Chapter 70: Thunderous Echoes Enter the Great Void

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Youzhi of the Taiyu Peak, the younger brother of Taiyu Peak’s chief disciple Youda, had attained the early Dao Embryo stage. He resembled his elder brother by about sixty percent, with the appearance of a middle-aged man and an unremarkable round face, but his features were always adorned with a smile as shrewd and polished as a gemstone.

The outer disciple known by the Dao name Lei Yin Zi, on the other hand, looked like an old Daoist in his fifties or sixties. Of medium build, his eyes were bright and clear, and he carried the air of a true cultivator. He too had reached the early Dao Embryo stage.

Generally, one could judge a cultivator’s innate talent and fortune by their appearance—especially among those who began their cultivation journey in youth. The more gifted and lucky they were, the faster they advanced through minor realms, thus spending less of their lifespan in each realm and maintaining a youthful appearance for longer. Of course, there were exceptions: some cultivators, scarred by hardship, took on the appearance of middle-aged or elderly men, while others, for the sake of gravitas, deliberately made themselves look older.

Most of the Taoyuan Sword Sect’s inner disciples appeared young, while the outer disciples looked aged—such was the difference wrought by cultivation speed.

...

“Junior brother Lei Yin, please!” Youzhi wasted no words upon entering the arena. He summoned two longswords—one black, one white—and spoke directly.

“Senior brother, forgive my offense,” Lei Yin Zi replied, even more succinctly. Knowing his opponent would be loath to strike first, he flipped his left wrist, and a golden light burst from his palm, dazzling as a miniature sun. Many of the younger disciples watching felt a stab of pain in their eyes and could see nothing for a moment.

“Despicable!” someone cursed silently.

“A metal-element spell!” several others thought to themselves.

Fang Junmei, himself a metal-element cultivator, felt a stir in his heart at the sight. He forced down the discomfort in his eyes and watched intently.

The next instant, Lei Yin Zi swept his right hand swiftly at his waist. A green light shot out from his storage pouch and sped toward Youzhi. Looking closely, one could see that green glow concealed a cone-shaped magical artifact.

“Junior brother, you seem to have forgotten that those of Taiyu Peak excel at the Dao of Yin and Yang, of reality and illusion. You won’t fool me with such petty tricks,” came Youzhi’s calm, confident reply.

Boom!

A split second later, an explosion resounded.

Youzhi’s white sword flew forth to entangle Lei Yin Zi’s cone-shaped artifact. Like two great dragons, they battled in midair, erupting into bursts of dazzling light. The black sword, meanwhile, unleashed one of Taiyu Peak’s signature techniques: the Supreme Yin Sword Art.

The moment the sword art was released, everyone present felt the world grow suddenly dim, as if night were falling. A vast and imposing aura radiated from Youzhi.

A wild wind swept forth.

In the darkened world, the black sword shadow crisscrossed fiercely. Youzhi’s figure followed close behind the sword, moving with such speed that he seemed ghostly, almost impossible to track with the naked eye.

Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!

The ring of metal on metal echoed ceaselessly. Youzhi’s black sword slashed like lightning tearing the night, swift and deadly, with a sinister and uncanny edge.

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Lei Yin Zi, almost as soon as the battle began, found himself at a disadvantage. He drew a silver-white longsword to defend himself desperately, like a tiny boat tossed on a stormy sea, forced to retreat again and again under the onslaught.

Despite this, his combat experience was rich. While arduously holding his ground, he kept producing talismans or magical items, launching them at his opponent to disrupt his attacks.

Youzhi was strong, but his opponent’s endless arsenal of strange devices was hard to guard against. Gradually, Lei Yin Zi stabilized the battle.

Soon, Lei Yin Zi revealed a sword technique that accompanied every movement with the roar of thunder and threads of lightning crackling from his blade—a technique of overwhelming power. This was not a method of the Taoyuan Sword Sect, but one Lei Yin Zi had developed himself. Using a low-grade thunder sword technique he had seized in the past, he had refined and improved it time and again, raising its might to its current level. It was his proudest accomplishment, and had earned him his Dao name.

An old cultivator with centuries of experience and long years spent wandering the world—who would believe he had never acquired some fine treasures?

“Junior brother, your Thunder Sound Sword Art has improved greatly since I last saw it decades ago. Truly impressive,” Youzhi praised loudly, parrying with composure and even leisure.

