The rosy glow of dawn broke as the sun climbed, bathing the earth in boundless light. Any radiance, any divine ability, seemed utterly ludicrous beneath the immense power of nature embodied by that rising crimson sun.

Heaven and Earth are eternal; the sun is eternal; they remain unchanging throughout the ages. At this moment, on the North Peak of Mount Hua, this sacred immortal locale nestled within the Cloud Valley, a contest was underway.

"One move!" "One move!" "One move!" The cries grew louder. Sima Hao's face darkened, and even Sima Changbai’s complexion was trending towards ashen.

The competition had now reached the ** stage. In previous years, the North Peak Grand Competition only entered the ** stage when the final ten true disciples were competing, but this year's event reached the ** stage at this point.

It was undeniably the ** stage. Of the two sparring, Sima Hao inwardly considered that his strength was in no way inferior to Situ Zuo's.

He absolutely had to last at least twenty exchanges. He had already drawn his matching sword, the Hao Huo Sword.

Lu Yuan slowly settled his mind as well. He placed all things—every phenomenon—out of his consideration.

Many things flashed through his mind, such as six months prior when Sima Hao had strutted before him, boasting that by the time of this North Peak Competition, Lu Yuan would regret ever crossing him. Recalling even further back, Sima Hao had been constantly provoking him through various means and schemes—all utterly infuriating.

Of course, that wasn't the most infuriating part. The most detestable action was what Sima Changbai had done: daring to plot the seizure of his Master’s estate while the Master’s lifespan was nearing its end.

That was too excessive. Lu Yuan held a profoundly deep, filial affection for his Master, Li Yuanbai.

After all, it was the Master who had personally drawn him into the Mount Hua Immortal Sect and patiently taught him cultivation, hand by hand. If not for his Master, Lu Yuan would likely be in Donglin Town now, inheriting his father’s medical practice—a profession he profoundly disliked.

To scheme against the Master in such a manner was truly despicable. And now, to blatantly disregard the Master's standing and attempt to seize his property was even more hateful.

A fierce rage burned within his heart. Anger mounted.

The One Hundred and Eight Swords of Wind and Cloud flashed through his mind, one by one. Every sword technique he had used against Situ Zuo, Situ You, Sima Wen, and Sima Huo earlier was imprinted in his consciousness.

Countless stances and sword forms shifted ceaselessly in his mind, until finally, his hands moved without conscious direction from his brain. His hand snapped out, the sword unsheathed, a cold glint slicing past his side.

The Nourishing Myriad Sword rested in his grasp. Rage burned in his core.

A single sword stroke was launched. This strike was the penultimate move of the One Hundred and Eight Swords of Wind and Cloud: "Wind’s Fury, Cloud’s Rage." This technique was notoriously difficult to learn and practice, and even those who mastered it rarely unleashed its true power, which is why, despite its ranking, it was seldom used.

Now, Lu Yuan employed it. Where the sword moved, wind and cloud stirred.

This strike, carrying a chilling, pristine light, an absolute coldness, imbued with Sword Intent, steeped in fury, and bearing the weight of countless memories, cleaved toward Sima Hao like a meteor pursuing the moon. Such speed in a sword strike...

such urgency in its arrival... such overwhelming power in its trajectory!

Sima Hao felt as if, within his entire world, everything except this single sword strike had vanished. Facing this blow, Sima Hao barely had time to maneuver his sword, unleashing the "Blazing Radiance Like Fire" stance from the Great Sun Sword Art.

A single clang echoed, followed by profound silence. Lu Yuan stood tall, lightly stroking the long sword in his hand, which hummed faintly, bearing a trace of crimson sheen.

At this moment, due to a swift shift in position, Sima Hao was kneeling before Lu Yuan. He staggered momentarily, then collapsed with a heavy thud, landing on one knee directly in front of Lu Yuan, a long gash bleeding across his chest.

"So, Eleventh Junior Brother finally regrets his actions and chooses to kneel before me. But there’s no need for such ceremony between fellow disciples," Lu Yuan chuckled, his voice light.

Sima Hao was filled with shame and frustration. Damn it, even in defeat, I should never have knelt before Lu Yuan.

