Slaying with a Single Sword Strike

Azure Cloud Sect Outer Sect Martial Arts Arena.

At this moment, the place was already a sea of people. The crowd formed layers upon layers, packing the area so tightly that not even a drop of water could leak through.

Almost all the outer sect disciples, and most of the idle chore disciples, had gathered here.

In the center of the martial arts arena stood a massive stage paved with bluestone, spanning a hundred zhang in radius.

The stone slabs of the arena were stained with the blood of countless disciples, exuding an aura of grim slaughter.

Zhang Kuang was already standing in the center of the arena.

He was bare-chested, revealing his explosive, bronze-colored muscles. With his arms crossed over his chest, he rested with his eyes closed, adopting the air of a grandmaster who had his victory assured.

Below the arena, the chatter was like boiling water.

"Why isn't Ye Xuan here yet? Did he get cold feet and run away?"

"I think that's possible! After all, it's a suicide mission. Once he came to his senses, who would dare to show up?"

"Run? Where could he run to? If he doesn't show up today, he'll never be able to hold his head high in the sect again! Senior Brother Zhang Kuang has a hundred ways to torture him!"

Just as everyone was discussing animatedly, assuming this farce was about to end with Ye Xuan's cowardice...

A thin figure slowly walked over from the edge of the crowd.

He wore the most ordinary gray chore disciple uniform, washed until it was somewhat faded, with an inconspicuous small cyan sword casually tucked into his waist.

His pace was not fast, but exceptionally steady. Every step he took seemed as precise as if it had been perfectly measured.

Ye Xuan walked through the noisy crowd, ignoring all the gazes directed at him—whether mocking, pitying, or gloating—and walked straight up the stone steps leading to the arena.

"He's here! He actually came!"

The crowd erupted into exclamations.

On the arena, Zhang Kuang suddenly opened his eyes, two sharp glints flashing past. He looked at Ye Xuan walking up step by step, a cruel smile appearing on his face.

"Bastard, I thought you had wet your pants in fear and didn't dare to come."

Ye Xuan ignored his clamor.

He walked to the center of the arena and stood firmly ten zhang away from Zhang Kuang.

A deacon responsible for hosting the match flew onto the arena expressionlessly and asked routinely, "Ye Xuan, Zhang Kuang, are you two sure you want to engage in a life-and-death duel? Once it begins, life or death matters not, and the sect will not hold anyone accountable. Have you thought it through?"

"This disciple has thought it through!" Zhang Kuang roared impatiently. He couldn't wait to crush Ye Xuan's bones.

"This disciple has also thought it through." Ye Xuan's voice was calm and placid.

The deacon nodded and took a deep look at Ye Xuan, his eyes as if looking at a dead man.

"Ye Xuan, Zhang Kuang, life-and-death duel, begin!"

With the deacon's command, his figure flashed and disappeared from the arena, leaving the entire space to these two young men who were about to decide life and death.

"Little bastard, die for me!"

Almost the instant the deacon's voice fell, Zhang Kuang moved!

He let out a beast-like roar, the bluestone arena beneath his feet trembling violently, and his whole person charged madly toward Ye Xuan like an enraged bull!

Before his body even arrived, a fierce and tyrannical spiritual pressure had already overwhelmingly pressed down on Ye Xuan!

"It's the 'Mountain Cleaving Palm'! Senior Brother Zhang Kuang used his ultimate move right from the start!"

Below the stage, knowledgeable disciples cried out in alarm!

The "Mountain Cleaving Palm" was peerlessly fierce, known for its vigorous spiritual energy. Used by Zhang Kuang at the seventh level of Qi Condensation, it was enough to split monuments and shatter rocks!

In their eyes, under this palm, the only fate for Ye Xuan's thin frame was to be smashed into a puddle of fleshy mud on the spot.

Everyone held their breath, not blinking an eye, ready to witness the bloody and suspense-free scene.

However, on the arena, in the center of the furious palm wind, Ye Xuan's expression did not change in the slightest.

No panic, no fear, not even a trace of solemnity.

His eyes were as calm as a cold pool that hadn't melted for ten thousand years, indifferently watching that palm carrying the force of a thousand jun rapidly enlarging in his pupils.

In this instant, he even had the leisure to analyze.

The spiritual energy was impure, having only the form but no substance, the speed was too slow, and it was full of flaws.

Right at the moment when that giant palm, capable of shattering stone and breaking gold, was about to strike his face.

Ye Xuan moved.

He did not retreat, nor did he dodge.

He only made the simplest, most basic movement.

Drawing his sword.

Clang!

A clear and resonant sword cry, like a dragon's roar, pierced through the noise of the entire venue.

That inconspicuous low-grade flying sword, which had always been considered a mere decoration by everyone, finally left its sheath.

The instant Ye Xuan's hand grasped the hilt, his entire aura changed.

If a second ago he was a chore disciple at the mercy of others, then at this moment, he was a peerlessly fierce weapon hidden in a sheath, revealing its endless sharpness capable of piercing the heavens!

Within his dantian, the Five Elements Chaotic Spiritual Energy roared like an awakening giant dragon, madly surging into his right arm, and then infusing into that cyan flying sword!

