Chapter 1020: No More Playing
The situation was almost completely one-sided.
Under the overwhelming sword qi of the Heavenly Sword Sect’s number one disciple, Xiao Wuchen, the disciples of the Great Void Sect had almost no chance to fight back.
Even Linghu Xiao was no match.
With just a few strokes, Xiao Wuchen completely suppressed him.
Every sword strike was ancient and majestic, natural and flawless, carrying a rhythm that seemed to align with the Dao itself and merge into the void.
Every sword strike carried a terrifying sword qi condensed from boundless spiritual power.
Every sword strike forced Linghu Xiao to go all out.
Each time Xiao Wuchen slashed, Linghu Xiao retreated a step.
Dressed in a white Daoist robe embroidered with sword patterns, Xiao Wuchen stood straight and elegant, his handsome face indifferent.
Meanwhile, Linghu Xiao—who had been regarded as the peerless sword prodigy of Chongxu in five hundred years—was forced to grit his teeth and endure miserably, looking utterly disheveled.
Gone was the image of the sword qi sweeping the field and slaying all directions.
At this moment, everyone finally understood clearly.
This—was what a true heaven’s pride looked like.
This—was a true sword genius.
Reputation could be inflated.
But the sword never lied.
Once blades clashed, strength and weakness were instantly revealed.
Seeing Linghu Xiao’s wretched state, many sighed inwardly with some pity, yet few mocked him or kicked him while he was down.
They knew Linghu Xiao was already strong enough.
He had already proven his strength in the previous rounds.
But Xiao Wuchen was simply stronger.
The Four Great Sects were, after all, the Four Great Sects.
The foremost of their sword cultivators, the first disciple of the Heavenly Sword Sect—Xiao Wuchen—was a figure soaring above the clouds.
While the geniuses of the Eight Great Gates, no matter how strong, only stood upon mountain peaks.
This was the difference in sword dao.
And in cultivation too, Xiao Wuchen held the advantage.
Xiao Wuchen was at Foundation Establishment Peak.
Linghu Xiao, at best, was only slightly stronger than the average late Foundation Establishment cultivator.
Strictly speaking, the Foundation Establishment realm was only divided into three stages: early, mid, and late. Beyond that, once the cultivation broke through, it would be the Golden Core realm.
But forming a Golden Core was extremely difficult.
Most Foundation Establishment cultivators—unless blessed with extraordinary luck—would find themselves stuck before the Golden Core for a long time.
That time could be a few years… decades… even centuries.
Some would be stuck for a lifetime.
Thus, between late Foundation Establishment and Golden Core lay a stage that varied by individual but was generally prolonged.
During this stage, cultivators would still continue cultivating, their spiritual power slowly increasing and settling until it formed a solid foundation, creating the chance to break through into Golden Core…
Or perhaps, they had already attempted to break through but failed.
Or perhaps their natal magic treasure embryo had formed, but the Golden Core was yet to condense…
All these stages together were called Foundation Establishment Peak.
It meant being beyond Foundation Establishment, but not yet Golden Core.
Xiao Wuchen was at this level. Linghu Xiao was not.
Thus, their gap in cultivation compounded Linghu Xiao’s disadvantage in sword dao.
In the sword debate arena, Linghu Xiao was no match for Xiao Wuchen, moving in desperation.
The rest fared even worse.
The Heavenly Sword Sect’s team was among the strongest in the entire grand assembly. Apart from Xiao Wuchen, the other four disciples were no pushovers either.
These four, though slightly weaker than Linghu Xiao, were stronger than Ouyang Xuan.
Compared to Cheng Mo and Situ Jian, they were far stronger.
This was a crushing, comprehensive advantage of “raw strength” among sect disciples.
Thus, under the terrifying sweep of sword qi from the five Heavenly Sword Sect disciples, the Great Void Sect’s members were battered into misery.
Mo Hua’s situation was no better.
With his teammates completely suppressed, his spells were of little use.
He could only rely on his movement technique to “barely cling to life” under their swords.
But such “clinging” was meaningless.
The outcome was clear.
The Great Void Sect was sliding step by step into defeat.
Some spectators still hoped for a “miracle,” for someone to turn the tide.
But alas, no miracle came.
The weak—lose.
Linghu Xiao fell first.
Though he resisted bitterly under Xiao Wuchen’s sword, seeking some chance to turn things around, in the end he failed.
