The Duel with Western Heavenly King Xiao Cheng
Xiao Cheng, the Western Heavenly King of the Black Dragon Sect, formed a sword seal with his left hand, raised his sword, and strode forward with confident momentum.He called out, voice crisp and chilling:"Xiao Cheng of the Black Dragon Sect awaits your esteemed guidance!"
Before his words faded, his sword flashed forward like a piercing rainbow. With a violent clash, the two swords met—a thunderous metallic shriek echoed across the plain, and a shockwave erupted outward, forcing both men to retreat five or six zhang, tumbling through the air before landing gracefully.
Xiao Cheng spun midair and landed lightly, composed and cold, then remarked:"Your swordsmanship is remarkable. Why not join our Black Dragon Sect and let your talent shine?"
Wang Yun's eyes turned cold. He held nothing but contempt for the Black Dragon Sect and their collusion with the Yan regime—villains cloaked in power.Moreover, he still bore the sting of betrayal: when avenging his parents, it was Murong Gui himself who tried to stop him, nearly letting his enemy escape.
He replied icily:"My aspirations lie elsewhere. There's nothing more to say. En garde!"
With a sharp tremble of his sword, his aura surged. Suddenly, Xiao Cheng darted skyward like lightning, fierce winds swirling in his wake.He swooped down like a hawk diving upon prey—his blade plunged downward in a deadly thrust aimed at Wang Yun's Baihui acupoint.
The sword light gleamed with frost; its speed was terrifying.
But Wang Yun, calm and focused, moved not a muscle. As Xiao Cheng descended, Wang Yun's feet danced—he shifted left, then right, using the elusive Seven Stars Step, his figure ghostlike, position unpredictable.Then, without warning, his right hand swept upward in a masterful arc—his blade flashed upward, body moving with it like flowing clouds brushing the moon. A killing stroke designed precisely to counter aerial assaults.
Steel clashed in a spray of sparks. The two warriors recoiled in opposite directions, landing a zhang apart, blades raised, expressions solemn—the scent of blood and steel thick in the air.
Xiao Cheng's heart pounded. Cold sweat seeped through his robes."His swordplay… it's beyond ordinary. Ethereal, dreamlike—he must have learned from a true master. If I hadn't dodged in time, I'd be wounded already."
Keeping his sword across his chest, he muttered,"With skills like yours, few in the martial world dare provoke you."
Wang Yun's gaze sharpened, sword dipped slightly."And yet the Black Dragon Sect insists on a match. I can only oblige."
Xiao Cheng raised a brow, the gleam of defiance flashing in his eyes. "Then allow me to return the favor with a few more moves!"A streak of sword light flashed as he shouted:"Take this!"His blade surged forward, quick as lightning, targeting Wang Yun's Zhangmen acupoint.
Wang Yun responded with a fierce whistle. His sword shot out as he formed a sword seal with his left hand—the Beiye Sword Style unfolded.He unleashed "Autumn Maple Falling"—a storm of fine, rapid sword strikes, graceful yet deadly.Xiao Cheng blocked hastily, sparks flying with every clang of steel, the sounds ringing endlessly across the field.
In a rapid shift, Xiao Cheng launched two successive strikes toward Wang Yun's chest—sharp and unrelenting. But Wang Yun's sword form shifted once more—his arm arced forward in the move "Branch Splits from Trunk", a chain of piercing thrusts that forced Xiao Cheng onto the defensive.
Suddenly, Xiao Cheng let out a sharp cry and soared skyward again, launching himself downward in a three-pronged aerial assault.
Wang Yun's eyes locked onto him. Their auras had already locked.He raised his sword in a sharp hook and twist, unleashing the cunning strike "Face of the Buddha Appears"—a deceptive and unpredictable move.Xiao Cheng twisted his blade to deflect, then lunged with a deadly thrust straight toward Wang Yun's chest, killing intent surging.
Gasps erupted from the audience—was this the end?
But Wang Yun's wrist flicked. His blade withdrew just in time, deflecting Xiao Cheng's attack—then lashed back with a counterstrike.His sword whistled through the air, cold and swift as a shooting star.
