The sun hung just over the horizon, shining rays that illuminated the Reclusive Sword Mountain Sect. Amid the cold morning mountain breezes, the sunlight granted a welcome warmth that helped stave off chills for all those present. On the second step enclosure of the sect, a huge crowd stood watching with bated breath.

Hushed whispers rolled over the arena as many onlookers observed the scene. Standing inside were 10 martial artists, a mix of sect disciples, and wandering martial artists. Fan Zhong was one of them and he stood with an air of calm with a deadly battle intent lurking deep within his gaze. This was the third set of groups that had entered the three arenas to do battle this morning.

There were approximately 300 participants and so it had been decided that groups of 10 would be chosen to enter each of the three arenas. From those inside only the top five left standing would be allowed to advance. Currently, Fan Zhong’s group was located inside the western arena of the tournament grounds.

Alongside him, there were six sect disciples and three wandering martial artists each of them giving off the distinct impression of someone in the Second-grade realm. It was unfortunate that none of them were stronger, however, it would do as a preliminary. Suddenly a ripple spread throughout the air as a streak of light shot upward from the center of the area.

That signaled the start of the round and Fan Zhong simply leaned on the mortal treasure wood staff in his hands, nodding coldly to the other contestants as they charged toward one another. It felt unfair if he was to simply choose which of them would proceed by attacking so he let them fight it out amongst themselves. For these more junior martial artists, it could be considered bad luck that they had been assigned to this group.

Currently, Fan Zhong didn’t want to seem like someone who would bully others. Surprisingly, however, one of the wandering martial artists who was adorned in a blue robe with flowing waves on it approached him. He was two heads shorter than Fan Zhong and sported short-cut blonde hair with hazel-colored eyes.

This man looked young and he sported a medium build that was slightly stocky while giving off a dense feeling. In his hands was a spear that measure two and a half meters in length.

“Senior Fan Zhong, do you dare show your skills in front of my spear?” The youth’s words were respectful however, they carried an undertone of pride and arrogance.

“Junior, there is a difference between heaven and earth. Do you wish to simply exit the tournament so soon? If so, just forfeit now, otherwise courting death when it does not want to be found!” Fan Zhong replied with a frown on his face.

In truth, he felt awkward referring to someone as junior however, it had been many years since he was among the youngest walking the martial path. Having been around powerful martial artists his entire life Fan Zhong felt he was doing a good impression of a grumpy senior chiding an overeager youngster.

“Hmph, how can I know the difference between heaven and earth without being shown? Senior, please advise.” The young man seemed undeterred and he started charging with his last words.

Inwardly Fan Zhong sighed while shaking his head. This willfulness reminded him of a day long ago, of a youth bullying him and Fan Yong on a deserted street. Taking a deep breath he steadied his mind as mental energy surged through his awareness.

Between the two of them was only a distance of around 10 meters, to begin with, and in that single breath, the youth had already crossed two meters. Even so in Fan Zhong’s eyes, his charge that seemed to slightly blur his figure to mortal eyes slowed to a walking pace as his gaze gained a trace of killing intent. As he went forward a single step his body seemed to fall forward with the movement.

In just that step it seemed as if Fan Zhong had gained the speed of someone who had sprinted a distance to accelerate to their top speed. Instantly his second and third steps carried his body over the ground five meters while his figure blurred in the sights of those not using mental energy. At the same time, a sense of bewilderment and primal terror appeared in the youth’s eyes.

By the time he reacted, however, it was already too late. An ‘Origin Piercing Palm’ powered staff point appeared before the youth and rammed between his eyes. His spear had been held in front of him but the staff seemed to shift at just the right angle to slip past his guard. In that single exchange Fan Zhong appeared behind him in a blur, leaning on his staff with a calm look on his face.

Behind him, the youth had slumped to the floor with a red mark between his brows as he lay on the floor unconscious. Ripples spread out from above the sprawled-out wandering martial artist as the arena arrays worked to equally dissipate the force of the strike. All around the arena, the runes hummed to life ever so briefly to ensure no serious injuries happened.

Until this point the arrays had still been working to do this however they only appeared like this when a significant enough force was present. As the effects of that clash died down the other participants of this group also finished their bouts. In the ensuing melee that had followed four remained with two being sect disciples and two being the remaining wandering martial artists.

