The sword formation of the Wudang Immortal Sect was indeed worthy of its reputation. With the three great sword formations combined, every strike Lu Yuan delivered was absorbed by the nine members holding the formations together, rendering Lu Yuan’s immense magical power useless. Even if he had completely mastered the Sword Intent and controlled his opponent with a single blade in hand, it offered little advantage against the formation; the tide of swords surged like a sea, relentlessly compressing Lu Yuan’s available space.

The onlookers were stunned by the sheer might of the formation! The Sword Formation! Truly possessed unbelievable power. The greatest secret art of the Wudang Immortal Sect was indeed extraordinary. Yet, at this juncture, Lu Yuan declared he would break the formation—a laughable notion.

Zhang Qingshu and the others sneered internally. The space Lu Yuan had left to maneuver was rapidly shrinking; at most, thirty more moves would leave him with no room to evade, marking his defeat. To boast wildly on the brink of loss was absurd.

Lu Yuan had actually possessed a method to break the formation for some time, but his innate affection for the sword had kept him lingering. Now, seeing that if he delayed any further, the formation would only trap him more tightly, leading to a more ignominious situation, he decided to act. With a reverse strike, he unleashed the Transcendence Sword Intent of Cloud.

Instantly, everything was plunged into a blinding white haze.

Various Sword Intents could obstruct vision: the Sword Intent of Mist, the Sword Intent of Darkness, the Sword Intent of Curtain, the Sword Intent of Rain, and, of course, the Sword Intent of Cloud. Naturally, the manner of obstruction differed for each. Mist was bewildering haziness; Rain, unpredictable subtlety; Curtain, a reflection of the state of mind; Darkness, the stripping away to the essence. As for Cloud, it rendered everything a vast expanse of white, drastically diminishing the power of every subsequent strike unleashed. In a flash, everyone was enveloped within the Transcendence Sword Intent of Cloud.

And within the cloud, Lu Yuan launched the Transcendence Sword Intent of Wind. The cloud had not yet dispersed, but the wind had already risen. Two Transcendence Sword Intents deployed in succession.

The deployment of a Transcendence Sword Intent was inherently overwhelming. Though the members of the Wudang Immortal Sect were individually capable, they had never encountered anything as profound as a Transcendence Sword Intent. Moreover, at this moment, their swords were trapped within the boundless white vapor, and their very bodies were buffeted by the wind.

The white clouds drifted lightly, the white clouds flowed lazily… A gentle breeze caressed the face, a wind that lulled the body into lethargy. Initially, despite being trapped, they felt no immediate danger, which led to a relaxation of their guard. However, now came gasps of pain, as someone had already been wounded by a blade. Zhang Qingshu and the others instantly sensed something amiss—but what was this wind and cloud before them? Could it be some form of illusion?

Just as Zhang Qingshu drew out the Illusion-Breaking Pearl, a magical treasure, the white clouds transformed into storm clouds, and the gentle breeze escalated into a gale. Heavy storm clouds gathered, the fierce wind howled.

The clouds piled higher and thicker, the rolling dark mass turning the surroundings into something akin to ink—even deeper than ink, layered several times over. The tempest hammered down with ferocity, transforming the mountain cavern into a veritable hellscape, whipping up all the surrounding sand and gravel. The mountain walls shuddered under the assault of the gale, and even standing firm became a struggle. This was Lu Yuan’s full power unleashed. For a moment, wind and cloud raged together.

Lu Yuan suddenly grasped a flicker of insight: this was the ultimate profound meaning of the One Hundred and Eight Swords of Wind and Cloud. He had finally mastered the One Hundred and Eight Swords of Wind and Cloud and could move on to the next set of swordsmanship techniques. Lu Yuan could feel that the nine individuals arrayed in the Wudang Sect’s three great sword formations were on the verge of collapse under the onslaught of his full might. If they had reached the level of Sword Intent, the collapse would not have been so swift. The disparity in swordsmanship… truly spanned a vast gulf, resulting in their easy breakdown.

If the formation had been arrayed by true cultivators at the Sword Intent level, breaking it would have been truly difficult. Though the breach was imminent, he inwardly conceded, The Wudang Sword Formation is indeed worthy of its fame. Of course, gathering nine figures at the Sword Intent level to set up the formation was unrealistic. The Ninth Generation of Mount Hua's North Peak only had seven Sword Intent level experts. While the Wudang Immortal Sect could muster nine such masters, they couldn't be summoned easily, nor would it be appropriate to deploy nine Sword Intent cultivators against a mere junior.

A flurry of thoughts crossed his mind, then he roared aloud, "Disperse the swords!" This single command, coupled with the tempest and chaotic clouds, sent the wind howling and the clouds shattering. Clang! Clang! Clang! Following Lu Yuan’s command to withdraw the swords, there was only the sound of blades hitting the ground. Lu Yuan’s Nourishing Self Sword Body was now aimed directly at Zhang Qingshu’s throat: “Your Wudang Immortal Sect’s sword formation is indeed formidable. I had to exert my utmost strength to break through your formation’s—”

This was humility. This was humility? Did this truly look like humility?

