"Dear viewers, hello! I'm your old friend and host, Jimi. After witnessing the brilliant duel between contestants Yanqing and Luka, our Exhibition Rite has reached its grand finale—the ultimate bout to decide the Sword Sovereign! It's the decisive match between the former Sword Champion of the Xianzhou Luofu, Jingliu, and the current Sword Champion of the Xianzhou Yaoqing, Su Yi!"
As Jimi spoke, two figures stepped slowly into the arena.
"Jingliu, I never thought I'd face you one day. The legendary Sword Champion of the Luofu—your stories were my lullabies growing up. I remember lying on my mother's lap, listening to tales of you. Perhaps it was back then that the seed of the sword was planted in my heart. I didn't expect that someday I'd stand on this very stage with you, contending for the title of Sword Sovereign. Seven hundred years have passed—can you still swing a blade?"
Su Yi stood with her sword at her back; beneath that calm gaze burned a hidden fervor.
Seven hundred years ago the Luofu's renown had peaked under General Tengxiao and the Five Tigers Above the Clouds. Aside from Tengxiao, the most celebrated name was the Sword Champion—Jingliu. Her swordwork was transcendence made flesh. With a single blade she won battle after impossible battle, and even captured the mara-stricken warlord Hulei alive with one stroke. After that, no one in the alliance who practiced the sword failed to know the name Jingliu—Su Yi least of all.
"Old tales aren't worth dwelling on," Jingliu said with a slight shake of her head. "We stand on the same stage now. There's only one thing left to do: decide victory."
"Just what I was thinking. Let the swords speak."
This was no time for reminiscence. Here on this stage, they had a single, shared goal: the title of Sword Sovereign—and at this moment, they were enemies.
"Who do you think will win?"
In the best-viewing room aboard the Jingfeng Flagship, several generals and Wei Yi sat together, the entire ship laid out beneath their gaze.
"I'd say Jingliu," Wei Yi answered without a trace of hesitation.
"So confident? If Su Yi hears you, she won't let you off." Feixiao blinked, then rolled her eyes. Sure, your relationship with Jingliu's better than with Su Yi—but that's blatant favoritism. You couldn't even hedge with a 'maybe'?
"Of course I'm confident. I know how strong she is," Wei Yi said, smiling mysteriously.
"I don't buy it. Su Yi isn't weak—she's earned plenty of merit on the battlefield these years," Feixiao said, shaking her head.
"And compared to Jingliu?"
"W-well… she's not that good," Feixiao admitted. She wanted to defend her friend, but she wasn't going to lie. Su Yi was strong—just not Jingliu strong. Even seven hundred years ago, rumor had it Jingliu might be the greatest Sword Champion in Xianzhou history—perhaps the greatest. In the battle when Shuhu struck and General Tengxiao fell, many assumed Jingliu would be the next general of the Luofu. But before the Council even met, Jingliu's mara erupted; she went berserk and vanished. After that disaster, the Five Tigers scattered. The once-glorious Luofu was left with only Jing Yuan to hold the line—and the fall from zenith to that lonely pillar took but a single year. Jing Yuan had been appointed in crisis; few today knew how heavy that burden had been.
"One to one. How about you two—who wins?" Wei Yi asked, turning to Jing Yuan and Huaiyan.
"My master, of course," Jing Yuan said, teacup in hand like an old gentleman—though Huaiyan beside him truly wore the look of a grandfather. As Wei Yi's question landed, Jing Yuan blinked as if to say how did this get to me, then named Jingliu without hesitation. As her faithful disciple, he had to choose her; besides, though he didn't fully know Su Yi's power, he'd seen Jingliu go all out. In both reason and sentiment, he didn't see her losing.
"This old one… perhaps Sword Champion Su Yi will triumph? It is the era of the young, after all—youth is to be respected," Huaiyan chuckled, sipping tea. Jing Yuan shot him an admiring look. Master Yan—peerless at balancing the scales.
"Arguing won't settle it. We'll know when they're done," came a wry voice from the doorway as Feixiao and Hua—the Marshal—entered. Everyone stood to nod in greeting; in private, they were more friends than superiors and subordinates.
