Chapter 896
Sir, you have excellent eyesight!
"This is Lu Lie's signature sword move! Even a fourth-tier beast can't stop it!"
Zheng Yi stood still.
The longsword was drawn.
The purple-gold sword gleamed blindingly in the morning light.
He didn't hide.
He simply raised his hand and met the attack with a sword.
"Zheng—!"
The golden and purple rays collided in mid-air.
The fire dragon was cleaved open by the sword's edge, like a piece of silk being cut by a sharp blade, split in two.
Flames scattered.
However, it was caught by the remaining force of the sword's edge and regrouped into a fireball.
The fireball paused in mid-air for a moment before flying back.
It lunged straight at Lu Lie's face.
Lu Lie's pupils contracted sharply, and he hurriedly parried with his sword.
"boom!"
The fireball struck the sword.
Lu Lie was sent flying backward by the impact, crashing heavily into the iron fence.
The iron bars trembled violently.
It makes a buzzing sound.
Lu Lie landed, kneeling on one knee, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
He looked up, his eyes wide with shock:
"You...you didn't use your full strength?"
Zheng Yi sheathed his sword.
The purple-gold longsword was sheathed.
The voice was calm.
"Stop when you've made your point."
The stands were deathly silent.
Immediately, a thunderous roar of exclamations erupted.
"You won? You just won like that?"
"Lu Lie couldn't even withstand one move..."
"Zheng Yi... is he even human?"
Han Wuhen's expression changed, and finally he burst into laughter:
"Excellent! Well done, Mr. Zheng!"
He stood up and clapped his hands:
"The winner is Zheng Yi from Hongyun City!"
"One hundred mid-grade spirit stones as a reward!"
The guards immediately stepped forward with the jade box in their hands.
Zheng Yi waved his hand:
"Leave the spirit stone behind."
"For the rogue cultivators below the arena."
There was an uproar.
Han Wuhen was taken aback, then burst into laughter:
"Sir, you are truly magnanimous!"
He waved his hand, and his guards placed the jade box under the arena.
The rogue cultivators immediately swarmed forward.
But no one dared to steal it.
They just looked at Zheng Yi.
His eyes were filled with awe.
Lu Lie struggled to his feet.
He looked at Zheng Yi, his voice trembling:
"Why...did you hold back?"
Zheng Yi turned and stepped off the stage.
The voice was very soft, but Lu Lie heard it clearly:
"Because...you didn't intend to kill me."
Lu Lie was stunned.
Zheng Yi walked back to the group.
Zhao Sanhuai came forward, grinning:
"Sir! Well done! That kid's turned green with envy!"
Zheng Yi shook his head:
"It's good that we won."
He looked at Han Wuhen.
Han Wuhen was smiling and waving at him:
"Mr. Zheng! Come, come up to the stands! I've reserved the best seat for you!"
Zheng Yi clasped his hands in a fist salute:
Thank you.
He led his team onto the stands.
The morning mist at the entrance to the Cold Abyss Hunting Grounds gradually thinned after the sun rose, yet it still resembled a semi-transparent veil, casting shadows over the arena below the stands. Tiny ice crystals clung to the barbs of the iron railings, melting into droplets in the sunlight that dripped down the tips onto the black iron rock surface with a soft "tap, tap." The copper braziers in the VIP seats at the top of the stands burned brightly, the embers occasionally crackling and sending sparks soaring through the air in brief orange arcs before being extinguished by the cold wind. The air was filled with the sweet scent of sandalwood, the rich aroma of roasted lamb, the distant smell of hay from the stables, and the damp chill of the crowd's breath.
Han Wuhen sat in the main seat, his mink cloak open, twirling a white jade thumb ring in his right hand, while his left hand held a celadon teacup containing a few petals of Tian Shan snow lotus. The rising steam slightly flushed his round face. He turned to look at Zheng Yi, his voice low but filled with barely concealed excitement:
“Mr. Zheng, in the last match, you made Lu Lie not even have to make a second move with his sword, and the whole audience was stunned. In the next few matches, you’d better keep your eyes wide open—Lu Lie is not the only young talent that Hanyuan City has accumulated over the years.”
