Chapter 155: The Duel Begins

Chu Shi swept his gaze downward and nodded with considerable satisfaction, then spoke in a loud voice:

"This Luohe Tournament is jointly organized by our Qishan Sect, Blood Blade Gate, Fragrance Seeking Sect, and Shuijing Pavilion. Its purpose is to encourage Qi-condensing disciples of the minor sects in the Zhao State to enhance their cultivation and spar with one another. I am deeply honored by the enthusiastic participation of all the sects!"

"Additionally, the responsibility of overseeing this tournament will be shared by myself and the three fellow Daoists on the platform. Now, I invite Elder Wu Tang of the Blood Blade Gate to explain the rules of the competition."

Just as Chu Shi's voice trailed off, the scarred man beside him nodded, stepped forward, and said in a clear voice:

"A total of thirty-two people are participating in this Luohe Tournament, divided into five rounds. The first three rounds will all be completed today to determine the top four of the gathering, while the final two rounds will take place the day after tomorrow."

"In this tournament, all divine abilities and methods are permitted, but matches must be one-on-one, and outsiders are strictly forbidden from interfering. If anyone finds themselves outmatched, they may voluntarily forfeit and concede to prevent the loss of lives. No sect or faction shall maliciously take another's life."

After the scarred man finished speaking, the crowd below exchanged only a few murmurs before falling completely silent. Clearly, everyone had already familiarized themselves with the tournament rules before coming here.

Seeing this, Chu Shi stepped forward and said, "Ahem, since everyone is clear on the rules, I hereby declare the tournament officially begun. Will all contestants please come up to the stage to draw lots."

Seeing the crowd of Qi-condensing cultivators filing up onto the stage, Liang Yan followed the masses and drew a bamboo slip from the high platform.

At the bottom of the bamboo slip, the number "Thirteen" was clearly inscribed.

"Thirteen? Does that mean my opponent is number fourteen?" Liang Yan looked at the bamboo slip, shrugged indifferently, and returned to the side of the stage to close his eyes and rest his mind.

After just a brief moment, someone leaped into the deep pit, and the sparring began. The two participants in the first match were a plump, pale-middle-aged man and a fierce-looking burly fellow.

The plump middle-aged man wielded a yellow stone disk that served both offensive and defensive purposes. Meanwhile, the burly fellow brandished a wolf-fang club and closed in aggressively, evidently following the path of a body cultivator.

The two fought fiercely and inextricably on the platform, accompanied by continuous cheers and words of encouragement from their respective sect members.

However, given Liang Yan's current strength, such meager tricks could no longer catch his eye.

Therefore, he simply stood by the side of the stage with his eyes closed to rest, showing complete lack of interest in the dazzling array of struggles unfolding above.

After a long while, he suddenly heard someone shouting from the front of the high platform:

"Number Thirteen, contestant Hao Chou from the Fragrance Seeking Sect, please enter the arena!"

As soon as these words were spoken, the previously chattering crowd instantly fell silent.

This silence did not last long before someone could not help but let out a snicker. This laugh acted like a fuse, and the crowd below burst into laughter, doubling over with amusement.

Someone remarked, "This fellow is truly a rare sight in a millennium. I reckon he practices some foul-smelling art, breaking a hundred techniques with stench and subduing enemies with foul odors!"

Another chimed in, "I've never heard of this Hao Chou before. Could it be that the Fragrance Seeking Sect is truly devoid of talent, sending a nameless nobody to participate? They are simply asking to become the laughingstock of everyone!"

Liang Yan was, after all, a youth of sixteen or seventeen. Hearing this, he felt a nameless anger rising in his belly, and he cursed Li Xiaosong to high heaven in his heart.

Yet cursing aside, he had no intention of falling out with everyone on the spot. Instead, he leaped forward, silently jumping into the fighting arena.

