The Scholar-Sword Tea Gathering

A cold, indifferent voice echoed across the grounds. “I am not the top young expert of the Southern Wastes either.”

The declaration shocked the assembled crowd. If such a master claimed not to be the first in the Southern Wastes, did that region conceal even greater talents than they had imagined?

Yet the aristocratic sons of the Shang capital refused to let their prestige falter.

Laughter erupted. “If you’re not the Southern Wastes’ foremost, how dare you act so arrogantly?”

Despite their boasts, none dared underestimate the unseen foe. Two of their experts had already been slain.

Several noble scions gestured, and a group of retainers advanced in a semicircle. Spiritists took to the air, hemming in the floating iron sword from above.

Two retainers charged first, unleashing their divine arts. Blazing light shot toward the hovering blade as they sought to seal it and force its owner to reveal himself.

The sword’s master wasted no words on such underlings. He simply drove the iron sword forward.

Light flashed. The iron sword twisted through the air like a malevolent dragon, then arced around and slashed down diagonally. The two retainers had barely closed the distance before the radiance of their divine arts shattered like colored glass.

The sword swept horizontally. Two wet impacts, and blood blossomed across the fragrant grass. Both retainers were cut cleanly in half, their corpses thudding to the ground.

All the remaining retainers cried out and charged at once—some sending forth blinding sword beams, others weaving uncanny spirit techniques—all aiming for the iron sword.

The result disappointed every spectator.

The iron sword, indestructible and irresistible, transformed into a divine streak across the sky. Sword energy lashed out in all directions, reaping every retainer in one sweeping arc. They saw only a flash of brilliant sword-light, then blood sprayed.

Crimson stained the air…

No matter how intricate the spirit arts, no matter how overwhelming the energy, none could withstand a single blow from that iron sword!

The blade swept all quarters, slaughtering over a dozen retainers in an instant and leaving the field littered with bodies.

Blood flowed in rivulets. The fragrant grass was soaked red; a mist of gore hung in the air.

Such unrestrained killing made everyone change color. The Scholar-Sword Tea Gathering had been meant as a talent-selection event. Though bloodshed had been anticipated, no one expected someone to be so merciless, so utterly reckless in this setting.

In the distance, palace maids turned pale, hardly daring to breathe.

The Third Princess of Great Shang and a dozen noble ladies from the capital were all drawn to the iron sword. Though they were beauties of peerless grace, they were not delicate flowers—they had seen much and heard more, with fathers and brothers who were masters. They showed no fear.

“Your Highness… should we investigate and teach that insolent fellow a lesson?” someone suggested to the Third Princess.

The veiled princess shot the speaker a glare and said coldly, “Dare to act recklessly, and I’ll cut off your head. A master like this can only be courted, not offended.”

The attendant retreated sheepishly.

The Third Princess was not alone in cherishing such talent. The noble ladies and aristocratic experts around her all harbored the same thought—they wanted to recruit this peerless young master.

At that moment, Bo Shi laughed loudly and strode into the arena. “Dare you fight me?” he called out. If he sent more retainers, it would only add corpses and invite ridicule.

“Slow down!” Someone grabbed his arm. “Let me test his measure first.”

Bo Shi turned and saw it was his close friend Xu Shan. He knew Xu Shan feared he might come to harm and wanted to probe the opponent’s strength first.

“I think it’s unnecessary.”

“No, this man is very dangerous. Let me try first.” Xu Shan was about twenty-six or seven, plain-looking—though of Eastern descent, his hair had a hint of yellow. But his gaze was sharp. “Let me go. Several king lineages in the capital are watching our every move, waiting to laugh at us. You are our faction’s top youth. If you lose to this Southerner, they will mock us and damage our honor.”

Bo Shi finally nodded wordlessly. The power structure in the Shang capital was complex. Though all families swore loyalty to the Shang royal house, the super-clans were locked in unending feuds, split into several factions that did not get along.

Long ago, the Lord of Shang had styled himself only a king. But as his territory expanded, he assumed the title of emperor, and several super-clans that had been passed down for millennia were enfeoffed as king lineages.

Where there were people, there was strife—especially in the court, where contention was fiercest. For thousands of years, the king lineages had split and united, never ceasing.

Each king lineage boasted tremendous strength; every one of them possessed extraordinary masters. With thousands of years of heritage, their foundations were unfathomable. If the Shang royal house had not been backed by the most formidable figure in this world, the king lineages would long ago have harbored ambitions of usurpation.

The Bo family was one such king lineage, and Bo Shi was their young generation leader.

Xu Shan strode into the open and faced the direction of the iron sword. “Show your true form and come out to fight!”

“Unnecessary.” The icy voice carried throughout the venue—succinct, as if unwilling to waste words, yet brimming with absolute confidence.

Xu Shan was furious. He was no ordinary man—he was a master of Bo Shi’s faction, born to a distinguished noble house. He rose into the air, spreading both sleeves wide. They expanded like two black clouds pressing down—a bizarre sight. His sleeves grew infinitely large, sweeping down to bag the iron sword.

He was a powerful spiritist, and this divine art was called Sleeve Space. Cultivated to its peak, it could move mountains and seas, pluck stars and seize the moon—an unimaginably terrifying forbidden technique.

Because of this art, many elders held him in high regard. His future was undoubtedly bright; he would surely become a renowned master. Though his cultivation was only at the fourth heaven of Spirit-Treasury, Xu Shan could already match experts at the sixth heaven.

