Chapter 1004: Qin Cangliu

Wu Ming’s face burned, his head buzzed, and his mind went blank.

“This is… Fireball Technique?”

“So far away—how did it hit me in an instant?”

He couldn’t figure it out. Just a moment ago, in his eyes, it was still just a wisp of firelight—a vague, unformed fireball.

The next instant, it exploded right in his face?

What kind of insane speed was that?

And this was supposed to be a Fireball Technique?

That force, that impact—wasn’t it a little too fierce? Just like a cannonball, enough to make his scalp tingle.

Thanks to the protective Dao Debate Jade, disciples in the sword debate wouldn’t take direct damage.

But the lingering burn, the stabbing pain, and that shockwave could still be felt.

This fireball was wickedly precise, catching him completely off guard.

Blasted by it, Wu Ming almost toppled headfirst. He staggered several steps before barely regaining his balance, shaking his head for a long while before snapping out of the fireball’s shock. Then his eyelids twitched violently, his heart screaming:

Not good!

He immediately looked up—and sure enough, a sword light as pure as a moonlit stream was condensing before him.

Having been suppressed for the whole fight, Linghu Xiao was already burning with fighting spirit. There was no way he’d let Wu Ming go.

He and Mo Hua worked in perfect sync—while Mo Hua’s fireball bought time, Linghu Xiao had already begun gathering his energy.

By the time Wu Ming came to his senses, the sword qi was fully charged.

Linghu Xiao’s gaze was icy, looking at Wu Ming as if he were already a corpse. With a sharp shout, he swung his long sword, cleaving out a foot-thick Void-Piercing Sword Light.

It was unimaginably sharp.

Wu Ming wasn’t stupid—he immediately thought of running.

His Iron Armor Talisman was still active, enough to lessen the sword qi’s might, but he had no desire to take Linghu Xiao’s strike head-on.

A sword light from a once-in-500-years sword genius at full force was no joke.

If he could just dodge it, Linghu Xiao’s spiritual power would be spent, and he’d become a lamb waiting for slaughter.

The others would be just as helpless, and that brat who ambushed him with a fireball—he could settle accounts with him then.

Wu Ming turned, toes pushing off the ground, his figure like streaming fire—ready to flee.

But at that moment, a whistling roar tore through the air.

A fireball streaked a straight red line through the sky—and even before the sound of its flight reached him, it smashed into Wu Ming’s back.

“Damn it, what the—”

Rage flared in Wu Ming’s chest, but the blast knocked him off balance, sending him crashing to the ground.

The surging Void-Piercing Sword Qi arrived in the next instant, striking him hard.

A blue void-light flared on his body, resisting the sword qi’s might—but at the same time, the glow on his Dao Debate Jade quickly faded.

At last, the light vanished and the jade shattered.

Wu Ming’s face went pale, but there was nothing he could do.

With a final flash of void light, his figure disappeared completely, transmitted out of the sword debate field.

Wu Ming—defeated.

Linghu Xiao gripped his sword, breathing heavily. Though a sword genius, though his sword qi was strong, such strength was the cultivation kind of strong.

Real combat was a whole different world.

He now deeply understood what his Little Senior Brother had once told him: a truly powerful cultivator needed not only great battle strength, but great combat ability.

Little Senior Brother had even used a strange phrase:

Combat Conversion Rate.

If you had immense power and a high combat conversion rate, then you were truly strong.

If you only had profound cultivation and exquisite sword arts, but lacked battle experience—if you crumbled under pressure and were helpless when targeted—then you were just a “paper strategist” weakling.

No matter how strong your battle power, if you couldn’t bring it out in a fight, it was nothing but chicken ribs.

Through the Sword Debate Tournament, by using battle as training—crossing swords with prodigies, adapting to countless situations, improving his combat experience, and raising the combat conversion rate of the Void-Piercing Sword Art—he would one day become a truly powerful sword cultivator.

That was also Little Senior Brother’s plan and expectation for him.

Linghu Xiao calmed himself, silently reviewing gains and losses. Then he raised his sword, pointing it at the remaining four Lingfu Sect cultivators. His spiritual power was nearly exhausted, but now it was five versus four—the match was decided.

With Wu Ming down, Linghu Xiao was free to join the other battles. Even with little power left, the tide turned instantly.

Mo Hua tossed in a few more fireballs, and the debate was settled.

The Great Void Sect—victorious.