Zheng Yi sat in the guest seat to his right, a fox fur cloak draped over the back of the chair, a purple-gold longsword resting on his lap, its scabbard gleaming with a cold metallic sheen in the morning light. He picked up the teacup in front of him, took a small sip, and the bitter taste of snow lotus slid down his throat, bringing a faint coolness. He placed the teacup back on the low table, his voice calm:
"Lord Han, you've gone to a lot of trouble. I'll keep an eye on it."
Han Wuhen laughed heartily and clapped his hands:
"Gong player! Next act!"
The gong player at the valley entrance was a shirtless, burly man with bulging veins on his arms. He gripped the gong mallet with both hands and struck it hard.
"Om-!"
The deep sound of gongs rolled across the entire hunting ground, dispersing the fog.
Below the stands, the iron gates opened again.
Two young men stepped onto the ring at the same time.
The man on the left was tall and slender, wearing a long, greyish-blue robe embroidered with cloud patterns at the hem. A thin sword hung at his waist, its scabbard wrapped in sharkskin. His fingers, gripping the sword, were long and slender, as if he had never done rough work. He clasped his hands in a fist salute, his voice clear and resonant:
"Yun Wuji, an outer disciple of the Qingyun Sect."
The man on the right was short and stocky, wearing a black bearskin vest. His bare arms were covered in old scars, and he carried a machete on his back, its blade gleaming coldly. He grinned, revealing a set of teeth stained yellow by smoke.
"Blood Wolf Gang, Shi Potian."
A murmur arose from the stands.
"Yun Wuji? The top outer disciple of the Qingyun Sect this year?"
"I heard that his swordsmanship is light and agile, specializing in acupoint striking, and he can seal seven major acupoints with one sword strike."
"Shi Potian...the brute who killed two fourth-tier armored rhinoceroses with a single axe blow at Black Wind Ridge last year?"
Han Wuhen turned his head and whispered to Zheng Yi:
"Look, sir, Yun Wuji is Elder Liu's personal disciple. His sword intent leans towards gentleness, and he excels at using skill to overcome strength. Shi Potian is Tie Duyan's adopted son. He possesses immense strength and can split mountains and shatter rocks with a single axe strike. This match... is quite a spectacle."
Zheng Yi's gaze remained fixed on the arena, and he said nothing.
The gong rang out again.
"start!"
Yun Wuji lightly touched the ground with his toes, his figure rising like a willow catkin. His slender sword was drawn, its blade almost transparent, emitting only a faint blue light. While still in mid-air, the tip of his sword was already aimed at Shi Potian's left shoulder acupoint.
Shi Potian laughed loudly, gripped the axe with both hands, and slammed it hard onto the ground.
"boom!"
The stone of the arena was cracked, with cracks spreading like a spider web.
A tremendous force rebounded from the ground, forcefully shifting Yun Wuji's figure three feet to the side.
Yun Wuji flipped in mid-air, his sword tip striking the Quchi acupoint on Shi Potian's right knee.
Shi Potian neither dodged nor evaded, but blocked with his left arm, the axe handle meeting the sword tip.
"clang--!"
The clang of metal rang out.
Sparks flew everywhere.
Yun Wuji used the momentum to retreat, lightly touching the ground with his toes as he landed, then leaped into the air again. His sword light rained down, and he unleashed seventeen sword strikes in an instant, each aimed at a vital acupoint on Shi Potian's body.
Shi Potian laughed heartily, his axe flashing like a black shadow as he clashed head-on with the sword light.
"Clang clang clang clang—!"
The sounds of metal clashing together blended together.
Sparks exploded between the two of them, like a small firework display.
Someone in the stands exclaimed:
"What a fast sword!"
"What a hard axe!"
Han Wuhen took a sip of tea, turned his head and asked Zheng Yi:
"Who do you think will win, sir?"
Zheng Yi looked at the arena, his voice calm:
"Yun Wuji's sword is fast, but lacks power. Shi Potian has great strength, but his moves are crude."
"If they fight another thirty moves, Yun Wuji will lose."
Han Wuhen's eyes lit up:
"Sir, you have a good eye!"
really.
After thirty moves.
Yun Wuji's swordplay slowed, and his aura became restless. Shi Potian seized an opening and swept his axe horizontally.
Yun Wuji hurriedly parried with his sword.
"clang!"
The sword trembled violently.
Yun Wuji's tiger's mouth split open, and blood flowed down the hilt of his sword.
He staggered backward, kneeling on one knee, using his rapier for support.
Shi Potian sheathed his axe and grinned:
"I appreciate your concession."
