The tenth dawn arrived like a war drum.
From every corner of the Outer Court, disciples soared into the skies on their swords, their robes rippling with divine light. The heavens themselves churned with storm clouds of sword qi — endless streams of light and blade energy spiraling toward a single place.
The Sword Tempest Platform.
It floated in the sky above the Azure Void Sea, a massive slab of divine metal carved with ancient runes. The air around it roared with invisible sword energy — tens of thousands of swords drifting like ghosts through the storm.
To reach it was a trial in itself; to stand upon it was an invitation to bleed.
Lin Feng arrived quietly.
His azure robes were simple, his sword bound in black cloth. Around him, hundreds of disciples gathered in groups — the factions gleaming in banners of flame, frost, thunder, and shadow.
At the center stood three figures whose auras dominated the storm.
Mo Tian, wrapped in crimson flames, his eyes burning like molten steel.
Bai Hanjun, calm and ethereal, his blade covered in a sheen of icy mist.
And Ling Yue, the youngest prodigy, her sword floating beside her like a crescent moon.
Each had already reached Saint Realm Middle Stage — terrifying strength for Outer Court disciples. Around them gathered their followers, each a formidable opponent.
When Lin Feng landed, whispers rippled instantly.
"That's him — the lower realm ascendant."
"He doesn't even use a divine sword."
"They say his sword art comes from an incomplete manual."
He ignored them, stepping onto the platform as the divine wind tore at his sleeves.
An old elder floated above them, hair white as snow, his presence calm yet overwhelming. His voice rolled like thunder, echoing through the heavens.
"Disciples of the Outer Court — the time of Ascension has come.
This trial will determine who among you is worthy to enter the Inner Court, and who will remain to wither under heaven's shadow."
The elder extended his hand, and the runes upon the platform began to glow.
"The first trial — The Sword Tempest!
Endure the heavenly storm for an incense stick's time. Those who survive, advance. Those who fall… are forgotten."
---
The skies darkened.
A vortex of divine energy spiraled open above them, and the first blades of the storm descended — countless streaks of silver, each one carrying the will of the Heavenly Sword itself.
The platform trembled.
A scream echoed as a disciple was struck directly; his defenses shattered instantly, his body hurled from the platform and into the sea of clouds below.
Then chaos erupted.
Thousands of disciples drew their swords, divine auras blooming across the platform.
Flame, ice, thunder — every element clashed against the descending swordlight.
Lin Feng stood still at first, his aura hidden, observing.
Each strand of swordlight carried intent — not mindless energy, but purpose.
Each strike sought weakness.
Each flash of light tested one's will.
He closed his eyes, letting his senses expand.
When the first streak of silver descended upon him, he raised his blade lightly and whispered:
"Azure Sword Art — Form One: Flowing River."
His sword moved in silence.
The incoming swordlight curved — sliding past him harmlessly, as if diverted by invisible currents.
Around him, disciples struggled to hold their ground. Even Yue Lian, standing not far from him, had formed a frost barrier, her brows furrowed in concentration.
"Still holding back, Lin Feng?" she shouted through the roar of wind.
He didn't reply — his mind was immersed in the storm's rhythm.
Each wave of swordlight came faster, denser, sharper. Dozens of disciples were flung off every minute. Even the mighty Mo Tian roared in defiance, his fiery aura forming a blazing dome that scorched every falling blade.
"Pathetic divine test!" Mo Tian bellowed. "I'll tear through your heavens myself!"
His power erupted — flames rising like a pillar that cut through the storm. Several disciples near him were burned away instantly. Mo Tian laughed as his sword ignited in his grip.
But in the midst of the chaos, he saw Lin Feng standing alone — surrounded by the storm, unburned, untouched.
Something within him twisted with rage.
"Still pretending to be calm?" Mo Tian growled.
"Let's see you stay calm when I send you flying!"
He raised his sword, gathering flames into a massive spear of fire.
Before the elders could intervene, he hurled it straight at Lin Feng.
The attack split the storm apart — the temperature spiked violently.
Several disciples screamed and leapt away.
Lin Feng's eyes opened.
Azure light flickered faintly across his pupils.
"You want me to draw my blade? Then watch closely."
He stepped forward.
His sword, wrapped in black cloth, gleamed with a light that was not divine — soft, restrained, and impossibly deep.
"Azure Sword Art — Second Form: Dragon's Descent."
The air around him warped.
A dragon-shaped wave of azure energy roared upward, coiling around the descending flame spear. For a heartbeat, the heavens were split between blue and red.
Then, with a sound like thunder cracking through metal — BOOM! — the flames shattered.
Mo Tian's expression froze. His aura wavered as the backlash threw him several steps back, his clothes scorched, his sword trembling.
"Impossible… you're still holding back?!"
Lin Feng lowered his sword, expression calm. "You talk too much."
Laughter rippled through the storm — disbelief mixed with awe. Even the overseeing elder's brows lifted slightly.
---
Half an Incense Later…
The storm intensified. The swordlight had grown into a torrent, the air shimmering with killing intent.
More than half the disciples had already fallen.
Lin Feng's robes were cut in several places, his arms bleeding, but his stance never broke. The Azure Sword in his hand sang with a low hum — feeding off his will.
He felt something shift inside him — as though the heavens themselves were starting to recognize his intent.
"Good," he murmured softly. "Then let's ascend together."
The next moment, he moved.
Instead of defending, he charged into the thickest part of the storm.
His sword danced — elegant, sharp, merciless. Each motion dissolved the incoming light; each step left a trail of faint azure glow in the air.
Disciples stared, stunned. To move forward in the Sword Tempest was madness — yet Lin Feng advanced as though the storm parted for him.
When the final stroke of light struck, he raised his sword once more.
"Azure Sword Art — Third Form: Nine Heavens Reversal!"
A radiant sigil formed above him — nine arcs of azure sword energy spiraling upward. They clashed against the storm's core, and for a brief instant, the tempest broke.
The sky cleared.
Only ten figures remained standing on the shattered platform — Lin Feng among them.
---
The elder descended slowly, his eyes filled with rare approval.
"The Sword Tempest has chosen its survivors. The first trial is complete."
Gasps and murmurs filled the air as the remaining disciples realized who stood among them. Yue Lian. Bai Hanjun. Mo Tian — barely standing, his clothes torn. And Lin Feng, silent, calm, his sword bound once more.
"The next trial," the elder said, "will test not your endurance, but your comprehension of the sword's truth.
Prepare your hearts. For tomorrow, you enter the Hall of Reflections."
---
As the storm clouds dispersed, Lin Feng glanced down at his sword.
The black cloth fluttered faintly in the wind — beneath it, he could sense the Azure fragment's pulse, quiet but alive.
"Another step," he whispered. "One storm at a time."
From afar, Yue Lian watched him with unreadable eyes.
Mo Tian clenched his fists, fury and humiliation burning within.
And high above, unseen by all, Elder Yun Xi whispered to her fellow elder:
"The Azure Sword… reacts again. The last time we saw that was during the Divine War."
Mo Xu's eyes darkened. "Then it seems the heavens are stirring once more."