"This is your fault, old man. You wouldn't let me fight," Feixiao huffed at Hua. Side by side, they were like sisters—the steady, frugal elder and the lively, lavish younger.
"Stay by my side. You're the Marshal's personal guard—the title 'Sword Sovereign' is just a hollow laurel for you," Hua said, helpless. How is a memory of me so unlike me?
"Tch. You never let me do anything. You won't let me go anywhere—you just want me glued to your side…" Feixiao tilted her head, then squinted at Hua. "Wait—you're not… fond of me, are you? Is that why you can't bear to let me go? Oh my, just say so~"
"Pfft—" Wei Yi sprayed water. "Ahem. Getting old. Don't mind me," he said, grinning—and mortified. Lesbian drama in the Collapse-verse? Feixiao's satisfied smile didn't help.
"You—what's in that head all day?" Hua sighed, pushing Feixiao back by the forehead.
"Hua, who do you think wins?" Wei Yi asked.
"I think you win," Hua said dryly. "They're crickets in a bowl; whoever wins, the one who netted them is happiest."
"Haha… Marshal, always so humorous." Wei Yi scratched his head. Conversation faded—the bout below was about to begin.
"Our two contenders need no introduction. Against such masters of the sword, more commentary is needless. Let the stage be theirs! Before our eyes, the title of Sword Sovereign—vacant for millennia—will be decided!"
In the blink of an eye, the two blurred from the arena's edges to its center. Two clear rings of steel—an ebon-cold blade of condensed frost met Xuanyuan, the saber Su Yi had temporarily reclaimed from Susang for this fight. Plainly wielded in Susang's hands, in Su Yi's it bloomed with true splendor.
No florid sword-qi, no bombastic narration—just the essence of swordcraft. Two figures wove and clashed, metal singing in rapid strokes. To spectators hungry for skies riven by sword-light, it felt underwhelming.
"That's it? The final selection, and it looks so… plain. Fast, but simple," someone grumbled.
"Yeah, this Sword Sovereign stuff doesn't look so special. Kinda feels like I could do it…"
But those who truly understood the sword went silent. No external power—only sword against sword. Every motion stripped of ornament and aimed to kill.
Yanqing watched, eyes bright, simulating move against move. The answer was brutal: he'd lose badly. He might hang in at first, but after ten exchanges he'd fall behind. After thirty, he would lose.
So these are the people I'm meant to challenge?
March 7 wasn't a novice anymore; she swallowed, watching, a tad pale.
"March, once they finish, want to hop in too?" Yunli asked, amused.
"Me? Fight the Sword Sovereign? Pass, pass. My three-leg-cat skills are fine for mutts like Scott. Against real experts? I'll save myself the humiliation," March said, furiously shaking her head.
On high, Feixiao's eyes narrowed. At first the exchanges had been even—five and five. Now it was shifting: four-to-six… and sliding. Every cut of Jingliu's found the point most awkward for Su Yi; every thrust from Su Yi met a perfect parry.
Bit by bit, the tide turned.
A ringing clash—steel to steel—and they broke apart.
"Warm-up's over. Let's use our real strength," Su Yi proposed—an admission she had lost the first phase. If I'm a little behind on pure swordplay, then let's change the game.
"Agreed," Jingliu said. They shared a glance, then rose together toward the open sky.
The Jingfeng Flagship, vast as it was, could not contain a true fight between them. At their level, full strength meant gouging continents—or halving a small planet. This ship would not survive.
"The contenders are taking it to the skies! Why? Is the Jingfeng too cramped for them? No matter! We've prepared ultra-precision cameras—no matter how high they go, we'll bring you every moment!" Jimi's voice chased them upward as they vanished from naked sight; the grand screen switched to soaring feeds.
Doubts died the instant "serious" began. In the void, a thousand-meter mass of fate-ice rose like an omen—Su Yi split it casually with a stroke. Razor sword-qi carved fissures through the air; Jingliu froze them to glittering cinders. Only then did spectators understand what Sword Champion meant—near the apex of a martial civilization. Below the seven Emanators… stood those like these.
