As his mind raced through calculations, Zong Shou took another step forward. Instead of retreating, he lunged in, meeting the blazing, fierce energy head-on with a sudden thrust of his sword.

Midway through the arc, a spiraling sword force, woven from intertwined water and fire energies, erupted from the blade.

The sword light flashed, effortlessly piercing the vast, sweeping gale and aiming directly for the man's throat.

The burly figure’s eyes narrowed, and instinctively, he prepared to slap the sword away. But the moment his hand began to move, his eyes contracted sharply, filled only with stark alarm.

It was a simple, straightforward thrust, with at most a negligible ripple of power. Yet, in that instant, he felt an absolute certainty that no matter how he defended, the outcome—the sword sinking into his throat—was unavoidable.

Almost unconsciously, the burly man recoiled swiftly, yet still flung out a palm strike with his right hand. Countless slivers of silver-white flame burst forth, vividly transforming into a whip of fire several zhang long, slashing horizontally towards Zong Shou’s waist!

“So this is it. The Imperial Flame Spiritual Art of your Flame Bear Clan. Truly extraordinary!”

Zong Shou smiled faintly. His sword remained steady, yet it vibrated once, landing sharply with a distinct thwack against the burly man’s jaw. Then, with an effortless side-swipe, he completely shattered the flame whip. Not a single spark touched him as he pointed his sword coolly at the burly man, offering a mild smile: “Finally, you’ve shown some real skill.

But it’s far from enough if you think you can capture me and escape.”

The burly man’s expression twisted into something agonizingly ugly. His teeth were clamped so tightly that they drew faint traces of blood. Furthermore, a violently exploding spiral of energy had surged into his lower jaw, also swirling with water and fire, forcing him to exert maximum effort just to expel it. Even the dullest person could now realize that the opponent had intentionally provoked him into attacking.

This Zong Shou was not merely slightly skilled in martial arts, as he had imagined; he possessed the very Spirit of the Sword!

If the other party had held any murderous intent, those two initial sword strikes would have already claimed his life.

At this moment, he felt an overwhelming urge to curse profanely.

If this Young Lord of the Qiantian Mountain was truly the rumored wastrel, then what did men like him and Feng Yu even count as? Scum?

He should have realized long ago: how could someone who commanded the loyalty of a figure like Zong Yuan possibly be a true degenerate?

Zong Shou, however, remained with his eyes half-closed, continuing to sense the subtle changes in the other man’s internal Qi. A growing sense of delight flickered in his gaze.

He had essentially grasped the principle behind the Imperial Flame Spiritual Art. While there were still many nuances beyond his knowledge, his martial experience was now sufficient to complete the puzzle.

Just as he was thinking that since the man had stopped attacking, he might as well finish him off completely—

He saw the burly man roar once more and pounce, his entire body advancing like a massive, crushing wall. The savage malice in his eyes seemed almost tangible.

Previously, in his attacks, he had suppressed his aura completely to avoid alarming those outside the tent.

Now, he disregarded caution entirely. He lunged with that one grasping palm, causing the temperature inside the tent to instantly surge several times over, with explosive energy radiating outward! The carpet and the tent fabric itself began to ignite without wind.

The first to sense that something was amiss was Zong Lan, standing rigidly outside the tent like a javelin.

Zong Lan, assigned to guard the outside while that brat Zong Yuan was allowed inside with the Young Lord, frowned deeply, nursing a distinct sense of resentment and envy.

Upon hearing the tiger-like roar from within the tent, he burst inside almost instantly.

As the scene beyond the threshold snapped into his vision, Zong Lan’s eyes instantly flooded with crimson, and he instinctively prepared to lunge forward.

But the moment he moved, another intensely sharp spear energy shot towards him, completely intercepting his forward momentum.

“Zong Yuan, it’s you! You truly have the heart of a wolf!”

Zong Lan felt his heart seize up violently. It made sense; given Zong Yuan’s nature, how could he truly be content serving the Young Lord? If Zong Shou died by the burly man’s hand, Zong Yuan would naturally be free from the Blood Oath’s constraint.

But then he sensed something was wrong. Zong Yuan’s spear thrust seemed purely intended as an interception, lacking any killing intent. Moreover, with this method, even if he escaped the Blood Oath, his own injuries would be immense—hardly worth the trouble.

Before he could think further, Zong Lan drew his saber, cleaving through the incoming spear shadows.

However, just then, a crisp thwack echoed from the distance.

And Zong Lan’s body instantly froze.

What did he see? The burly man, who had lunged towards Zong Shou with all his might, was violently struck across the cheek by a gleaming sword. He was actually sent flying several zhang back!

And the owner of that long sword was none other than Zong Shou, who should have been in mortal danger.

Initially skeptical, within the next instant, the burly man lunged again.

Fierce and imposing, his whole being resembled a giant bear wreathed in silver-white flames. His hands seemed capable of tearing anything apart.

But as soon as he reached Zong Shou, he was cleanly and deftly knocked aside by a single sword strike.

At this moment, the reality of the two figures before him was utterly inverted in Zong Lan’s mind.

