Chapter 819: Sword Duel and Guest Visit, Neither Delayed
Liu Xianyang showed up today with neither a sword at his waist nor one on his back, empty-handed. Originally, he had considered carrying a sword, at least to put up the appearance of a sword cultivator, but after seeing Chen Ping'an with a sword on his back and looking rather presentable, he decided against it.
At this moment, Liu Xianyang stood at ease with his arms crossed, not far from the mountain gate archway. He looked up at the plaque bearing the calligraphy "Zhengyang" and gradually, his expression twisted into something awkward.
Earlier, that fellow Chen Ping'an had joked with him, saying, "Your name is well-chosen—does it mean you envy Zhengyang Mountain?" That had left Liu Xianyang dumbfounded for a long time, thoroughly disgusted. He had drunk an entire pot of wine in gloomy silence without snapping out of it. Zhengyang Mountain was truly a disaster. Tomorrow's sword duel, he needed to give their Patriarch Hall a piece of advice: they might as well listen to the suggestion and change the name.
Yesterday, while drinking at the Guoyun Pavilion, amidst the jokes, Chen Ping'an tossed out a booklet, saying it might come in handy for tomorrow's sword duel. Liu Xianyang casually flipped through it, only remembering the gist and not taking it to heart.
For the older generation—Bamboo Emperor, Xia Yuancui, Tao Yanbo, Yan Chu, and others—these old sword immortals had their natal flying swords, dueling styles, and trump cards all detailed in that "family tree" compiled by Chen Ping'an.
As for the younger generation of sword immortals, especially those likely to step forward first for the duel—Liu Yu, Yu Lin, Wu Tijing, Yuan Bai, and others—every single one was listed in the booklet.
It wasn't that Liu Xianyang was arrogant to the point of looking down on everyone. Rather, when a person has a friend named Chen Ping'an by his side, he can be free from worries and feel exceptionally relaxed.
Still, Liu Xianyang was indeed very confident; he had been that way since childhood. He learned everything quickly—not just grasping the basics, but with just a little effort, he could master any skill. For instance, porcelain firing involved over a dozen craft steps, each a hurdle requiring deep knowledge, yet Liu Xianyang had only spent half a year practicing and already attained a level of skill that rivaled old masters with decades of accumulated expertise.
Old Yao, that picky dragon kiln master, could only mutter a few principles beyond the craft itself—things like: porcelain is formed in fire, but must shed all fiery temperament to be considered top-notch; the longer it's stored, like being immersed in water, quietly refining over hundreds or thousands of years, the more it gleams.
That fellow Chen Ping'an was a bit slower, and he took things too seriously, so he could only obediently follow behind Liu Xianyang, imitating him but never quite getting it right.
Liu Xianyang wasn't anxious in the slightest. Since he had declared a sword duel, he didn't care who came to accept the challenge. It was best if they dragged it out, allowing the cultivators of the entire continent, both inside and outside Zhengyang Mountain, to appreciate more of Liu Xianyang's dashing elegance.
But looking at that plaque was truly irritating, so he withdrew his gaze and began to close his eyes and rest.
Earlier, when he had flown from the inn to this place, he glanced back at the Guoyun Pavilion and found that Chen Ping'an had vanished. He had no idea where that sneaky fellow had slunk off to. It certainly wasn't the "Sword Summit" at the First Peak Patriarch Hall, because otherwise there would have been an uproar by now. And since Liu Xianyang himself was the one challenging at the mountain gate, Chen Ping'an was still being considerate, not stealing the spotlight.
Friends like that—one is enough. "By day, refining a thousand years of dreams; by night, roaming like a wanderer of ten thousand years." That described me, Liu Xianyang.
Wei Yueshan, the steward of Egret Ferry, rushed hastily to the Guoyun Pavilion on the mountain and exchanged bewildered looks with his junior sister Ni Yuerong.
And wasn't the friend staying with Cao Mo in this first-class room a mountain-and-wild rogue cultivator from Old Dragon City? How had he suddenly become Liu Xianyang, a direct disciple of the Dragon Spring Sword Sect?
Thus, it was beyond doubt that the Daoist master with the lotus crown had forged his travel documents. Yet that young Daoist, going by the name Cao Mo, wore a fine green gauze robe full of water-and-cloud qi, and held a white jade ganoderma—it added the finishing touch to his aura of a hermit sage. Even if that scoundrel claimed he wasn't a Daoist, no one would believe him.
At least the two from Green Mist Peak, even at this moment, felt that the man had only given a false name; he was surely a Daoist immortal bearing an official Daoist registry. Could it be that this long journey was to protect Liu Xianyang in his doomed sword duel, backed by the lotus crown on his head?
Ni Yuerong looked crestfallen, hating Liu Xianyang for being tired of living and not even choosing a good place to die, and hating even more that accomplice Cao Mo. With a sweep of her sleeve, she smashed the rattan chair behind her, which she found annoying even without looking at it. She stomped her foot and said, "Those two wretched bastards deserve a thousand deaths. They slipped through my hands to cause trouble at First Peak. When the sect leader and the ancestors are furious, and they blame me for negligence, what am I going to do?"
Wei Yueshan comforted her, "It might not be entirely bad. There's a saying among the common folk: when building a house, if there's no commotion, it won't thrive. A bit of friction can actually be good. Those two skulking folks don't have the demeanor of Yellow River. At best, they're a Golden Core sword immortal and an Embryonic Breathing Daoist. In other places, throwing their weight around might be easy, but here, they can't stir up much trouble—just entertainment."
Ni Yuerong nodded slightly, though her expression was hard to hide sorrow, and her moist eyes were full of grievance.
On the square outside the Patriarch Hall on the summit of First Peak, the group of young female cultivators from Qiongzhi Peak's Flower and Wood Workshop were still busy arranging the seats and tables with flowers and fruits. For the honored guests observing the ceremony, the seating arrangement and the placement of each chair couldn't have the slightest error, or they'd offend someone. So later, they would each lead a group of people to their seats.
