Chapter 798 - Sword Sovereign’s Fate
Her eyes, on Tianlong, held the complexity. The shame. The gratitude. The hatred. The greed. All of it, merged into one impossible, overwhelming, unresolvable emotion.
On the ground, in the mid-sky, many cultivators hovered. The participants, the young prodigies, the sect disciples, the soldiers, the ambitious — all of them, gathered. Hundreds. Thousands. All looking up at the ships. All waiting for the tournament to begin.
Tianlong, his gold-crimson eyes, scanned the crowd. The divine perception, the transcendent awareness, swept. Face by face. Cultivation by cultivation. Name by name.
[ SYSTEM SCAN ]
Subject: Shen Mu
Age: 17 (apparent), Unknown (true)
Cultivation: Late Soul Formation (suppressed)
Special traits: Sword Intent (Prodigy level), Spirit Sword Seed, Past Life Memories
Status: Reincarnated Sword Sovereign
Threat level: Moderate (potential: Extreme)
Subject: Shen Ling
Age: 18
Cultivation: Foundation Establishment
Special traits: None detected
Status: Sister of Shen Mu
Threat level: Low
Subject: Shen Yue
Age: 18
Cultivation: Nascent Soul early stage
Special traits: Moderate spiritual talent
Status: Sister of Shen Mu
Threat level: Low
Tianlong, his gold-crimson eyes, found them. In the crowd, among the hundreds of hovering cultivators, the three siblings were there. Shen Mu, the sword sovereign, his young face, his suppressed qi, his hidden prodigy-level sword intent. Shen Ling, the eighteen-year-old, her Foundation Establishment, her bright eyes. Shen Yue, the eighteen-year-old, her Nascent Soul, her pretty face.
Shen Yue. The eighteen-year-old. The system had marked her as "Low" threat. But Tianlong’s eyes, on her, found something the system did not flag. Her eyes, the bright, excited, fan-girl eyes, were on him. Not on the ships. Not on the tournament. On him. Her face, the flushed, pretty, excited face, was there. Her body, the young, slender, eighteen-year-old body, was there. Her cultivation, Nascent Soul early stage, was modest.
Her eyes, meeting his, widened. The contact, the brief, golden-crimson-on-dark contact, was there. He smiled. The expression, the small, knowing, intentional smile, was there.
Shen Yue, her face, the deep crimson flush, was there. Her heart, the pounding, thumping, racing heart, was there. Her hands, clasped, were there.
"Oh my," she whispered. Her voice, the breathless, fan-girl whisper, was there. "He is looking at me. He is looking at me! Brother, he—"
"Shut up," Shen Mu said. His voice was tight. His jaw, the clenched, tightened jaw, was there. His eyes, the gold-flecked brown eyes, were on Tianlong. On the man who had killed him in his past life. On the man who was now looking at his sister with that smile.
Shen Ling, the eighteen-year-old, her bright eyes, the excitement, was there. "He smiled! He smiled at Sister! Oh, he is so—"
"Both of you, shut up," Shen Mu said. His voice was sharp. The edge, the real, dangerous, protective-brother edge, was there.
The crowd, the murmuring, excited, anticipating crowd, was there. The whispers, the predictions, the betting, filled the air.
"I heard the top fifty get to enter the hidden realm!"
"The hidden realm! The ancient cultivation ground! The treasures! The inheritances!"
"I heard the Emperor Tianlong himself will train the winners!"
"Train them? How? What method?"
"The Breeding Immortal’s method, obviously."
"Is that a bad thing? If I could break through by..."
"Would you let him? If you won?"
"Let him? I would pay him!"
The crowd, the excited, gossiping, ambitious crowd, was there. The tournament, the grand, imperial, world-shaking tournament, was about to begin.
~~ The Tournament — Battle Royal
Emperor Yun stood. On the deck of the flagship, his dark blue and silver robes, his kind face, his authority, were there. His voice, amplified by the formation arrays, carried across the sky.
"Cultivators of the Azure Cloud Province!" he called. His voice was firm. The voice of an emperor addressing his people. "The hidden realm tournament begins! The rules are simple!"
The crowd, the hundreds of hovering cultivators, went silent. The anticipation, the electric, palpable, overwhelming anticipation, was there.
"Battle royal!" Emperor Yun announced. "Free-for-all! The last fifty cultivators standing will enter the hidden realm! The tournament begins... NOW!"
