First-Level Blade Technique, Astonishing the Entire Crowd

"Chen Yuting, Vitality: 1."

The crowd collectively drew a sharp breath.

Only two students remained to take their turn.

She was the only one in the class whose vitality had reached 1 so far.

Others, like Zhou Xukun, were still hovering around 0.7—on par with Cui Sanyan's level.

"Not bad," Cui Sanyan nodded slightly. "A 0.2 improvement from last time. Significant progress."

Praise from him was rare.

Chen Yuting gripped her longsword and performed a flawless sword salute.

"Attack!"

The moment the command left his lips, Chen Yuting shot forward like a javelin in motion.

"Well done!" Cui Sanyan’s eyes flickered with surprise, as if he hadn’t expected such strides in her skill.

Yet he didn’t move.

The essence of the sword lay in intent.

At this moment, Chen Yuting was like a blade unsheathed—sharp, swift, and unrelenting.

In the span of a few blinks—

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Three exchanges flashed between them.

By the fourth move, Chen Yuting suddenly released her grip, sending the sword spinning in a wide arc toward Cui Sanyan’s right shoulder.

His gaze didn’t waver. With a flick of his staff, he deflected the blade upward.

But Chen Yuting had already leapt into the air, as if anticipating the move. She caught the soaring sword mid-flight, twisted her body in a full 360-degree spin, and thrust downward in a seamless counterattack.

Her grace left the onlookers spellbound.

Yet—

Cui Sanyan, as if his back had eyes, reversed his grip on the staff and parried the strike.

A subtle twist of his wrist sent Chen Yuting flying backward.

Fortunately, her fundamentals were solid. She landed on her feet, skidded back a few steps, and steadied herself with the sword.

"Good. Speed and technique are on point."

A faint smile tugged at Cui Sanyan’s lips—an unspoken approval. "But your power is lacking. At Vitality 1, your fist should pack a force of 1,000 jin. That strike didn’t even deliver a third of that potential."

"That’s your weakness."

"Otherwise, you could’ve lasted ten more exchanges."

The screen flashed:

Chen Yuting, Sword Mastery: 99.

The class erupted in murmurs.

This was nearly First-Dan mastery level.

And they weren’t even in the second semester of senior year yet!

The college entrance exams for martial arts were still half a year away!

Now, only one student remained in Class Four.

Since the order was based on who fell from the standing meditation earliest, Wang Xian was last.

But most of the crowd was already smirking, eager for his downfall.

Vitality could be faked with enhancers—a shortcut that defeated the purpose.

But martial skill? No room for deception there.

The moment he stepped onto the platform, the truth would be laid bare.

Li Zihang grinned, itching to taunt him, but a glare from Chen Yuting shut him up.

Even students from Class Nine, who had finished their own assessments, turned their attention to the arena.

All waiting for the spectacle.

"You didn’t listen to me…" Chen Yuting’s eyes darkened with something unreadable as she watched Wang Xian.

Her peripheral vision caught a glimpse of Class Nine’s seating area.

There, Ye Miyue sat alone on the highest row.

With Class Nine’s drills complete, it was free time for them.

She was always solitary, yet never seemed uncomfortable in her isolation—almost as if she preferred it.

Ye Miyue hugged a long towel to her chest. Each time she wiped her forehead, the fabric obscured her gaze—just long enough to steal a glance at Class Four’s platform.

Chen Yuting’s eyes narrowed.

What’s she looking at? Him making a fool of himself? She bit back the words, swallowing them unspoken.

Her focus returned to Wang Xian.

She wanted to see if he’d actually dare to step up.

"Wang Xian, you’re last," Cui Sanyan called.

Wang Xian nodded, hefted his saber, and walked forward.

Class Four had only three or four saber practitioners—all mediocre.

The saber demanded dominance. Most high schoolers lacked the nerve to face their teachers head-on.

Without courage, how could they cultivate momentum?

Naturally, mastering the saber was near impossible.

Unless they trained for years… or came from elite backgrounds.

Of course, the school had skilled saber users—just none in Class Four.

Wang Xian stood on the platform for mere seconds before the screen displayed:

Wang Xian, Vitality: 0.59.

The class froze.

The number wasn’t impressive—most students hovered around 0.5.

But Cui Sanyan’s brows rose.

"Your last vitality test was 0.17."

A baseline Vitality of 0.1 meant poor innate talent. Two years of slacking had left Wang Xian stagnant.

Yet now, he’d jumped by 0.4—surpassing even Chen Yuting’s progress.

And improving from 0.1 was notoriously difficult.

"Proof. He has to be on enhancers," Li Zihang declared, no longer bothering with subtlety.

This wasn’t speculation anymore; the numbers spoke for themselves.

Even Zhou Xukun couldn’t defend him now.

Though he still refused to believe it.

"The saber feeds on intent. Even if Wang Xian’s Vitality is near 0.6, he won’t last a single move," Long Biao muttered.

As one of the few saber users in class, his score was low but respectable.

The others nodded.

On the platform, Cui Sanyan remained impassive.

"Attack."

Wang Xian adjusted his grip on the xiuchun dao.

Then—

With a tilt of the blade, the unsharpened flat caught the light, casting a glare sharp enough to sting the eyes.

Cui Sanyan’s pulse spiked.

