"Take this!" Ethan Longbridge's voice cut through the charged silence, his grief and fury lending his strike the weight of thunder.
His longsword lifted and fell with startling speed, the blade trembling as though alive. Dozens of dazzling afterimages bloomed like a flock of birds scattering into the sky, each tip of light converging toward Liam Ardent's chest.
Hundred Birds Toward the Phoenix.
Gasps erupted from the Wudang disciples. To face the first sword of their leader was to face a mountain of unshakable intent.
But Liam moved as if born for this moment. His body floated backward with uncanny grace, feet touching the earth as lightly as drifting feathers. In the blink of an eye, he slipped through the storm of sword light without so much as a sleeve brushing steel.
The disciples shouted in alarm.
"That… that was Laddering Cloud Steps! How can he—?"
Their disbelief was plain. Liam's movement mirrored Wudang's most treasured lightness art, yet it carried a refinement and fluidity beyond even Ethan's execution. It was like seeing a disciple surpass the master, only this man was no disciple of theirs.
"Excellent! One stroke down, nine remain!" Clayton Earthward's rough cheer thundered across the battlefield, echoed by the injured Stormbane brothers and the battered Earth Banner warriors. Their admiration fed the air with new tension—each voice a challenge to Wudang's pride.
Ethan's face darkened further. He advanced, his sword thrusting forward in a piercing line, direct and merciless.
Lone Peak Stands Proud.
The tip streaked toward Liam's throat, as sharp and unyielding as the mountain wind.
Liam's fingers came together, forming the precise bloom of a flower. With casual ease, he brushed the thrust aside at the final instant. The sword wavered from its path as if compelled by some unseen current.
Orchid Hand Technique.
The crowd inhaled sharply. Ethan's strike had been fast, decisive, meant to leave no opening—yet Liam's airy deflection turned it into nothing.
More attacks followed. Sword shadows split the air, each stroke layered upon the next until the battlefield blurred with flashing arcs of steel. Ethan's mastery was undeniable; his grief only sharpened his precision. Yet Liam danced through the storm, his movements deliberate, never rushed, his calm presence mocking Ethan's desperation.
Third, fourth, fifth stroke—broken with elegance.
Sixth, seventh, eighth—each met with perfect counters that revealed gaps in the very foundations of Wudang swordsmanship.
Whispers spread among the disciples:
"Impossible… how can he know the weaknesses of every form?"
"Even Master Elias Rowan himself could not dismantle our sword so cleanly…"
By the ninth exchange, sweat beaded Ethan's brow. His fury had not lessened, but his heart trembled with a gnawing realization: this young man wielded their own legacy as if it belonged to him alone.
Only one stroke remained.
Ethan inhaled sharply, his qi surging. His blade bent unnaturally mid-thrust, snaking around Liam's defense like a living serpent.
Coiling Finger Soft Sword.
The move was famed for its unpredictability. Even masters often faltered before its sudden, twisting change of angle. It was a stroke designed to pierce arrogance itself.
But Liam did not flinch. His hand extended, fingers brushing the sword's trembling edge like the landing of a dragonfly.
The blade shuddered violently, every vibration arrested by his impossible precision. Slowly, inevitably, it stilled in his grasp.
The crowd fell utterly silent.
Liam held the tip of Ethan Longbridge's sword between two fingers. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he released it and stepped back, his white robes stirring in the mountain breeze.
"Ten strokes are done," he said, voice calm, almost bored. "Will you honor your word, Elder Longbridge?"
Ethan's sword lowered. His face was a storm of emotions: rage, humiliation, and unwilling respect. The promise had been made, witnessed by allies and enemies alike. To break it now would stain Wudang's honor beyond repair.
Before he could answer, a shrill voice rang out:
"Don't be deceived! Strike him down together! Use the True Martial Seven Extremities Formation! He cannot withstand it alone!"
Lucas Rowan. His gaunt face twisted with venom, his voice shrieking with madness. Hatred boiled in his sunken eyes as they fixed upon Liam. "He has stolen our arts! He has humiliated us! Kill him!"
Murmurs rippled through the Wudang ranks. Some disciples shifted uneasily, torn between vengeance and honor.
Liam's eyes narrowed, cold light glinting in their depths. Lucas Rowan… sooner or later, I will end you.
But it was Ethan who answered. His knuckles whitened on his sword hilt, his chest rising and falling with harsh breaths. At last, he let out a growl, the sound thick with frustration.
"Enough!" he barked. "Our word has been given. Today ends here."
He turned to his disciples. "Gather the fallen. We leave."
Lucas's face contorted. He wanted to protest, but one withering glare from Ethan silenced him. With a final poisonous glance toward Liam, he fell in line.
"Wudang speaks with honor," Liam said evenly. His words were devoid of mockery, but the sting they carried was undeniable.
The Earth Banner erupted in cheers, their relief palpable. Clayton Earthward raised his banner high. "Brothers! Today we live because of this man! Remember his name well—Liam Ardent!"
The Stormbane brothers, battered and bloodied, staggered forward. Benedict and Griffin dropped to one knee despite their wounds, their voices hoarse with sincerity.
"Liam Ardent, we owe you our lives. Command us, and we will follow unto death."
Sterling, pale and trembling, lifted his maimed arm in salute. "My hand may be gone, but my loyalty is whole. From this day, my devotion is yours!"
The battlefield echoed with their vows.
Liam inclined his head, his expression calm, though his eyes flickered with satisfaction. The system's chime rang within him.
System Update
[Prestige +88]
[Total Prestige: 200 → Rank Up!]
[Title Unlocked: Arbiter of the Battlefield]
[Benedict Stormbane's Favorability +20 → Current: 90 (Sworn Loyalty)]
[Griffin Stormbane's Favorability +20 → Current: 90 (Sworn Loyalty)]
[Sterling Stormbane's Favorability +25 → Current: 100 (Unwavering Devotion)]
[Clayton Earthward's Favorability +15 → Current: 80 (Respect)]
The glowing panels faded, but the reality they signified was stamped upon the hearts of all who had witnessed.
Liam Ardent, alone, had bent Wudang's wrath, shielded the Ming Cult's vanguard, and won the devotion of hardened men.
As he turned and stepped lightly onto the tree line, vanishing like mist into the mountain air, a single thought settled in every soul present:
This youth was no mere cultivator. He was a force that could decide the fate of sects.
And from the murderous glare of Lucas Rowan, Liam knew one thing more—Wudang would not forget this humiliation.
Glossary – Chapter 49
Hundred Birds Toward the Phoenix: A Wudang sword form that multiplies a single thrust into dozens of afterimages, overwhelming the enemy with sheer precision and speed.Lone Peak Stands Proud: A direct, merciless thrust aimed at vital points; valued for speed and stability.Orchid Hand Technique: A refined Wudang martial skill using delicate fingertip pressure to divert weapons with minimal force.Coiling Finger Soft Sword: A deceptive Wudang form that bends the blade mid-strike using inner power, altering its path unpredictably.
This story is inspired from various Wuxia novels ,so if you find any similarities please dont mind . and if you think this is boring wait till the Dual cultivation starts ,Thank you .
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T/N :
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