him, sympathized with him.

In the eyes of many, he was a silent sufferer, enduring humiliation, never bitter or discouraged, and carrying the team forward almost single-handedly — a brilliant sword genius.

As for the “burden” he carried? That went without saying.

…

Of course, that was just outside commentary.

Inside the Tai Xu Sect, however, everything was peaceful and harmonious.

Mo Hua had no idea that so many people had such strong opinions about him.

And even if he did know, he wouldn’t have cared.

The idle gossip of irrelevant people had never weighed on his heart—at most, it would be quietly noted in a little mental ledger, to be “settled” one day when he had the time.

Right now, Mo Hua was drinking.

Groups of junior disciples were lining up to toast him.

Mo Hua was friendly to everyone, so naturally he never turned anyone away.

Luckily, he was drinking fruit wine, and only sipped each cup—otherwise, even with the mildest alcohol, he’d have been dead drunk long ago.

The wine was mellow, the mood was lively, and everyone was in high spirits.

It was a small “celebration banquet.”

They were celebrating the end of the “Yellow” bracket preliminaries in the Sword Debate Conference, with Tai Xu Sect temporarily ranked first.

It was only a “small victory,” and a temporary one at that, so it warranted only a modest celebration.

The sect master and elders didn’t object either.

After all, Tai Xu Sect’s current first place ranking owed much to the disciples’ efforts—allowing them a bit of relaxation afterward wasn’t unreasonable.

Besides, they all knew very well—

Once the relaxing was over, the real hard battles would begin.

The “Black” bracket, the “Earth” bracket, and the “Heaven” bracket atop Xuantian Peak would grow more difficult with each round, more grueling with each fight.

Their opponents would be true prodigies—from the Twelve Streams, the Eight Great Sects, even the Four Grand Sects themselves.

The Dao Debate Heavenly Apparatus would, according to fate and causality, begin pairing true geniuses for life-and-death clashes.

With powerful foes, unpredictable battles, and victories decided in a single thought—

This would be the real test.

And in those brutal struggles, Tai Xu Sect’s ranking would inevitably face surging currents, slipping step by step.

Where it would ultimately settle, no one could say.

Once the Yellow bracket concluded, several days of rest followed.

The days passed quickly, and in the blink of an eye, the “Black” bracket of the Sword Debate officially began.

From the Black bracket onward, the intensity ramped up.

The kind of hiding-in-the-shadows strategy used in the Yellow bracket—where teammates fought four-on-five while Mo Hua coasted—was no longer realistic.

Mo Hua couldn’t “fish” anymore; he would now have to show at least some of his true strength…

(End of this Chapter)