Yun Wuji's face was pale, and he clasped his hands in a fist salute:
"Brother Shi's axe technique is domineering; I... have lost."
A cheer erupted from the stands.
Iron One-Eyed laughed heartily, slapping his thigh:
"Good! You truly are my adopted son! I'll treat the entire gang to drinks tonight!"
Han Wuhen smiled and clapped:
"Great! Next round!"
The gong rang out again.
The bloodstains on the ring were covered with sand by the servants, and then sprinkled with a layer of fresh soil.
Zheng Yi looked at the bloodstain that had been covered up, his gaze shifting slightly.
Han Wuhen leaned closer and whispered:
"Sir, the next match is between the Han family and the vice leader of the Blood Wolf Gang. The Han family's young man is called Han Yunfan, he is twenty-one years old, at the mid-stage of the Mahayana realm, and is skilled in ice magic. The vice leader of the Blood Wolf Gang is called Feng Wuhen, whose swordsmanship is strange and specializes in attacking the lower body."
Zheng Yi nodded:
"Watch."
The next game will start soon.
Han Yunfan wore a moon-white robe, the hem embroidered with silver plum blossoms, and held an ice crystal longsword. The sword was translucent, with a thin layer of frost on its blade. He clasped his hands in a fist salute as he stepped onto the stage.
"Han Yunfan of the Han family, please enlighten me."
Feng Wuhen was a tall, thin man, draped in a grey-black wolfskin cloak, his face covered by a half-iron mask, revealing only a pair of sinister eyes. He carried a curved knife, its blade a dark red, as if soaked in blood. He grinned, his voice hoarse:
"Feng Wuhen of the Blood Wolf Gang. Come on, pretty boy."
Han Yunfan's expression darkened slightly, but he did not retaliate.
The gong sounds.
The two attacked simultaneously.
Han Yunfan flicked the tip of his sword, and a thick layer of frost instantly condensed on the blade. The frost transformed into countless ice needles, which rained down on Feng Wuhen.
Feng Wuhen laughed loudly, his curved blade dancing into a blur of afterimages.
The blade flashed like a net, deflecting all the ice needles.
"A trivial skill!"
He moved swiftly and closed in on Han Yunfan.
The curved blade slashed upwards, aiming for Han Yunfan's groin.
Han Yunfan's expression changed, and he hurriedly retreated, the tip of his sword touching the ground.
"Frost Domain!"
The arena was instantly covered by a thin layer of ice.
Feng Wuhen slipped and almost fell.
Taking advantage of the opportunity, Han Yunfan counterattacked, his ice sword aimed straight at Feng Wuhen's throat.
Feng Wuhen chuckled strangely, his curved blade slashing back, the blade gliding past the ice sword.
"Clang!"
The ice sword broke in two.
Feng Wuhen lunged forward, his curved blade slashing across Han Yunfan's neck.
Han Yunfan quickly leaned back, the blade grazing his nose and lifting a strand of hair.
A gasp rippled through the stands.
Han Wuhen's expression changed slightly, and he gripped the ring tightly.
Zheng Yi's gaze was calm, but he suddenly spoke, his voice not loud, yet clearly carried across the arena:
"The wind leaves no trace; the point is reached but not reached."
Feng Wuhen paused, his curved blade stopping half an inch in front of Han Yunfan's throat.
He turned his head and looked at Zheng Yi.
A sinister glint flashed in his eyes.
But he still sheathed his sword.
"I appreciate your concession."
Han Yunfan, panting heavily, clasped his hands in a fist salute:
"Thank you for your mercy, Brother Feng."
Feng Wuhen sneered and turned to leave the stage.
Han Wuhen breathed a sigh of relief and bowed to Zheng Yi:
"Thank you for speaking up, sir."
Zheng Yi shook his head:
"Just a reminder."
"The autumn hunt hasn't even started yet, and people are already dying...it's too early."
Han Wuhen nodded, but his gaze was complicated.
The competitions that followed were one after another.
There were Qingyun Sect disciples fighting against Han family members, Blood Wolf Gang swordsmen fighting against rogue sword cultivators, and family cultivators fighting against mercenary group generals...
Every match was thrilling.
The sounds of sword light, blade aura, fireballs, ice arrows, and the collision of magical artifacts rose and fell in waves.
