"I challenge Dugu Jian."
The challenge hung in the air like a blade waiting to fall. Long Chen's voice carried across the gathering grounds, clear and steady despite the tightness in his chest.
The crowd erupted. Whispers became shouts. Disciples leaned forward in their seats. Even the elders straightened, their casual interest sharpening into focus.
Dugu Jian turned slowly, his expression unreadable. Then he smiled faintly. "I was wondering when you'd ask."
He walked onto the platform with the same unhurried grace he'd shown all day. No rush. No urgency. Just calm, absolute confidence.
Long Chen followed, his hand resting on Demon Dweller's hilt.
On the surface, he looked composed. Steady. Ready.
Inside, his mind raced.
'Peak Qi Gathering Realm. Sword Intent comprehended. In the original story, he killed two peak Foundation Establishment experts at this age. A complete realm above him.'
The gap wasn't just cultivation. It was talent. Experience and understanding.
But opportunities like this didn't come often.
'A reincarnated Sword God,' Long Chen thought. 'Even if I lose, just fighting him is a lesson most cultivators never get.'
They stopped ten meters apart. Elder Gan raised his hand. "Begin!"
Jian didn't move.
Long Chen drew Demon Dweller. The cursed blade rang as it left its sheath, the faint whisper of killing intent brushing against his mind before his bloodline suppressed it.
He attacked first.
Phantom Step carried him forward in a blur. His blade came down in a vertical slash, Sword Aura coating the edge.
Jian raised two fingers.
Clang.
The sword stopped. Caught between Jian's fingers like it was nothing.
Long Chen's eyes widened. He channeled more qi, pushed harder—
Jian flicked his wrist.
The force sent Long Chen stumbling backward, his grip nearly slipping.
"Your foundation is solid," Jian said conversationally. "But your technique is too rigid."
He released the blade and gestured for Long Chen to continue. Long Chen gritted his teeth and attacked again. This time he used Void-Splitting Strike—a fast, precise thrust aimed at Jian's throat.
Jian sidestepped. It was minimal movement. His hand swept across Long Chen's blade, redirecting it harmlessly to the side.
"Better," Jian commented. "But you're telegraphing your intent."
Long Chen spun and slashed horizontally. Jian ducked. Another slash from above. Jian stepped back. A feint left, real strike right—
Jian blocked with his palm. Sword Aura met Sword Aura. White light flared where they connected.
But Jian's aura didn't budge. Long Chen's cracked under the pressure.
He jumped back, breathing hard, 'I can't break through his Sword Aura.'
It was like trying to cut through steel with a paper scissors. No matter how much force he used, how many angles he attacked from, Jian's defense held effortlessly.
"You're thinking too much," Jian said. He hadn't drawn his sword yet, or even moved from his original position. "Sword Aura isn't just coating your blade with qi. It's an extension of your will. Right now, you're forcing it. That's why it breaks."
Long Chen's jaw tightened. "Then how—"
"Stop thinking about the sword as separate from yourself." Jian tapped his chest. "It's not a tool. It's part of you. Your will and purpose flows through it naturally, not because you're pushing qi into it."
He raised his hand and swiped through the air.
A crescent of light shot forward—pure Sword Aura, projected without contact. It carved a line across the platform between them.
"First stage is coating," Jian explained. "Second stage is projection. You're stuck at the threshold because you're treating your aura like a tool instead of an extension of yourself."
Long Chen stared at the glowing line on the ground. 'Projection. Treating it like an extension of myself, not armor.'
He closed his eyes for a moment. Let his breathing slow and felt the qi moving through his meridians, the Sword Aura flickering around Demon Dweller's blade.
Not forcing it. Not pushing it.
Letting it flow.
He opened his eyes.
The aura around his blade shifted. It became thinner, sharper, extending a few inches beyond the metal.
Jian's smile widened. "There. Now try again."
Long Chen attacked.
This time, when he swung, the Sword Aura extended outward. Not far—maybe half a meter—but it was there. Projected.
Second stage.
The crowd gasped. Even the elders leaned forward.
Long Chen didn't stop. He channeled everything he had into one technique.
Heavenrend.
Qi flooded into Demon Dweller. The blade blazed white-hot, Sword Aura condensing into a single devastating arc. He swung upward with all his strength.
The attack split the air itself.
A massive crescent of light tore across the platform, twice as large as anything he'd produced before. The sheer force of it cracked the stone beneath his feet. The protective formation flared, struggling to contain the energy.
The attack reached Jian in an instant.
Jian finally took him a little serious.
One clean motion. No wasted energy.
His aura coated palm met the Heavenrend arc.
And cut straight through it.
The attack split in half, dissipating harmlessly on either side of him. Jian stood in the center, untouched, his sword resting casually in his hand.
Not a scratch. Not even dust on his robes.
Long Chen stared, chest heaving, arms trembling from the exertion.
The crowd sat in stunned silence.
A Qi Gathering cultivator had just released an attack that looked like something from Foundation Establishment. The power behind it had been monstrous.
And Dugu Jian had cut through it like cutting through mist.
"Impressive," Jian said genuinely. "That attack could've killed a Foundation Establishment cultivator if they weren't prepared."