With both cultivation and sword dao against him, Linghu Xiao fought until exhausted.
At last, with one merciless slash, Xiao Wuchen ended him.
Linghu Xiao died beneath Xiao Wuchen’s sword.
The tide instantly collapsed.
Others began falling one after another…
The spectators grew silent.
Disappointment filled their faces.
They had expected this to be a clash of thunder and fire, a true battle between heaven’s prides, brilliant and unforgettable.
That the sword geniuses of the Heavenly Sword Sect and Great Void Sect would duel at the peak.
But the result left them utterly disillusioned.
The Great Void Sect lost far too thoroughly, with no suspense from start to finish.
Linghu Xiao could not compare with Xiao Wuchen.
As for Mo Hua? Even less so.
Mocking voices rose:
“The so-called merger of the three sects into Great Void Sect… is this all?”
“Three ‘Eight Gates’ level sects combined, and still not enough to compare with one Heavenly Sword Sect. Laughable.”
“They merged for nothing.”
“Think of it this way—if they hadn’t merged, they’d be even weaker.”
“The gap is simply too large. There’s no fight to speak of.”
“What a waste of expectation.”
“Boring.”
“Even the strongest team of the Great Void Sect, undefeated until now, will lose this time.”
“Of course they’ll lose. Everyone’s dead already. Only Mo Hua remains. What can a freeloader like him do—kill someone?”
“Forget Xiao Wuchen—even the other four Heavenly Sword Sect disciples, if placed in the Eight Gates, would all be top-tier. Mo Hua can’t ‘cheap his way’ against any of them.”
Someone joked: “Don’t be so sure. Maybe Mo Hua will one-versus-five?”
The crowd froze, then burst into laughter.
But the more they laughed, the less amusing it seemed.
The Great Void Sect had performed so poorly that even mocking them felt dull.
The only thing left of interest—was Mo Hua.
“This time, Mo Hua will finally die, right?”
That thought—was the only thing sustaining their interest in this now tasteless match.
Some even perked up with excitement.
“Yes! If the Great Void Sect loses, he’ll surely die at the hands of Heavenly Sword Sect disciples.”
“Good! Good!” Many clapped and cheered.
“Finally, someone will kill Mo Hua once!”
“Too bad it’s at the hands of Heavenly Sword Sect disciples. That’s hardly humiliating.”
“They’re simply too strong—especially Xiao Wuchen. Dying by their swords feels almost… natural?”
“Lacks a bit of flavor.”
“It would be best if it happened in some critical match, where both sides can’t afford to lose, and they fight desperately, evenly matched, trading blows until the air shakes—then, at the key moment, Mo Hua slips, gets caught, and is slain in disgrace. Then the Great Void Sect collapses, Mo Hua becomes a sinner for eternity, nailed to the pillar of shame, mocked for generations…”
“That would be a fitting death for him.”
“Too bad.”
“Yes. This brat’s getting off too easy.”
Another said: “Forget it. To see Mo Hua die even once in this lifetime is enough. Can’t ask for more.”
“True enough.”
“The first match of the ‘Earth’ round—he lost and died once already. Consider it an ‘auspicious start.’”
“And the Earth round is just beginning. Many more matches to come. Many hard ones. Many more chances for Mo Hua to die.”
“Plenty of good shows ahead.”
“Today’s just the appetizer…”
Thinking this way, spirits lifted again. All eyes turned to the arena, eager to see just how Mo Hua would “die.”
Inside the arena.
Mo Hua moved like flowing water, still fleeing.
Two Heavenly Sword Sect prodigies pursued him relentlessly.
Xiao Wuchen did not act, only watched from the side.
As if killing Mo Hua wasn’t worth his effort.
The other two disciples stood coldly nearby, swords ready. The instant Mo Hua slipped, they would strike and end him.
Their strategy was clear.
To beat Mo Hua in pure movement technique wasn’t easy.
They were top prodigies of the Four Great Sects, their strength undeniable.
But that strength lay in cultivation and combat power, not necessarily in movement technique.
At least, compared to the Soaring Sky Sect’s Feng Zichen, they weren’t stronger in movement.
And their sword speed wasn’t necessarily faster than his Wind Sword either.
Feng Zichen hadn’t been able to catch Mo Hua in one strike.
So why would they?
Thus, they could only keep chasing him with sword qi, pressuring him, forcing him to make a mistake.
