Chapter Fifty-Four: Riding the Wind with the Imperial Sword, Roaming Freely Across Heaven and Earth! (First Update)

The silken ray sliced through the air, condensing into a thread so fine it was nearly invisible, like the silkworm strand between the delicate fingers of a southern maiden. A hundred paces away, with a flick of his finger, Shen Wan'an unleashed a power akin to an immortal's.

Beneath the arena, the assembled dignitaries stared with wide eyes. The flying silken streak—surely even Mount Tai itself would be cleaved in two by such a force.

Yet Jiang Yu waved his hand casually, his voice calm: "At our level, you should use your true abilities. These flashy moves—do you think you're performing on a stage?"

The slender thread vanished into nothingness, dissolving into the air.

Xia Qinghan's heart leapt wildly, her beautiful eyes widening with disbelief. "Jiang Yu, so this is your true strength. Now I understand why the proud Xia Ning was willing to befriend you."

Recalling her past words and actions toward him, her lips twisted in a bitter smile. All along, she had been the one gazing from the bottom of a well, the frog beneath, speaking of the vastness of the world to those who dwell outside.

How pathetic, how laughable!

Xia Qinghan wavered, tears brimming in her eyes, and thankfully, Gu Feifei was quick to steady her.

"I was wrong; from the very beginning, I was wrong."

She lowered her head, sharp nails digging into her palm until her knuckles turned white.

Liu Shao, Wang Shao, Li Mengxue, Gu Feifei...

Each face was etched with a complex expression.

On the ring, that young man shone with vigor. His pale hand reached out, five fingers crystalline and delicate, as dainty as a woman's jade-like hand, landing gently upon Shen Wan'an.

That palm could fell a master.

Shen Wan'an's Zhongshan suit billowed without wind, and he threw a punch in return. At the level of a grandmaster, all the unnecessary embellishments are washed away, leaving only the ancient simplicity. Let your moves be beautiful, let your silhouette move like the wind—one punch from me, and you will die.

"Silk-winding bone-grasping hand!"

Four thousand years ago, the Empress Fuyao ascended to the heavens and created this move—a single grasp could seize the sky for ten thousand miles.

Bang!

The ring beneath Shen Wan'an's feet could not withstand the overwhelming force and surged like a turbulent sea. Amid cries of alarm, one side of the ring collapsed, exposing its steel and concrete core.

Shen Wan'an's Zhongshan suit was reduced to tatters, drifting around him, swirling in the air like waves under the invisible force.

"What martial art is this?"

He cried out in terror, blood seeping from every pore.

Jiang Yu replied coolly, "The Eight Fuyao Forms."

Shen Wan'an had never seen nor heard of such an immortal art.

He was right—the Eight Fuyao Forms could indeed be called an immortal technique. Empress Fuyao was the last cultivator closest to true immortality. Four thousand years ago, she broke through the void, soared ninety thousand miles, and vanished into the boundless stars.

Those nearest to the ring were all knocked to the ground, faces smudged with dust, scrambling backward.

"A grandmaster?"

"That youth is actually a grandmaster of our time?"

Voices cried out in disbelief.

A grandmaster not yet twenty?

Even Gu Changsheng, at twenty, had never achieved such earth-shattering feats.

The signs upon Jiang Yu were unmistakably those of a grandmaster. His entire body was shrouded in an invisible aura, almost visible to the naked eye, dozens of times stronger than Shen Wan'an.

But the most conflicted heart belonged to Lin Dong.

Staring at that godlike silhouette, his emotions were a tangled mess—sour, sweet, bitter, and spicy.

"Today, Shen Wan'an is doomed!"

After losing so many core members, Shadow Kill would likely lose another half-step grandmaster today.

Jiang Yu lifted his eyelids, gazing at the pale-faced Shen Wan'an. "Show your true strength, or I'll end you in three moves."

Shen Wan'an was engulfed in fear. Since his rise to fame, he could not recall when he had last been so battered. It felt as if he faced not a youth, but an immortal. The powers Jiang Yu displayed were unknown even to Shen Wan'an.

Wiping the blood from his lips, Shen Wan'an laughed loudly, his voice thundering, stirring dust from the ground. Then, with cold eyes, he declared, "Boy, to force me to reveal ninety years of mastery, your death will not be in vain."

