The four great Immortal Sects of Great Qin displayed all manner of secret arts and stratagems; even cultivators at the fifth level of Longevity now had to exhibit peak strength. The only discordant element was Lu Yuan from Jin, whom no one had expected to last until the fourth round. It was plainly evident that everyone reaching this stage possessed at least the fourth level of Longevity mastery, with many at the fifth. Lu Yuan, standing among them, truly was quite conspicuous.

“The seventh match of the fourth round: Mo Liu of the Swordless Immortal Sect versus Lu Liu of the Wudang Immortal Sect.”

Lu Yuan stepped onto the stage, and this time his opponent, Mo Liu, was already ascending.

Mo Liu was from the Swordless Immortal Sect. She was a woman who appeared to be in her early twenties, with a sharp, melon-seed face framed by a duoma bun. Her beauty was at its glorious peak, her figure so exquisite it seemed one could wring water from it. The moment Lu Yuan stepped onto the platform, he sensed something was amiss. The way Mo Liu was looking at him—it felt so wrong, as if they shared some ancient, bitter hatred.

Even if Mo Liu scorned the Wudang Immortal Sect, looking down on them, it shouldn't warrant this level of animosity.

A voice transmission reached Lu Yuan’s ear: “I know you are Lu Yuan, Lu Yuan of the Huashan Immortal Sect.”

Lu Yuan clicked his tongue. Exposed? But it wasn't a major issue. After all, the Wudang Immortal Sect had already given him the token for an associate disciple; he had a name within their ranks, so he could vaguely be counted as one of them. This kind of borrowing another sect’s identity to compete in the True Martial Grotto-Heaven was common in the cultivation world; nothing to be surprised about.

Mo Liu continued her transmission: “Our Young Miss has spoken your name several times. You, you scoundrel!”

Lu Yuan was used to being cursed, but usually for laziness or dawdling. Being called a scoundrel for the first time was utterly strange. Wait, Mo Liu was from the Swordless Immortal Sect, and the Miss Zhong he knew was the Young Miss of the Swordless Immortal Sect. Right, back at Huashan, when Martial Ancestor Yan ascended, he had accidentally brushed against Young Miss Zhong’s lips—lip to lip. But how did that turn him into a scoundrel? How strange, how utterly strange.

Lu Yuan remained ignorant of the full story. Young Miss Zhong had since displayed extraordinary talent, both in cultivation and in managing people; she was deeply calculating yet commanded loyalty. Mo Liu was one of the key figures who served under her. Serving Young Miss Zhong closely, Mo Liu had, without realizing it, fallen in love with her.

There was nothing unusual about this. Although Mo Liu was a woman, she was drawn exclusively to other women. She had fallen for Young Miss Zhong.

But Young Miss Zhong held immense status, so Mo Liu naturally dared not speak of it, remaining one of her closest attendants.

Young Miss Zhong’s position was lofty, yet she had never experienced matters between men and women. That accidental brush of lips had made her blush for a long time, and she had written Lu Yuan’s name on plain paper several times. Mo Liu, seeing this, witnessed her Young Miss’s first display of infatuation. After investigating who Lu Yuan was, Mo Liu’s heart filled with rage, and she immediately marked Lu Yuan as a scoundrel.

Now, seeing Lu Yuan before her, her fury naturally ignited.

This time, she would defeat Lu Yuan.

She would show her Young Miss that Lu Yuan was just an insignificant, bothersome man.

Lu Yuan, unaware of these secret currents, felt his head spin from the unexpected curses of being called a scoundrel.

Mo Liu vented a few satisfying curses, intent on teaching the scoundrel a lesson. With a flick of her finger, an invisible sword qi shot forth. The Swordless Immortal Sect possessed pitifully few secret arts, far fewer than upper-tier sects like Qingcheng. In truth, they had only two. One was the sect’s ultimate treasure, the Nine-Stringed Formless Sword Qi, which only a handful of sect members could learn. However, the lesser secret art, the Formless Sword Qi, was accessible to more people. This Formless Sword Qi required no flying sword; it could be projected from the fingers. The sword qi of most cultivators possessed some discernible color—even water-elemental qi was partially transparent and visible. But the Formless Sword Qi of the Swordless Immortal Sect had absolutely no color whatsoever. Once launched, you simply could not see it.

One could sense the sword qi, but the sensation was extremely faint. Even more troublesome, this qi could extend or retract arbitrarily. A moment of carelessness, and you would be struck.

Fortunately, Mo Liu could only unleash one strand of Formless Sword Qi at a time.

Troublesome indeed.

Lu Yuan instinctively raised his guard. Clang! A sound indicated that a strand of Formless Sword Qi had just struck his sword body.

This invisible qi was incredibly bothersome. If the Formless Sword Qi were easily broken, the Swordless Immortal Sect could not possibly dominate the world with so few secret techniques.

Lu Yuan dodged left and right, but the qi, formless, able to lengthen or shorten, striking like lightning, left him with no easy recourse. He had no choice but to summon his Five-Colored Sword Dao. Normally, in a one-on-one fight, Lu Yuan refrained from using the Five-Colored Sword Dao. Once activated, five streams of sword light—white, cyan, black, crimson, and yellow—began to swirl above his head.

