The rosy glow of dawn stretched across the sky as Situ Zuo was defeated. It had taken merely twenty moves.

Of course, this did not mean the two had exchanged only twenty moves in total; Situ Zuo’s left-hand swordplay had already unleashed forty-four strikes. Lu Yuan had merely required twenty.

Situ Zuo was beaten. The rosy light reflected on his blade, making the brilliant, water-like Yangwu Sword almost shimmer with the color of the dawn.

Keep in mind, Situ Zuo possessed the strength of the fourth level of the Qi Refining stage. His skill was quite impressive, certainly among the top tier of ordinary disciples.

If he had lost so quickly to one of the foremost core disciples among the Ten Great True Inheritors, it would be understandable. But to lose so swiftly, so thoroughly, against Lu Yuan—a figure perpetually ranked at the bottom of those Ten—was astonishing beyond measure.

At this moment, everyone could not help but question: "Is Lu Yuan truly the one ranked lowest among the Ten Great True Inheritors?" There had always been talk of Lu Yuan holding the final position, but now, many were beginning to doubt that assertion. Lu Yuan moved his hand, and the Yangwu Sword slid back into its sheath.

He yawned and drawled lazily, "Alright, next one. Let’s finish quickly so I can go back to sleep." This was naked disdain, which Situ Zuo naturally felt.

Yet, having been vanquished, he was utterly powerless, no matter how much the insult made him want to vomit blood. The second member of the five-man team, Situ You, stepped onto the arena.

The two exchanged a formal sword salute. The Mount Hua Sword Sect was one of the five major righteous immortal cultivation sects in the Great Jin Kingdom.

As a righteous path, it naturally demanded righteous bearing, which included proper etiquette. Exchanging a sword salute before combat was the established rule: the precise motion involved holding the long sword downward with both hands across the chest, bowing slightly toward the opponent as a sign of respect.

But once the respect was paid, Situ You unleashed his right-hand sword techniques. Seeing his partner, Situ Zuo, defeated, he was determined to avenge him.

His right-hand swordplay was fast and sharp, sword light crisscrossing in dazzling array. The moment Situ You's right-hand style entered his sight, Lu Yuan felt an intense familiarity.

More than familiar—it was supremely recognizable. Lu Yuan instantly understood what this "right-hand sword technique" truly meant.

Situ You’s swordsmanship was very similar to Situ Zuo’s. Most of it was identical, with only minor alterations to a few moves.

It was simply his partner’s left-hand techniques adapted for the right hand. The left and right hands were swapped.

Executing the same set of forms with the left hand felt entirely different from using the right; the angles and points of impact shifted completely. However, this was unfortunate for Situ You, as Lu Yuan had already analyzed Situ Zuo’s entire left-hand style.

While swapping hands might deceive others, it held virtually no advantage against someone who had grasped the Sword Intent, like Lu Yuan. Thus, Situ You was destined for defeat.

"Cloud Moves, Wind Moves," "Wind Blows, Clouds Roll," "Wind Passes, No Clouds"... techniques like "Wind Rises, Clouds Gather" were executed.

As the sword turned fluidly at his command, Lu Yuan sensed his own sword momentum becoming even smoother, more effortless. The blade felt like an extension of his own body.

With his sword following his will so perfectly, the tip naturally stopped just before piercing Situ You’s heart. A slight push forward would mean death, as Situ You had nowhere near the level of Body Refining where one could regenerate lost limbs—a realm where even damaged parts could be reformed, granting terrifying resilience.

"So weak, truly pitiful," Lu Yuan yawned. "Next," Lu Yuan stated lightly, immediately.

This time, defeating Situ You required only ten moves; Lu Yuan had executed exactly ten sword strikes to secure victory. Yet, the lighter Lu Yuan’s demeanor, the more disregarded Situ You felt.

And the faces of Sima Changbai and Sima Hao were slapped harder with each subsequent loss. At this moment, the Six Sword Immortals of the North Peak exchanged glances, meaningful and deep with implication.

—————— Next was Sima Wen. Sima Wen studied Sima Changbai’s Great Sun Sword Style.

