Progress in the Nine Swords of Dugu, Condensing the Sword Pill

"Wu Chushu has stepped onto the arena?"

"That swordsman who rode his sword through the sky this morning?"

"I heard he single-handedly wiped out the White Wolf Bandits and rescued dozens of women trapped in their clutches."

"They say his Ten Thousand Blossoms Wandering Dragon Sword Art was self-created after comprehending the sword marks on the Hengyun Cliff—graceful, elusive, and unpredictable. I wonder if Li Mo can still spot its flaws."

...

Wu Chushu was already a renowned figure, with over half the martial artists present having heard of his name.

One could say he was once the top talent of Yunzhou...

As he ascended the stage, his figure soared through the air.

Before he arrived, his sword did.

By the time his blade embedded itself into the ground with a resonant hum, he stood atop its hilt.

Just from this entrance alone,

it was easy to see why his fame had spread so widely.

He certainly knew how to make an impression...

"I’ve long admired your reputation."

Li Mo clasped his hands in greeting, his expression unreadable.

A small scene.

With his extensive experience reading novels, Young Li had been tempered by countless masters of ostentation, well-versed in all manner of grand displays.

"I hope Brother Li will go easy on me later."

Wu Chushu was no stranger to theatrics either.

Right now, his thoughts weren’t on winning—but on how to lose without losing too much face.

Even in defeat, he had to make it look good, make it look stylish...

With this in mind, he stepped forward, drawing his flexible sword with a practiced flick of his wrist, a confident smile on his lips, his posture impeccable.

"After you."

"After you."

Li Mo, too, held his Chixiao Sword with effortless grace.

Equally dashing.

The arena fell into silence.

Countless eyes were fixed on the two figures standing motionless on the stage, neither making a move.

The spectators were baffled. Why weren’t they moving?

"Could they be engaged in a spiritual clash of wills?"

"I think it’s a battle of auras—their stances are brimming with presence."

"Hiss... This feels incredibly profound."

...

The clueless onlookers couldn’t help but murmur among themselves.

Jiang Chulong tilted her head slightly, blinking her pale gray eyes.

What... was Brother Li doing?

They were clearly just... striking poses. No sword intent, no sword aura—nothing at all.

Unless... this was some kind of confrontation beyond her comprehension?

Brother Li was truly amazing...

If even Princess Jiang couldn’t understand,

then surely no one present could.

"..."

Ying Bing’s ice-clear eyes reflected the young man’s dashing figure, her delicate brows furrowing briefly before smoothing out.

This was just like him.

Usually composed, steady, and gentle—but occasionally, he’d inexplicably act childish...

"After you."

"No, no, after you. I’ve heard your Ten Thousand Blossoms Wandering Dragon Sword Art is ever-changing. I’ve long wished to witness it."

Both remained the picture of courtesy.

"Hiss..."

Wu Chushu inwardly sucked in a cold breath. He felt he had met the greatest opponent of his life.

(Not in swordsmanship.)

If he didn’t act soon, Elder Zeng—his master—would start berating him over their mental link.

After a moment of silence, he had no choice but to nod.

"Since you insist, I shall oblige."

With that, the flexible sword in his hand seemed to come alive.

Blossoms scattered like a dazzling storm, breathtakingly beautiful.

Li Mo was reminded of the Falling Petals Sword Art Ying Bing had once used.

In terms of skill, the ice block was leagues ahead—but Wu Chushu’s sword art itself was superior, its variations far more intricate.

Every petal seemed ready to transform into a blade at his will.

This was the sword art he had derived from the Hengyun sword marks—uniquely his.

In this art alone, he dared claim no one in the Sword City could surpass his mastery.

Perfection!

"Magnificent sword art!"

Li Mo praised sincerely.

Truly, one should never underestimate the heroes of the world.

Had this been him when he first left the Qingyuan Sect, he wouldn’t have been able to find a flaw in this technique—after all, it perfectly complemented the swordsman’s divine intent and physique.

To counter it, he’d probably have had to pull out the hammer...

But he had grown stronger—both on the journey here and in the moments before this clash!

"Even the most refined sword art has its fleeting weakness."

"After all, no technique is flawless."

A sword light, swift as a ghostly thunderbolt, flashed.

It pierced through dozens of petals in succession, following an unfathomable trajectory before landing a precise tap on the flexible sword.

Each petal was guided by Wu Chushu’s will, infused with his energy.

This strike had pierced every petal at the exact moment his focus rested upon them.

Wu Chushu’s mind reeled—yet he didn’t retreat to defend.

His spirit blazed, the storm of blossoms sharpening into a deadly rain as he descended from above.

This move wasn’t just powerful.

It was stylish!

This was the stubborn pride of his swordsmanship, damn it!

"Well met!"

Li Mo closed his eyes. Every technique he had witnessed so far replayed vividly in his mind.

Martial insights surged forth!

Others’ sword auras, others’ sword energy, others’ sword intent.

Now, all merged into one within the Solitary Nine Swords.

Something in his dantian seemed to stir, on the verge of manifesting.

Who said he wasn’t a swordsman too, damn it!

"Watch closely for this next strike."

"Because..."

When Li Mo reopened his eyes, he resembled nothing less than a blade of terrifying divinity.

Every weapon in the vicinity trembled in response.

Then, in a cacophony of ringing steel, they tore free from their owners’ grips, soaring into the sky above the arena, blotting out the sun.

Li Mo, standing atop the air in his Cloud-Treading Boots, clasped his hands behind his back—commanding the allegiance of a hundred blades!

"It’s going to be stylish."

Young Li stated calmly.

A thousand weapons clashed against the petal storm.

The outcome was inevitable.

Wu Chushu knelt, his scalp numb, his face ashen.

He had lost. Utterly.

"How... did you do that?!" Wu Chushu shuddered, his voice dazed.

"Want to learn? I’ll teach you." Li Mo smiled faintly.

......

"A hundred swords in the sky? Ten thousand weapons bowing? Hiss..."

"What peerless elegance! The next issue of The Tyrannical Empress Falls for Me must include this scene!"

"He’s just too cool."

"What kind of unfathomable swordsmanship is this?"

......

The spectators, of course, didn’t know the truth.

In fact, even Zhong Zhenyue, Huang Donglai, and the rest only saw the surface.

The reality was...

"It’s that body-refining technique."

Ying Bing’s jade-like lips curled into a helpless, amused smile.

Well...

Young Li had indeed resonated with the famed swords present—but it shouldn’t have been enough to trigger a "All Blades Return to Origin" spectacle.

He had secretly used the Extreme Arms Slaughter Physique to manipulate the weapons’ killing intent, amplifying the effect...

"That kid’s not right."

"Did anyone else sense... the aura of a nascent Profound Core earlier?"

On the high platform, Elder Zeng frowned, uncertain.

Li Mo was already in the Observation Divine Realm!

"That was a Sword Pill."

A serene voice suddenly rang out across the arena.

Accompanied by the light chime of bells, a figure stepped forward slowly.