Liang Yan waited in place for a moment before his opponent leisurely stepped out. The man was dressed in a white robe with a long sword slung across his back, presenting the appearance of a dashing young master.

With an indolent leap forward, his long sword leaped from its scabbard mid-air, drawing a flash of frosty white sword light.

Then, tapping his toes gently in mid-air, he elevated his figure even higher while wildly brandishing the sword in his hand, actually writing the two large characters "Yue Chen" in the air.

Having finished writing the characters, he floated down gracefully into the arena, cupped his fists toward the crowd outside, and said:

"Hehe, I am Yue Chen, an inner sect disciple of the Returning Mountain Sect, and also the fourteenth contestant of this tournament. I have made a fool of myself before you all!"

Though his words claimed he was making a fool of himself, such a flashy entrance and the smug expression on his face completely betrayed the arrogance in his heart.

At this moment, cheers were already rising from the crowd outside. Female cultivators from various minor sects whispered among themselves, and some were even casting flirtatious glances his way.

Seeing this, the smug expression on Yue Chen's face grew even more pronounced. He glanced at Liang Yan opposite him, seeing that he was clad in plain gray robes and utterly unremarkable, and could not help laughing:

"This fellow Daoist Hao... Chou. I see you wear a long sword at your waist; could it be that you also know how to use a sword?"

Liang Yan expressionlessly nodded and said, "I know a thing or two."

"Oh ho, it seems we are fellow practitioners!" Yue Chen laughed heartily, standing on the stage and stroking his long sword as he spoke with an arrogant expression:

"Fellow Daoist Hao, rest assured. Although you and I belong to different sects, I, Yue Chen, teach without discrimination and will certainly offer you a pointer or two during our exchange later. But you must pay attention and remember it in your heart; sometimes just a few words can lead you onto the Dao, saving you years of bitter cultivation."

By this point, Liang Yan's patience had reached its absolute limit. His brows furrowed tightly, and he shouted coldly:

"Are you part-dog? So much nonsense, barking and yapping away. Make your move already!"

Upon hearing this, Yue Chen's beaming countenance immediately turned dark and gloomy.

"Brat, you are simply courting death! Today, I will let you witness the true power of a sword cultivator!"

The moment his voice fell, he rushed forward with a swift whoosh, drawing the long sword from his waist and thrusting it straight at Liang Yan.

Seeing Yue Chen draw his sword, Zhuobu Fan's words suddenly flashed through Liang Yan's mind:

"He's merely a cultivator who uses a sword; he can hardly be considered a true sword cultivator!"

He smiled bitterly to himself. Even for himself, he could only be considered as having barely stepped into the sword dao at this point, and he certainly wouldn't dare call himself a true sword cultivator yet.

He had not expected this brat to be so brazen; merely wielding a sword-type magical tool and daring to call himself a sword cultivator—truly looking at the sky from the bottom of a well.

Seeing the formidable momentum behind Yue Chen's sword strike, Liang Yan merely shook his head slightly. Suddenly, he reached out his right hand, brilliant golden light bursting from his palm, and right before the eyes of the crowd, he caught Yue Chen's long sword barehanded.

"You!"

Yue Chen was dumbfounded. He tried to pull his sword back, only to find that his opponent's right hand was as hard as steel and iron, immovable no matter how hard he pulled.

Amidst the golden light of Liang Yan's right hand, faint traces of black sword qi surged. With a sudden bang, Yue Chen's long sword shattered into pieces, turning into a cloud of debris that drifted away in mid-air.

Without pausing, Liang Yan thrust his right hand forward and slapped Yue Chen squarely across the face.

Seeing stars, Yue Chen was sent flying backward by the slap. His body soared over the arena and landed squarely on a poplar tree on Shili Slope.

He hung upside down on the tree, half of his face swollen beyond recognition, having completely lost consciousness as he swayed back and forth in mid-air along with the branches.

"That hurts!"

These were the two identical words that flashed simultaneously in the minds of everyone watching below.