Lei Yin Zi said nothing, his eyes growing even more sharp and resolute. He had not entered this competition for Youzhi’s praise.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Their duel grew ever more intense. Even the light screen enclosing them shook violently, and the ground beneath them split open as dust and debris flew skyward.

...

This first match of the Dao Embryo stage left the audience dizzy with excitement. More than a few inner elders nodded quietly, their eyes taking on a different look as they gazed at Lei Yin Zi. Though his natural talent was somewhat lacking, his aptitude in the sword arts was clear. After all, few cultivators could elevate an ordinary sword technique to such heights.

Boom!

With a final explosive sound, the battle drew to its end.

Lei Yin Zi was blasted away by a sword strike and crashed heavily to the ground, coughing up a mouthful of blood that drenched his chest. He had taken a direct blow to his chest, and had Youzhi not shown restraint, he would surely have been gravely injured, if not killed.

“Forgive me, junior brother,” Youda said softly as he landed.

The shadowy world instantly dissipated, the sky returning to bright clarity. Warm sunlight spilled over the ruined arena and Lei Yin Zi’s fallen form, illuminating his defeat all the more starkly.

Lei Yin Zi seemed not to hear Youda’s words. He lay on the ground, dazed and despondent.

Defeated—defeated again!

Lei Yin Zi’s eyes were hollow and dim, his prospects in cultivation seeming bleak. Was he doomed to live his life as nothing but an outer disciple of the Taoyuan Sword Sect, struggling along in the world of cultivation, occasionally scraping together minor opportunities, and forever barred from the Grand Dao?

Many of the other outer disciples, seeing his state, seemed to guess what he was thinking. Their faces, too, turned sorrowful.

Was this not their fate as well?

But the world of cultivation was ruthless. Even the relatively fair opportunities of the Taoyuan Sword Sect always favored the inner disciples. Otherwise, not only would there be no incentive for improvement, but the sect’s most precious texts would quickly spread unchecked.

The valley was silent.

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...

“Lei Yin Zi, are you willing to become my disciple and enter Taiyu Peak?”

At that moment, a clear male voice, as if descending from the heavens, rang through the valley and into Lei Yin Zi’s ears.

The speaker was none other than Murong Hanshan, the master of Taiyu Peak.

While Murong Hanshan’s first and second disciples were rather plain in appearance, he himself was a handsome, dignified middle-aged man with an air of authority.

Lei Yin Zi’s spirits, which had plunged to the depths, soared at once. Ecstatic, he scrambled to his feet and knelt before Murong Hanshan, shouting, “Disciple is willing! Lei Yin Zi greets Master!”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

He knocked his head three times against the ruined ground.

The outer disciples who had just been pitying him, in the blink of an eye, turned green with envy. At the same time, those among them who believed themselves talented felt their ambition flare, vowing inwardly to perform well and win the favor of an inner elder.

Among the other elders, some looked slightly bitter, regretting they had not acted sooner.

“Go join Youda and the others. After today’s competition, you’ll move to Taiyu Peak. I will instruct you personally,” Murong Hanshan said.

Lei Yin Zi expressed his gratitude again.

“Congratulations, junior brother,” Youzhi offered his heartfelt congratulations. The two of them ascended to the high platform on Taiyu Peak’s side, where a chorus of congratulations erupted once more.

...

Fang Junmei watched the lively scene among Taiyu Peak’s seven or eight inner disciples and could not help but feel a twinge of envy. In a quiet voice, he asked the man in front of him, Fan Lanzhou, “Second senior brother, have you taken a liking to anyone? Should we take in one or two more disciples on our master’s behalf?”

For a long moment after he spoke, Fan Lanzhou did not reply.

Fang Junmei was puzzled. He turned to look at Fan Lanzhou.

He saw that Fan Lanzhou’s expression was unusually grave, his gaze fixed on Ning Jiuyi and his followers.

“The next match: Fan Lanzhou of the Immovable Peak versus Bai Chengzhou, outer disciple!” the steward announced.

At last, it was Fan Lanzhou’s turn to take the stage. His very first match would be against Bai Chengzhou, the chief disciple of Ning Jiuyi, a clear sign of deliberate arrangement.

In that instant, almost every cultivator’s gaze fell upon the two of them.