His cultivation was only at the boundary of the Twelve Primary Meridians in the Qi Refining stage, the third level. Sima Changbai’s original strategy had been to place Situ Zuo and Situ You first, believing they alone could dispatch Lu Yuan.

He had never anticipated this situation. Fortunately, Sima Wen was no pushover; when motivated, he could be fiercely aggressive.

Now, driven by desperation, he resolved to go all out, unleashing the Great Sun Sword Style in a relentless assault, hoping to seize the initiative through overwhelming offense and perhaps claim victory. His sword momentum blazed like fire.

After a prolonged series of aggressive attacks, Sima Wen noticed Lu Yuan continuously retreating. He was secretly delighted.

Had Lu Yuan exhausted his spiritual power in the previous two battles? Perhaps this time he could win.

If he succeeded, he would redeem himself and earn great merit, paving an easier path under Sima Changbai’s patronage. Alas, just as he felt his greatest joy and anticipated victory, Lu Yuan spoke.

"Oh, is this the Great Sun Sword Style you studied? Not very good." Lu Yuan sounded genuinely regretful.

He had been evading simply to observe Sima Changbai’s Great Sun Sword Style—the signature technique of the Sun Sword Master, Sima Changbai, which was certainly not simple. However, Sima Wen’s execution truly lacked mastery; by now, Lu Yuan had seen the full extent of Sima Wen’s capability.

Therefore, Lu Yuan waited no longer. Directly and decisively, he finished Sima Wen within five moves.

If Sima Wen only facing five moves was a tragedy, then the next opponent, Sima Huo, faced an even deeper catastrophe. Lu Yuan had essentially scared the courage out of him.

Situ Zuo, Situ You, and Sima Wen were all stronger than him, and all had fallen to Lu Yuan. Sima Huo possessed not a shred of confidence.

It was precisely this utter lack of faith, combined with his power being far inferior to Lu Yuan’s, that led to Lu Yuan defeating him in only two moves. Now, the first four members of the five-man squad—Situ Zuo, Situ You, Sima Wen, and Sima Huo—were defeated.

At this point, the onlookers realized something miraculous: Lu Yuan had used twenty moves against Situ Zuo, ten against Situ You, five against Sima Wen, and two against Sima Huo. The number of moves was decreasing by half each time.

What would happen in the final match against Sima Hao? How many moves would it take?

Would it be half of two—one move? "One move!" "One move!" "One move!" some people shouted, hoping Lu Yuan would achieve another miracle by winning in a single strike.

However, most considered it impossible. Sima Hao was a fourth-level Qi Refining cultivator, and his swordsmanship was inherited directly from his ancestor, Sima Changbai, who had personally instructed him hand-to-hand.

Although Lu Yuan would likely win, achieving victory in a single move seemed unattainable. Sima Hao’s face was darkening.

He had confidently expected his five-man squad to crush Lu Yuan and secure the position among the Ten Great True Inheritors, perhaps without even needing him to fight. Now, this unbelievable turn of events had occurred; Lu Yuan had won, and he had won with ridiculous ease against the first four opponents.

Moreover, the ordinary disciples were chanting things like, "One move? How can it be one move?" Even if Lu Yuan was stronger than him, he couldn't be that much stronger.

Defeating him in one move was naked humiliation. Rage boiled in Sima Hao; he knew he wouldn't be among the Ten Great True Inheritors this time.

But he absolutely would not let Lu Yuan leave unscathed, Sima Hao vowed inwardly. The leading figures among the North Peak Six Sword Immortals exchanged silent, knowing glances.

Li Yuanbai remained placid, his white hair drifting as always, while Sima Changbai’s face had turned a shade of ashen gray. As for the Lone Heart Sword, Dugu Ye, graceful and serene as a deep valley orchid, she let out a slight, knowing chuckle—it was unclear whom she was laughing at.

Venerable Yuanyuan remained seated, unmoving, watching the spectacle unfold. (Circuit maintenance—power outage during the day, what misery!

Scheduled during my book writing hours, so I can't beg for recommendation tickets during the day. I must do it now, then!

Send over all those recommendation tickets!)