Currently, no sword immortal from Zhengyang Mountain was guarding the place—it wasn't necessary. This crucial mountain gate had strict prohibitions, with crisscrossing sword qi dense and meticulous, sharp and heavy, making it impossible for any flowers or trees to grow on the summit. Even the cliff faces had to be refined through formations and spells to avoid shattering. The Patriarch Hall itself was a natural protective mountain formation. Even these women needed to wear specially made fasting tablets from Zhengyang Mountain to walk freely and breathe easily.
For an ordinary Golden Core sword cultivator to ascend the summit without permission would be like an uneven sword duel: one misstep could trigger the sword qi, and with luck, they'd be severely injured and flee down the mountain; without luck, they might leave their life behind on First Peak.
These lovely, chirping women were busy but orderly, each wearing a joyful expression. Their occasional whispers were about the young talents renowned across the continent—such as their own sect's Wu Tijing, Dragon Spring Sword Sect's Xie Ling, and True Martial Mountain's Yu Shiwu, who had a very high seniority and was said to be extremely handsome with a gentle demeanor. As for the academy's noble man Zhou Ju, he was even more interesting—alternating between being a worthy man, a noble man, a worthy man again, and then a noble man.
And, of course, they would talk about the female identity of Southern Marchmount Fan Shanjun, and the lofty grace and handsome appearance of Northern Marchmount Wei Shanjun.
Zhengyang Mountain's First Peak, aside from the main ordinary divine path, had ten "Sword Paths" personally carved out by sword immortals through generations, with a clear tradition of succession. Seven of these had already reached the summit, meaning that in Zhengyang Mountain's history, seven Jade Lake Realm sword immortals had achieved the Dao. The most recent one was the old patriarch Xia Yuancui. The remaining three, which hadn't quite reached the summit, were the Sword Paths opened by three Embryonic Breathing cultivators from Boyun Peak, Pianxian Peak, and Duixue Peak in the past.
This was the origin of Zhengyang Mountain's old ten peaks.
Thus, the Patriarch Hall was also called the Sword Summit, symbolizing that within the continent's mountains and rivers, this place was the pinnacle of the sword path. Achieving longevity and defying heaven's will rested solely on the word "strive." Later sword cultivators entering this mountain should not spare their lives; they should brandish their swords to reach the summit, tread on the mountains and rivers, with no one else by their side.
These maxims were deeply ingrained in the hearts of Zhengyang Mountain disciples.
Not far from the summit, Bamboo Emperor led thirty or forty immortal masters to rest temporarily at a Sword Halt Pavilion. Originally, they were waiting for the honored guests from various peaks to gather here. Once everyone arrived, according to Zhengyang Mountain tradition, Bamboo Emperor, as the sect leader, would lead all the sect's direct disciples and observing guests to hike up the mountain from the Sword Halt Pavilion at a leisurely pace, taking about two incense sticks' worth of time, to ascend to the Sword Summit together. Then they would enter the Patriarch Hall to offer incense, after which the celebration would officially begin, announcing to the entire continent that the mountain's protector, Yuan Zhenye, had advanced to the upper five realms.
Unexpectedly, a rebellious fellow named Liu Xianyang appeared, utterly insane, claiming he wanted a sword duel and to tear down the Patriarch Hall.
As a result, the guests from the various peaks—divided into the old ten peaks and the new ten peaks—seemed to have tacitly stopped, unwilling to rush to the ancestral mountain, just waiting to watch the drama.
At the Sword Halt Pavilion were Bamboo Emperor, the sect leader of First Peak; Xia Yuancui from the Jade Lake Realm of Manyue Peak; Tao Yanbo from Qiuling Mountain; and the law enforcer Yan Chu—all old sword immortals. And of course, the protector Yuan Zhenye, the "Moving Mountain Patriarch" in the eyes of Zhengyang Mountain's younger disciples, would not be absent.
Apart from Zhengyang Mountain's own patriarchs and direct disciples, all sword cultivators from outside—even the honored guests observing the ceremony—needed to remove their swords here.
That's why Li Tuanjing had once joked that any sword cultivator willing to remove their sword to enjoy the scenery at that small peak of Zhengyang Mountain didn't deserve to be called a sword cultivator.
Since the celebration was still half an hour away, the cultivators already at the Sword Halt Pavilion on First Peak were all old immortals with generations of friendship with Zhengyang Mountain. They showed anger at the untimely provocation by the young sword cultivator. "That brat is too arrogant. How did Ruan Qiong teach such an ill-mannered direct disciple?"
Bamboo Emperor, with a hint of apology, smiled at the many mountain friends, "I've made you all witness a joke."
First, Yellow River's sword duel at Egret Ferry, then Liu Xianyang showing up at the ancestral mountain gate, both demanding sword duels—it was indeed a bit noisy.
The white-robed old ape stood with his hands behind his back, walked alone to the railing, squinted down at the mountain gate below. "Little brat, you're quite sensible, knowing to offer your head to add splendor to my celebration. If I just beat you to death with a couple of punches, would that be too wasteful?"
A group of onlookers in the blink of an eye saw the show end; that didn't seem right.
An old immortal master with some connection to the Great Li Dynasty carefully weighed his words, then smiled, "That ignorant child is nothing but a frog at the bottom of a well. Sect Leader, you don't need to pay him any attention. Just drive him away."
Bamboo Emperor shook his head, "This man has had a minor grievance with our Zhengyang Mountain. Moreover, his ancestors are involved in an old matter with the mountain. I imagine Liu Xianyang has been planning this duel for a long time; it won't be easy to resolve peacefully."
Upon hearing this, the old immortal master understood immediately and dared not act as a mediator between Zhengyang Mountain and the Dragon Spring Sword Sect; it would be easy to offend both sides, not worth it.
Law enforcer Yan Chu thought for a moment and spoke via mind voice, "Sect Leader, maybe we should send a flying sword message to Yu Lin, telling him to leave Yujiao Peak immediately and accept this sword challenge?"