Crack… crack…

Like a mass of black clouds bearing down, like Mount Tai crashing to earth—a tremendous pressure caused the ground below to split and rupture. His sleeves had become the size of small hills, stirring up rolling black mist that blotted out the sky as it gathered inward.

It was as terrifying as a millennial demon emerging from the world. One could imagine the power of Sleeve Space.

Many seated near the battlefield were sent flying by the pressure.

The scene erupted in chaos, but the onlookers were no ordinary folk, and the disturbance quickly settled.

Then something happened that left everyone dumbfounded. The iron sword remained utterly unmoved beneath that mountain-like crushing force. Just as the two hill-sized sleeves pressed down, the blade shot up like a divine rainbow, piercing the roiling black clouds and soaring straight upward.

Xu Shan snorted coldly. The great art of Sleeve Space was immeasurable in power. With a fierce expansion of both sleeves, now as vast as mountains, they churned with endless netherworld mist and instantly snapped shut.

Thunderous roars exploded as the sweeping, sky-filling sleeves converged and finally took in that rainbow.

Black mist swirled. The vast sleeves shrank, and the dark clouds dispersed.

The aristocrats of the Shang capital laughed.

“That’s all it is? Ridiculous!”

“So much for Southern Wastes experts!”

“His divine weapon was collected so easily. I thought he was strong!”

The laughter froze. A divine light split the void and burst forth from within the colossal sleeve.

Torn fabric fluttered down like butterflies. The sharp iron sword had slashed its way out, sundering the Sleeve Space technique completely.

The sword was like a rainbow. Having shattered Sleeve Space, it transformed into a beam of light and cleaved toward Xu Shan.

Xu Shan was a master, but before the peerless iron blade, he was beaten without hope of retaliation. He used the tattered remnants of his sleeves to block the pursuing sword, each impact ringing like a thunderclap—the clang of a giant hammer striking divine metal, an unending din.

This result threw the onlookers into an uproar; cries of astonishment rang out.

The master of the iron sword was too domineering. He had broken Sleeve Space so effortlessly—his absolute confidence and strength made everyone gasp in admiration.

“Fall back!” Bo Shi shouted from below, about to charge upward, but a man beside him held him back and soared into the sky instead.

After all, Bo Shi was the young leader of a king lineage; he could not afford to be defeated. His faction did not want him to fight an uncertain battle. The one who flew up was extremely fast, but could not outpace the iron sword. Sword-light towered into the heavens, murderous aura cutting through the air. A series of dazzling sword beams hacked down, and Xu Shan was already disheveled—half his long hair had been sheared off, strands dancing and scattering through the sky.

Two gruesome wounds opened on his body. Though only grazed by the sword energy, blood gushed out, and white bone showed through the gashes.

Xu Shan coughed up a mouthful of blood, using his Sleeve Space to desperately block a brilliant sword beam, then was savagely hurled away by the overwhelming sword force. A trail of blood streaked across the sky.

With a heavy thud, Xu Shan crashed to the ground.

The aristocratic expert who flew up next was also a spiritist, his cultivation unquestionable. Those who walked alongside Bo Shi were all elites of their great houses.

Without a word, as the new opponent rose, the iron sword swung like a mountain, stirring a blazing fury, and slashed straight at him. Sword energy as thick as a water vat and as heavy as a mountain range shattered the void. They clashed fiercely midair.

That spiritist was horrified. Though it was only an iron sword, the power it contained was unimaginable. The shock alone made him vomit blood, and his spirit arts grew more and more ragged.

At last, the divine sword descended. Panicking, he tumbled through the air—regardless of how ungraceful it looked—and barely dodged the fatal blow. His hair flew wildly; blood streamed from a gash on his neck. His head had been nearly severed, the wound gaping.

His eyelids heavy, the spiritist plummeted from the sky.

The iron sword showed no mercy, pursuing to cut him down midair. Several figures shot up from below, all striking out together, barely managing to block the pursuing blade and save their comrade.

“Don’t leave. You may all come at once.” The cold, heartless voice was filled with absolute confidence.

The iron sword circled once in the sky, then swept the four directions. Fierce sword-light gushed forth, and murderous aura filled the heavens.

“What arrogance!”

“You are too insolent!”

The five who heard this were enraged and charged together.

What kind of fierce man was this? Every spectator was stunned. Such a peerless young master would surely rank among the foremost even in Great Shang. And he himself had said… he was not the top youth of the Southern Wastes.

Yan Qingcheng, Qilao, and Yuwen Feng were all stirred. Yuwen Feng especially trembled with excitement, as if he himself were the one battling the Shang capital’s experts, as if his past humiliation were being washed away.

In the distance, the Third Princess of Great Shang and the dozen capital beauties all had lights in their eyes. Such a matchless young master absolutely had to be courted.

Some noble ladies were already weaving fantasies—if he also had a powerful background…

The battle in the sky was fierce but brief. The iron sword flew across the heavens, and no one could stand before it. In barely a dozen exchanges, three more experts were sent crashing down, coughing blood.

By then, an illusory figure had taken hold of the iron sword. The mysterious master had finally manifested a trace of his form. But this made the crowd even more astonished—it was entirely condensed from his essence, energy, and spirit, not an avatar of incarnation but purely sword intent and sword energy coalesced into shape.

A sword in hand, cutting off all ten directions!

The figure formed of sword intent and energy wielded the iron sword and slaughtered in every direction. In an instant, he cut down all the remaining experts in the sky.

Such overwhelming power awed the entire assembly. Not a single master on Bo Shi’s side could stand against him.