On the Heavenly Painting Projection, the figures of Mo Hua and the others slowly faded.

The spectators outside quieted briefly, then scattered discussions began to rise:

“Linghu Xiao is still strong…”

“The Great Void Sect barely won that one…”

“That Mo Hua really does have something—his fireball technique wasn’t bad.”

“Mhm,” someone nodded, “When the match was stuck, that fireball technique broke the deadlock—saved his teammate from a tough spot.”

Others disagreed: “Or maybe it was because of him that his teammate was in trouble in the first place?”

“With someone else, five vs. five would’ve been over quickly—no need to drag it out like this.”

“Besides, a mere Fireball Technique—isn’t it basic? Who can’t do that?”

“In this world, any fire-root cultivator can toss a fireball. Have you ever seen a genius rely on fireballs in the Sword Debate? Not afraid of becoming a joke?”

“But his fireball… seemed a little different—something odd about it…” someone murmured.

That remark made a few sharp-eyed cultivators thoughtful.

The Heavenly Painting Projection was still only a projection—clear, but never perfectly real.

Spectators saw from a global view.

With that projection’s distortion, they could see Mo Hua casting fireballs—but judging the essence of them by eye alone was hard.

They could only faintly sense a trace of strangeness.

Most, however, dismissed it.

Especially those already prejudiced against Mo Hua, or harboring malice—they scoffed:

“What’s so special about a fireball? As if no one else can do it…”

“A fireball is a fireball—dress it up all you want, it’s still a fireball.”

“The Lingfu Sect fools—falling to a fireball is just laughable.”

“Just throwing fireballs? I could do that myself…”

In the crowd, Gu Changhuai ignored the chatter.

He simply watched the projection, recalling Mo Hua’s fireballs…

And remembering that time outside Qingzhou City—in the thatched hut—where those ten-odd human traffickers had been slain by fireballs, their bodies burned to ash to erase all trace. His brow twitched as he sighed helplessly:

“This kid… really knows how to hide.”

With the Lingfu Sect match over, talk about Mo Hua temporarily quieted.

He wasn’t useless.

He was useful—just barely.

Perhaps only for a fireball or two.

People’s impression of him shifted—from the utterly worthless “Crown Prince” of the Great Void Sect who dragged the team down, to… “a formation master who can throw fireballs.”

—

Outside Dao Debate Mountain.

Mo Hua and Linghu Xiao tidied themselves, ready to head back to their sect—when they ran into the Lingfu Sect group again.

At the front—Wu Ming.

His face was twisted in frustration and anger, his spirit armor’s red light rippling—looking like a flamboyant but beaten rooster.

Wu Ming stared fixedly at the group, especially at Mo Hua.

Earlier, his grudge had been with Linghu Xiao.

Now, thanks to that faceful of fireball and the mockery that followed, his hatred had shifted.

“Mo Hua…” he ground out the name, his shame and rage sharpening each syllable.

“If not for you ambushing me with that fireball, I wouldn’t have lost.”

“If not for you, Linghu Xiao would’ve been my defeated foe…”

“I’ll remember you. Just you wait…” Spitting his threat, he left.

Mo Hua frowned, puzzled, and turned to Linghu Xiao.

“Even if I hit him with a fireball, it was your sword that defeated him. You won—why does he blame me?”

Linghu Xiao found it hard to answer, falling silent.

“Probably… he’d rather die under a strong sword than be humiliated by a fireball?” Situ Jian offered.

After all, in a prodigy’s sword debate, losing to a sword genius’s Void-Piercing Sword Technique was a kind of tragic glory.

But losing to a fireball… that was just plain comical.

“Can’t be that bad…” Mo Hua frowned. “The Dao holds countless arts, each with strengths and weaknesses—the wonder lies in how they’re used.”

“True, but… fireball is still just fireball…” Situ Jian muttered.

Mo Hua shook his head solemnly. “Fireball Technique is still a proper spell. I’ll prove it to them—that fireball can be a formidable art!”

His expression was grave, determined to restore the honor of fireball. After all, it was the very first attack spell Old Kui had personally taught him.

He would not let anyone look down on it.

“Back to the sect—time to prepare for the next round’s tactics!”

He left with serious determination.

Situ Jian watched his back, sighing quietly.

He had a feeling—Wu Ming was just the first “enemy” to be suffocated to death by Little Senior Brother’s antics.

This was only the beginning—Little Senior Brother hadn’t even started trying.

The truly suffocating tricks were still ahead.

