Chapter 65

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Chapter 65: The Battle for the Top Position

The arena fell into a profound silence, yet the gazes directed at Ming He were now tinged with a newfound respect. Perhaps her cultivation at the Sixth Level of Xuan Wei could indeed contend for the top spot on the Young Tiger List, especially after Shadow had fallen to her sword.

“Number Nineteen versus Number Sixty-Nine.”

The matches in the arena continued, but the second arena had become the focal point of everyone’s attention.

Ming He faced a new opponent, a woman of striking beauty and cultivation at the Sixth Level of Xuan Wei. Unlike Ming He, she was not from a prestigious sect or noble family but was a rogue cultivator from another prefecture, having proven her mettle by crossing the Dragon Gate and enduring the Secret Realm Trial. A black disciple token hung from her waist.

Though her strength was formidable, she was no match for Ming He.

“Friend, I concede,” Ming He said with a gentle smile, her gaze softening as she observed the dragon energy swirling around her.

“I concede,” the young woman replied with a smile, leaping gracefully from the arena. Her expression was one of genuine admiration. Defeated by the Sword Cultivator in Blue, she felt no shame, only respect.

Ming He nodded, her eyes bright as they settled on Qu Yanran, who stood amidst the swirling mist. Since her victory over Shadow, Ming He had defeated several cultivators who appeared strong, many of whom hailed from noble clans. Yet, all had fallen before her Longquan Sword.

From the moment she stepped onto the arena, she had remained undefeated. The dragon energy above her head had now grown to over two zhang, making her the second strongest contender on the Young Tiger Arena in terms of dragon energy.

Qu Yanran held the first position, her dragon energy towering at three zhang.

Shadow had fallen to Ming He’s sword, while Duan Qing Ying had been defeated by Qu Yanran’s flute.

Of Yu Wen Xi’s three top contenders for the Young Tiger List, two had already been defeated. It was clear to all that the final battle would be between Ming He and Qu Yanran.

The victor would claim the top position on the Young Tiger List, while the loser would settle for second place.

As the morning glow faded, the crescent moon rose into the azure sky, its light mingling with the swirling clouds. The rays of light on the Eastern Sky Arena gradually dimmed, heralding the arrival of night.

“Tomorrow, we will determine the champions of the Young Dragon and Young Tiger Lists. For now, I ask all dear friends to return to Qingyun Tower to rest and prepare for the battles ahead.”

Guan Shan Feng’s voice was firm as he addressed the excited crowd of cultivators. “By the way, the domain master may arrive tomorrow.”

He dropped this remark casually, pleased by the visible excitement it stirred among the cultivators below.

The domain master?

Ming He blinked, her curiosity piqued. The domain master of the Eastern Region, the most powerful figure in the region, was said to possess the cultivation of the Earth Emperor Realm, standing at the pinnacle of the Tianwu Continent.

Inside Qingyun Tower, Yu Wen Xi sat in Ming He’s room, his tone brimming with curiosity and awe. “Ming He, you’re truly remarkable! To defeat Shadow with your Sixth Level of Xuan Wei—are you sure you’re not some hidden noble or disciple of a mysterious powerhouse?”

That was Shadow, after all, the one who walked the path of murder. Yu Wen Xi had believed that only Qu Yanran, among the geniuses below the Dust Dispersal stage, could defeat him. Yet, Shadow had fallen to Ming He before even facing Qu Yanran.

“I truly have no extraordinary background,” Ming He replied with a faint smile. “I come from the ninth prefecture of the Eastern Region,” she added, referring to the most remote corner of the continent.

As for her victory over Shadow… Ming He’s smile faltered slightly. Defeating Shadow had not been solely due to her strength. During the Secret Realm Trial, she had uncovered the reason behind Shadow’s descent into darkness, and she had realized that her swordsmanship could counter his curved knife.

His path was one of darkness, while hers was one of light. From the Liu Yun Sword Art to the Nebula Sword Art and now the Big Dipper Seven Star Sword Technique, it seemed she had always been destined to walk the Great Path aligned with the stars, especially after obtaining the Star Lock.

Light.