Yu Lin and Liu Xianyang were about the same age, both Golden Core sword cultivators.
If Yu Lin lost, there was still Yuan Bai of Duixue Peak. Yan Chu had long found Yuan Bai extremely irritating; every meeting he would be half-dead, sitting at the door like a door god. It would be best if Yuan Bai fought Liu Xianyang to the death at the mountain gate and they both died, leaving an extra chair in the Patriarch Hall later.
But then this old law enforcer shook his head, rejecting his own suggestion, and changed his mind, "Better to let Wu Tijing go directly. No dragging it out; finished in a few sword strokes. Don't delay the auspicious time of Protector Yuan's celebration."
Mountain sword duels generally had two outcomes: either a quick victory, resolved in an instant. Back then at the Wind and Snow Temple's Immortal Terrace, the duel between Yellow River and Su Jia was like that.
Alternatively, if the two sides were evenly matched and their natal flying swords didn't restrain each other, it could be extremely time-consuming, with sword light illuminating the world, and the battle could shift across ten thousand miles of mountains and rivers. The former was more common, but the latter also occurred often. Yan Chu was worried that Liu Xianyang was merely seeking fame—win one fight then stop—and was deliberately dragging things out with malicious intent. Claiming a sword duel, he'd actually be flying wildly between Zhengyang Mountain's peaks.
Once a sword duel began, no one could casually interrupt. With so many esteemed guests present at Zhengyang Mountain today, would they just wait for the duel to end? Let that Liu Xianyang roam recklessly around their peaks?
Bamboo Emperor thought for a while. Though he had a decision, he didn't intend to be a dictator. In a tone suggesting consultation, he asked, "I think losing one or two rounds at first is not a problem. Have one Dragon Gate Realm sword cultivator, one Golden Core, and one Nascent Soul each go. As long as we win the last one, how does that sound?"
Yan Chu frowned deeply and blurted out, "How can we afford to lose a sword duel today, under everyone's gaze? Right now, maybe even cultivators from Beiju Continent and Tongye Continent are watching our Zhengyang Mountain closely. If we can win but deliberately lose, treating it like a game, won't these old fellows be laughed at by cultivators across three continents?"
"Our Zhengyang Mountain, a proper sect, has always prided itself on the peaks' sword paths that can reach the heavens—unrivaled in the continent. And at this crucial moment of continental attention, a little brat comes knocking for a sword duel, and we have to deliberately lose a round? Have you, Bamboo Emperor, as sect leader, lost your mind? Or do you think Protector Yuan Zhenye's face isn't worth preserving, that it can be trampled by outsiders? Besides, that Dragon Spring Sword Sect bears the name 'sword'—who knows if that petty-minded Ruan Qiong didn't dare come himself and sent his disciple Liu Xianyang to sabotage?"
Xia Yuancui, however, felt that Bamboo Emperor's idea was prudent and demonstrated appropriate official decorum. The old patriarch stroked his beard with a smile, saying via mind voice, "We should at least save some face for that Sage Ruan. Young people's minds are unclear; they care about face, and their actions and words are inevitably rash. Since we're considered half their elders, if a young man seeks his own death, we can't just beat him to death."
Yan Chu nodded with a smile.
Xia Yuancui then communicated via mind voice, "On Qiongzhi Peak, there's that girl named Liu Yu who recently advanced to Dragon Gate Realm, right? Let Liu Yu lose, then let Yu Lin go down to accept the sword challenge. Even if they both lose, it's still fine—win the third round. Our Zhengyang Mountain might as well give the observing guests a bit more entertainment."
Tao Yanbo admired Xia Yuancui's scheming and cunning.
First Liu Yu, then Yu Lin—both had practiced swordsmanship for many years at Shenxiu Mountain in Longzhou, so they could be considered half of Liu Xianyang's fellow disciples.
If they won, it would clearly show that Zhengyang Mountain's sword path far surpassed the Dragon Spring Sword Sect. If they lost, discerning people would understand that Zhengyang Mountain was merely observing the etiquette of hospitality, giving Liu Xianyang an opportunity to reminisce with his "fellow disciples" in two matches.
The outcome of wins and losses would be decided early on in the sword path.
Moreover, once Zhengyang Mountain sent these two down to accept the sword, it would be obvious they didn't take Liu Xianyang's current sword duel seriously, showing great magnanimity.
But after the two polite rounds, when Zhengyang Mountain's side accepted the sword in the third round, if a sword immortal got a bit careless and struck too hard, breaking someone's natal flying sword or longevity bridge, even if unexpected, it would be understandable.
Back then, to delay Yellow River's breakthrough, Zhengyang Mountain's Patriarch Hall discussions had been quite troubled. The issue was that mountain sword duels, besides winning or losing, also valued face.
At that time, Zhengyang Mountain was far from having the confidence it had today; it couldn't afford to lose any face.
For example, Xia Yuancui was older, of the highest seniority, and a realm above Yellow River, so it was inappropriate for him to go to Thundercry Garden. Bamboo Emperor, as the sect leader, was an old sword immortal of the same generation as Li Tuanjing, so dueling Yellow River would be a breach of etiquette, landing them in similar awkward situations. Additionally, Tao Yanbo and law enforcer Yan Chu didn't dare claim any certainty of victory against Yellow River, who was at the same realm.
So in the end, they had pushed forward Yuan Bai, who had been temporarily transferred from guest elder to protector.
Times were different now, vastly different. The old sword immortals of Zhengyang Mountain's new and old peaks no longer felt uncertain of victory. Instead, none of them were willing to go down. Though it seemed like an easy gain, it was actually degrading. Tangling with that arrogant brat, dealing with a young Golden Core—what was the point of winning? It was a thankless task that wouldn't earn any face.
