Chapter 128: Chapter 128
In the distance.
On the viewing platform.
Mei Shuangfeng’s eyes narrowed. Her fingers tapped the desk unconsciously.
Beside her, Ji Shuying’s gaze was tinged with worry, her features tight.
Shen Xiuhan served the Ji clan. And the Luo clan had long been at odds with them.
Luo Qiance’s cultivation stood at Manifest Strength Perfection — a full tier above Shen Xiuhan. There was no guarantee he wouldn’t go for the kill on the platform.
At the front, Zhao Zheng lounged with arms crossed, watching idly.
Luo Changming sipped his tea. When his gaze slid sideways to Zhao Zheng, the smile at the corner of his mouth deepened.
Even Wang Zhidao, who had shown scant interest until now, and the perpetually indifferent Bai Qingcang — both raised their eyes, drawn to the distant platform with curiosity.
Under the weight of ten thousand gazes —
Luo Qiance’s lips curled. His tone was solicitous.
“Brother Shen, fists have no eyes and blades know no mercy. Do be careful.”
“I appreciate the concern, Brother Luo. But…”
Shen Xiuhan’s face was a cold blade. His voice flat.
“You’d best worry about yourself.”
“Fight!”
Wang Youjun’s bark cracked like a whip.
In an instant, the air around the platform seemed to congeal. Only the moan of lake-wind remained.
On the boards, the atmosphere solidified — nothing but two gazes colliding in silence, and the concentrated killing intent they threw off like sparks.
Luo Qiance did not draw his saber.
In his estimation, he had already mapped this youth’s every card.
Shen Xiuhan had brought a sword-case onto the platform, true, but he’d never shown a shred of sword-art foundation. Mei Hall had no sword tradition.
What the boy relied on was brute-force fists and feet — nothing more.
And fists and feet? That was a game Luo Qiance played too.
‘Since you fancy yourself a brawler, then I’ll crush you on your own ground — pure, overwhelming force. Total submission.’
A flash of steel-cold resolve in his eyes, and Luo Qiance’s qi-blood detonated beneath his feet.
BOOM!
Boards shattered.
His figure erupted into motion — a torrent threading through reefs — now left, now right, ghosting forward amid a flurry of afterimages.
The Fury-Sea School’s superior movement art —
Fury Tide Nine Folds!
At the killing distance, his hands shot out. Ten fingers danced, alive with lethal intent.
Coiled Silk, Gentle Cloud Hand!
In Luo Wancheng’s hands, this technique had been mediocre.
In Luo Qiance’s, it had truly reached the realm of “drawing silk, peeling layers — softness concealing death.”
FWOOSH! FWOOSH! FWOOSH! FWOOSH!
Both hands whirled, targeting joints — wrist, elbow — seizing, locking, crushing.
Facing the bone-deep entanglement, Shen Xiuhan showed no alarm.
Changyun County had too few Manifest Strength fighters who could push him to his limit.
A deep-reservoir scion like Luo Qiance was a rare find.
Shen Xiuhan was quite content to use him as a whetstone — to test the full measure of his own arsenal.
Heavenly Vulture Twisting-Wind Hand!
Shen Xiuhan slung the sword-case across his back. Both hands shifted from fists to talons, and he met the charge head-on.
PAP PAP PAP PAP!
In the narrow space between them, a savage close-quarters brawl erupted.
Luo Qiance coiled like a venomous snake — fingers and palms weaving, yielding and lethal.
Shen Xiuhan stood like forged steel — claw-force ferocious, great sweeping arcs.
Knuckle on knuckle. Grapples and locks. Elbow strikes, knee jabs.
Speed matched speed. Every blow aimed at a vital. Each exchange rang with the dull crack of bone meeting flesh.
In barely a dozen breaths, they had traded forty or fifty blows.
The crowd below watched with bulging eyes, not daring to breathe.
On the platform.
Force-wind lashed in every direction.
Luo Qiance’s face showed nothing — but inside, the deeper they fought, the more alarmed he became.
He had assumed that his Full Mastery Coiled Silk, Gentle Cloud Hand and his vaunted Fury Tide Nine Folds would be more than enough to dismantle the boy.
But Shen Xiuhan’s reserves were absurdly robust.
No matter how Luo Qiance maneuvered and pressed, the youth’s claws and kicks dissolved every wave.
Worse still — amid this punishing exchange, Shen Xiuhan’s transitions between techniques were growing smoother with every passing breath. As though he were using an opponent to drill his forms.
‘This brat is using me as a sparring dummy?!’
The realization that Shen Xiuhan was only defending, never attacking — toying with him at leisure — hit Luo Qiance like a slap to the face.
“You’re asking for it!”
A furious bark.
His footwork exploded, and he used the momentum of a fist-to-claw clash to blast himself backward, ripping open distance.
No more holding back. His right hand shot to his back.
ZHENG!
A crisp saber-note. The goose-quill saber cleared its sheath.
Luo Qiance’s aura transformed. Killing intent locked onto Shen Xiuhan like a physical weight.
