"If you can block my hundred swords today without using your innate qi, the discussion about the Ding Lu Yuan Tai will be dropped immediately, and I will offer you three Lian Tai Pills and three Xue Hun Pills. If you cannot, you shall be my servant from this day forward!"

Zong Shou was genuinely taken aback by this, momentarily stunned. This Zhao Yanran’s temperament truly was unpredictable.

He had assumed this woman would never bring up the matter again, that there would be no further connection between them.

He never imagined that Zhao Yanran’s thoughts would leap so drastically, suddenly desiring a sword duel with him again. Judging by her expression, she seemed utterly serious, adopting a stance that suggested she would simply refuse to relent if he did not agree.

Tilting his head, Zong Shou only pondered for a brief moment before his Song Wen Feng Sword was decisively drawn.

Although it was a bit troublesome, resolving matters this way was acceptable. Three Lian Tai Pills and three Xue Hun Pills—he would gamble on this fight! In truth, being pushed to this point left him little choice.

However, before he could advance, he was tightly held back by Chu Xue, who urged, "Young Master, ignore this demonic woman! Even without using your innate true qi, her true qi is far superior to yours. This fight is completely unfair! How dare this demonic woman even suggest a duel! At worst, we fight her to the death. Chu Xue is not afraid to die."

The saber in Yin Yang’s hand also emitted tiny sparks. The area thick with watery slurry nearby suddenly steamed intensely, yet his face remained cold as millennia-old dark iron: "Young Lord, Yin Yang is now confident he can hold this woman back! You need not worry—"

Zhao Yanran sneered dismissively, too lazy to bother with Chu Xue. Only Yin Yang gave her a moment’s pause. She wondered if he had been confined too long by those two golden threads. His foundation seemed incredibly solid. Now, freed from the magical restraints, immediately after achieving the Lun Jiu Mai stage, his vital energy showed no instability at all; instead, it rapidly stabilized. Vaguely, he had reached the peak of the Shen Lun realm, perhaps even showing signs of another breakthrough.

He was like a volcano that had remained dormant for a long time, gathering immense heat, on the verge of eruption.

Zong Shou felt a warmth in his heart. He tapped lightly behind Chu Xue’s wrist, causing her jade arm to go limp. He easily slipped free and stood before Zhao Yanran. He also pointed his sword forward with a smile, "One hundred strikes, three Lian Tai Pills, three Xue Hun Pills—these are Miss Yanran’s terms! Don't go back on your word later—"

Strangely, the moment Zong Shou raised the sword in his hand, the previous air of casual elegance and indolent ease vanished. His entire bearing became gravely solemn, like a newly honed blade, its sharpness momentarily flashing. Only moments later, he returned to plainness, sheathing all his cutting edge.

Zhao Yanran first paused, then displayed approval. Only with such innate talent in the Way of the Sword could one possibly penetrate the eighteen sword puppets of the Ling Yun Sect in such a short time. Her desire to compete surged, her fighting spirit growing fervent.

As a light breeze swept across the marsh, Zhao Yanran’s ethereal, immortal figure suddenly vanished from where she stood. Her entire form seemed to melt into the wind, becoming barely visible to the naked eye.

Yin Yang gripped his saber tightly, his muscles instinctively tensing. Chu Xue could not even track Zhao Yanran’s trajectory. By the time she reacted, a weapon clash that nearly shattered the eardrums rang out beside her ear.

Zong Shou stood without joy or sorrow in the center of the field, gazing calmly ahead. The sword in his hand suddenly thrust left, then slashed right. A dense series of keng-keng-qiang-qiang sounds erupted around him as blades met. Yet, he held his ground, composed and unhurried. He counted aloud: "Nine, ten, fourteen, fifteen—"

The speed of both their swords was extreme; sometimes, he skipped counting when he couldn't keep up. He inwardly noted that although this woman’s personality was a bit eccentric, she honored her promises. Not only did she refrain from using innate true qi, but she also strictly controlled the force applied to her blade to remain within the realm of a Martial Master.

However, the footwork infused with the Spirit Master’s wind control art—how could a Martial Master at the Shen Lun first level possess such skill? This was outright cheating! Using an external cheat!

Another sharp ding resonated, several times louder than the preceding dozen clashes.

Zong Shou’s gaze darkened. His right hand felt faintly numb, and the blood and qi in his chest churned; he clearly felt the force increase by at least tenfold. Traces of icy power traveled up the sword, instantly coating a small section of the blade tip with frost.

