Sword energy shot forth like a startled swan; the gleam of the blade flashed and vanished. Amidst the sword light and surging energy, bamboo leaves lifted, drifted down, floated up and settled, gathering and scattering in the air. The youth in green, amidst the swirling chaos of leaves, unleashed a startling, swift sword strike.

At this sight, Huang Fengbo's face shifted drastically. His strongest wind-elemental spell, the Hundred Winds Blade Array, had become a joke before Lu Yuan. What truly made his spirit ache was that Lu Yuan seemed distinctly unimpressed with the array's mediocre power, even demanding a stronger wind spell.

Heaven help him, that was already the pinnacle of wind magic Huang Fengbo could muster. A sharp sword descended, carrying a powerful golden radiance. Wang Hongtu, the patriarch of the Wang family, unleashed his signature swordsmanship, the Arhat Sword Style.

This technique was grand and imposing; with every opening and closing movement, endless golden light erupted. Seeing the situation deteriorate, Wang Hongtu immediately intervened. Witnessing Wang Hongtu's move, Qian Leng, having just recovered his composure, also made a gesture.

His water-elemental spell, the Water Pellet Art, materialized hundreds of water spheres that hurtled toward Lu Yuan. Huang Fengbo no longer had the luxury of spitting blood to hide in a corner and weep. He counter-attacked instantly with the Wind Wheel Art, a wind spell that condensed air into ceaselessly spinning wheels—a terrifyingly potent technique.

The three patriarchs joined forces, launching a combined assault on Lu Yuan. None of these three patriarchs were simple figures; each possessed formidable strength, with cultivation levels reaching the Ninth or Tenth Layer of Qi Condensation, the Great Heavenly Cycle or Grand Completion stage, respectively. Wang Hongtu’s Arhat Sword Style, though inferior to the One Hundred and Eight Swords of Wind and Cloud, was profound in its own right.

Furthermore, having immersed himself in it for so long, he had perfected it to an exquisite degree. Qian Leng’s mastery of water spells was specialized and hard to evade, while Huang Fengbo’s wind magic was formless and nearly impossible to detect. Facing this barrage, Lu Yuan’s Yang Wu Sword moved instantly.

Gone were fixed forms; he struck with whatever technique came to mind, manifesting whatever form he envisioned—utterly without set patterns or stances, relying entirely on the flow of the immediate confrontation. Initially, Lu Yuan focused primarily on evasion. The Arhat Sword Style was no simple art; the water spells were difficult to dodge, and the wind magic was intangible.

Lu Yuan skillfully evaded this triple threat, a combination notoriously difficult to defend against. His evasion was orchestrated with an almost ineffable subtlety. Such exquisite dodging caused every cultivator present in the Eastern Sanctuary, friend and foe alike, to suck in a sharp breath.

If Lu Yuan’s previous one-on-one dismantling of the water and wind spells hadn't been shocking enough, his simultaneous deflection of the Arhat Sword Style, the water spells, and the wind magic against three opponents delivered a seismic shock. The assembled cultivators of the Eastern Sanctuary knew well that any single one of these patriarchs, presenting their signature techniques—be it swordsmanship or spells—was already hard enough to evade. Yet, Lu Yuan had managed to completely evade them all.

Meanwhile, the three patriarchs were themselves gripped by shock that their combined assault had been entirely sidestepped by Lu Yuan. The trio, however, remained unperturbed. Though their current attacks had been evaded, repeated attempts always led to mistakes.

As long as they maintained relentless pressure, catching even a slight error from Lu Yuan would secure victory. This was their calculated plan, and their confidence soared. Yet, after fifty exchanges, Huang Fengbo was the first to sense something amiss.

His wind spells were supposed to be effective from a distance, but without realizing it, he had been drawn into Lu Yuan’s sphere of influence. He tried to slip out of the ring of energy, only to find he could not escape the boundary drawn by a single sweep of Lu Yuan's sword. Discovering his confinement, Huang Fengbo cried out in surprise.

He immediately looked to the other two, seeking aid, but what he saw next brought utter despair: the other two patriarchs were also ensnared within the Yang Wu Sword Circle, unable to break free. A sword circle drawn by a single three-foot-three-inch longsword could not possibly be that expansive. And yet, this single blade had managed to trap all three patriarchs within its confines.

Was this truly swordsmanship? Was this not some dark sorcery? Whether trapped within the circle or watching from the sidelines, the cultivators of the Eastern Sanctuary collectively gasped.

One would expect the three patriarchs to possess far superior insight than the onlookers, yet in the face of this swordsmanship, they suddenly felt as ignorant as common cultivators, utterly unable to comprehend the existence of such a terrifying martial art. Indeed, it was too profound. Lu Yuan's current swordsmanship was virtually on par with that of the famed Sword Immortals of the Ninth Generation; how could ordinary cultivators possibly witness such magical swordplay?

However, it would be false to say that none among these cultivators derived any pleasure from the spectacle. Sun Tiangang, for instance, was feeling quite delighted. He had been utterly defeated by Lu Yuan previously, realizing his own techniques and swordsmanship were far inferior.

