A heavy thunder roared close by in the early morning, rolling between the peaks. Golden, ferocious, thin slivers of lightning fiercely scorched the dense, black clouds.

Outside, the sky was overcast, heavy with stacked thunder. It seemed as though the heavens had truly poured out the Silver River recently; since the battle between Lu Yuan and Song Nanshan yesterday, the wind, rain, thunder, and lightning had continued unabated.

In a side room within a courtyard on Mount Hua’s East Peak, ten-odd tables were arranged. On one table sat a breakfast setting. The Ninth Generation Sword Immortals and the Tenth Generation True Disciples of North Peak were gathered together for their meal. The relentless thunder outside did nothing to dampen the cheerful atmosphere within; most of the True Disciples wore smiles on their faces.

Yesterday, after the battle between Lu Yuan and Song Nanshan concluded, Lu Yuan immediately fought Shi Chaoyang, finally securing first place in the individual competition. This was a matter of honor for North Peak. The numerous True Disciples naturally felt a shared sense of glory.

Last night, the True Disciples had celebrated wildly together, finally going to bed near midnight, yet they awoke this morning refreshed and full of vigor. While the Ninth Generation renowned Sword Immortals sat present during breakfast, the True Disciples still exchanged hushed whispers.

The breakfast was quite simple: just a few light, plain dishes spread across the tables.

Venerable Yuanyuan finished his meal quietly before speaking slowly and deliberately: “Lu Yuan did well this time. We took first place in the individual competition. In fifteen days, there is the team competition, but we need not harbor grand ambitions. Securing first in the individual event is excellent enough. As for the team competition in fifteen days, whether we fight well or poorly won't matter—don’t fret over it. Therefore, for the next fifteen days, I won't impose any strict training upon you. Play freely; it's rare to visit East Peak…” Venerable Yuanyuan had never been a man consumed by intense desire for victory; he embodied the philosophy of the Mean.

Thus, he genuinely did not place much importance on the outcome of the team competition. He preferred to let the disciples enjoy themselves and relax. He was already quite satisfied with what had been achieved so far.

Since Venerable Yuanyuan had spoken this way, the other Ninth Generation Sword Immortals naturally had nothing to add. The disciples below buzzed with excitement. Though the Five Peaks were geographically close, the disciples rarely visited each other. Since they were here now, enjoying themselves was clearly the priority.

Venerable Yuanyuan and the other Ninth Generation renowned Sword Immorts left after finishing breakfast. They knew that if they, the elder Sword Immortals, remained, the younger disciples would not be able to play to their heart’s content.

As soon as Venerable Yuanyuan and the Ninth Generation Sword Immortals departed, the True Disciples immediately came alive. As mentioned earlier, the Tenth Generation True Disciples were primarily led by Yun Yi, Yun Ping, and Lu Yuan, forming three distinct circles of three or four people each. They immediately began discussing where to go and explore the sights of East Peak.

East Peak boasted quite a few outstanding scenic spots, such as Azure Dragon Pool, Sweet Dew Pond, Three Pines Cave, Clear Void Cave, Eight Sights Palace, and the Grand Polarity East Origin Gate.

Ye Fang sidled up: “Sixth Brother, why don't you invite Junior Sister Liu Ye’er from East Peak’s Ninth Seat, and I’ll go invite Junior Sister Shi Lu from East Peak’s Tenth Seat…” Ye Fang’s demeanor was as sly as it could possibly be. Ye Yuan, standing nearby, couldn't help but frown: “No wonder the rumors always said you were hitting on a junior sister from East Peak. It turns out it’s the Tenth Seat, Shi Lu…”

Indeed, excellent scenic spots were far more exciting when accompanied by a beautiful and charming junior sister.

Lu Yuan shook his head: “Forget it, you two go ahead. I fought for several days straight; I’m a bit tired…”

Lu Yuan lacked any energy, but Ye Fang and Ye Yuan were bursting with it. However, they also knew that once Lu Yuan made a decision, he wouldn't easily change it. So, the two merely left side-by-side to pursue their own happiness.

Once they were gone, Lu Yuan drew a deep breath.

The truth was, he wasn't tired. In the previous battles, opponents before Song Nanshan had been dispatched in just a few simple moves. While the fight against Song Nanshan took longer, it had been exhilarating; he didn’t feel tired at all, but rather strangely invigorated. So, claiming he had expended too much energy was false.

He simply needed to be alone right now. Alone to quiet his mind and contemplate certain matters.

With his hands behind his back, he walked into the courtyard, standing on the veranda and looking up at the sky. The dark clouds churned and rolled, massing and dispersing, incredibly black, plunging the world into gloom. A flash of lightning quickly struck down, and the distant peaks and the nearby courtyard were suddenly illuminated by a brilliant, momentary light before plunging back into darkness.

Another day of storms.

Yesterday, while sparring with Song Nanshan, he had wielded the One Hundred and Eight Winds and Clouds Swords with supreme fluidity. He had vaguely felt something, as if he had grasped a sliver of Sword Intent—a feeling akin to reaching a critical point while practicing the One Hundred and Eight Winds and Clouds in a raging willow grove.

