Chapter 110: A Sharp Check to Their Swagger

Le Feng offered a bitter smile and leaped down from the Wangxian Platform, leaving only Nie Han and Xu Xuan on the stage.

The disciples of the two sects of Xingyu Mountain gazed at Xu Xuan with a profound shift in their eyes, their expressions now tinged with a measure of awe. Based on his performance just moments ago, even if Xu Xuan’s strength did not quite match Nie Han’s, he was at the very least on par with Le Feng; otherwise, he would not have been singled out for a challenge by Nie Han.

"Brother Nie, let us have no more jokes. My cultivation is low and shallow; how could I possibly be your match? Very well, I shall return to my ascetic training for a while longer..." Xu Xuan offered a sheepish smile, turned, and made to leave the stone platform.

He did not believe in dueling without cause—it was, after all, a fool’s errand. Body cultivation was a simple, rugged path, requiring the most grueling tempering and perseverance to elevate one's修为, differing greatly from the way of the martial practitioner.

"Stop!" Nie Han barked sharply. He pointed his magic sword toward Xu Xuan from a distance, locking onto him with a fierce sword intent that pierced straight to the soul.

"Brother Xu, why will you not fight? What are you afraid of?" many disciples from the Immortal Sects below shouted in encouragement.

"Enough, all of you! Brother Xu has only been initiated for half a year; how could he possibly be a match for Nie Han? If he suffers some mishap due to a moment of impulsiveness, who will take responsibility?"

"Heh, I think he’s just afraid..." The crowd below buzzed with discussion.

Locked in place by that biting, frigid sword intent, Xu Xuan stiffened. *Is a battle unavoidable today?* he wondered.

"Brother Xu, are you truly afraid?" Nie Han’s face tightened, his eyes cold and mocking.

"Afraid?" Xu Xuan blinked, then looked suddenly delighted. "Yes, yes, I am afraid! Now, can you let me go?" With that, he made a gesture to leave.

The scene left the entire crowd stunned, their jaws nearly hitting the floor. Even Nie Han wore a bewildered expression, beneath which flickered a hint of irritation. Xu Xuan, seeing his chance to escape the battle, felt a flicker of quiet triumph.

*Clang-shh!*

A sword light, cold and sharp as a winter star, slashed toward him from behind in the blink of an eye. Xu Xuan felt an icy chill pierce his body, causing his spirit to shudder, and he instinctively dodged.

*Rip!*

A sword mark several feet long was carved into the stone platform. The onlookers gasped, secretly breaking into a cold sweat for Xu Xuan.

"Stop playing games. You cannot escape this battle today."

Nie Han swung his magic sword in a horizontal arc once more. The silvery, freezing mist, fueled by his sword intent, seemed to transform into a massive, divine weapon capable of cleaving mountains and splitting the earth, its momentum enough to flatten Mount Tai. This strike was more powerful than any he had used against Le Feng; it truly ignited the infinite, overbearing sword intent within Nie Han.

Trapped by that immense pressure, Xu Xuan found it impossible to dodge. He realized the terrifying strength of this strike—it was enough to threaten his very life. A nameless fury rose within him; he felt Nie Han was far too arrogant, forcing his will upon others.

That fury instantly fueled his essence and blood, giving birth to a powerful, spiritual rage. The void around him suddenly hummed with a low tremor, like the roar of a dragon. In an instant, every living thing nearby fell deathly silent, overwhelmed and suppressed by an invisible, intangible spiritual wrath. It was the roar of an ancient celestial dragon—a fury meant to destroy the heavens and earth, to lay waste to all living things, just to quell the fire within him.

*Whoosh!*

Xu Xuan’s skin took on a bronze luster, followed by a faint red aura. A scorching, violent energy began to spread, fueled by that boundless dragon-like wrath. The disciples around the Wangxian Platform held their breath, feeling a parching heat rising both in their spirits and their flesh, causing them immense pain.

The young man on the stone platform seemed to become the only "human" in the world, standing as tall as an ancient barbarian king, his every movement influencing the heavens and earth. Body cultivation does not borrow the power of heaven and earth, but rather uses the self to harmonize with them—a height that is both simple and direct to the essence of the Great Dao.

Faced with this dragon-like fury and the sheer presence that moved the world, Nie Han’s sword intent—which had seemed capable of shattering rivers and mountains—was instantly checked. His "inevitable" strike now appeared thin by comparison. Its power had not diminished, yet the target of the attack seemed to have become the sole existence, co-existing with heaven and earth itself.

In the blink of an eye:

*Clang-shh!*

A glowing, crimson palm gripped the sword that Nie Han had slashed from behind. In an instant, a wave of scorching fire and freezing sword qi intertwined, forming a gale that roared in all directions.

Below the platform, those with lower cultivation were nearly unable to breathe, cold sweat beading on their foreheads as they scrambled to circulate their mana to resist. What made the shockwave powerful was not the gale itself, but the terrifying force that struck directly at the soul.

Yang Xiaoqian’s face turned pale; she felt as if she were facing the collapse of a massive glacier and the eruption of a world-ending volcano simultaneously. Gasping, she channeled her mana to protect her body, even closing her eyes and sealing her senses to dissipate the pressure.

