Ye Xiu brought his hand to his mouth and coughed lightly. His Heng Chen had already been sheathed the moment it pierced Ji Jingtian's body. The final move of the demon blade, propelled by Heng Chen, indeed hadn't been as effective as hoped; it failed to completely pulverize Ji Jingtian's entire form.

"This is clearly a drawing-the-sword technique; it seems using a sword doesn't unleash its maximum power." Jian Hongchen retracted the four streams of flowing sword light from his palm. He had been standing silently behind Ji Jingtian the whole time, and only he had seen everything that transpired with perfect clarity. Ye Xiu's seemingly effortless sword strike had actually contained myriad flashes of light within it. Ji Jingtian’s astonishing lightning-fast longsword was instantly reduced to nothingness upon contact with the light of Heng Chen's sword. As for Ji Jingtian himself, he couldn't react in time and was cleaved in two by the blade’s edge. Fortunately, Jian Hongchen had already unleashed those four streams of light to deflect the remaining force of the sword; otherwise, everyone along that path would have been reduced to ash.

"This fellow... so terrifying." A dead silence fell over the crowd. All the spectators felt as if they had narrowly survived a catastrophe. After a long, long time, someone finally remembered that this was merely a martial contest—a grand competition for the top spot in the Three Swords Realm, where the victor deserved resounding cheers.

A Jiao spat out the dust from her mouth and anxiously looked toward the arena. The Seven Swords of Sorrowful Autumn were nowhere to be seen. On the stage stood only the coolly poised Ye Xiu alongside the fallen corpse of Ji Jingtian. She realized she had never truly known Ye Xiu. Not only could he easily defeat the master swordsman Jian Hongchen, but he had also defeated the highly favored Ji Jingtian under such passive circumstances. Just how profound was his martial attainment?

"Vic... the victor is Ye Xiu!" Yuan Wencheng scrambled up from somewhere, shouting as he brushed off the dust. His voice was still trembling, shaking so much that it barely sounded like a man's voice anymore.

"Ji Jingtian is dead." Wan Jian Xuanhu had also risen, intending to watch the final showdown between the two. He hadn't expected that even with his own profound skill, he had only witnessed the mangled corpse of Ji Jingtian.

"Hng..." Wan Jian Qinglin grasped Shen Ying's hands, comforting her not to be agitated, though his own hands were trembling slightly. He hadn't expected Ye Xiu, a man from the Central Plains, to achieve instant fame in just three moves. While he was glad about his judgment, the terror Ye Xiu inspired now mixed with a new layer of fear. Was letting this person join the royal family a blessing or a curse?

Wan Jian Canglong dejectedly sheathed his Jue Tian Jing Hong and slowly sat down. "From this day forward, the Seven Swords of Sorrowful Autumn are completely lost to the world. Let Guard Commander Ji be buried with the honors due to royalty."

Perhaps it was born of affection, but Shen Ying's joy at Ye Xiu's victory surpassed even Ye Xiu's own. She cared nothing for Ji Jingtian’s death; as long as Ye Xiu was still standing safely, she was content.

The battle concluded, and Ye Xiu could finally lower his head, allowing himself to drift into a detached and relaxed state. He glanced at the famous sword Heng Chen, genuinely unable to comprehend what benefit this sword possessed. If he hadn't learned the ultimate techniques of Gui Yin in the past, he wouldn't even know if he could truly be counted as a master now.

"You won, yet you look so downcast." At that moment, Jian Hongchen materialized beside Ye Xiu like a phantom. His speed was in no way inferior to Gui Bu (Ghost Step). "I have some advice I wish to impart. Are you willing to listen?"

"Go ahead. I’m bored anyway," Ye Xiu replied listlessly, spreading his hands in concession.

Jian Hongchen placed his hands behind his back, adopting the posture of someone about to recite poetry: "From my observation, the sword in your hand is an exquisite item forged specifically for the Myriad Swords City's Myriad Swords Art."

"What? I have no idea what the Myriad Swords Art is." Ye Xiu had heard Canglong mention during their previous duel that the style of his single strike resembled the Myriad Swords Art. But why should a simple thrust of his sword be comparable to Canglong, who had cultivated the Art to the eighth level?

Jian Hongchen squinted at Ye Xiu and continued, "Though I have never fought the people of the Myriad Swords Royal Family, some of the human practitioners I killed had mastered the Myriad Swords Art to the seventh level. I saw the entire match just now with perfect clarity: none of your sword strikes reached their optimal speed, yet they managed to fend off the seven swords over several hundred times. Perhaps no one noticed the sparks, but those were definitive proof of you deploying the Myriad Swords Art's 'Ten Thousand Swords Annihilation.'"

Ye Xiu had sensed something strange about Heng Chen from the moment he drew the blade, but he never imagined his ordinary strike could contain such rich potential for attack. "I truly have not learned the Myriad Swords Art. As for the 'Ten Thousand Swords Annihilation' you mentioned, I honestly don't understand."

"If you haven't learned it, you can start now. With your current power, you could potentially become the first person from Myriad Swords City to reach the tenth level of the Myriad Swords Art." Jian Hongchen stated the truth without reservation. "If your swordsmanship can only match what you used against Ji Jingtian, then you are no match for me. I have only one wish in this life: to personally defeat a master wielding the tenth level of the Myriad Swords Art."