Xiao Cheng paled in shock. How could his opponent's swordsmanship be this uncanny?
Their blades danced in a blur, impossible to follow. Wang Yun swept low with "Debate Beneath the Tree", the blade biting toward Xiao Cheng's legs.
Startled, Xiao Cheng leapt back. But before he could strike, Wang Yun released "Exile in Autumn"—a tide of sword energy that crashed like stormy waves.
CLANG!Xiao Cheng's sword flew from his hand—snapped at the hilt, spiraling into the air.
In a flash, Wang Yun's blade hovered at Xiao Cheng's throat. Its edge gleamed with killing intent, chilling to the bone.
Xiao Cheng stood frozen. Cold sweat streamed down his face. The sword at his throat quivered—but Wang Yun did not strike. The moment stretched like an eternity.
"Steel glint sharp as arrows fly,The sword moves swift across the sky,A single thrust that cleaves the air,Yet holds in silence at the snare."
Tuoba Xinge, master of the True God Palace, was overjoyed. He burst into hearty laughter and cried out:"Let Master Murong see for himself—the strength of our Heavenly Way Alliance!"
Murong Gui, wily and cunning, wore a calm smile though unease stirred within."This Wang Yun has indeed achieved mastery," he thought. "If he's not eliminated early, he'll become a thorn in my side."
Feigning admiration, he bowed slightly:"Wang Shaoxia is clearly a disciple of Master Yiye—impressive indeed. We are all men of the martial world. Why let such contests breed resentment?"
Wang Yun's gaze pierced through him."If we are all martial comrades, then why does Master Murong pressure us so? Is this your idea of friendly exchange?"
Each word struck like steel, exposing Murong Gui's treachery.
Tuoba Xinge stepped forward with a booming voice:"There is no true enmity between the Black Dragon Sect and our alliance. Why force this conflict? Whether it is the Tang or the Yan, what concern is it to us martial folk? We live by honor and brotherhood—not petty ambition!"
Murong Gui sighed theatrically."Well said. Then let us duel in friendship, without further bloodshed. What say you, Wang Shaoxia?"Though his tone softened, his eyes still gleamed with cold calculation.
Wang Yun sensed the hypocrisy but, under the eyes of the assembly, eased his tone:"If Master Murong gives his word, let this contest end here. No more blood need be spilled."
He turned his wrist, and in a single fluid motion, sheathed his sword. The movement was like flowing water—flawless, a mark of true mastery.
Xiao Cheng let out a breath of relief and, drenched in sweat, bowed stiffly and retreated in silence.
The Sudden Arrival of the Wuliang Freak
Suddenly, from the sky came a piercing whistle—sharp as tearing silk, echoing across the mountains.A black blur streaked downward, stirring dust and wind like a descending phantom.
The figure landed with a thud—bald head, high forehead, a sly, rat-like face, clad in tattered gray robes reeking faintly of blood.His eyes glinted with sinister intent. He sneered:
"Wang Shaoxia… such fine swordsmanship. Allow this old man a few rounds. Let us see if your fame is deserved!"
The crowd fell silent. All eyes turned toward the newcomer.
Wang Yun narrowed his eyes.He recognized the man—the infamous Wuliang Freak, a notorious reclusive villain, infamous for ambushing righteous sects with twisted and cruel techniques. Though seldom seen, his martial prowess was said to be unfathomable.
Wang Yun responded coldly:"If you wish to spar, I will oblige. But do not resort to treacherous tricks, lest you disgrace the martial code!"
The Wuliang Freak let out a chilling laugh. Without warning, a flash of cold light glinted from his palm.He stepped forward like an arrow from a bow—suddenly within three feet of Wang Yun—his palms raining down, full of poison and malice.
It was "Earth Fiend Palm"—a sinister technique aimed at crippling joints and piercing acupoints.
Wang Yun was ready.
Though his sword was still sheathed, he shifted like a willow swaying in the wind, dodging the blow with graceful ease, the attack grazing his robe.
With a flash in his eyes, he let out a shout and countered with a palm strike of his own—a move from the Taiwei Palm, shifting between real and illusory forms.
Their palms collided with a deep thud, both men forced to take a half step back.
The storm had only just begun.