Morning arrived quietly.
The Green Bamboo Sect was already awake before the sun fully rose.
Disciples moved toward the outer sect arena in streams, their voices low but filled with excitement. After Fang Lin defeated Xu Ren, the atmosphere of the competition had changed again.
No one spoke of him as a lucky newcomer anymore.
No one called his victories accidents.
Now, whenever Fang Lin's name appeared, the crowd became quiet first.
Then serious.
Inside Room 53579, Fang Lin slowly opened his eyes.
A faint grey light flashed within them before disappearing.
His breathing was calm.
Inside his spiritual sea, the grey stone floated silently. The smoky mist around it had grown thicker after last night's cultivation, wrapping around the stone like a slow-moving cloud.
Fang Lin watched it for a moment.
"It is still increasing."
He could feel it.
The stone was no longer simply reacting.
It was waking.
Slowly.
Steadily.
And the more he cultivated the Nine Nether Phantom Body, the faster it changed.
After a long silence, Fang Lin withdrew his consciousness.
He stood up and placed the black iron sword at his waist.
Today's battle would not be simple.
Xu Ren had been loud.
Lin Tao had been defensive.
But the next opponents were different.
They were higher ranked disciples.
True monsters of the outer sect.
Fang Lin opened the door and stepped outside.
The moment he appeared, several disciples nearby immediately stopped speaking.
Their eyes followed him.
Some carried admiration.
Some carried fear.
Some carried hostility.
Fang Lin ignored all of them and walked toward the arena.
By the time he arrived, the seats were already filled.
The central stage stood silently beneath the morning light, its surface repaired overnight by sect formations. Yet faint marks from yesterday's battles still remained.
Cracks.
Scars.
Traces of power.
Fang Lin walked toward Li Shan's group.
Murong Yue waved at him immediately.
"You finally came."
Luo Chen grinned.
"I thought you might be meditating until the match started."
Fang Lin calmly sat down.
Li Shan looked at him carefully.
"You look stronger again."
Fang Lin replied, "A little."
Murong Yue narrowed her eyes.
"That answer again."
Bai Qing smiled softly.
"Whenever he says that, someone suffers."
Zhao Feng looked toward the arena.
"Today will not be like yesterday."
The playful atmosphere faded slightly.
Fang Lin followed his gaze.
On the opposite side, the faction disciples sat together.
Chen Hao remained calm.
Yue Fang's eyes were unreadable.
Shen Ku sat silently like a shadow.
And beside them stood a young man with a sword at his waist.
Sun Jie.
Rank 11.
His expression was plain.
No arrogance.
No anger.
Only focus.
That made him more dangerous.
Han Zhi spoke quietly.
"Sun Jie's sword is fast."
Li Shan nodded.
"Very fast."
Luo Chen added, "And clean. He does not waste movement."
Fang Lin looked at Sun Jie silently.
At that moment, Sun Jie also turned his head.
Their eyes met across the arena.
No words were exchanged.
But Fang Lin immediately understood.
This opponent was different.
Sun Jie was not here to humiliate him.
He was here to cut him down.
A bell rang.
The arena became silent.
The referee elder stepped forward.
"Next battle."
His voice spread through the arena.
"Fang Lin."
A wave of noise rose instantly.
Then the elder continued.
"Sun Jie."
The noise became even louder.
"Sun Jie!"
"Rank 11!"
"This will be different."
"He is not Xu Ren."
"He is one of Chen Hao's strongest people."
Fang Lin stood.
Across from him, Sun Jie also rose calmly.
Chen Hao did not say anything.
He only looked at Sun Jie briefly.
Sun Jie nodded once.
Then he walked toward the stage.
Fang Lin stepped onto the platform from the opposite side.
The two stood facing each other.
For a moment, the arena became strangely quiet.
Sun Jie slowly placed his hand on his sword hilt.
"You defeated Xu Ren."
Fang Lin looked at him calmly.
"Yes."
"You defeated Lin Tao."
"Yes."
Sun Jie's gaze sharpened.
"Then I will not underestimate you."
Fang Lin's expression remained unchanged.
"That is wise."
A faint ripple passed through the crowd.
Sun Jie did not become angry.
He simply drew his sword.
The blade was thin.
Silver.
Cold.
The moment it left its sheath, Fang Lin felt a sharp pressure spread across the stage.
Not overwhelming.
Not wild.
Sharp.
Controlled.
The referee elder raised his hand.
"Begin."
The moment the word fell, Sun Jie disappeared.
Fast.
Extremely fast.
A silver line flashed toward Fang Lin's throat.
Fang Lin's eyes narrowed.
Flowing Wind Steps activated instantly.
His body shifted sideways.
The sword missed by a hair's breadth.
But before Fang Lin could fully stabilize, the second slash arrived.
Then the third.
Then the fourth.
Each strike followed perfectly after the last.
No pause.
No wasted movement.
Fang Lin retreated repeatedly, his figure drifting like wind across the platform.
The crowd instantly grew tense.
"So fast!"
