Lu was indeed terrifying at this moment. Fresh from returning from the Origin Realm, he carried an overwhelming, suffocating pressure that made the air itself seem heavy.
Little Yinglong folded its fleshy wings tight against its body, looking unusually docile and well-behaved.
Lu slowly exhaled, his mind replaying the scenes from before.
There was something strange about the origin of this top-tier martial world.
When he had appeared in the Origin Realm, the Plane Lord never showed himself. In the past, that same effeminate man with the orchid finger gesture had sensed Lu’s arrival the instant he stepped in.
So why had he stayed hidden this time?
Lu frowned in thought.
Had the Plane Lord failed to detect him?
Impossible. If he hadn’t noticed, he wouldn’t have sent five powerhouses to deal with Lu.
Clearly, the Plane Lord was either tied up with something... or simply unable to act.
Lu suddenly recalled that enormous eyeball floating in the origin, watching him like a silent predator.
“Could it be... the Plane Lord has fused completely with the origin?”
“Become one with the Heavenly Dao itself?”
That possibility felt all too real.
Shaking off further speculation, Lu figured this trip hadn’t been fruitless; at the very least, he now had some new ideas about constructing his own Heavenly Dao.
Leaning back in his wheelchair, he circulated the Thunder Movement Art. Arcs of lightning crackled faintly in the air around him as he returned to the second floor of the White Jade Capital pavilion. He took out the Spirit Pressure Chessboard and began setting up a game, using the mental strain to temper and restore the strength of his soul.
The waters of Beiluo Lake rippled once more, quietly sealing away the thunder pearl beneath its surface.
…
Inside the Purple-Gold Palace.
Overlord rubbed the spot between his brows, staring at the mountain of memorials and secret reports cluttering his desk.
He glanced at them and immediately lost interest.
These things gave him a splitting headache.
Day after day of nothing but paperwork—he was starting to lose his mind.
He had transferred Xu Chu back to the Western Prefecture to guard Xiliang. Recent intelligence suggested that, with the main forces gone, the suppressed Peacock Kingdom and Ghost Tribe were growing restless again. They’d been colluding with opportunistic lowlifes, stirring up all kinds of dirty trouble under the table. It infuriated Overlord.
So he sent Xu Chu straight back to crush every last one of them.
The Western Prefecture was the foundation of his Xiliang Kingdom—he would not tolerate any cracks appearing there.
As for the Peacock Kingdom and the Ghost Tribe, the last war had already broken their spines. They were no longer a threat.
Overlord rubbed his temples again.
Suddenly, the crisp sound of footsteps echoed through the hall.
His brow furrowed, a complicated look flashing across his face. With a sigh, he vanished from the spot.
Luo Mingsang swept into the palace in a long dress. Seeing the empty hall, a trace of sorrow flickered in her eyes.
She gathered her skirt and walked to the desk. The cushion still held the faint warmth of the man who had just been sitting there.
“Hiding from me again?” she murmured, her gaze dimming.
Yet soon enough she began tidying the messy papers on the desk, carefully hanging the brush back on its rack.
Outside the palace, Overlord mounted his black-maned horse and galloped straight toward Beiluo City without looking back.
Racing through the wind and snow calmed the irritation burning in his chest.
He was heading to the Trial Tower.
Lu had once said the tower was open to every cultivator under heaven—as long as you reached the ninth stage of Qi Core, you were welcome to try.
That had lit a fire in Overlord’s heart.
He’d planned to finish royal affairs first and then challenge the tower, but... the work never ended.
Not long after Overlord entered the city, a lone figure appeared on the endless snowy plain beyond Beiluo City’s gates.
He walked unhurriedly—elegant, dashing, a yellow pear-wood sword case slung across his back containing two blades: Morning Chrysanthemum and Blue Peach.
It was none other than Ximen Xianzhi, the young man Mo Tianyu had read fortunes for.
“So this is Beiluo City…”
“Shrouded in drifting spiritual energy, like a blessed land of immortals.”
Ximen Xianzhi sighed in admiration.
In three years, this was his first time leaving the mountain. Traveling all the way from the Southern Prefecture to the north, he had seen refugees, witnessed suffering, and somehow felt a new clarity blooming inside him.
His master had been right—nothing beats walking the world with your own feet.
Read ten thousand books, travel ten thousand li.
Thinking of Mo Tianyu’s divination a few days ago, he couldn’t help but smile.
Confidence surged through him.
“My master sent me to challenge the strongest... I hope through these battles I can condense my own Sword Intent.”
“Brother Mo even read my fortune—great auspiciousness.”
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“This journey will surely bear fruit.”
Ximen Xianzhi laughed lightly.
He didn’t suspect Mo Tianyu of lying. A man like the chief disciple of the Confucian school—wild, unrestrained—would never stoop to deception.
Brushing snow from his robes, he fixed his gaze ahead and strode resolutely toward the city gates.
