Chapter Seven: The Contest

At the foot of North You Mountain, Di Yuan, a second-generation disciple carrying an ancient sword on his back, led a group of spirited young disciples as they embarked on their journey.

“Why did that guy come along? If he ends up getting completely beaten by the Tengyun Peak disciples, he’ll be shameless, and we certainly don’t need him,” a sharp and arrogant voice suddenly rang out among the crowd.

The speaker was a young man named Zhao Xiuyuan, one of the few disciples at Tianya Peak who possessed an Earth-level sword heart. Over the past year, his cultivation had improved second only to Xia Yi, earning him considerable prestige among the disciples of Tianya Peak.

At his words, the gazes of the other disciples naturally turned toward Lin Fei, who stood at the very end of the line.

After all, everyone here had reached at least the Qi Refining Stage Five, while Lin Fei remained stuck at Qi Refining Stage One, seemingly there just to make up the numbers.

Di Yuan stood at the front of the group, his expression calm and composed despite the murmurs.

Lin Fei was known for his aloofness, but unexpectedly, upon hearing of the trial for new disciples, he had voluntarily requested to participate, which surprised Di Yuan.

Nevertheless, he did not refuse and even felt a trace of anticipation within him.

He wanted to see if this contest could ignite Lin Fei’s fighting spirit. After all, an Earth-level sword heart was an extremely rare gift, and it would be a great pity for such talent to be wasted.

Lin Fei walked alone at the rear of the group, apparently oblivious to the strange looks cast his way.

With his hands clasped behind his back, he leisurely gazed out over the sea of clouds, his expression relaxed and his steps unhurried.

North You Mountain was one of the thirteen peaks of the Sword Sect.

At its summit stood a majestic eighteen-story pavilion, soaring into the clouds with imposing grandeur.

In front of the pavilion stretched a vast circular plaza, endless as far as the eye could see.

No sooner had they reached the peak than a man appeared, walking toward them with a warm smile.

He was dressed in white robes and carried a sword on his back; judging by his attire, he resembled Di Yuan.

“Senior Brother Di Yuan, it’s been a long time,” the man greeted politely, his tone cordial yet respectful.

Lin Fei met the newcomer’s gaze with calm composure and replied lightly, “Junior Brother Ye Liuguang, you’re as radiant as ever.”

Both were second-generation disciples of the Sword Sect. Though they occasionally interacted, their relationship was not particularly close. Each bore the responsibility of mentoring new disciples, and beneath their polite words lay subtle rivalry and competition.

This delicate tension seemed to affect the disciples of the two peaks as well. Even senior brothers who had entered the sect simultaneously met each other with unyielding hostility, as if born rivals.

This silent standoff did not last long before a new voice broke through.

Bold and fearless as a young lion, a figure strode onto the arena.

His gaze swept the crowd with arrogant pride as he loudly challenged, “Zhao Xiuyuan, a new disciple of Tianya Peak, stands here. Which fellow disciple dares to spar?”

“Qi Refining Stage Eight cultivation—Tianya Peak’s disciples truly are gifted,” Ye Liuguang remarked with a faint smile, then teasingly asked, “Where is that rumored prodigious junior sister, Xia Yi?”

Once Xia Yi succeeded in breaking through to the Mortal Realm, it was almost certain that one of the thirteen peak masters would take her as a personal disciple. This was an unspoken truth.

When that happened, she would naturally become the youngest junior sister of all Sword Sect disciples.

Di Yuan appeared somewhat evasive on the subject and replied lightly, “She is currently in seclusion, preparing for her breakthrough.”

“Tsk, tsk, such awe-inspiring talent,” Ye Liuguang feigned admiration with a shake of his head, then shifted to a more teasing tone. “I’ve also heard that Tianya Peak has a disciple named Lin Fei, who possesses an Earth-level sword heart but still remains stuck at Qi Refining Stage One? Haha, Senior Brother’s teaching methods are indeed unique.”

At these words, Di Yuan’s expression darkened slightly, but he remained silent, a complex mixture of emotions stirring within.

For over a year, Lin Fei’s name had become something of a joke within the Sword Sect—a disciple with an Earth-level sword heart who seemed utterly indifferent to cultivation.

In the eyes of some, as his mentor, Di Yuan was naturally held responsible as well.

Irritated, Di Yuan glanced back, searching for Lin Fei’s figure, only to find he was not among the group. His brow furrowed, revealing a rare look of helplessness.

That guy—where had he gone off to this time?

...

Lin Fei strolled alone along a quiet path halfway up the mountain. Shortly after setting out, he had quietly slipped away from the main group, and those around him seemed barely to notice his absence.

The Sword Sect comprised four main peaks: East Ming, West Ling, South Mi, and North You. Among them, the Sword Sea of North You Mountain was one of the sect’s three great wonders and the primary reason for Lin Fei’s visit today.

A gentle breeze stirred, casting dancing shadows through the trees.

As Lin Fei ventured deeper into the forest, the sounds of the crowd gradually faded, replaced by the serene harmony of nature.

Emerging from the dense woods, he found himself on a broad cliff plateau.

At its center stood a simple bamboo hut, quiet and unassuming. In front of it stretched a narrow wooden bridge leading to a mist-shrouded promontory barely wide enough for a single person to stand.

Beyond the promontory, thunder rumbled and wind howled—there lay the legendary Sword Sea.

Though unfamiliar with the path, Lin Fei’s sword sense was extraordinarily sharp, allowing him to detect that unique aura even from afar.

He took a step forward, suddenly raising an eyebrow before stopping and glancing sideways.

On the second floor of the bamboo hut, in a purple bamboo chair, lay an elderly man with a gaunt face and white hair.

Lin Fei was somewhat surprised. The old man’s presence should have been easy to detect, yet he had only become aware of it upon nearing.

The inscrutable elder lightly tapped his fingers on the armrest, eyes still closed, seemingly indifferent to Lin Fei’s arrival and lost in his own world.

Lin Fei withdrew his gaze and continued toward the wooden bridge.

The fierce wind on the bridge howled like a blade, making it difficult for ordinary people to keep their eyes open. Below stretched a bottomless abyss—one misstep would mean eternal doom.

Yet, facing such peril, Lin Fei walked steadily, as if crossing an ordinary path.