The sect disciples wore the traditional martial robes of the sect and each wielded a sword. One of them was a man while the other was a woman. Among the wandering martial artists, both were women leaving with one having rustic furs overlaid on a set of ordinary clothes while wielding an ax and shield. For the other wandering martial artist, she had traditional valley clan robes on and wielded a saber with a small shield in her left hand.

Seeing the two shields caught his interest as not many used shields in the valley. It was not that shields were not useful, in fact, they were extremely useful. However, as one got stronger they needed weapons or magical treasures that could take the punishment of their opponents as well as their strength.

It had to be said that magical treasures cost a fortune to refine and the larger the vessel needed to be the higher the cost got. As such shields being secondary items that were rather large in many cases tended to become prohibitively expensive once one crossed the Master realm threshold. That was not to mention full sets of armor which could only be afforded by those incredibly rich factions and families.

From what Fan Zhong knew this was why many styles forwent teaching shields entirely as it would only inhibit the potential of their students. Sure one could say that such techniques were useful to train large amounts of weak soldiers however, who wanted to train a style that was a dead end? Even Second-grade martial artists had astonishing processing power compared to basic mortals and as such, it wouldn’t take long for them to understand the folly of this path!

At the end of the day, everyone who walked the martial path dreamed of one day reaching a high realm. Although it might be a pipe dream, who was willing to give up on such a dream of power and long life? Sighing internally he simply dismissed the matter as the others seemed to be gathering around him and he had no more time for such thoughts.

“Senior, forgive us for being rude. However, if we don’t all work together then even the smallest chance of victory is unlikely.” The male sect disciple said with a voice full of respect as he clasped his hands in a martial salute while bowing to Fan Zhong.

One of the two wandering martial artists, the woman with furs overtop of her robes, snorted with displeasure but still held herself back.

“En, attack as you wish.” Fan Zhong’s voice was calm as he spoke while still leaning on the staff.

“Then we won’t stand on ceremony, let me see the vaunted prowess of the Fan clan!” This voice came from the women in valley clan robes who held a saber and shield.

Instantly all four of them rushed at him as two swords, a saber, and an ax cut arcs through the air from all sides. The swords were fast even to Fan Zhong’s perception as they moved almost at a slight jogging pace while the saber seemed to move with unnatural grace. Even though that saber was still at a walking pace in his eyes it was as if it was revolving around the shield which felt like an incoming mountain.

Conversely, the ax gave off the impression of a tyrannical sharpness that seemed to descend from the heavens while the shield accompanying it was reserved and graceful. Although each of these only contained the shadow of a shadow of these forces Fan Zhong still nodded upon seeing it. He had much respect for the amount of effort put into their arts.

Even though they were weak compared to him, it could never be said that any martial artist's efforts should be put to shame. In a sudden rush of motion, he took a step forward at the two approaching swordsmen, dropping to his left to slip away from the saber. His staff whirled in arcs around his hand as he contact juggled it to generate two more steps worth of speed in that single motion.

At the same time, his movements put him under the ax attack which he slipped past. Although the ax was tyrannical it was the slowest of all of them. Just one step generated the same speed that had taken him three in the previous exchange. Like a viper, his staff struck out with a shifting palm strike that pushed the male sect disciple’s sword of course.

As he did so he caught the weapon in a bind and slid his staff forward across the blade to deliver an ‘Origin Piercing Palm’ strike between the man’s brows. Borrowing his still cycling momentum Fan Zhong arrived at the left-hand side of the female sect disciple as she was still turning to face him. Her blade lashed out in an upward diagonal cut which was met by a shifting palm strike from the opposing angle.

With brute strength he overpowered her, shoving the sword into the ground before continuing the motion to spin his staff. As Fan Zhong’s left hand pressed down to finish the shifting palm his right hand cradled the other end of the weapon. The air resounded with a boom as the array lit up and the opposite end of his staff crashed into the female disciple’s head, toppling her like a stack of bricks.

As this, all happened the two wandering martial artists had only just finished arriving at his original location and turned to face him. Fan Zhong leveled a small smile at them while battle intent blazed in his eyes. Each of them revealed an expression of fright and a cold shiver ran down their spine as he took a calm breath.

For the first time since the round had started Fan Zhong fell into a fight stance with that single breath, exuding an invincible pressure throughout the entire arena. Faster than even the last exchange he took three steps and blurred. Two bangs resounded in the air as each of the wandering martial artists raised their shields while swinging outward with their weapons.

