Chapter 12
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Chapter 12: Riding the Wind and Treading on Clouds
“Now calculating the scores: Wang Feilong with twenty-nine points, Liu Rui with twenty-seven points, Ming He with twenty-eight points, Song Yuan with twenty-five points…”
Ma He flipped through the records and announced the rankings of the top hundred. “The rankings from fourth to one hundred are settled. As for the top three, Liu Rui has twenty-seven points, but that is because she lost to Wang Feilong. Ming He, having no losses so far, has yet to battle Liu Rui.”
“So next, it will be Ming He versus Liu Rui. If Liu Rui wins, she will rank second, Wang Feilong will remain first, and Ming He will be third. If Ming He wins, she will face Wang Feilong to determine first place.” Ma He presented another possibility, though he secretly doubted Ming He could defeat Liu Rui.
Like Wang Feilong, Liu Rui was stuck at the peak of the ninth level of Qi Refinement, unable to break through to the Spirit Guiding stage. Yet, even without the breakthrough, her insights and experiences far surpassed those of ordinary disciples.
Though Ming He had rapidly advanced in cultivation over the past few months and gained fame within the Liu Yun outer sect, to inner sect disciples like Ma He, she was still just an ordinary talent.
Moreover, both Liu Rui and Wang Feilong had comprehended the Half-step Sword Intent, making them far superior in both cultivation and combat prowess compared to Ming He. Naturally, no one expected her to continue winning.
Except Qin Chu Yi.
Qin Chu Yi watched with curiosity as Ming He gracefully leaped onto the arena. Since the start of the outer sect grand competition, she had been observing her closely, gaining a fair understanding of her techniques.
The Basic Liu Yun Sword Technique, Rotating Cloud Steps, Breaking Cloud Fingers—none of these alone could defeat Liu Rui.
Yet, Ming He’s bright eyes and calm demeanor suggested she was completely in control.
So, what other techniques did she possess that Qin Chu Yi was unaware of?
Qin Chu Yi blinked, then felt a slight embarrassment. Since joining the Liu Yun Sect, she had developed a fondness for watching excitement unfold.
Or perhaps, she simply enjoyed watching Ming He’s rise?
“Did you take the Sword-shaped Herb?” Liu Rui asked, her tone sharp and accusatory as she faced Ming He across the arena.
“I’ve investigated you,” she continued. Ever since Li Si’s death, Ming He’s information had been laid bare before her and Wang Feilong.
“Five months ago, you couldn’t even grasp sword energy, and now you’ve somehow advanced to the eighth level of Qi Refinement. It must be because of the Sword-shaped Herb.”
Liu Rui, clad in the blue robes of an outer sect disciple, glared with indignation. “You’re nothing but a waste, relying on the Sword-shaped Herb to comprehend sword energy. What gives you the right to stand here?”
That Sword-shaped Herb should have been hers.
She had never consumed it, yet Su Ming He, who had only reached the fifth level of Qi Refinement two months ago, had broken through three levels with just that one herb. Not only had she grasped sword energy, but she had also nearly touched the threshold of sword intent. If Liu Rui had obtained it…
Her eyes burned with jealousy. With the Sword-shaped Herb, she would have already comprehended sword intent and broken into the Spirit Guiding stage, rendering this outer sect grand competition unnecessary.
“Hah!” What a laughable thought!
Ming He saw through Liu Rui’s envy and found it amusingly naive.
“Enough talk. Let’s begin!” Ming He refused to engage in further argument.
Sometimes, strength spoke louder than words.
“Humph, you seem eager to meet your end,” Liu Rui sneered, gripping her long sword. She unleashed the Cold Sword technique, sending a wave of sword energy slicing through the air toward Ming He.
Cold Sword!
The move was reminiscent of Li Si’s, but in Liu Rui’s hands, its power had more than doubled, a clear testament to her Half-step Sword Intent.
Ming He tapped her toes lightly, refusing to retreat. She met the strike head-on, her long sword moving like layers of clouds pressing forward—the third move of the Basic Liu Yun Sword Technique: Turning Cloud Hang.
When their swords clashed, the air trembled, though not as violently as before. It swayed briefly before settling back into calm.
Ming He narrowed her eyes, a flicker of surprise crossing her mind; indeed, Liu Rui was a formidable opponent.
