The enormous Heavenly Arena buzzed with excitement as the first round of matches began.
Thousands of disciples filled the stone stands surrounding the battlefield. Their voices blended into a roaring wave of anticipation as the opening duels unfolded one after another.
Steel clashed. Sword light flashed.
Occasionally a disciple would be thrown from the arena, landing heavily outside the boundary stones.
Victories and defeats happened quickly.
Above the arena, the Elder Council watched calmly from their elevated seats. Their expressions rarely changed, but their eyes missed nothing.
Every sword movement. Every burst of spiritual energy.
This tournament was not merely a competition between disciples.
It was also an opportunity for the elders to identify those with true potential.
At the center of the arena, the Grand Elder stood beside the stone tablet that displayed the match pairings.
His voice echoed again.
"Next match."
"Lin Feng of Silent Sword Peak."
A small ripple passed through the crowd.
"Lin Feng?"
"Isn't he the disciple who rarely leaves his peak?"
"I heard he practices alone most of the time."
A few disciples leaned forward with curiosity.
From the participant area, Lin Feng stepped forward calmly.
His expression was neutral, his breathing steady.
The stone steps leading to the arena were worn from countless battles over the years.
Each step represented the ambitions of countless sword cultivators.
Lin Feng walked up without hesitation.
Across the arena, another disciple had already stepped forward.
This man was tall and broad-shouldered, wearing the red-trimmed robes of the inner disciples.
A heavy sword rested across his back.
Several spectators immediately recognized him.
"Senior Brother Zhao Liang."
"He's strong."
"He's already in the middle stage of the Celestial Realm."
A few disciples nodded.
Against an opponent like Zhao Liang, most newcomers would struggle.
Zhao Liang studied Lin Feng for a moment before letting out a faint laugh.
"So you're my opponent?"
Lin Feng nodded.
"Yes."
Zhao Liang stretched his neck slightly before pulling the heavy sword from his back.
The blade slammed lightly against the arena floor with a dull thud.
"I hope you're not one of those disciples who rely on luck to reach this stage."
He rested the blade against his shoulder.
"I prefer fights that last more than one move."
Lin Feng remained calm.
He slowly drew his own sword.
The blade reflected the sunlight as it emerged from the sheath.
Unlike Zhao Liang's weapon, Lin Feng's sword was slender and elegant.
Yet there was something about it that made several spectators narrow their eyes.
A faint azure glow flickered along the blade's edge.
The Grand Elder raised his hand.
"The match begins."
The moment his hand dropped—
Zhao Liang moved first.
His body surged forward like a charging beast.
The heavy sword swung down in a powerful arc.
"Mountain Splitter!"
The massive blade cut through the air with crushing force.
If it landed directly, even the arena floor might crack.
Gasps rose from the crowd.
But Lin Feng didn't panic.
He stepped lightly to the side.
The heavy sword struck the stone floor.
BOOM.
Fragments of stone scattered across the arena.
Before Zhao Liang could recover—
Lin Feng's sword moved.
The motion was incredibly simple.
A single horizontal slash.
The strike looked almost effortless.
Yet the air itself seemed to tremble.
Zhao Liang's eyes widened.
He hurriedly raised his sword to block.
CLANG.
The two blades collided.
For a brief moment, the entire arena fell silent.
Then—
Zhao Liang staggered back three steps.
Shock flashed across his face.
"What…?"
His arms trembled slightly.
The spectators were equally surprised.
"That strike…"
"It looked simple, but the force behind it…"
Above the arena, several elders leaned forward slightly.
Lin Feng didn't press the attack immediately.
Instead, he calmly repositioned his stance.
Sword tip angled forward.
Breathing steady.
Zhao Liang frowned.
The earlier clash had shaken him more than he expected.
He had felt something strange within Lin Feng's strike.
It wasn't brute strength.
It was precision.
An extremely refined sword intent.
Zhao Liang clenched his teeth.
"Don't think one lucky strike means anything!"
He roared and surged forward again.
This time his movements were faster.
The heavy sword blurred as he unleashed a flurry of attacks.
"Stone Crushing Storm!"
The blade swung again and again, creating a whirlwind of powerful strikes.
Each blow carried tremendous weight.
Most opponents would be overwhelmed instantly.
But Lin Feng's expression didn't change.
His sword moved.
One strike.
Two strikes.
Three.
Each motion was minimal.
Yet every time Zhao Liang's blade descended, Lin Feng's sword intercepted it at the perfect angle.
Clang.
Clang.
Clang.
The sound of steel echoed repeatedly across the arena.
Zhao Liang's attacks became more frantic.
"How is he blocking everything?!"
The spectators were stunned.
"He's not just blocking…"
A senior disciple narrowed his eyes.
"He's redirecting the force."
Indeed.
Lin Feng wasn't meeting Zhao Liang's power head-on.
Instead, his sword gently shifted each attack aside, letting the heavy blade's own momentum work against its wielder.
This was one of the fundamental principles of the Azure Sword Art.
Control the flow of battle.
After another exchange, Zhao Liang's breathing became uneven.
His heavy sword suddenly felt slower.
Lin Feng's eyes sharpened.
Now.
His foot stepped forward.
The sword flashed.
First strike.
A swift diagonal cut forced Zhao Liang to retreat.
Second strike.
The blade curved upward, knocking Zhao Liang's weapon slightly off balance.
Then
The third strike came.
A precise thrust aimed directly at Zhao Liang's chest.
Zhao Liang froze.
The sword tip stopped less than an inch from his robe.
Silence fell across the arena.
The entire exchange had lasted only a few breaths.
Zhao Liang stared at the blade in disbelief.
His grip loosened.
The heavy sword slipped from his hand and struck the ground.
The Grand Elder's voice echoed calmly.
"Victory… Lin Feng."
For a moment, the crowd remained silent.
Then whispers erupted.
"Three strikes…"
"He ended the fight with only three strikes."
"That sword control is terrifying."
Lin Feng withdrew his blade and returned it to its sheath.
He didn't celebrate.
Didn't speak.
He simply turned and walked down from the arena.
Zhao Liang remained standing for several seconds before finally sighing.
"I lost…"
There was no shame in his voice.
Only respect.
Meanwhile, high above the arena, the elders exchanged glances.
One of them spoke quietly.
"That disciple…"
"His sword intent is unusually pure."
Another elder nodded slowly.
"Yes."
"It feels… ancient."
The Grand Elder continued watching Lin Feng as he returned to the participant area.
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"Interesting."
Back among the competitors, several powerful disciples had also noticed the match.
Han Qiu's cold eyes followed Lin Feng's figure briefly.
The masked swordsman standing near the edge of the arena also watched him.
For a moment—
The masked man's gaze sharpened.
Then he quietly turned away.
The tournament had only just begun.
But already, a new name had begun spreading through the Heavenly Sword Palace.
Lin Feng.
And before the tournament ended…
Many more would witness his sword.