Seeing the five-colored sword light revolving above him, Mo Liu let out a cold sneer. It was merely a magical artifact. The greatest strength of Formless Sword Qi was its ability to pierce through defenses. The higher the grade of the artifact, the easier it pierced; the lower the grade, the more effortlessly it passed through. Just how potent was Lu Yuan’s artifact? Mo Liu directed her Formless Sword Qi toward him.

Difficult! The moment Mo Liu sent the qi striking, she was astonished.

Formless Sword Qi was supposed to slice through defenses with ease. Yet, the light of the five colors ahead seemed to present layer upon layer of resistance. It leaped over one layer, then another, tearing through more than ten layers in an instant, yet it seemed unable to break through the opponent’s defense entirely.

Indeed, Formless Sword Qi was best at penetrating defenses. Most artifacts had a finite number of defensive layers, increasing with grade. Lu Yuan's defense appeared to have only five layers, seeming easy to break. But precisely because Lu Yuan’s Five-Colored Sword Light was cyclical, once the qi pierced five layers, it immediately cycled back into another five, locking it into an infinite knot, forever unable to breach the defense of the Five-Colored Sword Dao.

Good, he thought, I seem to have blocked it!

Lu Yuan’s Yangwu sword moved, thrusting directly at Mo Liu. This strike was like a raging gale sweeping through. Having spent time dodging left and right, he was tired of the evasion. With this move, Raging Gale Passing, he unleashed a hearty slash, only to find Mo Liu utterly astounded. How could it be? The Formless Sword Qi had pierced over twenty layers, yet it was still within his defense.

Mo Liu inwardly found this baffling, immensely shocked, as Lu Yuan’s overhead strike descended. Mo Liu hastily parried, drawing her own sword—this was the advantage of the Swordless Immortal Sect; they could use physical swords even while projecting qi. Her Willow Leaf Sword shot out in the move, Willow Leaf Greenly Departing, to intercept.

Wind and trees—an eternal theme of balance.

Strong winds can fell trees.

But many trees can also block a fierce gale, dissipating it into nothingness.

This time, was the wind stronger, or were there more trees?

The fierce wind howled past, and the trees crumbled! In truth, a real clash between two experts is not decided so easily. Lu Yuan’s techniques were formidable, yes, but Mo Liu’s cultivation was higher. However, Mo Liu was so shocked that her invariably successful Formless Sword Qi failed to breach his defense that she was injured by Lu Yuan’s counterattack.

Mo Liu was not one to concede easily. The Formless Sword Qi continued to assault the five-colored canopy above Lu Yuan’s head. The Formless Sword Qi had never known defeat; she refused to believe it would fail now, while simultaneously unleashing her longsword.

But was it of any use?

Lu Yuan countered with another strike, one sword following the next. With the Formless Sword Qi temporarily neutralized, Mo Liu dared to meet his moves head-on—laughable. Lu Yuan unleashed a series of rapid, chaining strikes this time, his sword momentum like the rising tide of the Yangtze River, pressing Mo Liu so hard she could barely recover her breath.

After a dozen exchanges, Lu Yuan shifted his technique. His longsword twisted in an impossible angle. Mo Liu never anticipated such a change; her slender neck was now held against the tip of the Yangwu sword.

The outcome was now crystal clear.

Lu Yuan drew his sword back with a reverse motion.

——————

Among the onlookers were several remarkably outstanding figures.

For instance, in the southeast corner stood a man with a troubled brow, hands clasped behind his back—this was Song Dongxia of the Carefree Immortal Sect. Beside him stood a dashing young nobleman, though this gentleman’s age was not slight, perhaps thirty or forty years old. Slightly older, he exuded an aura of mature stability; this was Zhong Qiu of the Swordless Immortal Sect, one of the four top favorites for the championship.

A little further away stood a monk with a sallow complexion, the Monk Jifa, another of the four foremost contenders.

“The Formless Sword Qi couldn’t pierce it. What artifact is that above his head?” Zhong Qiu murmured, puzzled. He was a cultivator at the fifth level of Longevity and also used Formless Sword Qi, so his curiosity was natural.

“This man’s strength isn't in the artifact above his head, but in his techniques,” Song Xia Dong’s voice was raspy, like a choked drake. “When you first watch his moves, they seem utterly ordinary, mundane. But after a few fights, you realize his techniques are incredibly miraculous. Every move he makes exhibits supreme dexterity achieved through apparent clumsiness. We certainly cannot replicate such moves. In terms of skill execution, he surpasses us. He is definitely a rival.”

“All law resides in the mind. His low cultivation is his biggest flaw. The fourth level of Longevity should be his limit; he absolutely cannot defeat a fifth-level cultivator,” Monk Jifa’s eyes faintly revealed an additional eye—the Eye of Dharma Extinction.

The Grand Vaishravana Temple’s seventy-third secret art—the Eye of True Dharma Extinction. In this gaze, there is no falsehood.

However, such a profound technique is extraordinarily difficult to master. That Monk Jifa could achieve it was truly remarkable. Do not judge him only by his current fifth level of Longevity; he is destined for greatness. In truth, all cultivators reaching the fifth level of Longevity within the True Martial Grotto-Heaven are future pillars of their respective sects; anyone under two hundred years old achieving this level has limitless prospects. Even the Six Sword Immortals of the North Peak, like Venerable Yuan Yuan, had not reached the fifth level of Longevity by age two hundred.