175: Chapter 175: The Girl

Zhou Yuanshan finally moved. His long saber slashed horizontally, a crimson saber light cleaving through the pale green mist. Its momentum undiminished, it continued to strike towards Zhao Zhiheng.

Zhao Zhiheng's body stiffened. He clearly hadn't expected his medicinal mist to be broken so cleanly. He quickly activated his protective spiritual light to defend.

"Clang—!"

The saber light collided with the spiritual light, sending Zhao Zhiheng staggering back two steps, but he quickly regained his footing.

In the plaza, the surrounding Cultivators began to whisper, while more observed in silence.

On the stone steps across the plaza, Chu Xuan withdrew his gaze, shaking his head slightly. His tone was flat: "Too slow."

His companion beside him didn't respond, merely shaking his head as well. Indeed, it wasn't enough to watch.

Among the Heavenly Sword Sect's contingent, Duan Xinghe held his longsword, his expression still cool and detached, as if he cared nothing for the spar in the plaza.

However, the brief hum from the longsword in his arms had already caused a hint of solemnity to rise in the hearts of the Heavenly Sword Sect Disciples around him.

By the window where the Kunlun group was, Ao Qin withdrew his gaze and commented, "It's somewhat interesting, but not enough to watch."

By the window, Zhou Tianchen's gaze had remained on the two intertwining figures in the plaza.

His expression was calm, without much ripple, clearly indicating he had a sufficient understanding of both their strengths.

"Zhiheng's elixir poison technique has improved significantly since I last saw it, but unfortunately, his on-the-spot adaptability is still lacking," Zhou Tianchen said casually, picking up his teacup.

"My clan brother Yuanshan's saber technique, however, is becoming increasingly sharp. The timing of that saber strike to break the mist was excellent."

Ao Qin inquired, "Senior Brother, do you know them?"

Zhou Tianchen nodded, "Zhao Zhiheng is an Inner Sect Disciple of Medicine King Valley. When I visited Medicine King Valley for Alchemy exchanges a few times before, he often came to me for advice on Alchemy methods."

"His talent is good, but he lacks combat experience. If that medicinal mist technique had been combined with movement techniques to stall for a few more breaths, Yuanshan might not have found a flaw so quickly."

Then his gaze fell upon Zhou Yuanshan, a hint of affection in his expression: "As for Yuanshan, he is the son of my fifth uncle."

The gazes of the few people by the window returned to the plaza.

At this moment, after repelling Zhao Zhiheng's medicinal mist, Zhou Yuanshan did not pause. His long saber twisted, and the crimson light on its blade suddenly condensed into a solid light blade. He himself transformed into a crimson afterimage, rushing directly towards Zhao Zhiheng.

Zhao Zhiheng's expression changed slightly. That previous strike had already caused cracks in his protective spiritual light.

Now, as his opponent pressed close again while the saber's momentum was still strong, he could only hastily crush the remaining few elixirs in his sleeve, transforming them into a pale green mist wall to block in front of him.

But Zhou Yuanshan clearly had no intention of giving him a chance to breathe.

The saber light cut into the mist wall, crimson and green intertwined, and a pungent scent of burning herbs permeated the air.

The mist wall only lasted for a single breath before being cleaved open by the saber light. The back of the crimson long saber stopped precisely on Zhao Zhiheng's shoulder, merely three inches from his throat.

Zhao Zhiheng's movements froze in place. A moment later, he lowered his hand and let out a bitter laugh: "I lost."

Zhou Yuanshan retracted his saber and stepped back, cupping his hands in salute: "Thank you for the concession."

A low murmur of discussion arose in the plaza. Some sighed at Zhou Yuanshan's clean and decisive saber strike, while others felt regret for Zhao Zhiheng, saying that if he had stalled a bit longer, he might have had a chance.

But no matter what, the victor was already clear.

Zhou Tianchen leaned back in his chair, his teacup turning half a circle: "Zhao Zhiheng is too strong; it's good for him to suffer a bit of a loss, lest he expose all his trump cards in a real life-and-death struggle in the future."

In the tea stall not far away, several Cultivators were still quietly discussing the recent exchange: "The saber technique of the Zhouwu Dynasty is indeed fierce. Although that person from Medicine King Valley lost, his medicinal mist technique was quite impressive."

"It's a pity he met a tough opponent like Zhou Yuanshan. If it were someone with slower reactions, they might have fallen for it."

"Indeed. The next three days will be worth watching. I wonder when the Prodigies from those great Sects will make their appearance."

Just as the Disciples from other forces were eager to step forward and spar, an unusual commotion suddenly came from the direction of the city gate.

The Cultivators on the edge of the plaza, who had been conversing in low voices, gradually stopped talking, their gazes unconsciously drifting towards the city gate.

First, a few people who were closer froze, then the reaction spread in all directions. Even those who were meditating with closed eyes were tugged by their companions' sleeves and opened their eyes to look.

At the city gate, a group of people was slowly walking into the city.

Nine figures, arranged in a semicircle, surrounded a central person, walking gracefully.

All nine women were exceptionally beautiful, with graceful figures, skin like snow, and robes tailored to fit perfectly.

Their exposed shoulders and arms gleamed with a warm luster in the sunlight, and a string of delicate silver bells hung at their waists, chiming with a clear, pleasant sound with every step.

Their attire was distinctly different from the common Cultivator robes in the Southern Wilderness, bold and flamboyant, yet possessing an inherent elegance, as if they were not walking through mundane streets but their own private garden.

And the young girl they surrounded in the center attracted everyone's gaze even more.

Wearing a fiery red long dress, her collar slightly open, revealing delicate collarbones and a slender neck. A thin belt woven with golden threads was tied around her waist, perfectly accentuating her slender figure.

Her face had not yet completely shed the awkwardness of youth, but it already displayed stunning beauty.

Especially her eyes, with slightly upturned corners and a very light amber color in her pupils, which shimmered with an almost demonic luster in the sunlight.

She did not deliberately release any aura, yet the Cultivators along the way unconsciously made way for her, their gazes following the fiery red figure, unable to look away for a long time.

Under the tea stall, the Cultivators who had just been discussing the battle between Zhou Yuanshan and Zhao Zhiheng now forgot their previous topic.

A Loose Cultivator held his teacup suspended in mid-air, his gaze fixed on the fiery red figure: "Whose people are these from the Southern Wilderness? I've never seen them before."

The white-robed Cultivator also shook his head: "Never seen them. This attire doesn't seem to be the style of the Seven Great Factions of the Southern Wilderness."

"The aura surrounding those women, is it from the Yao Race?"

Someone whispered, a hint of uncertainty in their tone.

"But aren't the Yao Race forces in the Southern Wilderness already in decline?"

The discussions rose and fell, all eyes gathered on the nine figures.