The burly man, who should have been the bear overpowering the rabbit, had become a rabbit pawing uselessly at the air. And Zong Shou, who should have been defenseless and waiting for death with closed eyes, had transformed into a lion toying with a red-eyed little hare.

After a long moment, Zong Lan finally snapped back to reality, immediately following up with a sharp shout: “Everyone! Get back! Within three breaths, all of you retreat five hundred zhang! Anyone who dares to peek, anyone who dares to probe with spiritual sense, I, Zong Lan, will take your head.”

The Xuanhu Knights waiting outside the tent exchanged bewildered glances. Though perplexed, they still obeyed Zong Lan’s command, turning away and retreating five hundred zhang. Zong Lan then drew a deep breath: “The Young Master… he already knows martial arts? If I didn’t see wrong, the Young Master he…”

Looking at the scene, Zong Lan’s eyes glittered, uncertain: “...Possesses the Spirit of the Sword?”

“The Young Lord’s Swordsmanship indeed surpasses ours by a hundredfold!”

Zong Yuan gave a slight nod, then added casually, “However, the Young Lord’s primary cultivation lies in Spirit Arts; he is already a Night Roaming Spirit Master.”

Zong Lan’s heart contracted again, but this time the tightness was not born of anxiety, but of boundless joy.

Hearing the words ‘Night Roaming Spirit Master,’ he instinctively disbelieved it. But then he noticed that every step Zong Shou took seemed to draw upon the surrounding spiritual energy. This was why he could withstand the white flames, and why his body showed signs of several layered Spirit Arts and numerous high-grade Spirit Artifacts. He could fight the burly man head-on without losing ground.

He then stared wide-eyed at Ruoshui, sitting quietly at the edge as if invisible.

As his gaze conveyed an inquiry, Ruoshui looked back, her eyes utterly pure: “I told you, the Young Master is very strong. There is no need to worry.”

Zong Lan was instantly rendered speechless. Were those few simple sentences considered communication?

Over at Zong Shou’s side, he had already struck the burly man several times. Finally seeming impatient, he shook his head repeatedly.

“A pity! Your lifelong cultivation only reached the Sixth Meridian Martial Grandmaster realm. This Imperial Flame Spiritual Art is far from mastery. Zong Yuan, give me your spear!”

Zong Yuan didn't hesitate, tossing his Purple Thunder Spear far over. Zong Shou caught it, glancing at it briefly. The Spirit Gathering Bead on the shaft was intact, but the spiritual array etched onto it was completely gone.

Zong Shou didn't care. Gripping the butt of the spear, he pointed the weapon straight ahead.

“Though you grasped the Raging Thunder Spear Intent quite well, you only achieved it through borrowed momentum, not the source. I will display it once more today; watch closely!” As the words fell, the Purple Spear was suddenly enveloped in blinding purple light, and countless electric serpents manifested from thin air, converging towards the spear tip from all directions.

Zong Yuan’s expression tightened slightly, instantly replaced by joy as he watched intently. The burly man, however, felt something entirely different.

He felt that the thunder light Zong Shou was gathering was less than one-tenth of what Zong Yuan had previously displayed with the Raging Thunder Spear Intent.

Yet, it was far more condensed, completely absorbed within his body and the spear blade, making his entire aura infinitely more dangerous!

Then, in the next instant, the spear tip seemed to tremble once. Following this, the air filled with countless afterimages of purple spears. In that single moment, no one could tell how many times he had struck; they only knew it was a barrage of lethal spear shadows ripping through the air madly.

The burly man roared, unwilling to meet the assault directly, and retreated with all his might.

The purple spear edges flickered in and out of sight, sometimes real, sometimes illusory, enveloping the area like a sky-obscuring storm.

He swung his arms erratically, attempting to block, but they never managed to connect with the actual spear shaft.

He felt his body being pierced again and again by the purple phantom spears.

It was impossible to count how many holes were punctured into his body.

When the torrent of blade light finally subsided, Zong Shou remained standing ten zhang away, frowning, seemingly deep in thought.

The burly man, however, instantly lost all strength, collapsing to his knees powerlessly. He looked down at his body, covered in hundreds of bloody holes.

Fortunately, it seemed Zong Shou had held back somewhat, sparing his life by not piercing any vital organs too deeply.

But even so, these hundreds of wounds left him barely clinging to life.

Zong Yuan’s eyes shone with dazzling light, though unfocused, as if he were completely absorbed in recalling and contemplating the scene of the ceaseless spear flow.

That was the true Raging Thunder Spear Intent!

Zong Lan remained silent, looking at Zong Shou with the unfamiliar gaze of a stranger.

He hadn't even been able to count how many spears Zong Shou had thrown just now.

If he hadn't been absolutely certain that the man before him was indeed the Sovereign’s bloodline, with a perfectly pure and harmonious soul, he would have sworn that this person was an imposter or a body-snatcher.

Zong Shou pondered for a moment, then shook off his confusion. He casually tossed the spear back to Zong Yuan and fell into deep thought once more.

He was certain of his own strength. His spearmanship shouldn't be this powerful; it was impossible for him to be strong enough that the burly man couldn't block even a single strike.

When throwing the spear just now, he could almost feel his true Qi and spiritual energy achieving a surprising, fleeting harmony.