He sheathed his sword. "But you're not ready to face me yet, though that attack resembled that little runt's ultimate technique." He muttered under his breath.
Long Chen's grip on Demon Dweller loosened. His body felt like lead. He'd poured everything into that strike. Everything.
And it hadn't even made Jian try.
He lowered his blade. "I yield."
Jian nodded. "Good fight."
As Long Chen turned to leave the platform, Jian's voice entered his mind directly.
*'Be careful of the Clan Master. He's not what he seems, while he may act all kind he's a greedy snake '*
Long Chen froze mid-step. His eyes flicked toward the pavilion where Dugu Han sat, still smiling that unreadable smile.
*'What do you mean?'*
*'Just watch yourself. And don't trust anyone in the main family.'*
The mental connection cut off.
Long Chen descended the platform, mind racing. He barely registered the applause, the shocked whispers about his Heavenrend technique.
He'd just started walking toward the sidelines when a voice called out.
"I challenge Long Chen!"
He turned.
A young woman stepped onto the platform. She looked about sixteen, with sharp features and long black hair tied in a warrior's braid. Her robes marked her as inner sect, and the emblem on her chest bore the Grand Elder's crest.
Dugu Lian. The Grand Elder's granddaughter.
Qi Gathering Stage 6. Known for her soul techniques.
Long Chen while he was a little exhausted, he didn't refuse. He climbed back onto the platform.
Elder Gan didn't even bother announcing. He just raised his hand. "Begin."
Lian attacked immediately, displaying a brilliant sword dance all nothing before Long Chen.
A few minutes later just as the fight was getting boring to Long Chen and he was about to end it, dugu Lian suddenly pulled back.
After putting space between them she attacked once more, not with her sword. Her eyes glowed faintly, and spiritual pressure slammed into Long Chen's mind.
A soul attack.
Pain exploded behind his eyes. His vision blurred. The world tilted sideways. He dropped to one knee, Demon Dweller clattering from his grip.
'Can't… think…'
The attack burrowed deeper, trying to tear his consciousness apart. Lian's face went pale—she hadn't meant to release it at full power. It was supposed to be a testing strike, not a killing blow.
But soul techniques were notoriously hard to control.
"I'm sorry!" Lian shouted, trying to pull the attack back. "I didn't mean—"
Too late.
The technique reached Long Chen's core.
And touched something that had been sleeping.
Deep within his dantian, beneath the liquid qi, beneath his cultivation foundation, something ancient stirred.
The Celestial Dragon martial spirit.
Golden light exploded outward.
A roar shook the entire gathering grounds.
Not a human sound. Not something any technique could produce. It was primal, ancient, carrying the weight of something that had ruled the skies long before humans walked the earth.
The soul attack shattered like glass.
For just a moment—less than a heartbeat—everyone saw it.
A massive dragon silhouette, scales glittering like stars, eyes that burned gold, and its presence pressed down on every living thing in the compound with suffocating weight.
Then it vanished.
Long Chen gasped, consciousness snapping back. The pain was gone. The attack, dispersed.
Lian stood frozen, her face pale as death, eyes wide with terror.
The crowd sat in absolute silence.
In the pavilion, the Clan Master's expression had changed. His eyes were locked on Long Chen, sharp and calculating.
He'd seen it. The full form. While he didn't know what it was he knew it was something prescious.
Lian dropped to her knees and bowed deeply. "I forfeit! I apologize! I didn't mean to use that technique!"
Her voice shook. Whether from fear of punishment or genuine remorse, Long Chen couldn't tell.
He stood slowly, picking up Demon Dweller. "It's fine. Accidents happen."
Lian fled the platform the moment Elder Gan announced her forfeit.
Long Chen descended, his legs barely holding him upright.
The challenges continued after that, but the energy had shifted. People whispered. Stared. Pointed.
Two impossible things in one day.
Sword Aura at Qi Gathering Realm. And an unknown that had manifested with enough power to shake the foundations of the entire compound.
When the final match ended, Elder Gan stepped forward with a jade tablet.
"The results," he announced.
"First place: Dugu Jian."
Applause. Expected. Deserved.
"Second place: Long Chen."
More applause, this time mixed with shocked murmurs.
"Third place: Dugu Lian."
Lian bowed stiffly from her position in the stands, still pale.
Elder Gan continued reading. "The top ten will receive the following rewards:
First place: Access to the Clan Sword Graveyard, ten Foundation Establishment Pills, entry to the fourth floor of the Martial Pavilion, and a King-grade weapon of choice.
Second place: Five Foundation Establishment Pills, access to the third floor of the Martial Pavilion, entry to the Spirit Spring for one week.
Third place: Three Foundation Establishment Pills, access to the third floor of the Martial Pavilion.
Places four through ten will receive contribution points and access to the second floor of the Martial Pavilion."
Long Chen's mind barely registered the rewards. His body screamed for rest. His qi reserves were drained. His consciousness still felt frayed from Lian's soul attack.
But more than that, two things kept echoing in his mind.
Jian's warning: *'Be careful of the Clan Master.'*
And the weight of his martial spirits appearance.
The Clan Master had definitely saw it.
And he was more dangerous than any opponent Long Chen had faced today.