He moved.
Arrow-fast, trailing a short, sharp crack of split air.
The goose-quill saber came in slash after slash — countless fine arcs of light — a net descending over Shen Xiuhan’s head.
Misty Rain Saber — Spring Rain, Endless Veil!
Before the blade arrived, the gossamer-thin saber-momentum was already washing over him. The air seemed to hiss and whisper, as though a thousand threads of rain were drifting down.
Shen Xiuhan’s gaze sharpened.
The Golden Vulture Soaring Wind Art surged to full capacity, qi-blood flooding both arms.
His left thumb flicked the sword-case latch. The lid popped. His right hand plunged in, five fingers locking around the hilt.
CLANG!
A ringing sword-cry, clear as a dragon’s voice.
Cold Granary — drawn!
Shen Xiuhan sank his hips. The sword-tip didn’t meet the saber head-on. Instead, a flick and turn of the wrist traced a precise, exquisite circle — a dense, supple force flowing outward like drifting cloud and mist, borrowing his opponent’s momentum and deflecting the saber’s force by three degrees.
Flowing Cloud Sword — Mist-Cloud Mountain Push!
Up on the viewing platform, Ji Shuying gasped.
“Little Six — he’s only had the manual for days, and he’s already executing the Flowing Cloud Sword’s killing forms?”
On the other side, the Mei Hall contingent stared with saucer-eyes.
“What gorgeous swordplay! Senior Brother Shen knows the sword too?”
“Second Senior Brother — does our Mei Hall have a sword tradition?”
“No… this is almost certainly Junior Brother Shen’s own fortune. Quiet — watch!”
On the platform.
A soft HISS.
Shen Xiuhan’s sword-tip rode the redirected momentum and touched — precisely — the weak point on the goose-quill saber’s flank.
Luo Qiance’s face changed. He immediately pulled the saber back and retreated, a numb tingle spreading through the tiger’s mouth of his grip.
‘This kid actually knows swordplay — and his skill is far from shallow!’
Luo Qiance’s face went iron-dark. Every last trace of condescension burned away.
He drew a steadying breath, reversed his grip, and brought the saber cleaving down again.
CLANG CLANG CLANG CLANG!
Sharp and muffled impacts detonated in rapid succession. Force collided wildly. The escaping qi-wind snapped both their robes.
Luo Qiance unleashed twenty-three consecutive full-power slashes.
Every one was deflected — and in the gaps, Shen Xiuhan even managed a cold, darting counter-thrust.
‘I can’t drag this out!’
Luo Qiance bit down, turned his blade, and shifted into a far denser, more relentless pattern.
Misty Rain Saber — Blade-Will Like a Cage!
Saber-light layered upon itself — curtain after curtain — until it seemed almost solid. Wave upon wave bore down on Shen Xiuhan.
Every stroke carried the silent, insidious lethality of fine rain soaking through — designed to trap the opponent inside a cage of steel.
“Superb bladework!”
On the viewing stand, Zhao Zheng’s eyes lit up. “I’m a saber-man myself. At his age, I wasn’t this good.”
Beside him, Wang Zhidao gave a rare nod of approval.
“Qiance is impressive. Worthy of a top-three ranking among the Fury-Sea School’s outer-gate disciples. Solid execution.”
“Heh…”
Even the ever-silent Bai Qingcang let out a raspy chuckle, his voice like a cracked gong.
“That’s the subordinate saber art stripped from the Fury-Sea School’s Ice-Soul Misty Rain Saber, isn’t it? Looks like he’s nearly reached Perfection.”
“Indeed…”
Luo Changming stroked his beard, satisfaction plain.
“Qiance does have a gift for the blade. His Misty Rain Saber is on the cusp of Perfection. Art and foundation combined — he is, for all intents and purposes… flawless.”
Hearing the four Transforming Strength masters’ commentary, Mei Shuangfeng’s brow creased.
She, too, could see that Luo Qiance had begun — inch by inch — to seize control since going all-out.
That airtight saber-cage seemed to have pressed Shen Xiuhan into a purely defensive stance.
And yet, inside the eye of the storm, Shen Xiuhan showed not a flicker of panic.
‘A true scion of a great martial sect — this is genuinely the strongest Manifest Strength fighter I’ve faced.’
‘A shame… that you ran into me.’
A cold smile.
In the next heartbeat, without warning, a flash of uncanny gold blazed through the pupil of his left eye.
The Void-Gazing Eye!
A single golden comma-jewel took shape beneath his iris.
In an instant, the seemingly flawless, unending curtain of saber-light slowed in his vision.
Four precise gaps in the flow of force — four openings — stood exposed beneath the golden pupil, clear as day.
“Found you.”
A lethal gleam crossed Shen Xiuhan’s gaze. He let out a long, piercing shout.
“Break!”
SWISH!
Cold Granary rang with a cry that could split stone and pierce cloud.
Then Shen Xiuhan committed — body and blade as one — and drove straight at the gap on the left flank of the saber-cage. A single, decisive thrust.