Although Lu Yuan genuinely believed his statement was quite modest, everyone listening, including Ling Yuzhu, did not perceive it as such. Exerted his utmost strength to break the formation—that single word, just, was telling. For five thousand years, no direct disciple had ever broken the three great sword formations of the Wudang Immortal Sect. And now, it was broken! Yet Lu Yuan had used the word just. This was very far from humility.

Naturally, few people at this moment cared about such a minor detail; nearly everyone was utterly dumbfounded. In their minds, there was only one thought: where did this prodigy come from? How could someone, at only twenty years of age, shatter the Wudang Immortal Sect’s sword formation?

No direct disciple had achieved this feat in nearly six millennia, and yet, it was dismantled so easily. For a time, most minds ceased coherent thought, merely revolving around this seemingly impossible piece of news.

“He broke it.” “He really broke it.” “Even the three great formations combined could be broken.” “This foremost direct disciple of the Mount Hua Immortal Sect is truly extraordinary.”

“That was close,” remarked an observing cultivator. “It was lucky I didn’t intervene earlier. I didn't know who he was; seeing he possessed a Five Immortal Token, I considered trying to seize it. Now that even the Wudang Sword Formation has lost, if I had gone up, I would have been courting death.”

“You call that good luck,” another cultivator retorted. “The Mount Hua Immortal Sect is indeed the foremost immortal sect in the Great Jin, overwhelmingly powerful. They possess the peerless Yan Cangtian of the Great Jin, and now their Tenth Generation is giving rise to another remarkable figure—perhaps he can eventually match Yan Cangtian.”

“Forget it. How could this person compare to the peerless Yan Cangtian? Many geniuses exist in this world, but only one reaches Yan Cangtian’s level in a millennium. However, if Lu Yuan does not die, though his achievements might not match Yan Cangtian’s, he will likely still be formidable. Mount Hua will have another astonishing figure.”

While these discussions focused on the wider implications, Lu Yuan stood there, smiling faintly at Zhang Qingshu: “Alright, your sword formation has been defeated by me. Do you have any other, more powerful secret arts? If not, hand over the Five Immortal Tokens. You possess quite a few.” Those near people holding the tokens could sense their aura. While the exact count was impossible to ascertain, the aura suggested a significant number. Lu Yuan sensed that the quantity held by Zhang Qingshu’s group was not less than that of Zhao Qiankun’s group.

The Wudang Immortal Sect's greatest asset was their sword formation. Now that it had failed, there was nothing more to say. They could only admit defeat honestly and surrender the Five Immortal Tokens.

Zhang Qingshu harbored no strong desire for revenge against Lu Yuan. He was fundamentally different from Zhao Qiankun. Zhao Qiankun plotted future retribution, while Zhang Qingshu resolved to become stronger himself. He realized he had been provincial, confined to his own narrow view; his future cultivation must be even more diligent. His exchange with Lu Yuan had merely been a friendly spar during a trial.

When the Five Immortal Tokens were handed over, Lu Yuan counted them—indeed, a large number, seventy-one in total. But this was logical; Zhang Qingshu’s group was not inferior to Zhao Qiankun’s, and their strength was greater, so it made sense they held more tokens. Combined with the one hundred and fifteen tokens he already possessed, he now had one hundred and eighty-six.

One hundred and eighty-six! The sheer quantity nearly blinded the surrounding onlookers. They coveted them greedily, but envy was useless; they dared not attempt robbery. Even the Wudang Immortal Sect had lost; on what grounds could they challenge him?

This was the fifth day since the competition began, with ten days remaining until the fifteenth. He should be able to collect even more Five Immortal Tokens in the remaining ten days. He was determined to secure the first-place reward—it contained the spatial magical artifact he desperately needed, the Celestial Purity Water, and a spirit beast that would allow him to be lazy.

To be truly lazy, one needed to devise clever methods for it. Sometimes one had to exert effort; constant laziness would truly turn one into a worm everyone could bully. He desired freedom and ease—a state attainable only with sufficient strength to stand aloof from worldly concerns. Without strength, how could one achieve true ease?

When Lu Yuan used to read, he greatly envied the existence of the Peach Blossom Spring. However, Sima Changbai had taught him a valuable lesson: true ease in this world was hard-won. Thus, the current Lu Yuan sometimes applied himself diligently, rather than indulging solely in drinking and idleness.

Life, Lu Yuan sighed again. Seeking ease, asking about ease; which in this world can truly claim ease? But ease is not easily obtained.

After this competition concludes, he must return to the North Peak and sleep soundly for a long period—a period that should be measured in years, otherwise, he would be too exhausted. Lu Yuan lamented being too tired here, yet, since entering the desert, the only truly tiring period had been this competition. Before this, he had spent his time drinking on the back of an eagle, occasionally drawing his sword. However, lazy people always found excuses to justify their idleness.

(Yesterday four chapters, today three. I urgently request monthly votes. Even someone with Lu Yuan’s detached nature cannot live entirely as he pleases; sometimes one must strive and push forward—I am a worldly man, all the more so. For the new book’s monthly votes, I can only continue to push. Everyone who has a monthly vote, please cast it; only two days remain. Thank you for your help with monthly votes.)