All her assaults were effortlessly quelled by Liu Rui’s Cold Sword technique, leaving not even a ripple of disturbance.
But what did it matter? The match was far from over.
Rising Cloud Slash, Returning Cloud Slash, Turning Cloud Hang, Qingyun Stab, Cloud Break Slash, Cloud Burst, Starry Cloud Dot, Thousand Clouds Flat.
Ming He murmured the names of the sword techniques under her breath, executing them seamlessly. Her long sword danced like undulating clouds, its movements weaving a mysterious rhythm as waves of sword energy surged forward, aiming to overpower her opponent amidst the ebb and flow of the clouds.
These were the first eight forms of the Basic Liu Yun Sword Technique. As for the final form, Liu Yun, Ming He always felt it eluded her grasp; perhaps she had yet to fully comprehend the essence of Liu Yun.
Heaven and earth culminate at nine. The ninth form of Liu Yun distilled the essence of the preceding eight, encapsulating the realm of clouds in a single move—be it for destruction, gentleness, continuity, or entanglement.
“Is that… the Basic Liu Yun Sword Technique?”
“It seems so, but how could the Basic Liu Yun Sword Technique possess such immense power?”
“Why does Su Ming He’s rendition of the Basic Liu Yun Sword Technique carry an extra layer of charm?”
Disciples below the arena gasped in astonishment as they watched Ming He on the stage. At this moment, her aura seemed ethereal and unpredictable, neither to be underestimated nor ignored.
“Will she win?” This question lingered in the minds of the outer sect disciples, their gazes fixed on the girl.
With all eyes on her, the atmosphere was electric.
“No.” Qin Chu Yi parted her crimson lips softly, answering the question posed by the young man beside her, Duan Wu.
The Liu Yun Sword Art indeed held unique qualities, but it was insufficient to defeat someone like Liu Rui, who had grasped the Half-step Sword Intent and stood at the pinnacle of the ninth level of Qi Refinement.
Moreover, Su Ming He had only executed the first eight forms; she had not unleashed the final form, Liu Yun, which was the heart of the entire sword technique.
Why hadn’t she used the ninth form?
Qin Chu Yi was mildly perplexed. Did Ming He realize that she currently lacked the ability to manifest that move in its true form? Did she possess some inkling or insight into the meaning of the Liu Yun Sword Technique?
Qin Chu Yi straightened slightly, as if she could already envision Ming He’s crestfallen expression after her inevitable defeat.
“If Su Ming He is about to lose, should we intervene?” Duan Wu asked his Young Master.
He, of course, held no regard for fairness in arena matches; as long as the Young Master commanded, he would act without hesitation.
Rules and order meant little to him; he would not be expected to adhere to them. After all, he considered the Liu Yun Sect insignificant.
“Why should we help her?” Qin Chu Yi replied with calm indifference.
“Didn’t we wager a thousand lower-grade spirit stones on her?” Duan Wu asked, surprised. Though a mere thousand lower-grade spirit stones were but a drop in the ocean, it was still the Young Master’s directive.
Moreover, the Young Master’s agreement to preside over the outer sect grand competition was entirely due to Su Ming He.
He had assumed Su Ming He held some special significance to the Young Master, so despite his disdain, he had diligently observed each of her matches. Had he misjudged once again?
Duan Wu scratched his head, realizing that his Young Master’s thoughts were as inscrutable as ever.
“A thousand spirit stones?” Qin Chu Yi nearly laughed. “It was merely a whim.”
She leaned back once more, exuding an air of languid elegance. “If she loses or dies, it simply means she lacks the skill.
If she lacks the skill, she must face the consequences. So why should we intervene?”
The dead or the weak no longer merited her attention.
If Su Ming He were to lose or die, the prior agreement could simply be nullified!
After all, such a weakling would be of no use to her.
Qin Chu Yi’s voice remained composed, tinged with a frosty edge. She gazed down at the two combatants on the arena as though observing a theatrical performance, detached and emotionless, her demeanor both clear-headed and haughty.
At that moment, Duan Wu felt as though the familiar Young Master had returned; she was never one to take an interest in anyone or anything lightly.
On the arena.
As Qin Chu Yi had noted, the Basic Liu Yun Sword Technique indeed possessed unique qualities. When executed by Ming He, it carried a mystical rhythm, yet Liu Rui effortlessly countered it.