The saber thrived on ferocity.

Somehow, this simple preparatory motion made him feel like a beast was about to lunge.

The next instant, Wang Xian moved.

A blur.

"So fast!"

The thought flashed through every mind.

"His speed… it’s even quicker than Chen Yuting’s."

"Something’s off."

Very off.

Only Cui Sanyan’s pupils contracted in realization.

"Limit speed."

"This kid… How is he hitting the maximum speed for 0.59 Vitality?"

Vitality reflected a fighter’s physical prowess, but pushing it to its limits was grueling.

There were ceilings—for strength, for velocity.

And Wang Xian had just shattered one.

Cui Sanyan barely had time to process it before the strike came:

"Splitting Mount Hua!"

The core of saber technique—cleaving.

A single slash, carrying the weight of a tiger’s pounce.

Enough to shatter courage.

Cui Sanyan’s eyes blazed. He raised his staff to block.

BANG—!

The collision rang out like a thunderclap.

Then—

The unthinkable happened.

For the first time since the drills began, Cui Sanyan was forced back.

A single step.

But it was enough.

Shock and exhilaration warred in his gaze.

"Limit strength too?"

"He’s hitting the absolute peak for 0.59 Vitality."

"No way this kid’s on enhancers. His foundation… it’s rock-solid."

He could distinctly feel the force behind this strike.

Six hundred pounds!

With the added momentum from the blade technique, it even exceeded six hundred pounds.

"What a mighty 'Splitting Mount Hua' strike!"

Cui Sanyan chuckled before casually deflecting the blade with his staff, tracing a smooth arc in the air and effortlessly redirecting the force.

This move was familiar to many students.

The staff's momentum dispersed the force—once entangled, the opponent's weapon would inevitably be wrenched from their grip.

Yet Wang Xian had anticipated this. Instead of releasing the hilt, he pivoted lightly on his toes, twisting midair to deliver another slash.

Cui Sanyan's eyes gleamed with renewed interest.

This kid clearly wasn’t holding a blade for the first time!

Such refined combat instincts could only come from countless sparring sessions.

"Interesting. Very interesting!"

Cui Sanyan’s fighting spirit seemed to stir.

No longer stationary, he began to move.

His body swayed like a weighted doll confined to a circle, shifting within a tiny space as he effortlessly parried Wang Xian’s relentless, flowing strikes.

Meanwhile, Wang Xian’s comprehension of blade techniques grew exponentially.

He had never wielded a sword before.

This was his first time—both in this life and the last. But thanks to his extraordinary combat intuition and a perfectly matched opponent, he improved at a staggering pace.

In any skill, especially martial arts,

barring shortcuts like a "proficiency system,"

real combat was always the fastest path to mastery.

Yet the spectators below the stage were left utterly speechless.

In the blink of an eye, the two had already exchanged multiple blows.

The speed was so blistering that the audience dared not even blink, their breaths frozen in their throats.

However, the gap in physical endurance soon took its toll.

Wang Xian’s movements slowed, his strikes losing power.

Cui Sanyan, on the other hand, remained unfazed. Even while suppressing his vitality to level 1, his footwork was ghostly within that confined space, effortlessly dismantling Wang Xian’s offensive.

A dozen exchanges flashed by in moments.

After another clash, Wang Xian’s gaze remained steady, his breathing unshaken.

He stared at the spring-green saber in his hand, silent.

A faint epiphany seemed to dawn on him.

"That’s enough," Cui Sanyan observed, recognizing his opponent had reached his limit.

At most, Wang Xian had one final strike left.

But breaking through his third-tier staff technique, coupled with inch-perfect evasion, was impossible.

Wang Xian closed his eyes, gathering his focus.

Suddenly, he angled the blade again.

Cui Sanyan knew—this was the last strike.

The back of the saber gleamed with a lightning-like chill.

This aura…

"Even now, his momentum hasn’t faded?"

Cui Sanyan took a deep breath.

The first strike exhausts, the second depletes, the third declines.

Yet this final slash still carried such intensity…

But Wang Xian’s speed was no longer swift.

Many students even felt they could react to it.

Cui Sanyan frowned, sensing something amiss.

Then, at roughly five paces—

Wang Xian lunged, raising the saber high before bringing it down.

It was the same opening move:

"Splitting Mount Hua."

…Again?

Cui Sanyan inwardly scoffed. Against this move, countering was child’s play.

Still, reaching this final strike already proved the kid’s remarkable skill.

Yet, just as the blade descended—

"Wait—!"

Cui Sanyan’s eyes widened.

The previously sluggish strike abruptly accelerated like a thunderbolt!

It carried the weight of a mountain!

"He improved? This is… alternating tempo blade work?!"

Cui Sanyan raised his staff to block.

But under the combined force and speed, he was instantly forced back several steps!

Even his staff bent slightly under the impact!

Only after five stumbling steps did Cui Sanyan steady himself, then forcefully repelled Wang Xian with a flick of his wrist.

Wang Xian landed smoothly, flicked the saber from his hand, and sent it flying back to the weapon rack dozens of meters away.

Turning, he casually remarked:

"I lost."

Simultaneously—

The screen flashed a bright three-digit number:

[Wang Xian – Blade Mastery: 125 (Tier 1)]

The moment this appeared, the entire martial hall erupted into an uproar!