But that time, only his own defeat was the tragedy. Now, seeing the trio he had always been ranked alongside—Wang Hongtu, Huang Fengbo, and Qian Leng—teetering on the brink of ruin brought him a strange sense of euphoria. Sun Tiangang sneered inwardly.

When he lost to Lu Yuan, everyone assumed he had suffered an embarrassing fluke, a claim he struggled to refute. Now, perhaps they understood Lu Yuan's true power. If tragedy was due, it should be shared by all, not just him bearing the brunt.

As the saying went: solitary tragedy is worse than shared woe. To see them all weeping under Lu Yuan's might—what a joyous occasion! Sun Tiangang wondered if he was becoming perverse.

... "Withdraw swords!" With this sharp command from Lu Yuan, deep, precise lacerations appeared simultaneously on the wrists of the three patriarchs. This single strike had severed their tendons, cutting the same spot on all three hands, with identical depth.

Lu Yuan's control over his blade had reached the pinnacle of perfection. With their tendons severed, the three patriarchs instantly lost strength in their hands; their swords dropped, and their spells died on their lips. Lu Yuan glanced over.

"Oh, Sun Tiangang, you’re here too?" Sun Tiangang realized with a jolt how negligible his presence had been. He was supposed to be a figure on par with the three patriarchs, yet he was only noticed now. Still, being noticed by Lu Yuan was rarely a good thing.

Sun Tiangang quickly explained, "I truly didn't intend to come. I was coerced by them." He finished with an expression of utmost innocence. Lu Yuan nodded and waved his hand.

"Good. Li Fang, come out. Take these people and confine them to the prison." Li Fang rushed out immediately.

He ran with such speed that, despite being a dignified cultivator at the Eighth Layer of Qi Condensation, he nearly stumbled in his excitement. How could he not be thrilled? All the major powers of the Eastern Sanctuary had just been subdued by the Young Master, and now it was his turn to capture them.

Over the past two years, the leaders of these factions had subjected Li Fang and Li Family Villa to countless miseries, even seizing nearly half of the Xiangshan mine complex. Now, those very leaders were within his grasp. What an intoxicating moment!

The other cultivators from the Li Family Villa also streamed out, their faces alight with joy. But their elation quickly turned to melancholy—a necessary sorrow. The Li Family Villa had a prison, but it certainly wasn't large enough.

The Young Master had apprehended nearly two hundred cultivators in one sweep. Where would they find space? As for building new cells, prisons designed to hold cultivators required special materials and couldn't be erected overnight.

It was a deep sadness—they never imagined the Li Family Villa would run out of jail space due to catching too many enemies. However, this was undeniably a most joyful sort of melancholy. Everyone in the Li Family Villa wished for more such troubles.

—————— Now, the entirety of the Li Family Villa was in frantic motion, save for perhaps one person. Undoubtedly, that individual was Lu Yuan. The fighting had been mildly entertaining, but the subsequent work of apprehending and housing the defeated enemies was hardly comparable.

Such an irritating task was delegated entirely to Li Fang, who seemed thoroughly enthusiastic about it. Both the Yang Wu Sword and the Long Hong Sword had long since been sheathed. Now, clasped in his hand was his wine gourd.

It was a pale yellow gourd, now molded perfectly to the contours of his grip. Strictly speaking, leather wine skins held far more liquid. Even a large gourd could only carry a few catties of wine, nothing compared to a skin bag.

But of course, leather bags lacked the satisfying tactile quality of a gourd; nothing felt as comfortable in the hand. He took a deep swig. The wine felt cool entering his throat, possessing a profound mellow fragrance.

Bliss. This is how life should be. Compared to fighting and killing, the leisurely enjoyment of wine was superior.

Of course, fighting and killing were necessary evils; survival in this world sometimes demanded the display of overwhelming martial force. But one must not let the necessity of conflict dictate the entirety of one’s life focus. One should enjoy life, not let life consume oneself.

Drinking alone could bring much satisfaction, but it would be even better with accompanying dishes. Lu Yuan headed toward the kitchen, only to find it deserted. Even the kitchen staff had been conscripted to help manage the sheer volume of prisoners.

The Li Family Villa was overwhelmed, so much so that the kitchen was empty. Fortunately, though the people were gone, all the ingredients remained. If one wants something done, one must do it oneself—a full belly ensures contentment.

His own culinary skills were quite respectable. Before becoming a Sword Grandmaster, his dream had been to become a Master Chef. Lu Yuan sometimes felt a pang of sadness.

Why did everyone focus solely on his superb swordsmanship? Apart from the food-obsessed Ye Fang and Ye Yuan, no one seemed to appreciate his culinary genius. (Today is the second day of the book's launch.

I sincerely thank everyone for your subscriptions, monthly passes, and rewards on the first day. Your support has been incredibly strong. I will have an explosion of content today, four chapters in total, each chapter containing three thousand characters.

I should rightfully demand monthly passes after publishing all four, but since today is the last day of the double monthly pass period, I must seize the opportunity now.) [.16U