Among the top ten young cultivators of Bottle Gourd Continent, the first was Ma Kuxuan from True Martial Mountain, followed by Xie Ling, Liu Baqiao, Jiang Yun, Zhou Ju, Sui Youbian, Yu Shiwu, and others—all young geniuses who had shone brilliantly in the continental wars. Among the ten alternates, there was Wu Tijing, Bamboo Emperor's closed-door disciple, ranking extremely high, at second place.
Among these twenty, there was no one named Liu Xianyang—not even a single person surnamed Liu.
Bamboo Emperor asked, "Shall we proceed like this then?"
Several old sword immortals all felt this was feasible.
Finally, Yan Chu produced a talisman sword refined with a unique secret method, sending a flying sword message to Qiongzhi Peak. The sword light, like an autumn clarity, arced and shot straight toward Qiongzhi Peak.
At Beijian Peak, since no one was guarding it, the protector Yuan Zhenye, who had built a thatched hut to cultivate there, activated the mountain's water and land restrictions after going to the ancestral mountain.
The white-robed old ape felt a slight movement in his heart. He spread his palm, observing the mountains and rivers from afar. His intent covered the entire mountain, and the scenery of the land appeared in minute detail, but he found nothing unusual. Yuan Zhenye assumed it was just the usual birds hitting the mountain or the residual qi of some passing cultivator accidentally touching the restrictions.
Bamboo Emperor sensed the disturbance at the protector's location and immediately asked via mind voice, "Something wrong?"
The white-robed old ape shook his head with a smile, "Nothing."
Bamboo Emperor nodded with a smile. Indeed, now there were no major troubles at Zhengyang Mountain. Only many joyful events.
The founding ancestor of Qiongzhi Peak was a female sword immortal with the Dao name Ling Lao, named Leng Qi. She had been at the Golden Core Realm for two hundred years, wearing twin swords named Clearwater and Heavenly Wind. She was also proficient in immortal illusions, earning the mountain's reputation of "clear breeze under both arms, ascending as a feathered immortal."
Among the three sword cultivator prodigies who had ascended the mountain with Yu Lin, there was Liu Yu. The young girl had been successfully snatched by Qiongzhi Peak and became a direct disciple of Leng Qi, the peak's founding ancestor.
After receiving the talisman sword message from Law Enforcer Uncle, Leng Qi rare smiled. This old woman, with an extremely aged face, white hair and wrinkled skin, sharp eyes, had deep authority on Qiongzhi Peak, and no one dared to contradict her. However, toward her new direct disciple Liu Yu, she was extremely kind. She said softly, "The Law Enforcer from First Peak sent a message, hoping you'll fly your sword to the ancestral mountain and duel with Dragon Spring Sword Sect's Liu Xianyang. The letter said to do your best within one incense stick's time, winning or losing doesn't matter."
But could official words be taken at face value?
Liu Yu was clearly nervous. In mountain cultivation, whether at Shenxiu Mountain or Qiongzhi Peak, she had never actually engaged in a real one-on-one sword duel before, especially since the opponent was Sage Ruan's direct disciple. And she would have to deliver her sword strikes under the gaze of the continent's peak immortal masters. How could she not be flustered?
Leng Qi then smiled, "Treat this sparring as a reunion. Duel beautifully, Yu'er."
"Just remember one thing: in the final strokes, don't diminish the prestige of Qiongzhi Peak's founding ancestors."
Liu Yu said softly, "Master, the Dragon Spring Sword Sect already knows about my flying sword and divine abilities. And since he's Sage Ruan's direct disciple, he might seize the initiative."
Her natal flying sword was called Reed Flower. Once summoned, it would transform into a thousand strands like a sky full of reed flowers.
Leng Qi smiled, "It doesn't matter. Just do as I say. Don't overthink."
Liu Yu took a deep breath, drew her long sword, tapped her toes lightly, and gracefully stepped onto the sword, flying down the mountain to the gate of First Peak.
Law enforcer Yan Chu saw the graceful figure from Qiongzhi Peak and activated a divine ability, announcing loudly, "Liu Yu of Qiongzhi Peak, Dragon Gate Realm sword cultivator, accepts the sword challenge!"
If this direct disciple of Qiongzhi Peak and Yu Lin of Yujiao Peak were likely to become a Dao couple, and then conveniently take over the unoccupied Lover Peak for a thousand years, Yan Chu wouldn't mind teaching her a sword technique. Maybe the young girl, with her Dragon Gate cultivation, could defeat him, this old Nascent Soul sword immortal.
On Qiongzhi Peak's side, Lu Zhengchun, who had married into the peak, stood beside his Dao partner, his heart finally at ease.
Lu Zhengchun's Dao partner was the most talented among Leng Qi's dozens of second-generation disciples.
To be honest, Lu Zhengchun had been worried earlier that that surnamed Liu, after stepping in dog shit to become Ruan Qiong's direct disciple, might play dirty tricks and secretly retaliate against him and his family.
Now, of course, his mood was excellent. Liu Xianyang also came from the same Pearl Bead Cave Heaven, but their backgrounds were worlds apart. Lu Zhengchun was a member of the Lu family on Fortune Street. How could he have imagined that the guy he almost beat to death back then would transform into not only a sword cultivator but also a direct disciple of a big shot like Ruan Qiong?
It would be best if he were beaten to death.
No, it would be best if he were beaten half to death and his longevity bridge broken. Then, when they meet again next time, it would be interesting.
His Dao partner smiled via mind voice, "Husband, you'll need to focus more on earning money from now on."
Lu Zhengchun smiled and nodded, "No doubt about it. I won't let my wife worry about money or be looked down upon."
At the gate of First Peak.
After a long wait, Liu Xianyang opened his eyes, and it was actually this Liu Yu.
They hadn't met before, because Liu Yu and the others had left Shenxiu Mountain before Liu Xianyang returned to his hometown.
Liu Yu landed gracefully, sheathed her sword, raised a hand in a sword-fist salute, with faint strands of sword qi curling around her slender fingers like young ginger shoots. She announced, "Liu Yu, sword cultivator of Qiongzhi Peak."