"Heh, then why don't you challenge those self-important elders in the pavilion upstairs? Perhaps one of them has already reached the tenth level," Ye Xiu mused. He hadn't expected Jian Hongchen to be such a true swordsman, encouraging his opponent to improve for the sake of sword honor—how rare.

"You mean those few?" Jian Hongchen turned and looked up, smiling. "Wan Jian Canglong's power is stable, but no more than the eighth level. Wan Jian Xuanhu is fierce but can only cultivate to the seventh level. And the Third City Lord, Wan Jian Qinglin..."

Ye Xiu looked up toward Qinglin in the pavilion, who was meeting his gaze across the distance between them. "Do you also believe that Third City Lord Wan Jian Qinglin’s skill surpasses that of his two elder brothers?"

"Heh, now that both you and I serve the Third City Lord, I don't mind telling you the truth." Jian Hongchen stepped closer, his voice dropping near Ye Xiu’s ear. "Wan Jian Qinglin's Myriad Swords Art broke through the ninth level long ago. Although he deliberately conceals it, it cannot escape my eyes. However, his cultivation has also reached its limit, because no one within the Three Swords Realm has yet reached the tenth level."

"Ninth level of the Myriad Swords Art!" Ye Xiu sucked in a sharp breath. His earlier suspicion was correct—Wan Jian Qinglin had long possessed strength surpassing the Myriad Swords Royal Family. What exactly was he plotting?

Ye Xiu didn't want to dwell on the matter with someone like Jian Hongchen, who only knew how to speak through his sword. He walked alone toward the lift. Regardless, after today's battle, he had shown his strength and needed some serious rest.

"Young Master Ye, are you alright?" Wan Jian Shen Ying cared about Ye Xiu’s well-being more than anyone else. She had been waiting for him at the Star Gazing Tower.

Ye Xiu offered her a slight, soft salute. "Thank you for your concern, Princess. I am well enough."

"Nonsense, look, your wound is still bleeding!" Shen Ying hastily ordered servants to help support Ye Xiu, intending to take him to her private chambers.

"Princess, what are you doing? Please put me down!" Ye Xiu was awkwardly supported by several attendants, flailing his arms in confusion.

"Heh, since you’re not going to die, come to my place and let a doctor examine you properly." Seeing Ye Xiu still lively enough to cause a fuss eased Shen Ying’s mind somewhat.

Ye Xiu let out a breath, accepting it as a moment of respite. He merely closed his eyes to rest, but when he opened them again, his entire world was saturated with pink. There were pink curtains, pink sheets, pink chairs and stools—everything was pink. His sleepiness immediately rushed back to his temples.

...

"Where is this..." Ye Xiu rubbed his drowsy eyes. It was still the pink space, and a beautiful face was right beside him.

"Young Master Ye, you are finally awake." Shen Ying sat alone by Ye Xiu’s bed, leaning down to ask softly, "How are you feeling? Better?"

Ye Xiu caught the gentle fragrance of a delicate woman entering his nostrils. He slowly sat up and noticed the wounds on his body had already been bandaged. "Thank you, Princess."

"You..." Shen Ying felt a sudden anxious rush in her heart. She used her finger to gently cover Ye Xiu's mouth. "Didn't we agree? When it’s just the two of us, you call me Shen Ying, remember?"

"Oh, Shen Ying." Ye Xiu truly felt helpless with this princess, but no matter what, he should thank her. The pain from his many wounds had significantly lessened after the medicine—it must have been because Shen Ying ordered the doctor to use many precious items.

"It’s all that damned Ji Jingtian, to make you this injured. He deserves to die!" Shen Ying looked at Ye Xiu’s exhausted frame and cursed Ji Jingtian again. "It was just a martial contest! Did you have to fight so desperately? And you—why did you have to fight him to the death?"

"Wasn't it all for you?" Ye Xiu had always been quick-witted, and even with his body battered, his tongue still sought to play.

"For me!" Shen Ying’s eyes widened. Suddenly, she didn't know how to respond to Ye Xiu's words.

Ye Xiu closed his eyes and nodded. "Of course, it was for you, Shen Ying. I recall someone hinting yesterday that if I won the contest, I could call you Shen Ying in front of everyone, right? Am I mistaken? Haha!"

"Young Master Ye, you really are..." Shen Ying blushed, completely abandoning her princely reserve, and swung her small fist toward Ye Xiu's chest.

"Ouch!" Ye Xiu already had sword wounds there; being struck by Shen Ying was like sprinkling salt on an open injury. The pain made him sway from side to side.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! It's all my fault, entirely my fault." Shen Ying grew flustered, unsure what to do, regret so potent that tears threatened to squeeze out.

"Haha, silly girl, this little pain is nothing." It turned out Ye Xiu had done it deliberately. He casually took Shen Ying's hand and placed it on his chest. "See how strong I am? Small injuries like this can’t bring me down."

"Yes." This was the first time Shen Ying had touched a man's body. Though she blushed, she couldn't resist reaching out to gently caress Ye Xiu's arm. She felt a genuine concern for this man; she could no longer afford to consider her status as a princess and wished to throw herself into his embrace. She slowly leaned forward onto Ye Xiu’s chest and hugged him tightly.