He stomped down, cracks spreading from his feet to the ring's edge. The ring, poured with sixty tons of concrete, could withstand the strongest blows from two internal masters.

Yet before a grandmaster, it was as fragile as tofu—now riddled with holes, on the verge of collapse.

Shen Wan'an was desperate.

He stomped again, cracks radiating outward, even the glass boxes hanging from the stone walls began to show fissures, forcing the dignitaries to retreat.

"This sword, nurtured within me since I was thirty, fed with my vital energy for over sixty years, can slay any grandmaster alive!"

With a breath, Shen Wan'an exhaled mist, within which a tiny sword hovered in the air. At that moment, his black hair turned white, his once rosy face creased with deep wrinkles, aging him instantly. His once deep eyes grew cloudy.

With that breath, he expelled all his life's cultivation.

Even if he slew Jiang Yu with this sword, his skills would regress, and he would not live another ten years.

This tiny sword was his ticket to the grandmaster realm, now forced out for self-preservation.

With sword in heart, he could cut down any in the world!

"Sword, come!"

Shen Wan'an grasped at the air, his vital sword grew larger in the wind, mist swirling around, dreamy and unreal.

"Today, with this sword, I shall glimpse the grandmaster realm!"

He stood proud, single-handedly holding his sword.

His aura soared, white hair draped over his shoulders, like the Supreme Elder from a film, white-bearded and exuding immortal energy.

Jiang Yu smiled. "I too possess a sword in my hand. I wonder whose is superior—yours or mine?"

As soon as he spoke, Shen Wan'an leapt into the air, gripping his sword with both hands. His figure merged with the blade, reaching the realm of man and sword as one in a fleeting moment. With a single slash, the surroundings brightened as if it were daylight, nearly blinding.

Thunder rumbled!

The mine trembled, stones falling from above like an earthquake.

No one could see what was happening on the ring.

They only heard a majestic, sweeping voice:

"Ride the wind with the sword, roam the world unfettered!"

Suddenly, sword energy swept forth, stinging faces all around, the stone walls marked with countless gashes and cuts.

A few minutes later, the white radiance faded.

Jiang Yu stood with one hand behind his back, the other shaped into a sword, his gaze cold.

After one strike, his clothes remained immaculate, his demeanor tranquil.

Shen Wan'an stood frozen before Jiang Yu, silent and unmoving, as if standing quietly in a trance.

"Not bad. Your sword is worthy of my attention."

A cut appeared on Jiang Yu's middle finger, blood slowly trickling forth.

Shen Wan'an, with a single sword, had wounded Jiang Yu.

"If you had truly stepped into the grandmaster realm, this sword might have seriously injured me."

Jiang Yu lowered his head, staring at the wound, as if murmuring to himself.

Below the hall, silence reigned.

After a moment, a trembling voice sounded: "Shen Wan'an has fallen!"

All eyes turned. Jiang Yu lightly touched Shen Wan'an, and the latter's body collapsed with a crash—the final straw that toppled the mountain. The ring collapsed entirely.

Jiang Yu's icy voice echoed in the hall: "Who else wishes to fight me?"

The assembled dignitaries were silent as the grave.

After today, Shen Wan'an would be no more.

The legendary Shadow Kill overlord had fallen, leaving everyone feeling as if they were dreaming, so unreal.

Li Hao was first to stand: "Teacher, your might is peerless!"

With him leading, Xia Hou Sheng, Yuan Tiangang...

Gradually, everyone stood, gazing with reverence at Jiang Yu atop the ruins of the ring. In this moment, silence spoke louder than words—everyone knew that from now on, the name Jiang Yu would echo throughout the land.

Xia Qinghan gazed at Jiang Yu, lost and desolate, sensing that the gap between them would only widen from now on.

Gu Feifei was full of delight, nervously clutching her skirt, cheeks flushed. "Jiang Yu, you alone are worth ten Thunder Entertainment."

But why did Jiang Yu feel so familiar now?

Jiang Yu turned and walked down, passing through the crowd toward the door.

Li Hao, Yuan Tiangang, Xia Hou Sheng, and many others followed. After a moment's thought, others joined the procession.

"Qinghan, shall we go?"

Gu Feifei stood up, her gaze determined, as if she needed to confirm something.

Xia Qinghan and her companions followed silently.

Behind them, a voice called out: "Reinforce the mine within three days."

One sword, and all was swept away.