By the time Little Senior Brother finished the tournament… who knew how many “enemies” he would have piled up?

—

Back at the Great Void Sect, Mo Hua rested briefly before preparing for the next match’s strategy.

Their next Xuan Division opponent—one of the Eight Great Sects.

The name alone was unexpected…

The Yin Water Sect.

Mo Hua’s eyes grew thoughtful. The Yin Water Sect, once among the Twelve Streams, had been born from the old Water Prison Sect—the very sect behind the Rouge Boat incident.

For violating Dao laws and Qianxue regulations—secretly running brothels and falling into moral decay—they’d been purged by the Dao Court.

Now, from its highest elders to its lowest disciples, the Yin Water Sect had been completely “replaced.”

Its bloodline now ran with that of the Dao Court’s own enforcers—the very center of authority.

At the last Dao Debate Conference, when the sects were reorganized, the Tai’a Sect and the Chongxu Sect fell in rank and had to merge with the Great Void Sect—freeing two spots among the Eight Great Sects.

One of those went to the Yin Water Sect.

The other… to a familiar name.

The Broken Gold Sect.

Once a Twelve Streams sect, its core heritage was the Broken Gold Sword Technique.

Its disciples had clashed with Mo Hua many times.

After the Myriad Beasts Valley incident, the sect underwent a power shift—another blood purge.

Mo Hua’s ties to the Broken Gold Sect ran deep.

When he first entered the borders of Qianxue Prefecture, the human trafficker Boss Jiang he encountered was a traitor of the Broken Gold Sect. The two core inheritances of the Broken Gold Sect—the Broken Gold Sword Control Art and the Broken Gold Sword Formation—were both in Mo Hua’s possession.

“Broken Gold Sect…”

Mo Hua’s gaze flickered, a thought stirring in his mind.

It could be said that both the Yin Water Sect and the Broken Gold Sect had no shallow ties with him.

The “complete reshuffling” of the Yin Water Sect and the Broken Gold Sect was entirely caused by his own hand.

And now, both the Yin Water Sect and the Broken Gold Sect had risen together into the ranks of the “Eight Great Sects”… Mo Hua couldn’t help but feel something strange about it.

The Yin Water Sect’s promotion to the Eight Great Sects, aside from its not-insignificant ranking among sects, must have had the Dao Court’s hand working behind the scenes.

And the one pulling the strings here was most likely Overseer Xia.

Overseer Xia—or rather, the Dao Court—wanted to intervene in the affairs of Qianxue Prefecture, and the core targets they struck at were the Four Great Sects, the Eight Great Sects, and the Twelve Great Schools.

The Four Great Sects were too powerful, so the next tier down was naturally the Eight Great Sects.

It was far less direct and thorough to infiltrate an existing member of the Eight Great Sects than it was to foster a new one into that position.

The Yin Water Sect was an open card—right now, it was openly the Dao Court’s “pawn.”

And the Broken Gold Sect? After the Myriad Demons Valley incident, Mo Hua hadn’t had much contact with them. Song Jian hadn’t been seen for a long time, so he didn’t know if something had happened there as well.

Could the Dao Court also be supporting the Broken Gold Sect?

If so, did that mean… all of these events, everything behind them, had a Dao Court expert watching from the shadows, silently calculating?

If that were the case…

Had he, without even realizing it, also become a “chess piece”?

Had his actions, unintentionally, pushed forward the changes and developments of this chessboard?

“Who is this Dao Court expert, orchestrating everything behind the scenes?”

“What is his goal?”

Mo Hua furrowed his brow, unable to figure it out, but kept it in mind as a warning for the future.

The Heavenly Secrets worked like this: when you peered into them, the Heavenly Secrets were also peering into you.

When you calculated others, others were calculating you.

When you treated others as chess pieces, there might also be someone, in the unseen currents, treating you as a “chess piece” in their grand game…

Mo Hua’s eyes grew slightly brighter, the karmic threads in his gaze rising and falling. His comprehension of the Heavenly Secrets deepened by another degree. Then he gathered his thoughts and focused on being a “chess piece,” continuing to prepare for the Sword Debate Conference.

“As long as I can take the ‘bait,’ being a ‘chess piece’ once doesn’t really matter…”

——

Two days later, at Discourse Mountain.

Another round of the Sword Debate began.

The Great Void Sect, now merged with the other two sects, faced the newly promoted Eight Great Sect—Yin Water Sect.