In that blur Fan Zhong dropped low to the ground, launching an ‘Earth Origin Piercing Palm’ that arced upward under the saber-wielding woman’s shield. A staff tip connected with her chin sending the woman upward into the air a meter. Borrowing that momentum he spun the staff around his wrist and caught it with both hands to clash with the other wandering martial artist's ax.

This was the second bang that had sounded out in this exchange as his staff trembled ever so slightly as it blocked the ax blade mere centimeters from his face. Almost as soon as this happened Fan Zhong let some of the force of the ax through as he twisted his upper body toward the ground to roll with the momentum. In doing so his legs shot up into the air as if he was doing a handstand and his right foot hooked onto the outstretched end of his staff.

With one final rush of motion, he brought the weapon down with an ax kick that landed between the wandering martial artist's neck and shoulder. In just a moment he was on his feet standing over the two of them while leaning on his staff, a bored look once again on his face. This had done well… for a warmup.

Fan Yong looked out over the eastern arena as his opponents lined up. This was the eighth set of combatants that had been chosen and his luck had been rather rotten. Inside the arena with him were four disciples and five wandering martial artists.

What had soured his mood, however, was one of the sect's disciples. Tiyun Areal stood there in an aloof manner as she stared into the sky with a cold expression. Although he hadn’t interacted with her much since she’d clashed with Fan Zhong it had left him with a less-than-favorable impression of the core disciple. Gritting his teeth he took a few breaths to calm himself as he settled into a fighting stance.

Soon the signal to start rang out and the circle of combatants quickly rushed to meet one another. Fan Yong dashed to his left, away from where the aloof Tiyun Areal had gone. His opponent was a stocky middle-aged wandering martial artist. The man was adorned with a plain shirt and pants, the clothes of a hunter instead of a martial artist.

In his hands was a two-handed mace that he brandished in an overbearing fashion. With a quick shuffle Fan Yong dodged to the left as the mace sailed through the space he had just been in. As his momentum carried him forward he lashed out with a quick ‘Earth Shifting Palm’ to the man’s shin eliciting a grunt of pain.

At the moment the man was stunned he quickly struck forward with the top of his staff in a ‘Heaven Shifting Palm’ to the side of his opponent’s neck. This was followed by two other strikes to the outside of the left elbow and right knee. All of this happened in a blur as Fan Yong’s movements seemed to slow slightly while his momentum was shifted into the attack.

Finally, once the wandering martial artist was completely off balance Fan Yong withdrew slightly to fall into a void gate stance before taking a breath in. His staff blued in an arc around his body as it carried the remaining momentum he had built and as soon as it landed in his hands he struck. An ‘Origin Palm Strike’ that slammed the back end of his weapon into the man’s stomach, right above his belly button, with a booming force.

As this happened a lancing pain appeared on Fan Yong’s right side. Quickly he allowed his body to fall to the left while twisting to get his feet under him. Using his movement technique that force was converted into a step's worth of momentum.

Combining this with a push-off with his feet he quickly dodged to the left while turning to face the attacker. It was Tiyun Areal who held her blade poised towards him with an air of elegance as a drop of blood dripped off the tip. The wound was superficial as the surrounding arrays had dispersed the force; however, part of that force was distributed to Fan Yong’s body as well.

He knew this was so that slashing and piercing weapons were disadvantaged against blunt weapons. This knowledge didn’t make the hot pain lancing through a large area of his side go away, however.

“Commendable, it seems both you and Brother Zhong have improved. Are you able to continue?” The woman’s voice was serene and carried an air of… respect?

Previously she had been arrogant however, now it seemed that tune was changing. Looking behind her Fan Yong couldn’t help but gasp inwardly as the unconscious bodies of each of the other contestants were on the ground. The feat wasn’t beyond him however, it would take more time.

What shocked him was the ruthlessness that Tiyun Areal had used against these Second-grade realm juniors. He had at least been holding back against the mace wielder, attempting to engage the man in a contest of technique skill. She on the other hand has simply blitzed through the others.

“Indeed, it seems that Sister Areal is as ruthless to others as you are to yourself, eh?” Fan Yong’s words contained a bit of disapproval as he frowned.

