From the air, the venue looked like a hundred blocks of square tofu laid out on the ground, with the spectators scurrying between the blocks like countless ants. Those with keen eyesight could even spot two ants grappling atop the tofu—whenever one ant was defeated, two others would immediately take its place.

Beneath every ring, a referee was stationed. The referee’s duties were minimal: to call out the contestants according to the schedule. If no response was heard after three calls, the contestant was deemed to have forfeited.

If the strength disparity between the two dueling combatants was too vast, the referee had the authority to call a halt and award a direct victory to one side. Should a participant object to this ruling, they could appeal to the arbitration committee.

There were only two rules governing the matches: first, weapons were restricted to the few standard swords designated by the Sword Master Association; second, the victor was forbidden from continuing the attack once the opponent conceded defeat.

Swordsmanship values practical combat above all else, making casualties an unavoidable reality. Even so, the pursuit of the Sword Master title drew a massive influx of contestants from all corners of the globe, willing to spill their blood upon the stage.

After Tong Jinhe departed, the two swordsmen engaged in their rapid exchange on the ring were quickly decided. Both were wounded simultaneously: one in the right shoulder, the other in the right hand. Following the match, both men forfeited. Since both favored their right hands for wielding their swords, it was clear that regardless of who had "won" the exchange, neither could hold a sword for the next bout. Both had to retreat in dejection; any hope for this year’s Sword Master title had vanished for them.

The referee announced the result and then called the next pair of contestants forward.

Heeding the warning from the preceding match, the newly arrived pair fought with extreme caution, probing each other for a full five minutes before gradually revealing some of their signature techniques.

By this time, Yang Ying and the others had moved to another ring. Here, a swordsman whose technique flowed like water displayed a mastery superior even to the previous quick-fencing duo. However, he dispatched his opponent in just a few passes, prompting the referee to declare him the winner and call the next match.

In the contestant area beneath the rings, dozens of swordsmen awaited their turn. When the referee announced the names, only a handful of the assembled waiting participants moved toward the stage.

The number of people waiting to compete was still far short of a hundred thousand.

Yang Ying asked, "Miss Xin, I heard that a hundred thousand swordsmen registered for the Sword Master qualification examination. Why are there so few here?"

"Most were eliminated during the preliminary qualifiers," Xin Jinyun replied, brushing back the hair the mountain wind had scattered from her forehead. "Of the hundred thousand who signed up, many were just playing at it, lacking the necessary skill for true competition. Therefore, after a single qualifying round, only six thousand four hundred swordsmen remain to fight in the arena today—meaning sixty-four fighters per ring."

"I see." Yang Ying nodded. "Miss Xin, could you explain the schedule for the main event?"

"Certainly!" Xin Jinyun laughed. "Today we still have sixty-four hundred people. After today’s three rounds of matches, only eight hundred will remain. By tomorrow night, we will have determined the first hundred Sword Masters. The day after tomorrow and the day after that will be reserved for duels among these newly promoted masters, culminating in the championship match. However, once the fighters earn the Sword Master title, they tend to hold back; while their technical proficiency increases significantly, the sheer ferocity of the fights drops considerably compared to now."

The two wove through the rings as if strolling, observing dozens of contests. Over a hundred different sword styles were displayed—some heavy, some light, some intricate, some crude, some rigid, some fluid, some fast, some slow—the vast majority being techniques Yang Ying had never encountered.

Yet, he discovered that by comparing any of these styles against the fundamental sword techniques taught at the Nian Neng Temple, he could instantly grasp the essence of their brilliance. The duels served as illustrations accompanying a text, allowing Yang Ying to see the underlying principles within the Temple’s basic sword forms with greater clarity.

However, Yang Ying knew this was not the time to disperse his focus onto these myriad styles. Once he had mastered the fundamental sword techniques to their deepest level, integrating these various styles would become effortless.

About four hours passed, and the competition entered its second round. Although the stamina of the remaining contestants had diminished, the average level of swordsmanship had noticeably risen.

Yang Ying found a rare and magnificent clash of titans underway. Both combatants were recognized masters of the sword: one, a powerfully built Black man, the other, a lean monk. Both possessed the skill level of a Sword Master, but bad luck had forced them to meet so early; they could have progressed much further.

It was at this moment that the Ghost Agents sent to trail Tong Jinhe returned to report.

The energy reserves of the Ghost Agents were sufficient only for four hours and ten minutes of invisibility. Yang Ying knew their energy was nearing its critical point, so he immediately sent them back to the Floating Continent, following them with his consciousness in a spiritual excursion.

"What about that old man?" he asked directly.

"After arriving at the Judging Committee on the mountaintop, the target has not left," the Ghost Agent reported. "During this time, he has been adjudicating match affairs with the other twenty-nine judges. Apart from an icy demeanor, he has exhibited no behavior that is unusual or hostile."

"It seems he is deeply concealed," Yang Ying mused. Tong Jinhe clearly harbored enmity, yet remained outwardly composed—such a person was exceedingly difficult to handle. Moreover, he intended to leave Earth once the tournament concluded. Before then, this old man had to be dealt with; otherwise, if Tong Jinhe couldn't find Yang Ying, he might vent his anger upon the Xin family mother and daughter. Tong Jinhe was a seasoned Sword Master, and dealing with the Xin family martial arts hall would be no simple task for the bereaved Xin women alone.

Yang Ying returned to the real world; less than half a minute had elapsed, and Xin Jinyun, standing beside him, noticed nothing amiss.

Xin Jinyun pointed toward the fighters in the ring. "Yang Ying, look, the Black man is employing Shaolin Swordplay, while the Monk uses Emei Swordplay. Shaolin's staff and sword techniques are famous, and Emei Swordplay is unparalleled in the world. This battle is a direct confrontation—we are in for a spectacle."

Hearing "Shaolin Sword," Yang Ying glanced back at the Black man with increased interest, though he detected no signs of Nianli (Psionic Energy). This was normal, however; the world of awakened individuals differed from that of ordinary people. Even apprentices at the Nian Neng Temple possessed Sword Master level skills and had no need to compete for a redundant Sword Master title.

Back in the ring, the Black man’s sword strokes were fierce and sharp, while the Monk’s were quick and agile. They were evenly matched, reaching a stalemate for a time. The surrounding crowd swelled, cheers erupting in waves, until the area around the ring became a blazing hot cauldron of sound, effectively driving away the chill of early spring.

In the end, the Monk proved slightly superior, winning by half a move. The audience erupted in thunderous applause, as if the Monk had become a hero, drowning out even the referee’s announcement of the Monk's victory.

After watching that bout, Yang Ying and Xin Jinyun continued to traverse the various rings in search of high-level swordsmanship. By sunset, all three rounds of the duels were concluded.

As the tournament progressed, confrontations between true experts became more frequent. Yang Ying gained considerable insight from observing these duels. After all, he had only been in this world for just over two months, and his practical combat experience in sword fighting remained exceedingly thin. Although he practiced the sword daily, and recently gained significant practical experience sparring with the Divine Race fanatics, leading to rapid improvement, this could not erase the fact that he was, fundamentally, a beginner. Watching the varied countermeasures employed in others' duels provided sudden enlightenment on many principles he had previously failed to grasp, leading to immense gains.

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