This time, the randomly drawn competition format had finally changed.

This round was the “Decapitation Match.”

Each side selected one disciple as their “leader.”

Regardless of whether the other disciples lived or died, or whether the battle situation was advantageous or not, as long as one could kill the enemy’s “leader,” it was considered a victory—that was the “Decapitation” rule.

In actual Dao soldier warfare, there would occasionally be death warriors assigned to carry out “decapitation” missions—assassinating enemy cultivators of noble status or special position.

This was the origin of the “Decapitation Match” format.

Before the match began, both sides would first determine their “leader.” This “leader” was generally chosen from the strongest prodigies in the team.

On the Yin Water Sect’s side, the disciple chosen as “leader” was named Qin Cangliu.

The Qin Family was a fifth-rank aristocratic clan in Qianxue Prefecture, and seemed to have some deep ties with the Central Dao Court.

Qin Cangliu was a direct descendant of this branch of the Qin Family, and within the Yin Water Sect, he was one of the top prodigies.

Now that the Yin Water Sect was directly subordinate to the Central Dao Court, with the Qin Family’s connections, and the sect’s direct affiliation, it was almost certain that Qin Cangliu, given time, would become the head of a Dao Court division in some prefecture.

It was even possible for him to enter the Central Dao Court and rise to the rank of Dao Court “Overseer.”

Therefore, for the Yin Water Sect’s team, none other than him could be “leader.”

On the Great Void Sect’s side, Mo Hua was the “leader.”

Those who knew the inside story weren’t surprised.

But for the cultivators outside, watching the match, this choice was baffling.

“What is the Great Void Sect doing now?”

“This is a Decapitation Match—do they even understand the rules? Do they even get what this ‘decapitation’ means? If they didn’t choose Linghu Xiao as leader, fine, but they could’ve picked Ouyang Xuan. Or that sword-carrying fellow. Or even that ‘big dumb guy’… at least he’s tough enough to take a beating.”

“What’s the point of choosing this Mo Hua?”

“That Dao Debate Jade of his is as brittle as a paper-shell walnut—one touch and it shatters. How is he supposed to compete like this?”

“Do they even have a brain for this Sword Debate?”

The spectators outside began to murmur and speculate again.

Inside the arena, both teams of disciples were already taking their positions.

On the Yin Water Sect’s side, Qin Cangliu stood at the front, wearing black water-patterned Dao robes, with a “leader” badge pinned to his chest.

He cultivated water-element arts, his demeanor rather soft and carrying a trace of coldness.

Because he aspired to serve in the Dao Court and had joined the Yin Water Sect, he had already, through constant exposure, developed a faint air of a “chief official.”

Several of the Qin Family elders, all of whom served in the Dao Court and were people of broad experience, had asserted:

This youth would one day certainly hold high office and great power.

For now, however, he was still just a disciple. He needed to prove his strength in the Sword Debate Conference, gain fame and prestige, and use that as the foundation for gradually realizing his grand ambitions.

At this moment, his opponent was the Great Void Sect.

And the person he needed to “decapitate” was named Mo Hua.

Regarding this, Qin Cangliu was also puzzled.

Of all the people the Great Void Sect could have chosen, why choose this array master who could be killed with one slash, crippled with one squeeze, to serve as their “leader”?

On what basis?

Because of his Fireball Technique?

But regardless, the target was now clear:

“All of you, strike with full force—at any cost—kill Mo Hua!”

Among their five members, as long as even one of them could get close to Mo Hua, a single slash, a single sword strike, or even just one punch would be enough to take his life and shatter his Dao Debate Jade.

In that way, the decapitation would succeed, and the Yin Water Sect would win this match.

And Qin Cangliu would take one more step toward his future.

“Yes, Senior Brother Qin!” the other Yin Water Sect disciples all cupped their hands in acknowledgment.

On the Great Void Sect’s side—

Mo Hua also wore the “leader” badge around his neck. He instructed Linghu Xiao and the others:

“The format has changed, so the gameplay has changed—we need to switch to a different set of tactics.”

“You take the main offensive; I’ll provide support.”

“That guy on the other side…”

“Qin Cangliu,” Situ Jian supplied.

Mo Hua nodded. “Qin Cangliu—cut him down, and we win.”

This Qin Cangliu had an extraordinary background and great talent. His future might be limitless—but right now, this was the Sword Debate, and the priority was to “cut him down” first.

(End of this Chapter)