“This is a tournament, if they lacked confidence in themselves they shouldn’t have entered. The martial path has many variables one must contend with Brother Yong. Talent, birth, resources, and even luck. Would you coddle them and simply set false expectations? I expected better of someone who has seen so much.” Tiyun Areal’s voice was ice cold as she said this, leveling a gaze filled with disapproval right back at him.

“It seems that we simply view the world differently, Sister Areal. What you say isn’t wrong but, I still disagree. Come then, show me your path like a martial artist, if you can!” Fan Yong replied with a slight sigh before resolve entered his eyes as he charged forward.

He dropped low to the ground and took a curved path to the left of his opponent. As he did so he spun his staff in a figure out around him to build extra momentum. A feint brought him inside striking measure for his staff as he brought it forward while shifting to grip the lower portion. The front end of the weapon lashed out like a cobra looking to hit the elbow of the enemy’s sword arm.

Tiyun Areal snapped forward with a circular wrist cut that connected with the staff just a centimeter below the tip right at the highest point of control on her blade. Fan Yong was already pulling the staff back and twisting to change directions. He had intended to feint and come closer on her right-hand side, inside his opponent’s guard.

Even still that wrist cut slammed his staff with such force he had to contact juggle it into an arc to dissipate the force. Meanwhile, his path of attack was cut off as he retreated to bring his weapon back in position. As he did so the woman was like a wraith as he didn’t allow him to make distance, strike out with a thrust at his throat.

Fan Yong saw a blur of silver and he barely managed to shove the sword off course enough to make it go to the left of his head. With a grunt he spun the lower side of his weapon to strike at Tiyun Areal’s midsection, forcing her to retreat a step. After all this, hot blood streaked down his face as the sword cut a wound across his cheek.

Almost immediately the woman charged forward again, her sword seeming to thrust out straightforwardly. Fan Yong met it with a shifting palm strike which turned out to be a blessing as the thrust was a feint. Halfway into her movements, Tiyun Areal’s footwork changed and her forward foot landed at an outside angle.

Suddenly her blade went from thrusting to slashing upward from a slightly lower point outside Fan Yong’s original guard position. By sheer luck he had stepped left instead of right with his footwork while countering, otherwise, the sword would’ve been at his throat. Several more quick circular wrist cuts followed this before the two ended up in a brief weapon bind with Tiyun Areal gaining much ground.

Fan Yong found it awkward to fight at this close of a distance with his long weapon and he hadn’t trained in weapon binding as much as Fan Zhong had. In a moment the two follow each other's weapons circling to give pressure while pressing forward and retreating. Just as he thought he had the upper hand his opponent’s sword retreated ever so slightly faster than he could react.

With the sword so close and already in motion it stabbed into his left shoulder as a boom echoed in the air from the speed of the blade. Fan Yong screamed in agony as he stumbled five steps backward before falling to his knees. As he did so he looked up to see Tiyun Areal standing still, five steps away.

She stared at him with the same cold aloofness that was always on her face.

“Well done Brother Yong, your skill has improved greatly since the last time we spared.” She said to him, a genuine small smile briefly appearing on her face.

Fan Yong was shocked upon seeing this, in his eyes, this woman had great enmity with him and Fan Zhong! Every time they had interacted she had been cold and even disapproving of their martial arts. Yet now she was smiling at him?

“Hmph, lacing words with honey now? What do you hope to gain from my Fan clan, Sister Areal?” Fan Yong’s eyes were filled with unwillingness as suspicion laced his words.

In his eyes, the only reason for her attitude change was to curry favor! Obviously, she had discovered something they had that she needed, or perhaps she was looking to get closer to Xing Zheng?

“What?!” She replied, seeming genuinely appalled and shocked at the suggestion. “Can I not compliment Brother Yong’s progress without having schemes? You’ve worked hard and so has Brother Zhong, is it so bad to acknowledge that?”

For her part, Tiyun Areal was equally shocked by the accusation. She had been born in the sect and it was normal to judge others based on their martial skill. It was rather common for two disciples to butt heads rather heatedly before reconciling after training hard, spurred on by the emotions rallied in those confrontations.

The incident with Fan Zhong had been a bit unique in that she had become particularly heated given the circumstances. After that during the exhibition match the sect master had given out she still harbored resentment as neither of them had been in the sect that long. As the days passed and she reflected, however, those emotions simply spurred her training as they always had.

