This was a massive Mammoth Elephant, slightly larger than a regular elephant, its skin an absolute black, hard as forged iron. This Mammoth Elephant possessed no particular special abilities, but its defense was astonishingly high. Every so often, it would lower its head and charge forward at top speed; a Qi Refining cultivator truly caught in its path would be stripped to the bone, if not killed outright.

The Mammoth Elephant was furious. Its rage was fully ignited. Its opponent kept dodging everywhere, impossible to hit—damnable creature! But did this opponent truly think that his flimsy, weightless longsword could inflict pain upon it? With its limited intellect, the Mammoth Elephant naturally could not comprehend the situation, so it continued to charge relentlessly.

And its opponent, a youth clad in green robes, instantly drew his sword again.

One strike blossomed into twenty jianhua (sword blossoms).

And these twenty jianhua sank into the body of the Mammoth Elephant.

The Mammoth Elephant had already registered that its opponent’s sword felt light, almost floating, so it paid no mind. Consequently, when these twenty jianhua sank into its flesh, an intense wave of agony followed. This thing had pierced its defenses. To its dying moment, the Mammoth Elephant could not fathom why this opponent’s sword, despite being so light, could breach its formidable defense. Indeed, with such low intelligence, comprehending why it was dying was truly beyond it.

Lu Yuan shrugged, completely unconcerned by the matter.

To be precise, he couldn't be concerned. The Lu Yuan of the moment was utterly immersed in a state of obsessive mastery of swordsmanship, oblivious to all external affairs. Just then, several cultivators appeared not far off, led by a middle-aged man draped in an expensive, noble-looking purple robe. Beside him were several other middle-aged men, though their bearing lacked the inherent nobility of the leader.

“I am Qiao Silu, the foremost direct disciple of the South Sea Immortal Sect. I presume you are Junior Brother Lu from the Mount Hua Immortal Sect.”

The leading purple-robed man, radiating aristocratic bearing, spoke: “Though I reside in the South Sea, amidst that vast expanse of ocean, I have often heard the great name of Junior Brother Lu. However, the South Sea and the Central Plains are separated by an immense distance. It is rare for me to make such a journey, and finally meeting you today, I see that Junior Brother Lu truly possesses an extraordinary aura—a heroic youth.”

Lu Yuan paid no heed. Under normal circumstances, Lu Yuan was quite approachable. While he disliked engaging in too much obligatory socializing, he would generally offer a few casual acknowledgments. But at this moment, his mind was so absorbed in the Way of the Sword that he was entirely unaware of external happenings.

Qiao Silu, the foremost direct disciple of the South Sea Immortal Sect, paused slightly. Given his noble status, he was certainly aware of Lu Yuan’s reputation and knew the young man was exceptional. Yet, to be met with complete disregard when addressing him with such deference—naturally, a spark of anger flared within him. He suppressed his rising ire: “I have long heard of Junior Brother Lu’s great name and wish to exchange pointers. Is Junior Brother Lu interested? Of course, we are all from the Five Great Immortal Sects; the Five Great Sects are bound by the same spirit. We can spar lightly, stopping before any real harm is done. What do you say?”

Lu Yuan continued to ignore him, utterly unaware that someone was issuing him a challenge.

Naturally, if Qiao Silu had attacked Lu Yuan’s person instead, Lu Yuan would have instinctively retaliated.

In fact, Qiao Silu had been watching Lu Yuan during the bout with the Mammoth Elephant. He observed that although Lu Yuan enjoyed a grand reputation, his attacks didn't seem particularly potent; it took many strikes to fell even such a beast, suggesting his actual strength might be mediocre. This observation spurred his desire to challenge him.

Qiao Silu, being the foremost direct disciple of the South Sea Immortal Sect, harbored his own subtle calculations.

What he proposed was a friendly spar where they would stop before causing serious injury.

A friendly spar? With Lu Yuan’s current renown, if Qiao Silu were to lose, it would be considered normal.

But if Qiao Silu were to win, he would instantly become famous throughout the world.

This was indeed a fine scheme, a well-laid trap.

After speaking, Qiao Silu awaited Lu Yuan’s reaction. In his mind, when someone challenged you so directly, if Lu Yuan refused to fight, he would be forced to act. And once Lu Yuan engaged, Qiao Silu was certain he could not truly lose. He waited for Lu Yuan’s response, and Lu Yuan did react—he simply turned and walked away.

Lu Yuan hadn't the faintest idea that someone was provoking him; he was entirely absorbed in how to make his sword strikes even faster.

He was currently tracing the sensation of the Swift Sword Intent, feeling as though he had brushed its very edge.

Seeing Lu Yuan leave, Qiao Silu’s expression immediately soured. An elder beside Qiao Silu commented, “I fear he is afraid of you, Junior Nephew Qiao. Junior Nephew Qiao’s strength is nothing like that of Song Nanshan or Zhang Qingshu. His power was forged battling the fierce beasts of the South Sea.” This was, of course, flattering rhetoric; Qiao Silu’s actual strength was comparable to Song Nanshan and the others.