"This Xu Xuan... he has actually realized his own Dao! This martial will is not inferior to Nie Han’s, and perhaps even more violent and terrifying..." Brother Yun, standing at the foot of the platform, turned pale with shock, though a strange sense of loss welled up in his heart. As the head disciple of his sect, his cultivation and talent were superior, and he was accustomed to looking down upon his peers. Perhaps Le Feng’s performance had threatened his status, but only potentially. Now, the potential Xu Xuan displayed placed him on par with the sword genius Nie Han. He was clearly a martial prodigy unseen in a century, a momentum that had already surpassed his own.

On the platform:

"You are indeed strong... even more terrifying than I imagined."

Nie Han’s eyes flashed with a soul-shaking sword intent. His hand, gripping the magic sword, trembled slightly; no matter how he channeled his intent, he could not advance a single inch. The opponent’s hand was like an iron clamp, locked onto his blade, and a violent, world-destroying fury battered his sword intent.

On the other side, Xu Xuan felt a bone-piercing cold, as if he were caught in a raging blizzard. He poured all his internal energy and physical strength into his hand, barely managing to block that earth-shattering strike. At this moment, their confrontation had transcended physical strength and entered the realm of the spirit.

One sword, one hand, locked in the void—neither could best the other. Instead, the spiritual power within them grew increasingly intense, clashing without regard for the cost. Xu Xuan seemed to be engulfed in crimson fire, while Nie Han was shrouded in a circle of icy mist. Two diametrically opposed elemental mysteries climbed and struggled against one another. Meanwhile, their internal energy and spirits were being consumed at a rapid pace. If this continued, the consequences would be unimaginable.

"Quick, think of a way to stop them!" a disciple of the Sword Sect cried out. But the ordinary disciples on the field could not even get close. All eyes turned to the most powerful among them, Yun Yuanhang. With his Seventh-Stage Qi Refining cultivation, surely he could separate them.

"If I intervene in a confrontation of this level, the consequences are unpredictable," Yun Yuanhang said, his face grave as he stared at the two, barely breathing.

The disciples of both sects held their breath, like ants on a hot pan, unable to intervene.

*Whoosh—*

A blurred ray of light streaked down from the distant mountains, arriving above the Wangxian Platform in an instant. A fierce wind whipped up, and countless living things trembled.

*Such speed!*

The crowd was terrified; the newcomer’s cultivation was unfathomable, at least at the Spirit Refining Stage.

"Hahaha... I did not expect two such rare talents to appear in the Xingyu Mountain lineage at once. But can you not turn your weapons into gifts of silk and live in harmony?" A hoarse, ethereal voice descended from the high sky, like clouds and mist, its origin impossible to discern.

The two combatants suddenly felt a peaceful, righteous energy rush into their bodies, extinguishing their rage and dispersing their sword intent. The power was vast as the ocean, boundless and endless.

*Thump!*

The two were thrown apart. Terrified, they looked up at the sky. Above the platform floated an elderly man with white hair, standing upon a blue-white light, looking every bit like a celestial being.

Xu Xuan was astonished. The man’s aura was vast and fathomless, seemingly superior even to the Sect Leader of Fengyu and the Sword King of Xinghuo. What surprised him even more was that this white-haired elder was the same one who had taught them the mysteries of immortal techniques at the Immortal Dao Platform on the day of his initiation—the day Xu Xuan first learned of the "Immortal River."

"Who are you?" Nie Han asked, his expression wary. The newcomer’s cultivation level was far beyond his ability to handle.

"The newborn calf does not fear the tiger; it is only natural that you do not recognize this old man. However, the future prosperity of the Xingyu Mountain lineage rests upon the two of you." The elder’s expression was benevolent, and he smiled as he observed them with clear approval.

The crowd was bewildered by the elder’s identity, but feeling the vast, righteous aura he exuded, they all bowed respectfully.

"Let this be the end of today's bout. A word of warning: while ordinary sparring is fine, spiritual combat is the most dangerous and unpredictable of all. A slight mistake can lead to an irredeemable end. Do not do it again!" the elder said sternly.

Xu Xuan and Nie Han felt a lingering fear at his words, and their curiosity about the elder’s identity only grew. After a brief pause, the elder dissolved into a blurred light and vanished into the Xingyu Mountain range.

"Who was he?" Even after the storm had passed, many continued to speculate.

"Brother Xu, I have learned much of your strength today," Nie Han said, casting one last deep look at Xu Xuan before leaping down from the platform.

The crowd remained confused. What exactly had happened in that battle? Nie Han’s expression remained heavy as he left the Fengyu Sect, silent the entire way. When they reached a certain step, a fellow Sword Sect disciple could not help but ask, "Brother Nie, what was the outcome of the final clash?"

Nie Han said nothing, but slowly revealed his magic sword. On the silver, gleaming blade was a clear, visible handprint, surrounded by charred marks. And that was not all; looking closer, one could see that centered on those marks, the entire blade had been twisted and deformed by some immense force.

*Hiss!*

The Sword Sect disciples gasped, their faces filled with horror. *Was this even human strength?*

It was no wonder that even someone as formidable as Nie Han was now silent. It seemed his pride and arrogance had been severely shaken by this challenge to the Fengyu Sect.