A flicker of melancholy passed through Ming He’s eyes. She had come to embody this word, though she hadn’t realized it. From her previous world to this one, she had changed in ways she could scarcely comprehend.

She would continue on this path, unwavering, until she reached the peak.

Ming He’s heart stirred with emotion, though she knew she stood little chance against Qu Yanran in tomorrow’s battle. Qu Yanran was a formidable opponent, one she could not yet overcome. But that would change in time.

Even if she couldn’t win, securing second place on the Young Tiger List was no small feat, Ming He thought.

“The ninth prefecture of the Eastern Region?” Yu Wen Xi’s smile faltered. “Have you heard of Qu Lingyun?”

“What happened to Qu Lingyun?” Ming He felt a jolt of surprise, quickly masking her astonishment and letting curiosity shine in her eyes.

“Qu Lingyun was a prominent figure in the Eastern Region!” Yu Wen Xi, oblivious to her reaction, spoke with a tone of nostalgia. “She was the top true disciple of the Floating Cloud Sect. At the age of eighteen, she claimed the first spot on the Young Dragon List, becoming the Eastern Region’s most celebrated prodigy.

Her fame spread far and wide at a young age, her sword skills renowned across the lands. She was just one step away from becoming the young master of the Floating Cloud Sect and had even entered into a marriage contract with Wang Xue, the sect’s second-ranked true disciple. Together, they were the envy of many, seen as a divine pair.”

“What happened after that?” Ming He pressed, her mind racing. If that was the case, how had her Master ended up as the Sect Master of the small Liu Yun Sect in the ninth prefecture of the Eastern Region? And what had happened to her Master’s cultivation? What had transpired?

“Later, she became a sinner of the human race,” Yu Wen Xi replied, his voice tinged with melancholy. “Many called her a sinner, but there are those who believe it was what Qu Lingyun was destined to do.”

“Do you want to know?” Yu Wen Xi chuckled lightly, noticing Ming He’s intense focus. “I’ll tell you when you claim the top spot.”

Ming He thought, “……” Right now, she felt like drawing her sword and striking him down.

“Alright, Qu Lingyun’s story is too long to tell now. You have an important battle tomorrow. Once the competition for the top position is over, if you still wish to know, I’ll tell you everything about Qu Lingyun,” Yu Wen Xi said, rising unsteadily with a wine cup in hand. “By the way, I heard this Qingyun Tower was once called Lingyun Tower.”

After saying this, he walked out, his figure quickly vanishing from sight.

Lingyun Tower?

Ming He blinked. So, Qingyun Tower was renamed because of her Master?

A sinner of the human race?

She pondered, unable to reconcile the term with the image of her Master, who always wore a gentle smile and stood tall and unwavering like a proud pine tree. What had her Master done?

How had the top true disciple of the Floating Cloud Sect, the leader of the Young Dragon List, the Eastern Region’s most celebrated prodigy, ended up as the Sect Master of the Liu Yun Sect? And why was she hunted by the Demon Race?

Suppressing her curiosity, she steadied her mind and continued her cultivation. Even if it wasn’t for the battle for the top position tomorrow, she knew she had to keep training.

The path of cultivation is endless, and the strong remain strong. Ming He had always understood this truth.

The next day, at the Eastern Sky Arena.

The sun and the crescent moon took turns presiding over the sky, their light mingling with the clouds that enveloped the arena. The roars of dragons and tigers filled the air, setting the stage for the decisive battle to determine the top positions of the two lists.

Ming He and Qu Yanran stood on the arena, facing each other on the second platform.

“You are not my match,” Qu Yanran stated calmly, as if stating a simple fact. And indeed, it was the truth. She was at the Xuan Wei Ninth Level, while Ming He was only at the Sixth Level. The gap in their cultivation was too vast, not something talent alone could bridge.

“I know,” Ming He replied, her expression unwavering. She accepted that she was no match for Qu Yanran at this moment, but she also knew she had to fight regardless.

She despised retreating without a fight. Even in defeat, she wanted to experience the thrill of battle. Moreover, every fight was an opportunity to grow, and an opponent like Qu Yanran was a rare chance she couldn’t afford to miss.

