Chapter 47: Though Defeated, Never Cowed

Just as Ji Yao had surmised, those who managed to advance from the outer sect to the inner through the grand competition were far from weak. Every person on the stage, even the defeated ones, bore a striking individuality. The Lingyun Sect was known for its sword cultivators, and most of the outer disciples who qualified for promotion specialized in the sword as well. Though the environment of the outer sect required them to learn other skills, their primary path was always the sword. Ji Yao even noticed a pure sword cultivator—one with three spiritual roots, around twenty-five or twenty-six years of age, having reached the peak of the Qi Refining stage.

What was even more remarkable was that he had grasped sword intent—not merely its embryonic form, but genuine sword intent. Though his comprehension was thin and shallow, Ji Yao could still discern it; she believed that any cultivator with a higher cultivation would notice as well. Ji Yao had sensed sword intent from Si Tu Jing before. Though this man’s sword intent was nothing compared to hers, it was nonetheless the real thing. If her guess was correct, this man would have no trouble entering the top ten—at the very least, the top five, and perhaps even claim first place.

Such was the strength of a pure sword cultivator; to have developed sword intent at the Qi Refining stage was enough to dominate their peers. The matches among disciples at the peak of Qi Refining were far more riveting than those of the lower ranks. Each bout offered Ji Yao a wealth of insight, things that Si Tu Jing might have thought of but could not teach—these had to be realized through personal experience.

Ji Yao reckoned that the contestants on the stage displayed their skills without reservation, pulling out all the stops, for another reason: they hoped to showcase their excellence and be noticed by one of the inner sect’s peak lords or elders, to be chosen as a true or personal disciple. There was precedent for such things; thus, to compete in the inner sect’s tournament was, for the newly promoted outer sect disciples, a chance to change the course of their fate.

The fifth round consisted of sixteen matches, with only one arena and all bouts completed within eight hours. Ji Yao was assigned the very last match. This had its advantages and disadvantages: the downside was the increased attention her match would receive; the upside was that whatever she did would be remembered by more people.

Soon, it was time for the final bout. Though most present felt the outcome was hardly in doubt, there was still curiosity: how had a young woman at the ninth level of Qi Refining managed to break into the inner sect’s top seventy-five? Surely it couldn’t be due to sheer luck or her opponents going easy on her—no one among the outer disciples would be so foolish. Thus, the fact that this young woman, with her age and cultivation, had made it this far suggested she truly had some skill. Expectations rose.

Ji Yao stepped onto the stage and greeted her opponent with a polite bow.

Her adversary was a man of about thirty, wielding a sword whose blade was deep red, radiating a faint burning aura.

“Junior Sister, may I ask—are you a spell cultivator?” the man inquired. He looked at the youthful junior sister before him, who had received a bye in the previous round and had yet to draw a weapon. After returning her bow, he couldn’t help but ask.

Lingyun Sect was, after all, a sword sect. Practicing sword arts made it easier to receive guidance, and sparring among disciples facilitated the exchange of experience and insight. Though the sect did have spell cultivators, few in the outer sect focused solely on spells; most paired them with sword training, for tutored swordsmanship generally offered greater attack power than spells developed in isolation. Moreover, for someone at the ninth level of Qi Refining, the potency of spells depended greatly on one’s cultivation and spiritual energy. The same spell wielded by different people produced vastly different effects.

The male disciple was confident in both his swordsmanship and his flying sword. If his opponent was a spell cultivator, even if she surpassed the average disciple, he believed he would need little time to claim victory. Thus, he didn’t mind spending a moment to ask.

Though his tone was mild, Ji Yao’s keen perception caught the glint of assured victory in his eyes. Moreover, the flying sword in his hand betrayed his affinity for fire, while Ji Yao favored metal. If she fought with her best metal spells, she would be completely countered; she had no intention of doing something so futile.

“My flying sword was damaged in the last round,” Ji Yao replied, her expression exuding just the right amount of helplessness.

She neither admitted to being a spell cultivator nor denied it, giving her opponent the impression that her preferred sword techniques could not be displayed due to the loss of her regular weapon.

The man tried to suppress his reaction, but his raised brow betrayed him. He believed her. Ji Yao was quietly amused.

He failed to consider that, even if her weapon was destroyed, it would not have been difficult to procure a low-grade replacement for the match. His initial underestimation played right into Ji Yao’s hands—her plan was to amplify this underestimation, to better capitalize on it in the coming fight.

Ji Yao had already decided that, before conceding defeat, she would deliver an impressive display. She had prepared well in advance. Though she had drawn a bye in the previous round and did not have to fight, nothing had prevented her from studying all potential opponents in the sixth round. Her analysis may not have been exhaustive, but it was sufficient for her goal: to make a striking impression and withdraw unscathed.

She was especially attentive with opponents whose attributes countered her own. Unconscious gestures and words often revealed a person’s nature; Ji Yao’s plan was to tailor her approach accordingly.

Before the man could respond, Ji Yao feigned searching through her possessions, then produced the Qingyue Flute, gripping it in her hand as if it were a sword.

“Senior Brother, I shall use this as my weapon,” she announced.

The swordsman opposite her felt a flicker of danger, though he could not pinpoint its source. Watching the young woman before him grip a jade flute with a swordsman’s hold, he could only tighten his grasp on his fiery flying sword, as if this might quiet his unease.

“Forgive my offense, Senior Brother!” Ji Yao declared, thrusting the flute as if it were a sword, sending forth a blade of sword energy imbued with metal element, bold and unstoppable.

The man had no time for further thought. He raised his sword to parry, and the duel began in earnest.

The two shifted positions continually, keeping a certain distance as they exchanged sword energy. The clash appeared fierce, but it was clear to all watching that Ji Yao’s sword energy was thoroughly countered. Before her attacks could do any harm, his sword energy would dissipate them with ease—a completely one-sided contest.

This was because the male disciple wished to show off in the inner sect’s advancement tournament, hoping to attract the attention of those with influence. He had no intention of ending the match quickly, instead adopting a relaxed, graceful style, carefully controlling his spiritual energy so as not to injure his young opponent.

Ji Yao was well aware of his intentions. But there is a saying: the greater the contrast, the more humiliating the reversal. The more at ease he appeared now, the greater the impact would be when the tables turned.

Although Ji Yao bore no personal grudge against him, fate had matched them together, and she could only ask this senior brother to play along, sparing him some dignity as he became her stepping stone.

Seeing the man’s current state, Ji Yao judged that her expectations had been met.

Suddenly, she sidestepped, veering away from her previous line of attack. Her feet moved with the grace of startled swan steps; in the blink of an eye, she closed the distance between them.

The male disciple’s sword, raised halfway, found itself without a target.

He was startled to discover that the person who should have been far away was now standing right beside him.