Liu Rui parried each move, her grip tightening on the long sword as she deflected the relentless onslaught. She returned the sword energy sent her way with the grace of autumn winds sweeping away fallen leaves, infusing it with the icy chill of her own sword energy. It pierced through the air, aimed squarely at the poised Ming He.
Ming He failed to evade in time and took the blow head-on. Blood seeped from the corner of her mouth, gradually staining the sky-blue Disciple Robe beneath her blue clothes.
She raised her hand and casually wiped the blood from her lips, her gaze fixed on Liu Rui, who stood tall and self-assured. "Is this the power of Half-step Sword Intent?"
She murmured to herself; the strike had merely broken her skin, destabilizing her spiritual energy. Yet she knew Liu Rui had not yet unleashed her full strength.
"This is the power of Half-step Sword Intent! Did you feel it? This isn’t some ordinary sword technique that can be easily overcome!" Liu Rui declared, her eyes brimming with pride.
To her, the Basic Liu Yun Sword Technique was nothing more than an entry-level skill. She had never held it in high regard, but now, witnessing the formidable power Ming He wielded with it, how could she remain indifferent?
Yet no matter how extraordinary, it still ended in defeat.
She stood with her hands clasped behind her back, refraining from pressing her advantage. She was waiting for Ming He to concede, savoring the prospect of victory.
Ming He glanced at Liu Rui but offered no response. She had executed the first eight forms of the Basic Liu Yun Sword Technique, but her inner spiritual energy was nearly depleted. It seemed she was truly on the brink of defeat.
Across from her, Liu Rui appeared calm and composed, exuding an undeniable aura of dominance.
If she lost, she would still secure third place—a position with its own rewards, Ming He thought.
But if that were the case, she would have to admit defeat now. Otherwise, Liu Rui would show no mercy. Another strike from her, and the best Ming He could hope for was severe injury; the worst, death on the spot.
Even if she survived, she would still face the vengeance of Wang Feihu and Wang Feilong. By then, if Wang Feilong had already advanced to the inner sect, her burden might lessen slightly, but it would still be far from easy.
She would need to bide her time, lying low like the Dragon Hero, Su Yu. Until then, she would endure mockery, ridicule, and countless overt and covert attacks, schemes, and manipulations.
Though she didn’t particularly care, it would still be a nuisance.
So, should she admit defeat now? Ming He posed the question to herself in a fleeting moment, weighing whether to retreat and wait for another opportunity. The answer was clear: she was unwilling.
On the path of cultivation, every moment was precious. She refused to cower in fear. The path of lurking in the shadows was not for her.
So, she would fight!
Ming He made her decision, gripping her sword tightly in her right hand, her eyes blazing with renewed determination.
Yet her fighting spirit had no tangible effect. She was once again forced back by a sword strike, this time sent sprawling to the ground. Blood trickled from her lips, her blue clothes torn and stained, leaving her in a pitiful state.
"Su Ming He, admit defeat!" Liu Rui looked down at her from above, reveling in the thrill of breaking another’s will.
"Admit defeat? Never!"
Ming He pushed herself up with her sword, tilting her head to spit out a mouthful of blood. A defiant smile curled at the corners of her lips.
"It’s not over yet!"
As Ming He spoke, she steadied her long sword. The forms of the Basic Liu Yun Sword Technique flashed through her mind repeatedly, from the first to the eighth. Why couldn’t she execute the final form?
She furrowed her brow, recalling the description on the jade slip. Liu Yun—flowing clouds, endlessly rolling and unfurling. Clouds were a constant of heaven and earth, unaffected by the passage of time.
Even if today had no tomorrow, there would always be a third or fourth day; the heavens would never be without clouds.
Liu Yun, perhaps, was not merely a phenomenon of the natural world but an eternal force transcending time and space.
Liu Yun!
As Ming He repeated these words, a spark of enlightenment ignited within her.
Facing the incoming attack meant to destroy her, she unleashed her own sword technique. The tip of her sword gleamed brightly, and as the blade trembled, it seemed to be shrouded in clouds, rolling endlessly and leaving no room for escape.
At that moment, the forces of heaven and earth converged, drawing spiritual energy into a single point. The sword light blazed as though it could illuminate the entire sky. The girl in blue stood at the intersection of wind and clouds, riding the tempest with her long sword, unmatched and unyielding.