Ming He’s eyes remained bright, a flicker of battle spirit burning deep within.

“However, I do not wish to fight you directly,” Qu Yanran said, noticing the fiery determination in Ming He’s gaze. She paused for a moment before continuing, “How about we duel with swords instead?”

Standing tall and serious, she added, “Let us decide the victor with a single sword strike. If you win, the top position is yours.”

A single sword strike to decide the victor?

Ming He glanced at Qu Yanran’s right hand and noticed she was no longer holding the silver flute from the day before. Instead, she wielded a three-foot-long silver sword.

“I want you to use the sword techniques she taught you when we duel. I want to see how her swordsmanship fares,” Qu Yanran said, her words deliberate. “Junior Sister Ming He, please draw your sword.”

That person was her father, a father she had never met—the sinner of the human race, the spirited prodigy described by her Master Uncle. Her Master Uncle had spoken of her extraordinary talent in swordsmanship, how she was meant to represent the Eastern Region and make a name for herself across the Tianwu Continent.

But she had left for the Liu Yun Sect in the ninth prefecture before Qu Yanran was even born. She knew her father had three disciples and had taught them the ways of the sword, yet she had never been taught herself.

So, she practiced swordsmanship without ever holding a sword. The techniques her father had taught?

Ming He’s gaze remained serene. “Senior Sister Qu, Master never taught me specific sword techniques.” Qu Lingyun had only shown her how to hold her sword firmly, to never let it slip, and to forge ahead fearlessly as a sword cultivator, guiding her to find her own path in the journey of cultivation.

Her sword techniques were derived from the Liu Yun Sect’s library, as well as from Nineteen and Qin Chu Yi.

“But if you wish to witness his swordsmanship, I have a sword to offer,” she said, referring to the profound meaning of the sword that Qu Lingyun had imparted to her.

“Very well,” Qu Yanran replied, her right wrist flicking lightly as she extended her silver long sword. The sword intent infused the blade, making the strike appear deceptively simple yet laden with an undercurrent of danger that sent shivers through the onlookers, as if their very souls were pierced and unable to escape.

As the sword neared, Ming He glimpsed beneath its tip a vision of crumbling mountains and rivers, swaying precariously as a gust of wind swept through, carrying a cold glint that pierced her unwavering gaze, rendering the blade’s brilliance impossible to behold directly.

“This strike is called ‘Shaking Mountains and Rivers,’” Qu Yanran declared. Her swordsmanship had been shaped by her Shishu and mother—a strike capable of shaking the world. It was the culmination of ten years of relentless training at the Floating Cloud Sect, where she had observed the sun, moon, mountains, and rivers, ultimately mastering her most formidable technique.

“I, too, have a strike,” Ming He said, her eyes fixed on the sharp silver tip before her. With a subtle tremor, she pivoted her blade, delivering a simple, unadorned strike that collided with Qu Yanran’s sword tip.

Unlike Qu Yanran’s unassuming yet potent strike, Ming He’s was even more unremarkable, moving silently through the air without flourish or fanfare.

The strike followed a straight line, devoid of any finesse, appearing slower than a child swinging a branch. To the spectators, it seemed almost mundane, but Qu Yanran felt a sharp pain in her grip as her silver long sword nearly slipped from her hand upon impact.

She knew then that she had been defeated.

“This strike is called ‘Nameless,’” Ming He declared, her eyes shining with conviction, as if holding a deep belief within. It wasn’t without a name; it simply bore the title of ‘Nameless.’

After securing first place among the outer sect disciples, she had effortlessly obtained the prestigious Liu Yun Sword Art, the complete version, not merely the glimpse offered by the Basic Liu Yun Sword Technique available to outer sect disciples.

At that time, her Master had posed a question: “What is the difference between the Liu Yun Sword Art and the Basic Liu Yun Sword Technique?”

Ming He had answered without hesitation, citing the distinction between innate and acquired techniques.

Qu Lingyun had shaken her head. “Have you ever considered why an innate sword technique could become the foundational art of the Liu Yun Sect?”

Indeed, why was that?

Though the Liu Yun Sect was remote and modest, it was not devoid of sword techniques surpassing the innate level. Why was it the Liu Yun Sword Art that held such significance? Was it merely because it bore the name ‘Liu Yun’?

