The Heavenly Arena remained filled with excitement even after Lin Feng stepped down from the battlefield.
Many disciples were still discussing the match.
"Did you see that last strike?"
"It wasn't flashy at all, but Zhao Liang couldn't block it."
"That kind of precision… it's rare."
Lin Feng ignored the whispers as he returned to the participant area.
He sat quietly on a stone bench beneath the shade of a tall pillar.
His sword rested calmly across his lap.
His breathing gradually slowed.
For Lin Feng, every battle—no matter how small—was an opportunity to refine his sword.
He replayed the earlier duel in his mind.
The timing of each strike.
The flow of Zhao Liang's movements.
Every detail mattered.
A true sword cultivator constantly improved.
Even small flaws had to be eliminated.
As Lin Feng sat in meditation, another voice echoed across the arena.
"Next match!"
The stone tablet at the center of the arena glowed once again as new names appeared.
The crowd leaned forward.
One name immediately caught everyone's attention.
Masked Swordsman.
A ripple spread through the spectators.
"That mysterious guy?"
"I heard he defeated three disciples during training yesterday."
"No one knows where he came from."
All eyes turned toward the entrance of the arena.
A tall figure stepped forward slowly.
Dark robes covered his body.
A thin black mask hid his face completely.
The only visible feature was a pair of calm, cold eyes.
The atmosphere changed the moment he entered the battlefield.
Unlike most disciples, the masked swordsman didn't radiate a powerful aura.
Instead, his presence felt strangely… restrained.
As if something was deliberately being suppressed.
Across the arena stood his opponent.
A young man with sharp features and confident posture.
This was Guo Ming, one of the stronger inner disciples.
His sword technique was known for its speed.
Many spectators expected him to reach the later rounds of the tournament.
Guo Ming studied the masked man carefully.
"So you're the mysterious newcomer everyone's talking about."
The masked swordsman didn't respond.
Guo Ming frowned slightly.
"You won't even speak?"
Still silence.
A few disciples in the crowd chuckled.
Guo Ming's expression darkened.
"Fine."
He drew his sword.
The blade gleamed with a faint golden aura.
"Let's see if your sword is as impressive as the rumors say."
The Grand Elder raised his hand.
"The match begins."
The instant the signal was given—
Guo Ming exploded forward.
His body moved like lightning.
"Swift Gale Strike!"
His sword flashed toward the masked man's throat.
Gasps erupted from the crowd.
Guo Ming's speed was terrifying.
Most opponents would barely have time to react.
But the masked swordsman remained completely still.
At the last possible moment
His hand moved.
The sword left its sheath with a quiet sound.
Shing.
The blade appeared in front of Guo Ming's attack.
Clang.
The two swords collided.
Guo Ming felt a strange shock travel through his arm.
Before he could react
The masked swordsman stepped forward.
His sword moved once.
Just once.
The strike was incredibly simple.
Yet the air seemed to freeze.
Guo Ming's eyes widened.
He hurriedly tried to block.
But he was too slow.
The masked man's blade stopped gently against his shoulder.
Silence fell across the arena.
The entire exchange had lasted less than a breath.
Guo Ming stared at the sword in disbelief.
He hadn't even seen the full movement.
His grip loosened.
The golden sword slipped from his hand.
The Grand Elder's voice echoed calmly.
"Victory… Masked Swordsman."
The crowd erupted instantly.
"That was too fast!"
"I didn't even see the strike!"
"He defeated Guo Ming with one move?!"
Many disciples stared at the masked swordsman with shocked expressions.
Even the stronger competitors narrowed their eyes.
The masked man calmly returned his sword to its sheath.
He didn't celebrate.
Didn't speak.
He simply turned and began walking off the arena.
But before he left
His gaze shifted briefly toward the participant area.
Toward Lin Feng.
Lin Feng had watched the entire battle.
His eyes remained calm.
But inside, his mind had become alert.
The masked swordsman's strike had felt… unusual.
It wasn't merely fast.
It carried a strange kind of sword intent.
A cold, silent intent that suppressed everything around it.
Lin Feng's fingers lightly tapped the hilt of his sword.
Interesting.
High above the arena, several elders were also watching closely.
One elder frowned.
"That technique…"
Another elder nodded slowly.
"It doesn't belong to any known style within the Heavenly Sword Palace."
The Grand Elder remained silent.
His gaze stayed fixed on the masked swordsman.
"That boy…"
"…is hiding something."
Back on the arena floor, the tournament continued.
One match after another.
Sword lights flashed across the battlefield as disciples fought with everything they had.
Hours passed.
Several strong competitors advanced to the next round.
Lin Feng remained calm as he observed the battles.
Every duel revealed new techniques.
New sword styles.
Some relied on overwhelming strength.
Others focused on speed or technique.
Lin Feng quietly studied them all.
A true sword cultivator learned from every battle.
As the sun began lowering in the sky, the Grand Elder finally raised his hand once more.
"That concludes the first round."
A wave of exhaustion spread across the arena.
But excitement still lingered in the air.
The first round had already revealed several terrifying competitors.
Among them, two names had begun spreading rapidly through the sect.
Lin Feng.
And the Masked Swordsman.
Neither had revealed their full strength yet.
Yet both had defeated their opponents with ease.
As the crowd slowly began leaving the arena, Lin Feng stood and prepared to return to Silent Sword Peak.
But just as he reached the exit path—
A figure stepped into his way.
The masked swordsman.
The two stood facing each other quietly.
Neither spoke for a moment.
Then the masked man finally said something.
His voice was calm and low.
"You use a strange sword style."
Lin Feng looked at him steadily.
"Yours is strange as well."
A brief pause followed.
Then the masked man nodded slightly.
"We will meet again."
Without another word, he turned and walked away.
Lin Feng watched his departing figure.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
The tournament had only just begun.
But already, a worthy opponent had appeared.
Lin Feng slowly rested his hand on the hilt of his sword.
The wind swept across the arena mountain.
Sooner or later…
Their blades would cross.
And when that happened
Only one sword would remain standing.