What is a downpour? Lu Yuan walked unconsciously into the courtyard, letting the heavy rain lash down upon him. He felt the sensation of the deluge while simultaneously recalling the feeling from yesterday’s duel with Song Nanshan. The sheer exhilaration of his victory over Song Nanshan had faintly corresponded with the downpour, allowing him to faintly grasp a sensation.

Now was the time to rediscover that feeling.

The rain hammered against his green robe, striking his skin. The impact of the raindrops created a faint stinging sensation—so slight it was almost negligible. Lu Yuan looked up, enduring the overwhelming pillars of rain that enveloped the world in a curtain of water.

This was a downpour!

With such a torrential storm raging, Lu Yuan continued to let the heavy rain drench him, his mind sinking into that rapturous state. The Yangwu Sword in his hand moved of its own accord. As the bright blade swept out, it was immediately coated in water droplets. Lu Yuan took a long breath.

The sword in his hand began to change, continuously executing movements. The sword forms he was using now bore almost no resemblance to the One Hundred and Eight Winds and Clouds Sword; it was an inexplicable set of techniques, utterly violent yet riddled with flaws—any single move possessed five or six, or even more, vulnerabilities. Lu Yuan cared little, swinging his long sword freely.

Gradually, his movements began to mirror the surrounding downpour, and the flaws diminished.

In fact, as he executed the forms, countless fragmented images flashed through his mind: the scene where he had previously failed to comprehend the Sword Intent of Rain on North Peak; the scene where he practiced swordsmanship beneath a waterfall; the scene where he failed to grasp the Sword Intent of Water while submerged in the East Dao Prefecture.

Memories of countless past failures, along with the practice under the waterfall, flashed through his consciousness.

Suddenly, Lu Yuan opened his eyes. He finally understood what the Sword Intent of Downpour was. What is a downpour? It is what rushes down from the heavens, cleansing and exhilarating, washing away everything. That momentum capable of sweeping away all dust between heaven and earth—that is a downpour. With this realization, Lu Yuan’s swordplay accelerated dramatically, moving with the momentum of a true downpour, surging toward the world, as if intending to sever everything.

Wind flows dynamically, clouds tightly entwine, the downpour rages fiercely.

Lu Yuan let out a long breath. Unknowingly, he had comprehended the Sword Intent of Downpour.

This should be the third Sword Intent he had grasped. No, the Sword Intent of Downpour shouldn't strictly count as one of the Three Thousand Sword Intents; accurately speaking, it was only half of one.

A sudden clarity struck Lu Yuan: the Sword Intent of Rain must be divided into two aspects—the Sword Intent of Drizzle and the Sword Intent of Downpour. He had now grasped the latter, the Sword Intent of Downpour, which was only a half-intent. Only by comprehending the Sword Intent of Drizzle could he fully realize the complete Sword Intent of Rain, thus completing half of that grand intent.

Of course, Lu Yuan also sensed that he should be able to complete the Sword Intent of Rain quite soon. He had failed in this pursuit too many times before—once on North Peak, once in East Dao Prefecture, and once while practicing under the waterfall. These three experiences, combined with the insight gained during yesterday’s battle with Song Nanshan, totaling four moments of realization, should allow him to consolidate the perfect Sword Intent of Rain, even though he had only completed the Downpour aspect for now.

Lu Yuan couldn't help but feel a touch of melancholy. It took four dedicated attempts to potentially achieve the Sword Intent of Rain, given how easily he fell into that absorbed state, highlighting the immense difficulty in grasping Sword Intents.

No wonder even Shi Chaoyang, the foremost True Disciple of East Peak, and Mo Qianbian, the foremost True Disciple of South Peak, both in their forties, had yet to grasp any Sword Intent. It was truly too hard. His previous ability to grasp the Sword Intents of Wind and Cloud in the raging willow grove had been nothing short of extraordinary luck.

The quiet downpour continued to wash over him. Lu Yuan pivoted, and the Yangwu Sword thrust sharply into the torrent of rain—a thrust carrying the full momentum of a crashing deluge.

A near-perfect Sword Intent of Downpour.

He needed to find an opportunity now, while the feeling was perfect and his state optimal, to quickly grasp the Sword Intent of Drizzle, merging it with the Downpour Intent to form the true Sword Intent of Rain, one of the Three Thousand Sword Intents.

Actually, the Three Thousand Sword Intents might not all be this difficult. The Sword Intent of Rain was particularly elusive because the nature of rain is so unpredictable. Spring drizzle is misty, sudden showers are violent, autumn rain is hazy, and winter rain is sparse. Morning rain differs from evening rain, and sharp rain is distinct from fine rain—the forms of rain are numerous and varied. Therefore, the Sword Intent of Rain was notoriously difficult to master even among the Three Thousand Sword Intents, whereas some other intents might not be as demanding.

However, once mastered, the Sword Intent of Rain offered immense power. The Sword Intent of Rain was inherently one of the most formidable of the great Sword Intents.