Liu Xianyang sighed. A bit troublesome. Among the three who had left the mountain back then, only this young girl could have originally become a direct disciple of the Dragon Spring Sword Sect. But she was infatuated with that Yu Lin, so she followed him to Zhengyang Mountain.
Liu Xianyang smiled, "Miss Liu, just make your move."
Liu Yu nodded, without any polite words, and directly summoned her natal flying sword, Reed Flower.
Within a radius of tens of feet, it seemed as if countless reed flowers were drifting and swirling.
Liu Xianyang extended one hand, simply flicked his wrist, and condensed a sword from pure sword qi.
Hundreds of thousands of reed flowers spun in the air, instantly obscuring Liu Xianyang's figure.
Liu Xianyang was actually quite awkward at the moment. Earlier, Chen Ping'an had joked that handling other sword cultivators accepting the challenge was fine, but he needed to think carefully about how to deal with Qiongzhi Peak's Liu Yu.
Liu Yu drew her sword, her figure flickered, and she swept into that sword formation that took advantage of terrain and familiarity. In the early days at the Dragon Spring Sword Sect, several senior fellow apprentices who had ascended earlier had taught her methods to control the sword formation. Especially the elder brother Xie Ling, who was not famous then but later became renowned across the continent, had taught her a mysterious transformation technique. Liu Yu, obeying her master's instructions, used only the sword techniques passed down by the Dragon Spring Sword Sect, aside from her flying sword and the formation, to strike at Liu Xianyang.
One sword qi after another brought trails of fireflies, cutting through the countless reed flowers toward Liu Xianyang.
The firefly trajectories were erratic, and sword light interwove. Liu Xianyang merely dispelled all the nearby reed flower flying swords with his sword qi. The intangible sword in his hand struck here and there, cutting through those beautiful firefly sword lights one by one. What's wrong with this girl Liu Yu? Does she think I've been lazy in mountain cultivation? The sword formation and techniques—I've seen them a few times anyway, and I didn't need to study much to learn them.
After a moment, Liu Yu silently recited the sword formula. The scattered sword qi that Liu Xianyang had cut began to link together like weaving a basket, trapping Liu Xianyang—who for some reason was only defending—inside. The sword qi suddenly tightened like a rope being yanked taut.
Liu Xianyang couldn't be bothered to think of a way to break it. He just imitated her by forming the same sword formula as Liu Yu. A sword formation generated out of thin air exploded outward, colliding with hers. He controlled the force perfectly—just enough to break the formation without hurting anyone, the sword qi canceling each other out cleanly. At the same time, he knocked away the illusory and real reed flower flying swords, sending them flying like blossoming flowers. Not wanting to show off too much, Liu Xianyang then actively delivered a sword stroke, even though he deliberately held back. The sword light was still like a crescent moon, dazzling and piercing, streaking straight toward Liu Yu. She first used hundreds of white reed flowers to protect herself, but they were shattered by the sword light. She had to use her actual sword to block in front, but the sword light still washed over her—her shoulders on both sides were struck, her dharma robe shredded, three obvious wounds on one arm and shoulder, blood and flesh blurry, a terrible mess.
Liu Xianyang was even more stunned than Liu Yu. He felt mentally exhausted.
It was like back when he argued and fought with Little Snotty Nose—pretending to have a back-and-forth was more tiring than beating that little bastard, who was full of talk about flying swords since childhood, into a blubbering mess.
Liu Yu gritted her teeth, remembering her master's words to fight beautifully within one incense stick. She braced herself, not sparing her spiritual qi, and activated her natal flying sword. Patches of reed flowers swirled around her, protecting her body and sword. Though the quantity was far less than before, each reed flower contained substantial white sword qi, like wind blowing grass in one direction. A large mass of reed flowers swiftly drifted toward the sword cultivator she could have called senior brother or junior brother.
Liu Xianyang sighed, tossed the sword in his hand, and suspended it in front of him. Centered on one sword, on the left and right, hundreds of identical swords appeared, with no deviation in the intensity of sword qi or the weight of sword intent.
It was like a lazy village schoolboy casually writing countless vertical strokes.
But in the eyes of the mountain cultivators, Liu Xianyang's sword formation was like an iron cavalry formation in a line, with majestic sword qi.
That rather beautiful scattering of reed flowers crashed into the sword formation, sending up several feet of white debris like waves hitting a cliff, futile.
Liu Yu had no choice but to withdraw the natal divine ability of her flying sword, condensing it into a white miniature flying sword. Enduring the sharp pain from the trembling of her soul, she flashed, sword light arcing toward the back of Liu Xianyang's heart.
Liu Xianyang remained unmoved, just looked into the girl's eyes and noticed something.
This soft-hearted, foolish girl.
Why would you fall for that lecher Yu Lin? Even if you left the mountain to change sects, why come to this Zhengyang Mountain, whose style has long been twisted into a gutter?
Liu Xianyang sidestepped, dodging the white flying sword, and tapped it away with the back of his hand. Then he no longer deliberately dragged out this duel. Anyone with eyes could see the result; even outsiders wouldn't think Liu Yu of Qiongzhi Peak was too weak to fight.
The surrounding spiritual Qi of heaven and earth near the mountain gate, at Liu Xianyang's thought, seemed to receive a command. In an instant, countless long swords condensed—above, like a torrential downpour falling to the human world; below, like dense spring grass sprouting.
Liu Yu stood, sword in hand, face pale, motionless, not even daring to recall her flying sword Reed Flower.
Because she felt as if she was inside a forest of swords, a vast and varied array of sword qi crisscrossing like a forbidden land of heavenly tribulation.
At that moment, Liu Yu was being pointed at by over a thousand overlapping, clustered sword tips. She felt as if she had fallen into an ice cavern.
Liu Xianyang waved his hand, and the sword forest dissipated. He smiled, "Miss Liu, you can return to the mountain. Cultivate well in the future. Don't learn from anyone else; just focus on practicing sword techniques, and your path to the Dao will surely be promising."