Coupled with this was the genuine admiration Tiyun Areal had for how hard both Fan clan members had worked to improve themselves over the months. She’d been looking forward to fighting them during this tournament but any thoughts of animosity had simply dissipated during her meditation and training. All of this left her frowning and looking at Fan Yong with an appalled expression.

“It seems that words have been spoken; however, silence is all that was heard. Come then, let's finish this.” Fan Yong simply shook his head in exasperation, not knowing what to make of the woman in front of him.

With a frown, his opponent just nodded and sunk into a low fighting stance. Taking a deep breath Fan Yong started contact juggling his staff as he slowly walked forward, swaying his body from side to side. It gave one the impression that his staff was a wall of spinning would that could strike out in any direction.

His staff gained a terrifying momentum and after three steps his figure blurred as he charged forward. Meanwhile Tiyun areal simply stood up straight, letting her sword fall to a low guard as her expression turned serene. The air boomed as a staff that seemed to leave an afterimage arced down from above, slamming down at an angle at her shoulder.

With what seemed like an incredibly slow motion she raised her sword and what seemed to be trailing afterimages followed behind this slow raising. Her sword seemed to arrive at the staff and follow it as it descended, tapping it multiple times in seemingly random places. When the staff was only 10 centimeters from her it stopped, her sword seemingly glued to the tip of it.

Fan Yong simply stared at the scene with wide eyes as he strained to move his weapon. It was as if a mountain was holding it in place and it wouldn’t budge an inch. In one swift motion, Tiyun Areal swung her sword in a graceful diagonal slash across Fan Yong’s chest, eliciting a sharp whistle in the air.

A slash appeared across his whole body and the rebound force from the arrays lessening the impact sent him flying into the fence surrounding the arena. With a crash, he landed on the ground in a heap. Silence filled the air as runes lit up all around the arena with dense green light.

These were the emergency healing formations meant to provide first aid if the array formations didn’t disperse enough force. Although they would always ensure the life of the contestants, under a certain level of force, these emergency arrays were activated on rare occasions to stop long-term injuries.

“Well fought, Brother Yong. To pull out so much of my strength is commendable.” Tiyun Areal’s voice was light and calm as she clasped her hands in a martial salute toward his unconscious form before she walked out of the arena.

Xing Zheng watched the match proceed with his ever-calm and sagely demeanor. He was seated high in the stands bordering the southern part of the central arena. It was a platform that was placed some 10 meters higher than the rows of benches that made up a majority of the stands. The platform itself was around 10 meters wide and five meters lengthwise.

Large throne-like chairs adorned this platform with 12 of them in total. 10 of these were occupied by the Sect Master and his ‘Nine Swords’ who helped run the sect. Xing Zheng occupied the last seat and was right next to the Sect Master as a guest of honor. Around them were various disciples who delivered wine and refreshments and even conveyed some minor matters of importance.

Currently, Fan Yong’s match had just ended and sect disciples were carrying him to the side of the arena in a stretcher. Although he knew the youth would be ok given the safety measures in place, Xing Zheng couldn’t help but furrow his brows at the sight.

“That was a rather good showing by Junior Fan Yong, Brother Zhang Zheng.” Master Bai Yi said with a small smile as she turned to face him from his left. “My disciple is rather strong among the younger generation, to be able to pull out so much of her strength is a credit to him!”

Xing Zheng suppressed a small spark of irritation at the comment. It was both a slightly teasing remark and a boast of her disciple which was rather normal, among peers. However, he had taken a liking to the Fan clan boys and as a spirit realm cultivator, a bit of the pride in his heart was stirring.

“Ehhh,” a slight cough came from his right as the Sect Master spoke before he had a chance to respond, “I think what Master Bai Yi means is that she is rather proud of Disciple Tiyun Areal’s attainment in her ‘World condensed to the blade’ technique. Isn’t that right Master Bai Yi?”

The Sect Master leveled a slight glare at the woman as he finished speaking.

“Ahh? O… Of course Sect Master. Disciple Areal is my pride and joy.” Master Bai Yi hastily averted her gaze while replying quickly.

“Indeed, her sword techniques are rather good, Sister Bai Yi. I imagine her attainments in effect manipulation won’t be small when she crosses the master realm threshold.” Xing Zheng had long since gotten ahold of that small spark of irritation and he replied with the same slightly jovial and calm tone that always seemed to pervade his words.

Like this, the evening proceeded as the preliminaries of the Reclusive Sword Sect’s Tournament drew to a close.