Chapter 100: Chapter 99: Won or Lost?
Wen Qingye’s brow furrowed, his expression growing ever more solemn. He believed that if his strength had been just a bit greater, Lang Feng would have been utterly unable to dodge that last strike. But alas, his cultivation was still too weak.
Lang Feng’s power had already surpassed the absolute limit of Wen Qingye’s strength. Even when Lang Feng had been careless a moment ago, Wen Qingye’s Swordsmanship had failed to harm him in the slightest.
A sense of crisis arose in Wen Qingye’s heart. He knew that Lang Feng was on guard now, and the rest of the fight would be even more difficult.
Lang Feng looked at Wen Qingye, his face devoid of expression. "What? You still want to struggle?"
"Struggle?" Wen Qingye laughed. "Are you even worthy of saying such a word to me?"
Wen Qingye looked at the incredibly arrogant Lang Feng and sneered. "With your strength, you think you can take the championship of the Four Mountains Martial Arts Gathering? You’re dreaming. Today, I will shatter every last one of your hopes!"
"Clear Wind Chasing Moon!"
Wen Qingye’s feet blurred, his speed astonishingly fast. His body became like a wisp of clear wind, the sword in his hand like a crescent moon, its tip aimed straight for Lang Feng’s chest.
Having just witnessed Wen Qingye’s Swordsmanship, Lang Feng didn’t dare to let his guard down. He quickly swept his sword forward, attempting to block the assault.
"When it comes to Swordsmanship, I understand it better than you!"
"Silver Moon Wushang!"
The crowd was stunned. They saw Wen Qingye press his sword to his waist, his footwork nimble and swift. Before anyone could process what was happening, Wen Qingye was already charging forward again.
Lang Feng was horrified. Wen Qingye had already mastered this Swordsmanship to the point of transcendence. He had somehow found a perfect point of transition between two different sword forms, fusing them together. The true essence of Swordsmanship was on full display in that instant.
"HISS!"
Lang Feng felt a gash appear on his arm, a line of blood blooming. He abruptly raised his sword, and a red bolt of energy erupted with explosive force.
"CLANG!"
Due to the immense disparity in power, Wen Qingye was sent staggering back several steps by Lang Feng’s domineering strike. A heat flared in his chest, a sweet taste filled his mouth, and he coughed up a mouthful of fresh blood.
"You dare injure me!" Lang Feng roared, glaring at the wound on his arm.
A frenzied battle lust surfaced in Wen Qingye’s eyes. It had been a long time since he’d felt this rush of blood pumping through his veins. He licked his lips and said, "I’ll give you a chance for revenge. Come on!"
In that instant, Wen Qingye seemed like a sharp longsword—he would rather break than bend, even if he couldn’t defeat his opponent.
Wen Qingye’s aura seemed innate—a mix of carefree spirit and firm resolve. Like the brightest star in the highest heavens, it radiated an endless charm.
Lang Feng took a deep breath and raised his sword with both hands. He knew he could only rely on his overwhelming power to win. ’It’s a bit dishonorable, but there’s no other way,’ he thought. ’Wen Qingye’s Swordsmanship is just too incredible.’
"Thunder Killing Sword!"
A world-shaking power suddenly erupted from the Sword Body, spreading endlessly in all directions. The expressions of everyone in the crowd changed drastically.
"The Thunder Sword Technique, an Eighth-Grade Martial Arts! Lang Feng actually learned it?"
"Isn’t the Thunder Sword Technique a secret art of the Celestial Martial Country’s Royal Family? How does Lang Feng know it?"
"The Thunder Sword Technique... what astonishing power!"
Wen Qingye bore the full brunt of the pressure from Lang Feng’s technique. A solemn look appeared in his eyes, and he took a deep breath.
Lang Feng was already sweeping toward Wen Qingye. Where his sword passed, it was as if thunder had materialized from nowhere, causing the surrounding Primordial Qi to tremble.
"SWOOSH!"
Wen Qingye drew the Ancient Moon Sword from his back. In that instant, his entire presence surged to its apex.
The space behind Wen Qingye suddenly darkened, revealing a celestial river pouring down from the heavens. It was densely packed with starlight, emitting a brilliant, dazzling radiance.
The crowd stared, mesmerized, at Wen Qingye’s back. The vast expanse of stars against the dark night sky completely captivated their attention.
"Moon Falling into the Milky Way!"
Wen Qingye brandished his two swords. They flashed with a silvery-white light, appearing exceptionally dazzling and beautiful beneath the celestial river. At the same time, the Cyan Mist Sword and Ancient Moon Sword in his hands unleashed a colossal wave of Sword Qi, carrying with it an unparalleled sharpness and an aura capable of sundering all things.
"BOOM! BOOM!"