Liu Yu raised her sword in a fist salute, said nothing, put away her natal flying sword, and dejectedly flew her sword back to Qiongzhi Peak.
Liu Xianyang was actually more aggrieved than Liu Yu. He raised his arm high, curled his fingers, gesturing for the next one.
He took a step forward, walked through the archway mountain gate, and began to climb the steps. If you won't come, then I'll come.
At the Sword Halt Pavilion on First Peak, law enforcer Yan Chu spoke again with a smile, "Yujiao Peak sword cultivator, Yu Lin, accept the sword."
A sword light lit up from Yujiao Peak, swift as lightning, heading straight for the ancestral mountain gate.
The young sword cultivator who landed at the mountain gate wore a long robe with a jade belt, a wooden hairpin in his hair, and had a face like jade. He was indeed a Golden Core sword immortal, the master of Yujiao Peak, Yu Lin.
Yu Lin, intentionally or unintentionally, stood outside the mountain gate, smiling at the retreating figure climbing the stairs: "Liu Xianyang, please turn around and descend the mountain."
Liu Xianyang turned his head, not stopping his steps, and twitched the corner of his mouth. "Fond of talking in your sleep? Then lie down."
With a thud, Yu Lin, this young Golden Core sword immortal, tilted his head and collapsed, unconscious.
Liu Xianyang didn't even look back at the guy sleeping on the ground. As he continued climbing, he smiled, "Adding a word here: Today, anyone below Jade Lake Realm doesn't count as accepting my sword challenge. Golden Core or Nascent Soul, come as many as you like."
The cultivators of Zhengyang Mountain's various peaks were again stunned.
Earlier, they thought it absurd that someone dared to challenge Zhengyang Mountain today. Now they found it even more unbelievable: this person had actually come to challenge, "painstakingly" won against a Dragon Gate female sword cultivator—which wasn't a great feat—and then something happened with Yu Lin, who had already opened a peak. Could it be that this Golden Core sword immortal was accepting the sword and then letting the sword go? But was there such a way to let a sword go in the world? Without even drawing a sword, he just fell down and played dead?
At the Sword Halt Pavilion on First Peak, the sect leader Bamboo Emperor and several old sword immortals finally looked serious.
Even that Moving Mountain Patriarch couldn't help frowning, almost wanting to go down the mountain himself to throw a punch. But Bamboo Emperor dissuaded him, saying that for the next sword reception, either his own disciple Wu Tijing or Yuan Bai of Duixue Peak, who still retained a Nascent Soul cultivation, would go.
If he unfortunately lost again, causing Zhengyang Mountain to lose three matches in a row, then they would discuss further.
"Discuss further" meant it was no longer just the personal grudge between Liu Xianyang and Zhengyang Mountain; there would be no turning back. For example, first, kill Liu Xianyang, then Zhengyang Mountain would return the favor to the Dragon Spring Sword Sect. Bamboo Emperor would go with Uncle Xia Yuancui and all the Nascent Soul sword immortals to duel Shenxiu Mountain. Or, keep the half-dead Liu Xianyang imprisoned in the mountain, waiting for Ruan Qiong to come and apologize in person. If the apology was sincere enough, they would throw Liu Xianyang's corpse down the mountain foot. But if Ruan Qiong's sincerity wasn't enough, then what? Turn the Dragon Spring Sword Sect into the second Thundercry Garden.
The white-robed old ape sneered, "I don't care if it's Wu Tijing or Yuan Bai. Soon, one of them must go down the mountain, grab the little brat by one leg, and drag him back to this Sword Halt Pavilion."
Bamboo Emperor smiled and nodded, "Whatever you say, Protector Yuan."
Zhengyang Mountain just didn't have a reason to deal with the Dragon Spring Sword Sect. Today's big scene Liu Xianyang created was the perfect excuse.
Xia Yuancui spoke a sentence via mind voice.
Bamboo Emperor nodded lightly, changed his mind on the spot, and personally sent a flying sword message to Little Lonely Mountain.
Law enforcer Yan Chu no longer announced identities aloud, but soon a new face of a sword immortal arrived from Lover Peak to the ancestral mountain.
It was a female sword cultivator who had retained her youthful appearance, dressed in a neat night outfit, carrying a black-sheathed sword on her back.
Earlier, Chen Ping'an had left the Guoyun Pavilion, traveled in stealth, took a slight detour, and only appeared at the foot of Beijian Peak. He stood by a stream, took out a golden-colored opening talisman, pinpointed the restriction, spread his hand, and gave a light punch, instantly breaking the mountain and the formation. Stepping inside, he tucked the opening talisman into his sleeve with his left hand, took out a Snow Mud Talisman with his right, and activated his innate water method. Water vapor rose, and in a flash, the cyan robe disappeared, returning to stillness without causing the slightest ripple of spiritual Qi.
When the patrolling gaze swiftly passed by, Chen Ping'an waited a moment before not withdrawing the Snow Mud Talisman. He began to ascend the mountain slowly, strolling unhurriedly as if admiring the scenery in his own courtyard, just climbing silently.
As for Liu Xianyang's sword duel over there, Chen Ping'an wasn't worried.
They'd each handle their own business.
They agreed to meet at the Patriarch Hall on First Peak.
Mountain guest elders, whether registered or unregistered, and also protector immortal masters, existed in both public and behind-the-scenes roles. The reasoning was simple: many mountain grievances required dirty work that shouldn't leave a trace, and the methods might not be glorious. Zhengyang Mountain had such behind-the-scenes protectors with extremely concealed identities. Most members of the Patriarch Hall who had seats on First Peak only knew that there were a few such important figures in the mountain, but never knew who they actually were.
Chen Ping'an didn't have the means to pinpoint their specific identities either. He only knew that among Zhengyang Mountain's old ten peaks, there were at least two hidden protectors who operated in secret. One was at Little Lonely Mountain on Lover Peak, nicknamed the Oil Addling Old Man. The other was on this Beijian Peak, nicknamed the Tree Planting Old Man.