Ming He had not understood then, but as she ventured beyond the Liu Yun Sect and repeatedly faced stronger opponents, she found that her understanding deepened each time she applied the Liu Yun techniques—it dawned on her.

‘Liu Yun’ represented the ninth form of the Liu Yun Sword Art, as well as the first form of the Nebula Sword Art. The true essence of a sword technique should be defined by the sword cultivator wielding it, not by its rank.

The sword of the cultivator was the decisive factor in determining the strength of the technique.

Thus, at the Eastern Sky Arena, Ming He watched Qu Yanran’s silver long sword deliver the ‘Shaking Mountains and Rivers’ strike. Her own sword was plain, unremarkable; it quietly ended her opponent’s life in a subtle manner. It bore no name, but it was entirely hers.

No shadow of any predecessor loomed over it; it was truly a culmination of Ming He’s spirit. Though it began as ‘Nameless,’ in Ming He’s mind, she had named it, and thus it gained its title.

A heavy sword is devoid of sharpness; great craftsmanship appears unrefined.

Ming He recalled a saying from her past life, her eyes gleaming brightly. Her sword was a sword of killing, a sword for drinking blood.

Anyone could be killed; any blood could be drunk. Thus, she pressed forward without fear of defeat. How could the mountains and rivers tremble? With a single swing, she would eliminate every wickedness. With the wicked gone, peace would return to the land.

And so, she triumphed.

“The top position is yours,” Qu Yanran said as she sheathed her sword, her lips parting slightly. “I did not see his swordsmanship, but I have learned what I wished to know.” Through observing her sword, she glimpsed the depths of the person.

She thought she might finally understand something about her father, whom she had never met.

Father.

Qu Yanran murmured the word with a bitter smile as she turned and leaped down from the arena without hesitation. She had placed second on the Young Tiger List, and the reward would be given in three days, so there was no need for her to linger.

“Nineteen wins, claiming first on the Young Tiger List, Ming He,” Guan Shan Feng’s solemn voice announced, breaking the awe-filled silence and marking the end of the match. Ming He stood on the arena, enveloped by the majestic dragon energy that rose five zhang high.

A small beast chirped atop her head, nestled within the dragon energy.

“Chirp, chirp.” It called softly.

Ming He ignored it as she stood in the center of the arena, gazing at Yu Wen Xi’s radiant smile and the astonished, admiring glances of the onlookers before turning her gaze elsewhere.

That was the arena for the battle over the top spot on the Young Dragon List.

While she had been engaged in her sword fight with Qu Yanran, the victor had already been decided there. The winner was a young woman dressed in a blue embroidered robe, wielding a long spear. She was very young, perhaps only two years older than Ming He.

Yet, she had already reached the fourth level of the Dust Dispersal stage and claimed the title of first on the Young Dragon List.

Her name was Chang Sun Su.

Ming He couldn’t help but smile faintly, realizing this was the reason Gongsun Sheng and Nan Gong Yao had drawn their swords against each other during the Secret Realm Trial; the one they vied for had already surpassed them by a great margin.

Deciding who could marry Chang Sun Su based solely on their ranking in the Young Tiger List?

Ming He’s smile deepened as she recalled the words she had overheard in the valley of the secret realm. Yet, a woman who had earned the top spot on the Young Dragon List through her own strength would hardly desire to be anyone’s fiancée.

She remembered the mocking tone in Yu Wen Xi’s voice when he spoke of those two, saying they were merely Young Masters from powerful clans seeking to solidify their positions and expand their influence. Marriages were tools, and declarations of love were tactics—Chang Sun Su was nothing more than a pawn in their game of power.

As if sensing her gaze, Chang Sun Su, standing on the first arena to the right, glanced at Ming He and offered a bright smile before gracefully stepping down from the platform.

It was a pure smile; she was the first on the Young Dragon List! Ming He sighed and turned to leave the arena as well.

Guan Shan Feng had mentioned that in three days, the prodigies on the Small Dragon and Tiger Rankings would receive their rewards, and the domain lord would be present this time.