"Fang Lin is being pushed back!"
"Sun Jie's sword is too precise!"
Murong Yue clenched her fists.
"He is faster than I remembered."
Han Zhi said calmly, "No. He is using less movement than before."
Zhao Feng's gaze sharpened.
"He improved."
On the stage, Fang Lin continued retreating.
Sun Jie's sword was not like Zhou Yan's blade.
Zhou Yan had relied on pressure and force.
Sun Jie relied on precision.
Every slash aimed at a weak point.
Throat.
Wrist.
Shoulder.
Knee.
Meridian points.
If Fang Lin made even one mistake, the battle would shift instantly.
Fang Lin's expression remained calm, but his eyes became sharper.
"He is not chasing openings."
"He is creating them."
Sun Jie stepped forward again.
His sword flickered.
This time, Fang Lin drew his own black iron sword.
Clang!
The two blades collided.
A sharp sound echoed across the arena.
Sun Jie's wrist twisted.
His blade slid along Fang Lin's sword and stabbed toward his chest.
Fang Lin stepped back, narrowly avoiding it.
Sun Jie followed immediately.
Clang!
Clang!
Clang!
The sound of swords filled the arena.
Fang Lin blocked three strikes in succession, but each one forced him slightly backward.
His sword technique was still too basic.
Against someone like Sun Jie, that weakness became obvious.
Sun Jie noticed it instantly.
"Your sword is weak."
Fang Lin replied calmly, "I know."
Sun Jie's eyes flickered.
Most people would feel humiliated.
Fang Lin did not.
That made him harder to disturb.
Sun Jie's Qi surged.
His sword suddenly became faster.
Silver light covered the stage.
Fang Lin's pupils contracted slightly.
Danger.
Flowing Wind Steps erupted.
His figure blurred backward.
Several sword lights passed through the place where he had stood.
The stone stage split open silently.
The cuts were thin.
Clean.
Deep.
The crowd inhaled sharply.
"That technique…"
"Silver Thread Sword Art."
"Sun Jie is already serious."
Sun Jie raised his sword again.
"Movement alone will not defeat me."
Fang Lin did not answer.
He slowly exhaled.
His grip on the sword tightened.
He understood.
If he continued fighting with sword skill alone, he would lose.
If he used Nine Nether Phantom Body too openly, more eyes would focus on it.
If he used soul arts, the danger afterward would be even greater.
So he had to win another way.
Control.
Timing.
Pressure.
Sun Jie moved again.
This time, Fang Lin did not retreat immediately.
He watched.
The sword approached.
Fast.
Precise.
But not invisible.
His spiritual perception spread across the stage.
The shift in Sun Jie's shoulder.
The flow of Qi through his wrist.
The slight change in breathing before each thrust.
Everything entered Fang Lin's mind.
The world slowed.
At the final moment, Fang Lin stepped half a pace forward.
Not back.
Forward.
Sun Jie's eyes changed slightly.
Fang Lin's sword lifted.
Clang!
The black iron sword struck the side of Sun Jie's blade, not blocking it directly, but shifting its path.
The silver sword slid past Fang Lin's shoulder.
At the same time, Fang Lin's left palm rose.
Wind gathered.
Compressed.
Sun Jie immediately sensed danger and retreated.
Boom!
Wind Break Palm exploded outward.
The force missed Sun Jie's chest by inches, but the shockwave still struck his robes and pushed him back several steps.
The crowd erupted.
"He countered!"
"He actually found the timing!"
Sun Jie lowered his sword slightly.
For the first time, seriousness fully appeared in his eyes.
Fang Lin stood calmly opposite him.
A thin cut had appeared on his shoulder.
Blood slowly stained his robe.
But his expression did not change.
Sun Jie looked at the wound.
Then at Fang Lin's eyes.
"You let the sword graze you on purpose."
Fang Lin replied, "It was the smallest price."
The arena became quiet.
Even some elders narrowed their eyes.
Trading a shallow wound for a chance to counterattack sounded simple.
But doing it against Sun Jie's sword required terrifying judgment.
One mistake, and the wound would not be shallow.
Sun Jie slowly raised his sword again.
"You are dangerous."
Fang Lin's palm lowered.
"So are you."
A faint smile appeared on Sun Jie's face.
It was not mocking.
It was recognition.
"Good."
His Qi began to rise.
Sharper than before.
The silver sword hummed faintly.
Fang Lin's eyes narrowed.
He could feel it.
Sun Jie had not used his strongest move yet.
The wind across the arena became still.
Sun Jie stepped forward.
His voice was calm.
"Then receive this sword."
Silver light gathered along the blade.
Thin.
Bright.
Deadly.
Fang Lin slowly adjusted his stance.
Flowing Wind Steps circulated beneath his feet.
Wind Break Palm gathered silently in his left hand.
Inside his body, the Nine Nether Phantom Body stirred, restrained but ready.
The entire arena held its breath.
Then Sun Jie vanished.
A single silver line cut across the stage.
Straight toward Fang Lin's heart.