If Mo Hua slipped, their waiting blades would take his life.
Even if he didn’t slip, he would eventually exhaust his spiritual power.
Spiritual power was a cultivator’s foundation—every technique required it.
Even body-cultivation arts needed spiritual power to activate physical potential.
Once exhausted, even the greatest movement technique became “water without a source,” unsustainable.
Low spiritual power—this was one of Mo Hua’s deadliest weaknesses as a spell cultivator.
Mo Hua sighed.
He knew it was over.
Without Linghu Xiao and the others, he was indeed helpless.
His movement technique was good, yes. But this was the sword debate—movement alone couldn’t kill anyone.
He couldn’t exactly hope to tire others to death.
And with his meager reserves, he’d collapse first.
But Mo Hua didn’t plan to surrender easily.
Even if this was “garbage time,” it couldn’t be wasted.
Calming himself, he set aside thoughts of winning or losing, and continued to use Flowing Water Step to spar with the Heavenly Sword disciples.
One reason—to practice his Flowing Water Step against them.
Another—to study their sword techniques, familiarize himself with Heavenly Sword Sect’s sword arts, and accumulate experience for the future.
Every sword technique in the world, no matter its strength, should be stored in the heart as experience, nourishment for refining one’s combat consciousness.
A mature cultivator must learn to draw strength from such experience.
Of course, this constant sparring devoured his spiritual power.
His movement began to stiffen, harder to maintain. The situation grew perilous.
Outside the arena, Elder Zhang stared intently at Mo Hua, eyes deep with thought.
The spectators, however, saw signs of Mo Hua’s defeat and cheered gleefully.
“He’s about to die…”
“Guess—whose hand will finish the brat?”
Not just spectators.
Even some sect prodigies clutching the “Kill Mo Hua Decree” were both thrilled and regretful.
Thrilled that Mo Hua was about to die.
Regretful that it wasn’t by their hand.
And then—before everyone’s eyes—
Mo Hua decided it was time.
He touched his forehead, shattered his own Debate Jade, and with a flash of blue light—vanished.
He quit.
Left the stage.
The Heavenly Sword disciple who had just raised his Sky Star Sword to finish Mo Hua froze on the spot.
The other disciples were equally dumbfounded.
Even Xiao Wuchen’s expression faltered.
Outside the arena, the once-smiling, eager crowd instantly froze as if turned to stone.
After a long silence, someone stammered:
“Did that brat just…”
“…shatter his own Debate Jade?”
“So does that… count as him being killed?”
“If he killed himself, how can that count?”
“Hsss—”
Gasps of disbelief spread through the crowd.
At the same time, anger surged like wildfire in their hearts.
“He can do that?!”
“This little bastard… unbelievable…”
“He couldn’t just die properly?”
“I’m so furious my blood’s boiling!”
The Great Void Sect was clearly doomed.
Mo Hua was clearly doomed.
The scene everyone awaited was about to unfold.
And yet—this brat shamelessly shattered his own jade and left.
Refusing to be killed properly.
Voices of outrage erupted:
“Never have I seen such shamelessness!”
“To think he’d shatter his own jade?”
“This is just the sword debate, not real life-and-death combat. The great protective formation is here. And he still didn’t dare fight to the end?”
“Cowardice is worse than defeat!”
“If he had even a shred of honor, he wouldn’t do this. Even thinking of it is a crime!”
“He’s supposed to be Great Void Sect’s pride, Qianxue’s array dao leader. How will his peers see him? How will the elders? The sect master? The ancestor?”
“Shouldn’t he feel utterly ashamed?”
“Doesn’t he care how the entire Great Void Sect, even the entire Qianxue State, will see him?”
The crowd fumed with righteous anger, cursing Mo Hua endlessly.
Amid them, Gu Changhuai only sighed quietly, thinking: truly Mo Hua—always finding a twisted angle to drive everyone half mad…
Of course, Mo Hua himself remained blissfully unaware.
To him, shattering his jade was nothing.
He preferred to keep “life and death” in his own hands.
Even in defeat, he wanted to leave by his own choice.
Letting someone else slash him? He never felt safe with that.
What if the grand array malfunctioned? One sword and he’d be dead for real.
Unlikely, yes—five-grade grand formations were almost flawless.
But Mo Hua was an array master. He trusted only his own formations.
No matter how strong others’ formations were, they weren’t his, and thus never fully trustworthy.
No blind worship, no blind trust.