Amid the swirling snow, two more figures appeared.
One carried a scholar’s book chest on his back, several painted scrolls tucked inside. His blue robes flapped fiercely in the wind.
Beside him walked a young woman in a red cloak, an umbrella raised against the snow, another scroll slung across her shoulder as she kept pace.
“Wonderful Words, that’s Beiluo City up ahead.”
Sima Qingshan stood in the blizzard, pointing toward the distant, majestic walls.
An Miaoyu tilted her oil-paper umbrella. Black hair danced around her serene face, eyes bright with longing.
What cultivator in the world didn’t dream of Beiluo? Of White Jade Capital?
The two pressed on and soon vanished into the city as well.
…
Ximen Xianzhi passed the gate guards’ inspection with ease and stepped inside.
The bustling streets and towering structures left him dazzled. Then he looked up—and his breath caught.
The White Jade Tower pierced the clouds, its full splendor hidden from outside by the spiritual mist. Only now, within the city, did its overwhelming presence hit him like a physical blow.
Luo Cheng sensed something extraordinary about the newcomer. Though slender, the faint aura rolling off Ximen Xianzhi made even Luo Cheng’s heart skip. Assuming he was here for the tower, Luo Cheng personally escorted him to its base.
From a distance, Lü Dongxuan and Gongsun Yu, who were brewing tea, froze mid-sip.
How could they not recognize Ximen Xianzhi?
The treasured disciple of that old sword freak Hua Dongliu—utterly obsessed with the blade.
Ximen Xianzhi spotted them too and immediately bowed.
“Greetings, seniors.”
“That old coot Hua Dongliu finally let you out of the mountain, eh? Good! Young people need to see the world. Staying holed up like that old fool will get you nowhere—decades of bitter training still can’t match a single flash of real genius.”
Lü Dongxuan chuckled and took a loud slurp of tea.
“Thank you for the guidance, senior.”
Ximen Xianzhi’s manners were impeccable.
“He actually gave you both swords?”
Gongsun Yu’s eyes widened at the twin blades on Ximen Xianzhi’s back. Hua Dongliu must truly favor this disciple to hand over two yellow-tier spirit swords.
“My master saw I’d hit a bottleneck and instructed me to come to Beiluo to challenge the strongest, hoping the pressure would force a breakthrough.”
Ximen Xianzhi smiled.
“Makes sense. Swordsmen thrive in battle. The more you fight, the more you understand.”
Lü Dongxuan toyed with the thick gold chain around his neck.
“You’re here for Jing Yue, right?”
“That kid grasped Sword Intent in one go, stepped into the Body Storage Realm, and then tempered himself in the Trial Tower. His combat power now... well, let’s just say you’d be at a disadvantage.”
Lü Dongxuan assumed the obvious target.
Though Jing Yue used to be the least remarkable of the Seven Sword Champions, things had changed.
“Your swords are fine blades, but they can’t compare to Jing Yue’s Jingtian.”
Gongsun Yu sipped his tea and glanced at the sword case.
Ximen Xianzhi blinked, momentarily speechless, then shook his head.
“No.”
“The one I’ve come to challenge isn’t Jing Yue…”
“I’ve heard the Young Lord Lu of Beiluo is the strongest in the world today. Naturally, I must challenge the strongest.”
The moment the words left his mouth, Lü Dongxuan and Gongsun Yu froze.
Not just them—every cultivator sitting cross-legged around the Trial Tower whipped their heads around, eyes wide with disbelief.
Was this guy insane?
Challenging Young Lord Lu?
Where did he get that kind of confidence?
Even the Hundred Schools of Philosophy had been crushed back then...
True, the cultivation environment was different now, but still—this was beyond bold.
Luo Cheng, who had brought Ximen Xianzhi over, raised an eyebrow.
“You’re serious?”
“The Young Lord isn’t exactly known for holding back. This could end very badly for you.”
He couldn’t just watch a polite young man walk to his doom.
Ximen Xianzhi cupped his fists toward Luo Cheng in thanks, but his smile remained confident.
“It’s fine. I have faith.”
He remembered Mo Tianyu’s reading. Though he wouldn’t rely on it blindly, those words had kindled real belief.
Seeing the determination in his eyes, Luo Cheng said nothing more.
“Xianzhi... did old Hua really tell you to challenge Young Lord Lu?”
Lü Dongxuan’s hand trembled around his gold chain.
Gongsun Yu stared at him like he’d grown a second head.
“Yes. My master told me to challenge the strongest!”
Ximen Xianzhi straightened, a surging aura beginning to radiate from him.
…
Southern Prefecture, Mount Zhongnan, Sword Pavilion.
Sword Saint Hua Dongliu sat cross-legged on a slab of bluestone, meditating on sword momentum—when suddenly his eyes snapped open.
The wrinkles on his aged face twitched.
He clutched his chest, an inexplicable pang tightening his heart.