It wasn’t a mere possibility like last time; he would definitely be there.

Night fell on the thirteenth floor of Qingyun Tower.

Ming He opened her eyes, feeling her aura stabilize. She sensed that she was not far from breaking through to the seventh level of the Xuan Wei realm; indeed, combat seemed to accelerate her growth.

But now, she needed to find Yu Wen Xi. She wanted to uncover the truth about what had happened to her Master.

The term “human race sinners” echoed in her mind, and she could not bring herself to accept it.

Yu Wen Xi’s room was on the twentieth floor.

Ming He ascended the stairs without using spiritual energy, gripping her Longquan Sword as she climbed steadily. Moonlight streamed in from outside, illuminating her path.

The moonlight was like water, and the scenery inside and outside the tower was breathtaking.

As she ascended, contemplating her future path, her vision suddenly darkened. She heard faint footsteps, and the next moment, a scream echoed through Qingyun Tower, followed by the clashing of blades.

“Clang.”

A long sword stabbed toward her heart from behind. In that critical moment, it was as though she had eyes on the back of her head; without turning, she instinctively sidestepped. Her sword, unsheathed and gleaming, sliced through the air as she swung it toward her attacker, creating distance.

The figure was a shadow clad in black, their face concealed by a black cloth, revealing only a pair of piercing eyes filled with terrifying murderous intent. This was not the cold intent of the path of killing but the oppressive intent of a stronger force crushing the weak.

The shadow was formidable, at least at a level above the Dust Dispersal stage, and an opponent Ming He could not face head-on.

“Hmph.” Ming He grunted, with no time to think, acting purely on instinct. She countered with her Nameless technique, leaping into the air and spinning. Her long sword struck like lightning through the night. While the shadow was busy defending against her strike, Ming He swiftly drew a dagger with her left hand and lunged forward, plunging it toward the shadow’s heart.

The shadow twisted slightly, dodging to the left, causing Ming He’s dagger to miss its mark. Realizing her mistake, she tried to retreat, but it was too late.

“Cackle.” The shadow let out a harsh laugh, enduring the pain of Ming He’s slightly off-target strike, and raised a hand to deliver a fatal blow to Ming He’s head.

Ming He’s eyes narrowed. Her first instinct wasn’t to flee; the deadly strike of a Dust Dispersal stage cultivator was something she couldn’t evade.

If she couldn’t escape, she had no choice but to fight back.

In a flash of lightning, Ming He ignored the blood that once again stained her blue clothes. "Consolidate," she murmured, biting her lip to feel the sting. With the pain sharpening her focus, she drew upon all the soul power from her Sea of Souls, forming a small, sharp spike that pierced through the void and struck the shadow’s soul.

The shadow felt a jolt of pain in its mind, its thoughts momentarily dulled as its hand paused above Ming He’s head.

This was the moment. A battle intent ignited in Ming He’s eyes. A fleeting instant wasn’t enough for her to escape, but it was ample time to kill.

Enduring the anxiety from the overwhelming pressure of the powerful presence, she fixed her sharp gaze on the shadow, aiming the dagger directly at its heart. With a swift thrust, she pierced it, then twisted her hand mercilessly, stabbing the shadow multiple times until she ensured it could not survive.

“Pfft.”

Once she felt temporarily safe, Ming He spat out a mouthful of blood and glanced at her left shoulder, where the shadow’s sword had stabbed her. The blood oozing out was black—poison from the blade.

Fortunately, the blade hadn’t penetrated too deeply, so it should still be salvageable.

Gritting her teeth, she slightly closed her eyes and picked up the Moon Crescent Dagger that had finished off her enemy. Using it, she sliced away the flesh that had been pierced by the sword, her gaze cold and resolute, sweat dripping from her brow, and her lips turning pale.

“Ah.” She involuntarily stifled a groan from the pain. After simply bandaging her wound, she surveyed the surroundings.

She stood in the corridor of Qingyun Tower’s nineteenth floor. Outside, there should have been moonlight, but all she saw was darkness.

This was abnormal.

And there were the earlier screams and sounds of blades clashing.

