"I don't seek to slay immortals, but to cut down ghosts and gods!"
With the clear, resonant shout of the white-robed youth, a surge of unstoppable sword intent erupted, soaring into the heavens, piercing the clouds!
The Ghost-Slaying True Art?
This is the Ghost-Slaying True Art!
On the high platform, the sect leaders were visibly stunned. Master Shuiyue, in particular, shot to her feet, her beautiful eyes locked onto the youth on the arena, fixated on the Dragon-Slaying Sword in his hand.
The ethereal Taoist nun murmured, lost in thought, "The Ghost-Slaying Art, the Dragon-Slaying Sword, Senior Brother Wan…"
In that moment, the white-robed youth in the arena seemed to merge with the figure etched in her memory. They were strikingly similar.
Su Ru and Tian Buyi, too, were struck with shock. The couple exchanged a glance, each seeing a flicker of astonishment in the other's eyes.
The Ghost-Slaying Art?
When did Old Seventh master the Ghost-Slaying Art?!
The leaders of Wind回 Peak, Luoxia Peak, and Chaoyang Peak—save for Master Daoxuan and Taoist Cangsong—wore expressions of disbelief.
The Ghost-Slaying Art… hadn't it been lost for three hundred years? The last to wield this sword technique was Senior Brother Wan, who had led them storming into the demonic sect's headquarters.
Tears streamed down Taoist Cangsong's face. Though he had known Ji Changfeng had mastered the Ghost-Slaying Art, witnessing the youth's peerless elegance in the arena still moved him to sobs.
A white robe, a Dragon-Slaying Sword, not aiming to slay immortals but to cut down ghosts and gods…
"Senior Brother Wan!" Taoist Cangsong cried out in anguish.
Others thought he was mourning Wan Jianyi. In truth, he was simply overwhelmed by Ji Changfeng's sheer charisma.
My nephew Changfeng has the bearing of an immortal!
Master Shuiyue gently raised her hand, reaching toward the arena as if to touch the youth. Her usually aloof, ascetic face was now lost in a daze. If not for the critical moment of the Seven Peaks Tournament, she might have rushed down to cling to the youth, demanding to know where he had learned the Ghost-Slaying Art.
_
A deafening rumble shook the arena.
A colossal wave of sword energy shot skyward, radiant like a rainbow. The surrounding Qingyun disciples gasped in awe.
"What sword technique is this? Could it be another of Senior Brother Ji's creations?!"
"No, no!"
"Not seeking to slay immortals, but to cut down ghosts and gods! This is the Ghost-Slaying True Art, one of Qingyun Sect's four great sword techniques, said to have been lost for over three hundred years…"
"To think we'd witness this technique reborn today?!"
"What a stroke of fortune in this life!"
The disciples buzzed with excitement.
Another rumble echoed.
In the arena, a massive sword light flashed and vanished. The sword energy sliced through the air, shattering a barrage of ice spikes, then surged unrelentingly toward Qi Hao.
Qi Hao's face paled in terror. He hurriedly raised his Ice Sword, conjuring an ice wall before him to block the incoming sword energy.
Crack!
The sword energy shattered the ice wall, sending Qi Hao flying backward.
This was Ji Changfeng holding back—perhaps using only a third of his strength. Otherwise, he feared a single strike might cleave Qi Hao in two.
Thud!
Qi Hao was flung by the residual sword energy, knocked unconscious, lying on the ground like a lifeless corpse.
But at that moment, no one paid him any mind. All eyes were drawn to the white-robed figure in the arena.
Disciples gazed at him. Sect leaders gazed at him. Even his own master, Tian Buyi, seemed ready to rush down and kowtow to him, utterly ignoring his fallen disciple.
"Ji Changfeng…" Tian Ling'er's bright eyes sparkled, her gaze filled with admiration as she stared at the white-robed silhouette.
Filial devotion was turning into something else.
A strange, unfamiliar emotion took root deep in her heart.
Nearby, Lu Xueqi stared at the white-robed figure, lost in thought. Her mind drifted to yesterday's match, to the warmth and security of that embrace…
In that moment, her eyes and heart held only one person.
_
In the arena, Ji Changfeng calmly sheathed his sword. He didn't turn back or glance at anyone. Instead, he tilted his head at a perfect forty-five-degree angle, hands clasped behind his back, calmly awaiting the referee elder's announcement.
As always, for a man, the most important thing is to be handsome!
Confidently looking back?
That doesn't exist!
If you're truly confident, there's no need to look back!
_
On the high platform, the sect leaders were still reeling.
Tian Buyi's gaze fixed on Taoist Cangsong, his voice low. "Cangsong, what's going on? How did Old Seventh master the Ghost-Slaying Art?!"
He had assumed Cangsong gifted Ji Changfeng the Dragon-Slaying Sword due to his resemblance to Wan Jianyi. But now, it seemed there was more to the story.
Su Ru, Master Shuiyue, and the others turned their attention to Cangsong.
Cangsong sneered, glancing at Tian Buyi with a mocking smile. "Heh, aren't you Changfeng's master? How do you know nothing?"
"You—" Tian Buyi's temper flared.
"Enough," Master Daoxuan interjected, stroking his beard calmly. "Nephew Changfeng's comprehension is extraordinary. When I brought him to Tongtian Peak, I showed him the cultivation method for the Ghost-Slaying Art. I never imagined he'd actually master it…"
At this, Shang Zhengliang, Taoist Tianyun, and Zeng Shuchang exchanged skeptical looks. The Ghost-Slaying True Art wasn't something one could master by merely reading its method. It required a master to impart its true essence.
But Tian Buyi, Su Ru, and Master Shuiyue believed it. They had witnessed Ji Changfeng create the peerless Sword Opens Heaven's Gate. They knew the terrifying extent of his comprehension.
Mastering the Ghost-Slaying Art by reading its method? For Ji Changfeng, that was entirely plausible.
Master Shuiyue stared at Ji Changfeng, her thoughts a mystery. But one thing was clear—her eyes held only the white-robed youth.
_
In the arena, Ji Changfeng maintained his poised stance, hands behind his back.
The referee elder, finally snapping out of his daze, struck the bronze bell lightly, rousing the crowd.
Clang!
"The champion of this Seven Peaks Tournament is—"
"Dazhu Peak, Ji Changfeng!"
The moment the words fell, the crowd erupted in cheers.
"Senior Brother Ji!"
"Senior Brother Ji!!"
Among them, Zeng Shushu shouted the loudest, his eyes burning with fanaticism as he gazed at Ji Changfeng, a true star-chaser.
I, Zeng Shushu, hereby swear!
From this day forward, Senior Brother Ji is my idol!
I will learn from him!
I, too, will become as handsome as Senior Brother Ji!
___
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