“I only told Xianzhi to challenge Jing Yue and Nie Changqing... there shouldn’t be any real danger, right?”
“Why do I feel so uneasy…?”
…
Inside the Trial Tower.
Jing Yue stormed out, face dark—he’d failed on the fourth floor again.
The moment he stepped outside, he spotted a familiar figure.
“Senior Brother Ximen?”
Shock quickly turned to delight.
Though his relationship with the sword sect was rocky, Ximen Xianzhi had always been the exception. The man lived for the sword and nothing else; Jing Yue had once sought his guidance and earned genuine respect.
“Little Jing.”
Ximen Xianzhi turned, saw Jing Yue, and smiled warmly.
Three years apart—meeting again stirred something in both of them.
His heart trembled. Morning Chrysanthemum slid from its sheath with a ringing hum. Two fingers brushed the blade as he flicked it toward Jing Yue in a streak of light.
Jing Yue’s eyes narrowed.
Jingtian remained sheathed on his back.
He raised a sword finger and tapped the air lightly.
Boom!
Sword qi exploded outward in a storm of pressure.
“Senior Brother... you’ve stepped into Body Storage?!”
Jing Yue was stunned.
Three years in seclusion on the mountain, and Ximen Xianzhi had broken through too? This was genius.
“Jing Yue, talk some sense into him—he came to Beiluo to challenge the Young Lord!”
Lü Dongxuan called out.
Jing Yue, who had been gathering sword intent to show off, nearly choked.
“What?!”
His face darkened further.
Yet Ximen Xianzhi merely waved a hand.
“No need to persuade me. I know what I’m doing.”
He sheathed his sword with a soft laugh.
Jing Yue was strong, but unless Ximen unleashed his Light Sword Art, the pressure wasn’t enough.
“Senior Brother Ximen, think this through…”
That was all Jing Yue could manage.
As the Young Lord’s favorite “cub,” he knew one thing for certain—Ximen Xianzhi didn’t have the slightest clue what he was walking into.
But Ximen Xianzhi only smiled wider, brimming with confidence. He would challenge the strongest—no one else.
Besides, Mo Tianyu had read great auspiciousness. With that man’s terrifying cultivation, the divination had to hold weight.
Of course, he wouldn’t grow careless just because of a fortune. Losing through arrogance would be unforgivable.
Overlord, who had been about to enter the Trial Tower, overheard and fell silent.
Wasn’t this the clueless sword idiot from the Sword Pavilion?
His first trip down the mountain and he picks Lu Ping’an to fight?
The kid’s got some guts.
Ximen Xianzhi ignored everyone’s warnings. A swordsman must fear no enemy.
He was only one step away from condensing his own Sword Intent…
This earth-shaking battle would be the pressure he needed.
He left the western district and headed straight for Beiluo Lake.
Crowds exchanged helpless glances.
Lü Dongxuan and the others gave up trying to talk sense into him and simply followed at a distance.
Ximen Xianzhi walked alone, sword on his back.
With every step, the budding Sword Intent within him grew sharper.
On the main street, Sima Qingshan, book chest on his back, caught sight of the commotion and paused.
“Master, what’s going on?”
An Miaoyu watched the growing crowd with curiosity.
Sima Qingshan didn’t know either, so he joined the flow of people.
Spotting Jing Yue, he pulled him aside for answers.
“Challenging Young Lord Lu?”
“This man... is truly fearless.”
Sima Qingshan sighed in awe.
The name Ximen Xianzhi was unfamiliar to the younger generation, but to the old monsters of the Hundred Schools era, it carried thunderous weight.
Once a heaven-sent genius who stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Overlord and Li Sansi.
At the shores of Beiluo Lake, the crowd halted.
Ximen Xianzhi felt it immediately—an immense pressure rolling off the lake like some ancient beast crouched beneath the surface.
Even from this distance, the aura was suffocating.
“So strong!”
“I haven’t even gotten close yet... and it already feels this overwhelming!”
The swords in his case trembled.
With a flick of his finger, one blade shot free and hovered above the water.
Ximen Xianzhi stood tall, hands clasped behind his back, then leaped—landing lightly on the flat of the blade. He rode it across the lake, dashing and carefree, sword surfing deeper into the misty heart of Beiluo Lake.
On the shore, everyone squinted toward the island that seemed to radiate predatory menace.
Jing Yue clutched Jingtian, watching Ximen Xianzhi glide in with effortless grace, and could only sigh helplessly.
“I just hope the Young Lord goes easy on him…”
Ximen Xianzhi laughed atop his flying sword.
Body Storage Realm aura erupted. A vortex of spiritual energy swirled above his head.
His eyes blazed. He raised a hand, and the very light around him bent and twisted.
Condensing rays into a blade of pure radiance!
“I am Ximen Xianzhi of the Sword Pavilion!”
“Young Lord Lu… dare you accept my challenge!”