Under the dark night sky, thunder and starlight clashed violently. Everyone was aghast and scrambled to fall back. The crowd surged, thousands of people retreating several steps in an instant.
Many people’s teeth were chattering, and the very ground seemed to tremble slightly.
The crowd steadied their Heart Spirits and looked toward the arena. They saw Wen Qingye’s footing was unsteady, blood streaming from his hands. His chest was a sea of crimson, completely soaked through.
Meanwhile, the sword in Lang Feng’s hand was broken. His face was ashen and completely drained of color as he stared at Wen Qingye in utter horror.
Just a moment ago, Lang Feng had felt the aura of death. Thankfully, his cultivation was profound, allowing him to narrowly scrape past death’s blade. He knew that if Wen Qingye had been just a fraction faster, he would already be a corpse.
Cold sweat continued to pour down Lang Feng’s back. He looked at Wen Qingye and said, "You’ve lost! You no longer have the strength to make another move."
Hearing Lang Feng’s words, everyone sighed internally. ’Even after all that, did he still lose?’
A trickle of blood hung at the corner of Wen Qingye’s mouth, but he still smiled. "Who says... *cough, cough*... I can’t make another move?"
Gao Yuerou watched Wen Qingye, who still stood proudly on the stage. Tears welled in her eyes as she murmured, "Don’t try to act tough. Let’s just concede, okay?"
Everyone instinctively straightened their posture, clenching their fists. They gazed with solemn respect at the figure who still refused to fall.
"If that’s how you want it, then I’ll destroy your spirit completely!" Lang Feng roared, throwing a punch at Wen Qingye.
"BANG!"
Wen Qingye met the attack with a punch of his own. It was a clash without technique or flair, just a raw exchange of force. Wen Qingye stumbled back four or five steps.
Wen Qingye felt as if his chest were about to explode, like magma on the verge of eruption.
"Hahaha, you really are a spent force!" Lang Feng roared with laughter. He had only used seventy percent of his strength in that last punch, yet it had sent Wen Qingye stumbling back. ’It seems he’s really done for,’ he thought.
Suddenly, Wen Qingye looked calmly at Lang Feng. "This is the last strike."
’He had been testing me, but hadn’t I been testing him in return?’
Wen Qingye knew that using this strike meant that even victory would be a draw at best. ’This is the Forbidden Sword! It’s a technique for killing, not for sparring. But Lang Feng’s power has forced my hand!’
Hearing Wen Qingye’s words, the hair on Lang Feng’s body stood on end. A chill ran through him, and his brow furrowed deeply.
Before Lang Feng could react, Wen Qingye’s entire body transformed into a streak of light and shot forward. It was as if snowflakes began to fall from the sky—crystalline, transparent, and flawlessly beautiful.
Suddenly, Lang Feng’s vision blurred; all he could see was a flash of white light. He tried to dodge, but realized he was half a beat too slow in raising his arm. Wen Qingye was injured, but he was injured too.
One Sword! Wind and Snow World!
Only a single flash of light was seen. This was the first of the Three Swords of Inquiry!
"Thunder Killing Sword!"
Lang Feng shuddered, the broken sword in his hand lashing out like a raging thunderbolt toward Wen Qingye. The strike seemed to sever the surrounding Primordial Qi itself, and the world itself seemed to dim.
The two attacks flashed with ultimate brilliance, emitting a light so radiant that everyone in the crowd couldn’t help but squeeze their eyes shut.
A moment later, the light dissipated, and the Purple Stone Arena was once again visible.
"You’ve lost."
Wen Qingye said calmly, his sword resting on Lang Feng’s neck.
Lang Feng’s eyes were filled with utter horror as he stared blankly at Wen Qingye.
The crowd could see that Lang Feng’s body was covered in bloody wounds, as if he had been baptized by a thousand streams of Sword Qi. Blood poured from all over his body.
"This... this Swordsmanship?" Never mind the others; even Nie Qinglan was so shocked that she took two steps forward, completely losing her composure.
"I lost? How is that possible? I actually lost? I... don’t... believe it!" Lang Feng roared madly. He tried to swing his sword one more time, but his arm failed to lift, and he collapsed.
"THUD!"
After seeing Lang Feng collapse, Wen Qingye slowly sheathed the Cyan Mist Sword, his hand trembling. He was holding on by a final thread of consciousness. ’I can’t fall,’ he thought. ’I absolutely cannot fall.’
Time trickled by, but the crowd remained immersed in the moment, unable to recover from the shock.
After an unknown amount of time, the arena referee finally snapped out of his daze. He jolted and hurriedly announced, "N-...North Mountain’s Wen Qingye is victorious!"
North Mountain! Wen Qingye is victorious!
.......
The announcement echoed throughout the entire training grounds, lingering for a long, long time.