That was the self-discipline of an excellent array master.
Therefore, rather than being “killed” and forced out of the match, it was safer to crush the Dao-discussion jade himself.
As for how others—or even the sect—would see it, Mo Hua simply didn’t care.
By convention, the Sword Debate Grand Assembly had protective formations; no one would truly die. Thus, the unspoken rule for most disciples was:
“Fight to the death.”
Moreover, with so many sect elders, seniors, and fellow disciples watching—fighting to the end, doing one’s utmost, even in defeat—would not be criticized.
But if one shattered the jade on their own, fleeing without a fight, then that was another matter.
A so-called “prodigy” without courage would be despised by peers and dismissed by elders and sect leaders alike.
Yet such common judgment held no weight against Mo Hua.
His situation was unique.
Among his peers in the Great Void Sect, he held considerable “prestige.” No matter what he did, in their eyes he was still the “wise and heroic” Little Senior Brother.
Many of the sect elders often had to defer to Mo Hua’s attitude in handling matters, even going out of their way to humor him.
The Sect Master was exceptionally lenient with him—after all, he was the “illegitimate son.”
The Ancestor of the Great Void Sect doted on him all the more—after all, he was the “beloved grandson.”
In short, within the entire sect, no one truly restrained Mo Hua.
Crushing a Dao-discussion jade? That was hardly comparable to blowing up the Great Void Sect’s mountain gate—it was nothing at all.
Thus, this round of the Sword Debate ended just like that.
Mo Hua had clearly lost, yet somehow it felt even more infuriating.
Spectators seethed with pent-up fire, cursing under their breath, wishing they could drag Mo Hua out and give him a beating.
Still, not everyone was angry at him.
Among the crowd, there were also many who genuinely cared for Mo Hua and wished for his victory.
Zhang Lan sat quietly behind the Grand Elder, his expression calm, but inside he sighed deeply, filled with regret:
“In the end, he still lost…”
He had hoped to see Mo Hua showcase himself once more at the Sword Debate Grand Assembly, shining brilliantly.
Now, it seemed he had been too optimistic.
The Qianxue Sword Debate truly lived up to being Qianzhou’s premier event—each prodigy stronger than the last. There was always someone greater out there…
Even Mo Hua would lose.
Zhang Lan exhaled a long sigh.
On the other side, at the Shangguan family’s viewing platform—
The once-bright-eyed Yu’er now looked downcast, her little face full of disappointment as she whispered:
“Brother Mo… lost…”
Wenren Wan’s gaze dimmed slightly, but she still smiled and rubbed Yu’er’s head:
“Victory and defeat are commonplace in battle. Even your Brother Mo cannot win forever.”
Yu’er nodded, but her mood remained heavy.
Wenren Wan comforted her with a gentle smile:
“Losing one round is nothing. There will be more matches ahead. Brother Mo will surely win them back little by little.”
At this, Yu’er’s eyes lit up again, and she nodded seriously:
“Mm!”
Wenren Wan caressed her little face, her gaze tender.
Yet between her brows lingered a faint trace of worry.
She too had noticed—the gap between the Great Void Sect and the Heavenly Sword Sect was simply too vast.
Xiao Wuchen’s strength was also far too overwhelming.
And the Heavenly Sword Sect was only one of the Four Great Sects.
Prodigies of the same caliber as Xiao Wuchen numbered at least three more.
From here on, the battles would only grow more perilous.
To defeat such supreme geniuses and score points against the Four Great Sects—was truly as difficult as ascending to the heavens.
Wenren Wan couldn’t help but sigh as well.
Two days later, in the next round of the Earth-Character Sword Debate, Mo Hua’s luck was again unfavorable.
This time, his opponent was one of the Four Great Sects—Dragon Cauldron Sect’s strongest disciple of this generation, also one of the very top prodigies of the entire Qianxue Sword Debate: Ao Zhan.
The Ao family carried the bloodline of the Ancient Dragon.
Ao Zhan was the most gifted of his generation, with bloodline closest to their ancestors.
His Dragon Cauldron Body-Refining Art was cultivated to extreme strength.
With immortal tendons and indestructible bones tempered by dragon blood, Dragon Cauldron Sect’s Ao Zhan was a peerless prodigy who could stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the Heavenly Sword Sect’s number one, Xiao Wuchen.
In this match—Mo Hua lost once again.
(End of this Chapter)