He was unwilling to accept it, but his strength completely failed him. With a final thud, his half-kneel became a full collapse onto the ground.

This was slightly better than the previous posture. Though humiliating, it wasn't as utterly abject as before.

Exhilaration. At this moment, Lu Yuan felt nothing but pure satisfaction.

This Sima Hao had plotted to trap him countless times. Now, he was finally kneeling before him.

—————— A gasp swept through the entire assembly. Earlier, although many spectators had shouted "One move!" and "One move!", truthfully, no one believed Lu Yuan could truly defeat Sima Hao in a single exchange.

After all, Sima Hao was a cultivator of the Fourth Stage of Magic Power, possessing substantial strength, certainly no weaker than Situ Zuo. While Lu Yuan was strong, it was anticipated he would need at least ten moves to overcome Situ Zuo.

Their cries of "one move" were merely for amusement, yet they never expected Lu Yuan to actually win in a single strike. The ordinary disciples now buzzed and roared, astonishment echoing from them over that singular sword play.

Lu Yuan, too, was secretly startled. That last strike was a peak performance, an exertion beyond his usual capacity.

Sometimes, individuals could achieve a breakthrough performance, and Lu Yuan had unfortunately done so once more. Otherwise, defeating Sima Hao would have required at least ten to twenty exchanges.

While his swordsmanship and cultivation base were superior, fights between cultivators rarely concluded in just a few moves; most duels stretched across dozens, hundreds, or even thousands of exchanges, unless the disparity in strength was overwhelming. Occasional peak performances, however, were possible.

That last sword strike felt magnificent, but recreating its full power now seemed highly unlikely, at least for the immediate future. Lu Yuan understood that the strike had been an over-extension of his current abilities.

The North Peak's Six Sword Immortals, whose perception far surpassed his own, understood equally well that Lu Yuan’s last move was a clear display of peak performance. Yet, the ability to perform beyond one's limits indicated vast potential, a power even greater than what he currently displayed.

Moreover, setting potential aside, his current strength alone surprised the majority of the Six Sword Immortals—all except Sima Changbai. Sword Intent.

Sword Intent! This was actual Sword Intent!

Even the Tenth Generation's top disciples, Yun Yi and Yun Ping, hadn't fully grasped what Sword Intent was; they merely sensed their Sixth Junior Brother’s swordsmanship had suddenly soared to supreme refinement. However, the Ninth Generation elders holding authority possessed eyes sharp enough to discern it instantly: that was Sword Intent.

Even among the Ninth Generation elders, fewer than ten individuals had comprehended Sword Intent—the Sword Intent of Wind, the Sword Intent of Cloud. Venerable Yuanyuan, possessing an ethereal demeanor like a longevity deity from a New Year painting, looked at Li Yuanbai.

"Junior Brother Li, you have truly nurtured a fine disciple. Rare, truly rare." Li Yuanbai smiled faintly.

Though it was just a subtle expression, he felt immense pride in his student. "Merely average.

He has always been diligent." Upon saying this, Li Yuanbai felt his own face flush slightly. His notoriously lazy disciple—when had he ever been diligent, except recently?

It was only within the last six months that he had put in any real effort. Of course, if this fact were revealed, it would likely cause the already ashen-faced Sima Changbai to spit blood.

To achieve such results after only six months of diligence—did that imply all of Sima Changbai's long-striving subordinates were simply fools? Meanwhile, Sima Changbai snorted, his face grim.

Up to this point, his entire scheme had completely collapsed. His seemingly perfect, airtight plan had been utterly ruined by a junior.

Of course, he refused to believe Lu Yuan destroyed it alone; he suspected Li Yuanbai was pulling strings. However, Lu Yuan mastering Sword Intent—a concept that could only be comprehended internally and not taught—made Sima Changbai wonder what means Li Yuanbai had used to allow Lu Yuan to grasp the Sword Intent inherent in the One Hundred and Eight Swords of Wind and Cloud.

However, do not assume Sima Changbai had abandoned his designs on Li Yuanbai's holdings. This was merely a setback.

Following this failure, Sima Changbai would temporarily hold back, but he would inevitably act again. After all, an elder possessing vast assets yet nearing the end of his natural life was an object of extreme envy.

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