Chapter 110: Eternal Sword Sect’s challenge

Chapter 110: Eternal Sword Sect’s challenge

"You came all the way here to challenge; how can I refuse?" A small arc formed on his lips as Feng Yun spoke confidently.

"You must have come here to regain the honour of your sect; I think you made the wrong choice." Feng Yun continued.

"You are arrogant." Liang Fei spoke.

"No!" Feng Yun stepped forward and said, "I am just realistic. So who wants to go first?" Saying that, a spear appeared in his hand as he pointed it at them.

"Or you guys can save time and come together."

The open area of Black Plain City pulsed with quiet anticipation. Spectators lined the edges, watching from rooftops and stone ledges, murmuring with excitement.

Feng Yun stood alone onone side, spear in hand. His eyes were calm, unreadable. There was no arrogance in his posture—only certainty.

Before him, five disciples of the Eternal Sword Sect stood in a disciplined line. Clad in simple robes trimmed with silver thread, they bore the crest of the sect with pride, but no hostility.

"Senior Brother Fei, let me test him first." The disciple named Yuan Hai spoke. These five were all core disciples of the Eternal Sword Sect; Liang Fei was the strongest here. According to the sources, Feng Yun has already broken through the Martial King Realm.

But the lowest cultivation among the five disciples was the third layer of the Martial King Realm. Feng Yun was just promoted not long ago; his strength wouldn’t be much stronger.

Yuan Hai unsheathed his sword. It sang softly in the air, its surface glinting faintly. He walked forward, footsteps steady.

"I will go first," he said. His voice was firm, yet respectful. "Draw your spear."

Feng Yun lifted his weapon and stepped forward. He spun the spear in one smooth motion, letting the shaft hum in the air before gripping it firmly.

The two faced each other. The moment stretched.

"Begin," Liang Fei said. Yuan Hai surged forward.

His movements were swift and trained. A diagonal slash, aimed to force Feng Yun onto the defensive. But Feng Yun didn’t retreat. His spear flicked to the side with barely a sound.

"Form One: Serpent Flick."

The tip of the spear darted, like a snake, tapping the edge of Hai’s blade moth, and twisting it slightly off course. It wasn’t brute force—just perfect redirection.

Yuan Hai adjusted quickly, sliding back and shifting his stance. He pivoted, feet gliding on the stone tiles.

"Wind Sword Art: Second Form—Gale Fang!"

A surge of wind burst from his sword as he struck again, this time with twin slashes aimed in a crossing pattern.

Feng Yun’s foot slid forward.

He stepped into the attack rather than away, sweeping his spear in a wide horizontal arc. The swirling wind shattered around his strike, harmlessly dispersing. The spear hummed with subtle force, vibrating through the street.

The watching cultivators stirred. Many could barely follow his motion.

Yuan Hai’s brows tightened. His stance shifted lower. "You see through forms quickly."

"Your movements are too slow," Feng Yun replied softly.

Their blades met again—steel against tempered wood. Yuan Hai brought down his sword with a cry, a burst of sword qi crackling along its edge. Feng Yun parried with the midsection of his spear, absorbing the blow and letting the force glide along the shaft harmlessly.

Then he moved.

With a smooth spring of his legs, he rose slightly into the air, twisting mid-spin. The spear trailed behind him in an elegant curve. Yuan Hai raised his blade to meet it—then paused.

The spear never landed.

Feng Yun’s feet touched the ground behind him, and the butt of the spear gently tapped Yuan Hai’s shoulder from behind.

Silence.

Yuan Hai didn’t move.

"I yield," he said clearly.

Gasps echoed across the square.

"He is strong." Other disciples whispered softly.

"Yes, much stronger than we thought. How did he become so strong in just a few days?"

Feng Yun’s strength turned the recognition of the Eternal Sword sect’s disciples toward him.

....

Feng Yun withdrew the spear and stepped back, offering a small nod.

Yuan Hai returned to the group; his face was livid and pale after defeat.

"Let me come!" At this time, the second disciple stepped forward. His name was Yao Zhen, and there was fire in his gaze—literally. He was a fourth-layerMartial King Realm cultivator.

As he walked into the ring, the heat around him rose. His sword glowed faintly with a reddish hue, elemental qi flickering at the edges.

"I’m not here to play defence," Yao said. "I came to burn through your calm."

Feng Yun tilted his head. "Then try."

Yao launched forward, leaving a scorched trail behind him.

"Fire Blade Art: Blazing Fang!"

He swung his blade downward, and a wave of flame swept forward like a crescent moon. The heat singed the edges of Feng Yun’s robe before he even moved.

But move he did.

Feng Yun stabbed his spear into the ground with force. Lightning crackled from the point of contact, surging up in a column that met the wave of fire mid-air.

The two elements collided with a thunderous boom.

Spectators shielded their eyes as sparks and ash spiralled outward.

From within the smoke, two figures remained standing.

Yao didn’t hesitate—he pushed through the haze, blade igniting again. He swung twice, each arc leaving trails of fire that lingered in the air.

Feng Yun wove between them with subtle steps. His spear spun defensively, deflecting sparks as he waited. Calculated. Watching.

"You won’t win just by defending," Yao growled.

"I’m not defending," Feng Yun said.

He moved.

With a sudden burst of speed, he twisted his body in a low, spiralling lunge. The spear’s tip traced a helix of energy as it pierced through the air with precision.

Yao’s eyes widened. He attempted to pivot—but too late.

The spear didn’t strike flesh. It stopped just at his collarbone, the tip humming with restrained power.

Yao breathed hard.

He looked down at the spear. Then nodded once.

"I yield."