Qiao Silu readily agreed with the sentiment. Lu Yuan’s fame was enormous, but based on what he had just witnessed, the force behind his sword seemed lacking.

It appeared Lu Yuan might just be someone whose reputation far outstripped his actual ability.

In the cultivation world, there existed intricate networks of connections, and it was not unusual for such networks to promote someone undeserving of their accolades.

At this point, a much older elder shook his head: “Junior Nephew Qiao, come look at this.” This elder commanded significant prestige, and Qiao Silu immediately approached to look where he pointed. He saw a single gash: “…Senior Uncle, isn't this just one sword wound?”

“You see one sword wound; I see fourteen sword wounds. Lu Yuan must have deliberately suppressed his magic power to strike the exact same spot fourteen times. Different swordsmen see things differently. You see the mark of one sword; I see the mark of fourteen.”

Judging swordsmanship by the sword marks!

Qiao Silu’s face grew grim. Did this not imply that Lu Yuan could perform an action that he himself, even after the fact, couldn't even begin to decipher?

The disparity felt immense.

Fourteen strikes penetrating the identical spot, appearing as a single wound—this concept seemed utterly unbelievable.

Six days passed. The cultivators in the First Army Group were still primarily at the seventh, eighth, and ninth levels of Body Refinement. Lu Yuan remained a central figure within this First Army Group.

This time, only about five hundred cultivators managed to advance to the third level of the Wusheng Relic Palace. Among the direct disciples, only six remained capable of proceeding to the third level: one direct disciple from each of the five top-tier Immortal Sects, and then Lu Yuan, the exception. While the absolute peak direct disciples occupied the final few spots among the five hundred, Lu Yuan was still actively operating within the First Army Group, causing gasps of amazement; truly, Lu Yuan was a monstrous anomaly.

The third level of the Wusheng Relic Palace.

Lu Yuan looked toward the monsters ahead—over ten medium-sized creatures. As the thick fog thinned slightly, he could see clearly: they resembled more than ten sheep, but where wool should have grown, this creature bore layer upon layer of knives.

What were these monsters called? Lu Yuan did not know.

The group of bizarre, monstrous sheep spotted Lu Yuan and instantly surged forward. Countless flying blades rushed toward him. These strange sheep possessed substantial innate magical power, which they channeled into the bladed filaments growing on their bodies before launching them. In an instant, several hundred flying knives toward Lu Yuan.

Like a woven net of blades?

Lu Yuan wondered inwardly. The avian monsters on the first level tested a cultivator’s speed and accuracy in drawing the sword. The Mammoth Elephants on the second tested attack power. So, these monster sheep on the third level—were they testing a cultivator's evasive ability?

Fundamentally, the first three levels of the Wusheng Relic Palace were designed to test drawing speed, accuracy, attack power, and evasion.

Of course, the methods Old Man Wusheng established back then were meant to test these things; Lu Yuan himself had no intention of practicing them.

Currently, he did not wish to train evasion or attack power; he only wanted to cultivate the speed of his sword. Naturally, sword speed required accuracy; otherwise, speed without precision was useless.

He could misinterpret Old Man Wusheng’s intent on the second level, and he could certainly do so now.

He would focus on practicing his own sword.

His Yangwu Sword moved. At this instant, his hand was at its utmost speed, and the sword was incredibly fast. In mere moments, he struck down all the incoming flying knives. Wait, that wasn't right. These monster sheep's blades could curve. Carelessly, he sustained a few scratches, drawing a little blood. Seeing Lu Yuan bleed, the sheep grew even more excited.

Lu Yuan paid it no mind. It was normal to sustain minor injuries while practicing the sword. However, the sheer quantity and the curving trajectory of the monster sheep’s flying blades presented a greater challenge than he expected. In most situations encountering such an attack, one would retreat far away before counterattacking. Lu Yuan, however, met them head-on with direct sword strikes.

Parry with the sword, counterattack with the sword, engage the enemy with the sword, break them with the sword.

In a flash, sword light erupted everywhere, the color of the blade flowing like water.

After dealing with two waves of monster sheep, Lu Yuan finally found a stone stele. The inscription described these creatures as Blade Sheep; ordinary sheep grow wool, but these monstrous sheep grew flying knives. To advance from the third level of the Wusheng Relic Palace to the fourth required no ranking—it was simple: surviving for nine days granted passage to the fourth level.

The third level also contained designated safe spots where one could hide to recover from injury, but anyone utilizing these spots forfeited their right to enter the fourth level.

Lu Yuan finished reading the stele’s introduction, yet he gave it no further thought.

He continued to practice his own sword. He felt he had grasped a fraction of the essence of the Swift Sword Intent. Given a little more time, he would succeed in forging the Swift Sword Intent. He didn't even care about the occasional spirit stones that appeared after a Blade Sheep died; swordsmanship remained the core focus.