The word, the final, decisive word, was there. And the sky erupted.
Hundreds of cultivators, hundreds of qi signatures, hundreds of spiritual energies, clashed. The battle royal, the chaotic, free-for-all, every-man-for-himself battle royal, began.
The sounds, the clashing, the explosions, the spiritual qi collisions, filled the sky. The light, the golden, crimson, blue, green, violet — the multicolored light of hundreds of different cultivation techniques — blazed. The air, the spiritual energy, churned.
"Die!" a Nascent Soul cultivator screamed, his sword, the spiritual blade, swinging. His opponent, a Core Formation cultivator, blocked. The clash, the qi collision, sent both flying.
"Out of my way!" a Body Integration elder yelled, his palm, the qi-infused palm, striking. The shockwave, the spiritual shockwave, sent three Foundation Establishment cultivators tumbling from the sky.
"Team up! Team up against the strong ones!" a voice called. The strategy, the desperate, pragmatic strategy of weaker cultivators banding together, was there.
The sky, the battlefield, was chaos. Beautiful, violent, cultivation chaos.
Shen Mu, the sword sovereign, moved. His body, the lean, young body, was fast. Faster than his late Soul Formation cultivation suggested. His sword, the plain, unadorned blade, was drawn. His sword intent, the prodigy-level, condensed, focused sword intent, was there. Suppressed, hidden, but there.
He fought. A Nascent Soul cultivator, a man twice his age, attacked. His sword, the spiritual blade, was fast. Shen Mu, his plain blade, parried. The clash, the steel on steel, was there. The sword intent, the hidden, suppressed sword intent, flowed through his blade. The Nascent Soul cultivator’s sword, the spiritual weapon, cracked.
"What?" the man gasped. His eyes, the shock, the disbelief, were there. "A Soul Formation brat with a plain blade cracked my spiritual weapon?"
Shen Mu, his plain blade, swung. The second strike, the follow-up, was there. The sword intent, the condensed, focused, prodigy-level sword intent, cut. The man’s robes, his defensive qi, his spiritual barrier — all were severed. The cut, the clean, surgical, impossible cut, was there. The man fell. Out of the sky, out of the tournament, defeated.
Shen Ling, the eighteen-year-old, her Foundation Establishment, was struggling. Her opponent, a Core Formation cultivator, was stronger. Her qi, the spiritual energy, was being overwhelmed. Her body, the young, slender frame, was being driven back.
"Brother!" she screamed. Her voice, the panicked, frightened voice of a teenager in over her head, was there.
Shen Yue, the eighteen-year-old, her Nascent Soul, was fighting. Her opponent, another Nascent Soul cultivator, was evenly matched. Their qi, the clashing spiritual energies, were there. The exchange, the blow-for-blow exchange, was fierce.
"Take this!" her opponent yelled. His palm, the qi-infused palm, struck. Shen Yue, her body, dodged. The counter, her counter, was there. Her foot, the spiritual energy, kicked. The impact, the Nascent Soul-powered kick, hit. Her opponent, his ribs, cracked. He fell.
"Yes!" Shen Yue said. Her voice, the excited, triumphant voice, was there. Her eyes, the bright, excited eyes, went to the sky. To the ships. To Tianlong.
On the deck, Tianlong watched. His gold-crimson eyes, on the three siblings, were there. The assessment, the evaluation, the predator-assessing-prey assessment, was there. His smile, the small, knowing, private smile, was there.
’The sword sovereign. Late Soul Formation. Suppressed. Hiding his true power. His sword intent is prodigy-level. His spirit sword seed is dormant. He is... competent. For his age. For his realm.’
’But his sisters. The eighteen-year-old, Foundation Establishment. Struggling. Vulnerable. The same aged Nascent Soul early. Adequate. Pretty. Excitable.’
His eyes, on Shen Yue, the eighteen-year-old, held the intention. The predatory, calculating, deliberate intention.
’Now what would happen if you were to see your sisters getting fucked in front of you, sword sovereign?’
The thought, the cruel, amused, predatory thought, was there. His smile, the widening, the sharp, satisfied smile, was there.
He looked at Shen Mu. At the young man, the reincarnated sword sovereign, who was fighting below. Who did not know that the man above him, the man he was planning to destroy, was watching. Was assessing. Was planning.
’Soon, sword sovereign. Soon.’