The Sword Saint in the Village

Xia Lun and Aina arrived at a secluded grove. Naturally, they hadn’t come here for anything indecent—the powerful aura they sensed earlier had emanated from this very place.

"Hah!"

"Hah!"

"Hah!"

The sound of sword swings and shouts echoed from ahead. Xia Lun stepped forward and saw a lean, short-haired man diligently wielding a rusted iron sword.

The man wore coarse linen clothes, and a roughly carved wooden scabbard stood propped against a nearby tree. He was no ordinary human—his ears were noticeably longer and more pointed than a human’s, and his hair was a striking golden hue. His youthful face was exquisitely refined.

Like Liyana, he was an elf.

Every swing of his sword appeared unremarkable at first glance, yet there was an undercurrent of energy that seemed to ripple through the surrounding space.

Xia Lun couldn’t discern the man’s true age—Liyana might have been able to tell. Among elves, the ability to gauge each other’s age to avoid misaddressing seniority seemed innate. Though, when asked how it worked, even Liyana couldn’t quite explain it.

"Hah!"

The man continued his focused practice, oblivious to Xia Lun’s approach. Xia Lun and Aina exchanged glances—this guy was far too absorbed.

Xia Lun lightly stepped on a dry branch at his feet, producing a crisp snapping sound.

"Who’s there?" The elf finally reacted, lowering his rusted sword with a hint of nervousness.

Upon seeing Xia Lun and Aina, the elf froze momentarily—a common reaction, as most people were taken aback by their extraordinary appearances.

"We’re passing adventurers. We saw you practicing and couldn’t help but take a look," Xia Lun said with a warm smile.

"O-oh? You’re professional adventurers? This is just… just some clumsy training. Nothing worth watching, really…" The elf swordsman stammered, waving his hands dismissively, his expression flustered.

Clumsy? Hardly. Just from his grip alone, Xia Lun could tell this man had poured countless hours into honing his swordsmanship.

Yet, strangely, his humility didn’t seem feigned.

No arrogance, no bullying of the weak.

And that sword in his hand… truly unremarkable—just an ordinary iron blade, as if picked up from any blacksmith’s shop.

Hmm… This was the epitome of returning to simplicity.

A glint of admiration flickered in Xia Lun’s eyes.

Setting everything else aside, in pure swordsmanship, this man might even surpass him.

"I’m Xia Lun. May I ask your name, sir?" Xia Lun introduced himself first.

"I-I’m Joli Servi. Just Joli is fine," Joli replied, stumbling over his words.

Servi… What a coincidence. A strikingly familiar surname.

Liyana’s full name was Liyana Servi, and "Servi" was the family name for male elves. This one might have some connection to her.

Given their long lifespans, elven family trees could grow incredibly convoluted, with many branches sharing the same surname.

Still, Xia Lun found it odd—Joli’s demeanor didn’t match what one would expect from a warrior of his caliber.

Then it dawned on him.

Ah… So he’s already sensed something unusual about me—or perhaps even Aina’s true strength? That’s why he’s so unsettled.

What an extraordinary fighter.

Intriguing. The thought made Xia Lun’s fingers itch.

"Joli, would you care for a spar?" Xia Lun extended the invitation. "Just swordsmanship, nothing more."

"A spar? With me?" Joli blinked, then his breathing quickened slightly. "Of course! Please go easy on me!"

"The honor is mine. I look forward to learning from you."

Aina, seemingly out of nowhere, produced two wooden practice swords and handed them to Xia Lun.

The swords had a decent heft and were still warm—freshly made.

Xia Lun tossed one to Joli.

The moment the wooden sword touched his hand, Joli’s aura shifted dramatically—from an unassuming passerby to a predator locking onto its prey.

Xia Lun grinned. He hadn’t misjudged him.

The thick calluses on Joli’s hands alone were proof of his exceptional skill.

Why would someone like him live in such a remote village…?

No, the reason was obvious. A warrior like him, indifferent to fame and fortune, would naturally seek solitude to pursue the pinnacle of swordsmanship.

Neither made the first move. Instead, they circled each other, silently predicting trajectories, their minds already clashing countless times.

Aina watched, bored. As a mage, she had little interest in swordplay.

The two stood frozen like statues, locked in an endless stare.

Seeing Xia Lun maintain eye contact with someone else for so long—even if it was another man—Aina felt a twinge of irritation.

"Go on, Xia Lun. Win, and I’ll reward you," she whispered mischievously into his mind.

Xia Lun sighed inwardly.

That split-second distraction was all Joli needed. His wooden sword shot forward like a gust of wind.

Thud—

Xia Lun parried the thrust and retreated several steps.

What followed was a relentless barrage of piercing strikes—like a downpour, leaving no room to dodge.

Xia Lun’s sword became a blur, weaving an impenetrable net of defense. The clashing of wood merged into a seamless cacophony, without a single pause.

Amid the flurry of blades, leaves fluttered down around them.

Slash, block, strike, thrust, tap, shatter—every technique flowed seamlessly between them as they danced across the grove, their wooden swords clashing again and again.

Aina covered her mouth slightly, amused. Admittedly, the spectacle was quite entertaining.

Xia Lun’s excitement grew. A truly matched opponent was a rare find.

Thud—

Finally, with a solid impact, Joli’s wooden sword was sent flying.

"I yield," Joli admitted, raising his trembling hands as he panted.

Xia Lun exhaled deeply.

In pure skill, he was no match for Joli. At the start, Joli had overpowered him.

Of course, if Xia Lun had unleashed his full strength, he could’ve brute-forced his way to victory—but where was the fun in that?

Still, enduring Joli’s onslaught had secured his win. The intense exchange drained Joli’s stamina, leaving openings… whereas Xia Lun’s endurance was something even a demon king would concede to.

He felt a twinge of guilt—this victory wasn’t entirely fair.

Xia Lun cleared his throat.

Well… Aina’s promised reward was too good to pass up.