The bloodstains on the arena accumulated more and more, and were repeatedly covered with sand by the servants, only to be stained red again and again by fresh blood.
Zheng Yi watched it very carefully.
He observed every single game.
Observe the opponent's sword moves.
Observe the knife technique.
Observe the method of the spell.
Observe... the underlying strength of these forces.
Zhao Sanhuai leaned closer and whispered:
"Sir, what have you noticed?"
Zheng Yi's gaze fell on a match that had just ended on the arena.
A disciple of the Qingyun Sect was sent flying by a palm strike from a member of the Han family, spitting blood and collapsing to the ground.
His voice was very soft:
"The swordsmanship of the Qingyun Sect is light and agile, but it lacks a bit of killing intent."
"The Han family's martial arts techniques are profound, but lack variety."
"The Blood Wolf Gang's swordsmanship is ruthless, but they lack a follow-up move."
"They... are not as good as us."
Zhao Sanhuai's eyes lit up:
"Sir, you mean...we can win?"
Zheng Yi did not answer.
He simply looked into the depths of the hunting grounds.
The fog was even thicker there.
The roar of beasts could be faintly heard.
Like waiting.
It's like...an invitation.
He spoke in a low voice:
"The autumn hunt... is just the beginning."
The fog at the entrance to the Cold Abyss Hunting Grounds had mostly dissipated under the midday sun, leaving behind a thin layer of dampness that stained the cliffs on both sides of the canyon black and shiny. Occasionally, water droplets would roll down the moss from the crevices, dripping onto the gravel with a very soft "tap," like someone tapping copper coins in the distance. The wind from the depths of the valley blew outwards, carrying the damp, earthy smell and a very faint stench of animal fur, along with a rusty, bloody odor—the traces left by someone hunting low-level beasts a few days ago. The iron fence at the entrance had been pulled back, and behind it, a winding bluestone path descended, its sides overgrown with waist-high withered grass, the tips of which clung to glistening water droplets that refracted into tiny, iridescent light when the sun shone on them.
Han Wuhen stood on the high platform at the entrance, his mink cloak billowing in the wind. In his hand he held a crimson wolf-head token, its surface covered with intricate runes, now emitting a faint blood-red glow. He announced loudly, his voice, imbued with spiritual energy, echoing throughout the valley entrance:
"The Autumn Hunting Tournament has officially begun! The three-day period is up for grabs. The hunter with the highest score from hunting exotic beasts will receive a 'Frosty Abyss Ice Soul Pearl' personally bestowed by the City Lord, plus 100,000 mid-grade spirit stones! Everyone, I wish you all the best in your hunt!"
As soon as he finished speaking, the stands erupted in thunderous cheers.
Almost simultaneously, all the teams flooded into the canyon.
The disciples of the Qingyun Sect formed a wild goose formation, their bodies protected by sword light, resembling a long azure dragon.
The Blood Wolf mercenaries scattered into small teams, their footsteps disordered yet their coordination impeccable, their knives and axes gleaming menacingly in the sunlight.
The Han family members wore matching moon-white robes, the silver plum blossom patterns on the hems fluttering in the wind, their steps steady, like a well-trained army.
Zheng Yi's team was at the back.
Twenty-three people, stretched into a loose straight line.
Zheng Yi led the way, his fox-fur cloak half-open, his purple-gold longsword held horizontally before his saddle, the horse's hooves shattering the thin ice with a crisp cracking sound. Zhao Sanhuai followed closely on his right, his short sword already drawn, its blade gleaming with a ghostly blue light in the mist. The withered lotus master walked on the left, a phantom of a blue lotus slowly rotating in his palm. Lady Bixiao, Iron-Armed Marquis, and Ghost Shadow Elder were in the center, with the remaining swordsmen bringing up the rear.
Just a hundred feet into the valley, the fog ahead suddenly thickened tenfold.
The field of vision was compressed to less than ten feet.
The wind suddenly stopped.
Instead, extremely light footsteps came from all directions.
Zheng Yi suddenly raised his hand.
The line came to an instant.
His voice was very low, yet it traveled clearly to everyone's ears:
"Containment".
Zhao Sanhuai brandished his short sword and growled:
"Which side are you from?"
Before he could finish speaking...
Three beams of light appeared simultaneously in the fog.
Azure sword light, crimson blade gleam, silver plum blossoms in the cold. (End of Chapter)