Chen Ping'an didn't think there was anything inherently wrong with having such characters in a mountain. But according to intelligence gathered from various sources on Desolate Mountain, these two shadowy, unseen existences, every time they went down the mountain, they would certainly uproot entire families—"leaving neither chickens nor dogs alive" was literal. Decapitate on the mountain without a trace; below the mountain, exterminate the families entirely, leaving no future trouble.
No wonder that old beast, back in the small town, could speak in such bold and heroic terms.
Zhengyang Mountain, founded 2,600 years ago, settled grievances with vengeance and never let a grudge last overnight.
Chen Ping'an looked around, still walking, but somewhat disappointed.
That Tree Planting Old Man, accustomed to dirty work, had yet to notice him.
Generally, mountain cultivators who engaged in such activities must be proficient in stealth, subtle perception, and escape techniques.
Damn it, did he need Chen Ping'an to beat a gong and drum while ascending the mountain before the guy would come out to greet him? His disciple Guo Zhujiu wasn't in the Haoran world; he couldn't borrow any drums and gongs.
Earlier, at a peak called Pianxian Peak, there was a respected old Nascent Soul from another region. He loved watching a commotion and didn't care if Pianxian Peak would hold a grudge. The old immortal stood on the cliff at the peak, waved his hand to gather clouds, and created a Mirror Flower Water Moon spell, so the vulgar people on the peak wouldn't miss the turmoil at the ancestral mountain.
The master of this peak was one of Zhengyang Mountain's three female patriarchs. The other two were Leng Qi of Qiongzhi Peak, a Golden Core sword cultivator, and Tian Wan of Zhuyu Peak, who managed the mountain's gazette and Mirror Flower Water Moon. Generally, among female peak masters, Pianxian Peak looked down on Qiongzhi Peak for just enjoying a comfortable life on the mountain, and Qiongzhi Peak looked down on Zhuyu Peak as a place "no birds would land." Finally, Tian Wan dared not look down on anyone and smiled kindly at everyone. Like Boyun Peak, Pianxian Peak's sword cultivators gained experience through brutal battles in places like Old Dragon City.
Those lodging at Zhengyang Mountain's this peak were mostly emperors, kings, and nobles from various dynasties under the mountain. For example, Han Jingling, the ruler of the Shi Hao Kingdom, was resting here. But due to the kingdom's weakness, the small country's ruler was only assigned a remote small residence. Although Pianxian Peak had mostly female cultivators, the sword cultivators there, male or female, all had heavy killing intent. This arrangement—placing a large group of wealthy households from beneath the mountain under Pianxian Peak's charge—had its deeper meaning.
The many people who were originally going to board talisman boats to First Peak to offer congratulations all stopped, some lingering on the peak or leaving their residences, watching the landscape painting unfold. Discussions erupted in waves.
"Who is that?"
"No idea, never heard the name."
"He's Liu Xianyang from the Dragon Spring Sword Sect within Great Li territory. Not famous; it's normal not to have heard of him."
"Oh, I remember—he's Xie Ling's junior brother."
"Currently considered Sage Ruan's latest disciple, but definitely not a closed-door disciple."
In mountain immortal sects, especially those with the word "sect" in their name, the most interesting and savory figure wasn't necessarily a sect leader's or patriarch's first disciple, but the closed-door disciple. That person had to be exceptionally talented to have the qualification to "make the master close the mountain and shut the sect's gate," just like the youngest son in a well-off household in the mundane world—definitely spoiled.
Some protector immortal masters who had a rough understanding of the Dragon Spring Sword Sect enthusiastically began introducing him to the monarchs, nobles, direct disciples, and second-generation disciples around.
Liu Xianyang was a native of the old Pearl Bead Cave Heaven, benefited from proximity, and was extremely fortunate to become a direct disciple of Ruan Qiong of the Dragon Spring Sword Sect. Among the first-generation disciples, he had the lowest seniority, his name being the last recorded in the Shenxiu Mountain's golden jade registry. It was said that he had also traveled across continents in his youth and studied for many years at the Chunru Chen Family Academy in Southern Bosten Continent.
He was far less famous than his senior brothers and sisters: senior brother Dong Gu was already at the Nascent Soul Realm, though not a sword cultivator, he was deeply valued by Ruan Qiong and had managed the sect for years. Golden Core sword cultivator Xu Xiaoqiao, originally a sword cultivator at Wind and Snow Temple, had made a serious mistake and was removed from the temple's registry, then followed Ruan Qiong's training and became a direct disciple. As for Xie Ling, he was even more famous, a genius of cultivation known across the continent, and was a descendant of Tianjun Xie Shi of Beiju Continent. Among Ruan Qiong's disciples, this young man from Taoye Alley had the greatest reputation in Bottle Gourd Continent, the best talent for cultivation, and was seen by outsiders as the only candidate for the next sect leader of the Dragon Spring Sword Sect.
Someone couldn't help asking, "Is Liu Xianyang a sword cultivator? What realm?"
The result was everyone at a loss. Even the old immortal master who had dealings with the Dragon Spring Sword Sect didn't know the truth, after all, not even the first major disciple Dong Gu was a sword cultivator.
"Why would he duel Zhengyang Mountain? And why pick today specifically? Does this Liu Xianyang have a life-or-death grudge with the mountain?"
Still, no one knew any inside story.
But since Liu Xianyang declared a sword duel, he was most likely a sword cultivator. Yet, no matter how high his realm, it couldn't be too high, given that Liu Xianyang wasn't even among the top ten young cultivators of Bottle Gourd Continent or the alternates.
Some more prudent old immortal masters had higher and longer-term thoughts, not just focused on killing.
"Zhengyang Mountain has planned this for a long time. Choosing the old Zhu Ying as the site for a subordinate sect is no coincidence; they clearly aim to contend with the Dragon Spring Sword Sect for the top spot among sword Dao sects in the continent."