With a cold smile, Zong Shou unreservedly slapped on a stolen Yan Shen Talisman. Feeling warmth spread throughout his body, he showed no intention of yielding. All his strength gathered into a single point at the sword tip, and he casually thrust towards his flank.

Another barrage of sword strikes followed. Over twenty clashes occurred, and the resonant ringing of the blade grew louder with each exchange. The strength and true qi intensified with every strike. Yet, Zong Shou showed no fear, meeting sword with sword, his posture unwavering.

Chu Xue watched in utter astonishment. Given Zong Shou’s cultivation, how could he possibly compete with Zhao Yanran, who was at the Innate Martial Master level?

Only as her vision gradually adjusted did she begin to realize with growing alarm that every one of Zong Shou's strikes landed precisely on Zhao Yanran’s blade spine or edge—the location shifting, yet always absorbing the minimum possible force.

This was even more shocking. She stepped forward a few paces, desperate to see more clearly. Zhao Yanran moved so fast; how did Zong Shou manage it? How could he discern Zhao Yanran’s sword path? How could he predict it so far in advance, finding the optimal point of impact with such precision?

By the sixty-fifth strike, that localized area was completely enveloped in sword shadows, countless cold mists spilling outward.

Zong Shou ceased his resolute stand. Whenever the icy sword intent became overwhelmingly powerful, he would simply retreat. His feet moved forward then backward, maneuvering freely within the dense curtain of sword shadows.

He had actually reversed the situation, using his clever footwork to disrupt Zhao Yanran's high-speed movements. While doing so, he instructed Chu Xue, "Xue’er, did you see that clearly? You were born into the Tiger-Cat Clan, naturally agile. But if you only use that speed for evasion and entanglement, it's a terrible waste!"

At this moment, not only Chu Xue but also Yin Yang seemed to grasp something, watching intently. Zhao Yanran, however, grew livid, her face turning ashen. With a cold snort, all the illusory figures she had conjured retracted into a single point. She pierced out with one sword, like a projectile from beyond the heavens, arriving suddenly with a piercing whistle that cut the air.

Zong Shou’s expression tightened. Even before contact, he felt an overwhelming, irresistible force. Yet, he smiled coldly, his body shifting slightly, left then right, causing the sword tip to waver erratically in response.

Just as the fierce sword momentum began to wane, he quickly retreated several steps. The Song Wen Feng Sword suddenly darted out. As the sword tips crossed, the two blades immediately began a rapid series of entangling rotations. Zong Shou appeared to be pouring all his strength into deflecting the momentum sideways, while Zhao Yanran decisively went with the flow, intending to violently spin Zong Shou's sword out of his hand.

Just as the rotational engagement neared its end, and the Song Wen Feng Sword began to visibly falter, on the verge of flying out of his grasp—Zhao Yanran’s eyes betrayed a flicker of regret—Zong Shou’s footwork shifted again, and his sword abruptly pressed down. Utilizing the centrifugal force of the rotation, he leaped forward, a sword shadow sweeping directly toward Zhao Yanran’s throat!

At close range, vicious, sharp, and utterly unexpected!

In that instant, Zong Shou’s sword seemed to be a vicious blade emerging from the Styx River of the underworld! Flashing into existence instantly, cold and decisive!

Zhao Yanran actually felt a surge of panic. She rapidly retreated, floating backward, until she landed ten feet away. But when her feet touched the ground, a deep, bloody gash appeared across her neck.

Looking back, Zong Shou had already returned to his original spot. The sharpness he had displayed moments before vanished again, leaving him as indifferent as before.

Zhao Yanran’s hand trembled slightly, filled with utter disbelief. Even having heard Long Ruo mention previously that this youth had broken the Xiao Luo Tian Sword Array and copied a Heavenly Talisman did not compare to the shock she felt now.

—What did she just see? Sword Intent! It was actual Sword Intent!

Not an empty display like that flying dagger, but a truly powerful martial will that shook her soul, making evasion nearly impossible!

—This power absolutely should not reside in this youth. This strength far surpassed the level of a Martial Master; even she, an Innate martial artist, could not touch it. Yet that strike just now seemed both fully realized and elusive. Even if it wasn't perfect, it was nearly there.

In that instant, Zhao Yanran was first overcome with extreme dread. Then, that sense of unbelievable astonishment peaked as well.

She hadn't expected that Ling Yun Long Ruo could misjudge something so badly.

To glimpse the profound mystery of Sword Intent while only being a Martial Master—how could this youth be confined merely by the term 'genius'? With such innate talent, how could his physique possibly limit him?

If Long Ruo ever found out in the future, she wondered what regret she would feel—