Sunset stained them gold, but the battle had only begun. They chased and crossed in the high air, sparks bursting where wind-shear met wind-shear. Even when their figures blurred from sight, the clang of blades rolled down like thunder, and the cold and gale reached the crowd.
Once true power came out, they locked at near parity—five-five, with Jingliu just a hair ahead. It wouldn't decide the fight by itself. At this rate, it would come down to stamina—and a single fatal opening. Between masters, victory lives in an instant.
Jingliu frowned. She was stronger than Su Yi—but not by enough to end it quickly. If it were to the death, she was confident she would be the one still standing. But this was an internal contest; if she used that art, Su Yi would die—unacceptable, Wei Yi or no. A killing move is for an enemy, not one's own.
So: endurance. And endurance did not trouble Jingliu—she bore Wei Yi's blessing now; her reserves were anything but ordinary.
"Hard to say who wins anytime soon… it's become a tug-of-war," Wei Yi murmured.
"Agreed. No Sword Champion is a mediocrity," Feixiao said, nodding.
"By the way—where are the other Xianzhou Sword Champions? Why didn't they come? You'd think they'd be interested," Wei Yi asked.
"Two reasons," Feixiao said. "First, distance—everyone has their duties. Second, a Sword Champion has the right to challenge the Sword Sovereign. If they win, they take the title outright. Each Champion gets two chances during their term."
"Only two?" Wei Yi blinked.
"That rule was set by the Marshal," Feixiao added, smiling toward Hua.
"Only then do they treat every battle as precious, instead of showing up on schedule to 'challenge once a month,'" Hua said, a little distant. Back when she was Sword Sovereign, a certain pest had howled for a challenge day in, day out. After she became Marshal, she made the rule. If not for fate, that chatterbox might have succeeded her. Instead, in a later war she died—alone with her blade—holding back a million abominations so an army could escape. When the news finally reached Hua, all that returned was half a broken sword.
"Not surprising for the Xianzhou," Kafka smiled in a café corner, watching the broadcast with Firefly opposite her. "Masters like that could found star-spanning hegemons elsewhere. Here, they're one among many."
"Only a power like this roams the stars for millennia," Firefly said. "Every strike of Huanlong is the fall of a civilization. The Xianzhou beat it three times—last with Shuhu beside it."
"Even an Eon's Emanator has limits," Kafka said lightly, stirring in a sugar cube. Silver Wolf sat beside them, gaming—cheat toggled on. Firefly's coffee was black; she could put away an oak roll, after all.
"Kafka, you still haven't said what Elio's script is this time?" Firefly asked.
"Now I can. Simple—we're to have fun, and rest. We've followed his plans enough lately. This time, we're on vacation—and witnesses. That's all."
"So simple?" Firefly blinked.
"Mm." And Kafka had lived like it—dragging Firefly through boutiques, coats, furs, jewelry. Firefly had checked in on Wei Yi once but hadn't called to play; he'd been busy or with his wife, and Dan Heng's dragon arts had just arrived—no progress yet.
Had things continued, the duel might have dragged on until Jingliu caught a flaw and won. Instead, uninvited guests shattered the stalemate.
A rift tore open in the sky. Abominations of Abundance poured out. Warships like streaking meteors fell toward the Xianzhou.
"Damn. I'll intercept," Yanqing said, face paling, diving at the strongest aura among the ships.
"We'll help," called the Astral Express crew, splitting up without a beat. Numbers—not strength—were the threat. The Luofu's guns knocked many down, but too many still landed.
On their own, these creatures were courting death. What made brows knit was the wail, barely heard, leaking from that rift.
And then the light died.
Night fell at once as a colossal shadow blotted out the heavens. Jingliu's pupils shrank to pinpoints. She knew that shape—she could never forget it.
The thing that devoured her home—the World-Devourer Rahu.
A Living Planet.
....
My Patreon : patreon/RuneA
If you want to read the novel in advance, you can subscribe for early access. I also have many more novels in my collection that you might be interested in
I upload ten novels a day, with 3 to 4 chapters per title depending on the length. If you're following a particular series, please wait your turn a little
If there's a particular novel you're enjoying on Patron, please give it a 'like' so I know to focus on it