Some grudges were normal. For instance, that young talent Yu Lin had cultivated at Shenxiu Mountain for many years, and then inexplicably came to Zhengyang Mountain.
"Regardless, this guy has guts."
"What's the use of guts? Once he gets half-killed by a sword immortal on the mountain, he'll become a continental joke and won't have the face to travel down the mountain again. He'll also drag down his sect and expose certain mountain grudges with Zhengyang Mountain. Truly young people don't think things through—too impulsive, unwise."
"Is it a personal grudge between the youths, or is it because of...?"
The speaker trailed off because the rest was better left unsaid. Was it Ruan Qiong's intent?
A grand cultivator of the upper five realms, a military sage, with in-laws at Wind and Snow Temple, and the most famous sword forger in Bottle Gourd Continent. Besides, Ruan Qiong also held the prominent title of Great Li's Chief Protector. Thus, every move Ruan Qiong made could affect a wide circle.
When it came to the confrontation at the ancestral mountain gate with the Dragon Gate female sword immortal, Liu Xianyang only seemed to be on the defensive.
Someone was puzzled, "That's it?"
A bystander joked, "Isn't this guy's guts and bravado way above his cultivation level?"
So, after the first sword challenge was done, not only at Pianxian Peak but also at other peaks, talisman boats took off again heading to First Peak, presumably thinking there was nothing interesting to see. Then, after Yujiao Peak's Yu Lin collapsed as if asleep, the boats and ferries quickly returned to their peaks to continue watching the Mirror Flower Water Moon, because it would be too rude to hover near First Peak to watch the excitement up close.
A young registered cultivator blurted out, "Don't you think we're starting to feel a bit like Beiju Continent?"
At this, many agreed.
On the main mountain path of the ancestral peak, Liu Xianyang stopped, turned his head, and smiled.
He had glimpsed a female sword immortal in the distance, one he had never seen in any Mirror Flower Water Moon before.
Looked like a Nascent Soul sword immortal who concealed her true abilities but had extremely high killing power? Better not to show her face; sending a long-range sword strike would be better.
Before the two could duel, the white-robed old ape laughed, "Liu Xianyang, have you come to kowtow and admit your mistake to the ancestors, acknowledging your lineage for that useless ancestor of your Liu family?"
Liu Xianyang rubbed his cheek, ignoring him. When it came to insults, that sneaky Chen Ping'an was much better.
On Beijian Peak, the very same sneaky figure in a cyan robe stood with his hands behind his back, gazing at the ancient sword embedded diagonally on the summit.
A hunched old man climbed slowly, speaking hoarsely with a smile, "Little child, this isn't a good place to hurry to reincarnate."
Chen Ping'an turned to look. It was a ghostly being, but not a cultivator. He smiled back, "Ah, no wonder—so you're not a sword immortal, you're a Ninth-Level martial artist. Are you the boxing forefather of the Moving Mountain Sage, or a later-generation disciple who learned boxing from the Moving Mountain Sage for years? You're right, the feng shui here isn't good, not suitable for reincarnation; it'd be hard to become a human in the next life."
The behind-the-scenes protector, nicknamed the Tree Planting Old Man, squinted and chuckled, "Where are you from, young one, with such a sharp tongue? Rare, rare. I like, I like. I'll twist off your head soon and have a pleasant chat with me for a few years. This mountain is lonely. As a thank you, I'll spare you the fate of being a lamp lit from your soul."
Chen Ping'an lifted his foot and stepped on the hilt of the sword embedded in the ground, grinning, "Since we're both night wanderers meeting a ghost halfway, and we're half-kindred spirits, I'll give you a chance to send a flying sword message to summon help."
The old ghost chuckled, "Sounds like you have a serious grudge against Yuan Zhenye? These young folks outside the mountain, after a few days of practicing fists, are they all this capable now?"
Chen Ping'an tutted, "How dare you speak his name so casually? You should address him as Moving Mountain Patriarch."
The old ghost rubbed his hands, "Fine, fine. Chatting with you later will definitely relieve my boredom. What's your name? My fists don't kill nameless ghosts."
The figure in the cyan robe lightly pressed down, knocking the sword over, and smiled, "From a small place. My name isn't worth mentioning."
The old man took a step forward, threw a punch, but Chen Ping'an extended his hand to block the fist. The Ninth-Level martial artist ghost saw he couldn't land a hit and immediately retreated. Then, like a phantom, he circled around the cyan robe, throwing punches one after another. In the blink of an eye, he delivered more than a hundred consecutive punches, each capable of killing a Golden Core immortal.
The cyan robe just stood still, one hand behind his back, casually blocking the old man's attacks with his right hand.
On the final punch, the Tree Planting Old Man used the momentum to retreat, pulling a talisman from his sleeve, planning to escape far from Beijian Peak. That intruder—damn it—was actually a Martial Arts Ethereal Realm master disguised as a young man!
His neck went cold as the person grabbed him, slammed him onto the ground, and stomped hard on his back, breaking it instantly. The old ghost's soul scattered, but was smashed to pieces by a sweep of a sleeve.
Both sides of the fist fight had already lived and died without even knowing each other's names.
Chen Ping'an stomped his foot, and the sword lying on the ground not far away sprang up. As he flew on the wind, he casually grabbed it and headed toward the Patriarch Hall on First Peak.
Eventually, following a "Sword Path" that reached the summit, his figure landed on the Sword Summit square. The sword qi around the peak seemed to turn a blind eye, or perhaps it didn't notice an intruder at all. Chen Ping'an simply walked directly toward the gate of the Patriarch Hall.
A female cultivator from the Flower and Wood Workshop, the first to spot him, was stunned for a moment, then quietly asked, "Who are you?"
All the female cultivators saw a cyan robe carrying a sword on his back and casually holding another sword in his hand. He turned his head and smiled, "A guest."