Qingyun Tower was where the cultivators of the Small Dragon and Tiger Rankings lived. Every cultivator here was a genius from the Eastern Region, and the tower was a central building of Dongfeng City, typically guarded by armored guards.

Something had happened!

Realizing this, Ming He felt alarmed. The moonlight wouldn’t just vanish suddenly, and the aura around her…

She looked at the faint ripples appearing around Qingyun Tower; they felt familiar. That was… formation patterns!

She had seen similar patterns at Liu Yun Sect in the Ninth Continent. Elder Lin beside Qin Chu Yi was a formation master; Nineteen had also been a formation master in the ancient cave dwelling.

Qingyun Tower had been set up with a formation, though she didn’t know what kind it was.

Steeling herself, Ming He hurried towards the twentieth floor. She knew Yu Wen Xi was a child of a powerful clan, and such clan members always had ways to save themselves. He should be okay, but she needed to ask him what methods he had to send out news.

Now that she was on the nineteenth floor, she certainly couldn’t break through by herself.

She needed to alert the armored guards and inform the Domain Lord’s mansion.

“Caw, caw, caw, you can’t escape.” A shadow descended from the twentieth floor, blocking Ming He’s path, its gaze mocking and indifferent, as though watching a dying insect struggle.

Ming He was startled. With a quick application of her Phantom Steps, she slipped past the shadow’s deadly claws and ran down the stairs, only to find another shadow approaching from below.

With shadows in front and behind, Ming He saw no chance to escape.

Despair filled her heart as she looked at the looming shadow, but her eyes remained bright; even if she had to die, a sword cultivator would die fighting.

“Clang.”

The sound of a long sword slicing through the air was sharp and clear. Ming He held her sword, knuckles turning white, but she refused to let go—what was death, after all? Before she died, even if she couldn’t drag someone down with her, she would unleash maximum damage.

Big Dipper Seven Star Sword Technique, second move: Kai Yang.

Sword intent of heaven and earth, second level sword intent!

The sword light brightened and split the darkness for a moment, the moonlight shining through the gap onto Ming He’s sword. In the light, her gaze was fierce and filled with murderous intent. The sword tip swept through the shadow’s indifferent gaze and shattered the black cloth covering its face.

With a crack, as the sword light fell, Ming He saw an ugly visage, bruised and battered as if it had been scorched by fire, with a vicious and abhorrent expression.

There were also bloodstains from the sword energy across its face.

“Seeking death.” The shadow roared, its torn face twisted with fury, swinging a hand to slam down on Ming He. The massive burst of spiritual energy struck her chest, causing blood to surge forth and stain her features, yet it was nothing compared to the shadow’s ugliness.

Even at this point, Ming He’s eyes remained bright.

“Dying now is better than before.” Ming He thought with a hint of bitter amusement, then looked at the palm that loomed over her, shading her in darkness, and slowly closed her eyes. She was indeed not the main character in this story.

At this moment, the main character should be descending from the heavens to rescue her.

“Impudent!” A clear and graceful voice echoed from the far sky.

Ming He opened her eyes to see a brilliant sword light. It was a sword light capable of igniting the heavens and earth in the night. While it may not match the stars beneath her sword, it shone more brilliantly than the sun’s radiant glow.

Because that stroke of sword light illuminated only her.

Following the sword light, Ming He witnessed a flying sword descend from the sky, circling around the shadow and beheading it like a farmer hacking a melon. The shadow’s hand had just stopped half a foot above her head, permanently frozen in that position, as the hand’s owner fell backward, lifeless at her feet.

His eyes widened, still holding the smugness of having dominated her life.

He died while relishing in that smugness, with no time for any reprieve.

Ming He observed the bloodshed and sword light in the corridor, with the long sword dancing around her before hovering beside her. That sword felt familiar, entirely pure white, and the voice she had just heard was also very familiar.

But she no longer had the energy to think.

Before her consciousness faded, Ming He saw a figure in white descending from the sky, landing beside her. The white shimmered brilliantly in the darkness, bringing her vitality.

She had saved her life once again.

Ming He instinctively recognized the identity of the person, feeling relieved as she allowed herself to close her eyes and completely collapse.

The ground felt oddly soft.