Buzz!

The originally unremarkable low-grade flying sword suddenly let out a violent buzz.

On the blade, a faint, almost imperceptible five-colored glow flashed past, draping this piece of mortal iron in a sacred cloak.

Facing Zhang Kuang's unstoppable "Mountain Cleaving Palm," Ye Xuan did not use any flashy sword moves.

He merely thrust his sword forward in an unremarkable manner.

This sword strike was very slow.

So slow that all the disciples below the stage could clearly see the trajectory of the sword tip.

This sword strike looked so weak and powerless, forming the most comical and uncoordinated contrast with Zhang Kuang's fierce and violent palm technique.

"He's done for!"

"What kind of sword technique is this? Suicide?"

Below the stage, countless people had already closed their eyes, unable to bear the sight of the impending gore.

A cruel and smug sneer also appeared on Zhang Kuang's face.

In his view, Ye Xuan had completely given up resisting.

However, the next second.

Everyone's expressions froze.

The seemingly weak cyan small sword finally collided with the giant palm wrapped in vigorous spiritual energy.

There was no earth-shattering loud noise as expected.

There was no violent explosion of clashing spiritual energy.

There was only an almost inaudible sound.

Under everyone's utterly horrified gazes, the tip of the sword flowing with five-colored light in Ye Xuan's hand easily pierced through the thick spiritual energy shield outside Zhang Kuang's palm—a shield capable of withstanding blades and swords—in a completely illogical, unstoppable manner.

Then, without any stagnation, it pierced through his metacarpal bones.

And then, it emerged from the back of his hand!

"Ah!"

A miserable, extremely shrill scream that did not sound human finally erupted from Zhang Kuang's mouth!

The sneer on his face froze instantly, replaced by an extreme, absurd expression of agony and disbelief!

He looked down at that small sword that had effortlessly pierced through his proud "Mountain Cleaving Palm," his mind going completely blank.

How... is this possible?

Where is my spiritual energy shield? Where is the power of my Mountain Cleaving Palm? Why... why did it feel like it was made of paper?!

Before he could figure it out.

A devastating, chaotic, and furious sword qi had already surged into his meridians along the blade!

It was precisely the Great Luo Infinite Sword Qi!

Driven by the Five Elements Chaos Spiritual Qi, the very essence of this sword qi was destruction!

Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!

Under the impact of this violent sword qi, the meridians within Zhang Kuang's body snapped inch by inch, like a fragile spiderweb.

His internal organs felt as if they were being sliced by countless small knives simultaneously. The excruciating pain instantly overwhelmed his consciousness!

No...

He opened his mouth wide, wanting to say something, but all that spewed out was blood mixed with fragments of his internal organs.

Ye Xuan's eyes remained dead and indifferent.

He did not give Zhang Kuang any chance to catch his breath.

At the exact moment the sword tip pierced through his opponent's palm, he flicked his wrist.

The flying sword was instantly pulled out from Zhang Kuang's palm, bringing with it a spray of blood.

Advance!

In the split second that Zhang Kuang's body stiffened from the intense pain, revealing a massive opening, Ye Xuan's figure closed in like a phantom!

The green blade in his hand traced a cold, despairing trajectory.

Fast!

Fast to the extreme!

Ninety-nine percent of the people below the stage did not even see his movements clearly; they only saw a green afterimage flash by.

By the time their vision cleared.

Ye Xuan was already standing behind Zhang Kuang.

With his back to his opponent, the longsword in his hand pointed diagonally at the ground. Drops of dark red blood slowly slid down the tip of the sword and dripped onto the bluestone arena, tapping out a deadly rhythm: drip, drop.

As for Zhang Kuang, he still maintained his forward-charging posture, frozen in place.

His face still bore that expression of agony and disbelief.

A thin line of blood slowly surfaced on his neck.

And then...

Thump.

A perfectly good head shot into the sky, carrying a geyser of boiling hot blood. It traced a tragically beautiful parabola in the air before landing heavily on the edge of the arena. It rolled a few times, its unclosed eyes staring right into the countless horrified and dumbfounded faces below the stage.

Immediately after, the headless, burly body collapsed with a crash, like an uprooted wooden stake.

Blood spurted like a fountain, dyeing half the arena red.

Silence.

Deathly silence.

The entire martial arts arena, with its thousands of disciples, seemed to collectively lose their voices at this moment.

Everyone's eyes were wide open and their mouths agape. They were motionless, like stone statues struck by an immobilization spell.

What... just happened?

The unbearably arrogant Zhang Kuang was just... dead?

Had the world gone mad?

After an unknown amount of time, a gasp of endless terror, like a sleepwalker's murmur, finally broke out from the crowd.

The entire martial arts arena instantly exploded! But it was not a clamor; it was a collective sound of sharp intakes of breath and chattering teeth!

Every gaze directed at the thin back on the arena changed.

There was no more mockery, no more pity, and no more schadenfreude.

Only one emotion remained.

Fear!

He was not some abandoned kept man!

He was not a piece of trash to be slaughtered at will!

He was a god of slaughter wearing human skin, crawling straight out of hell!

Under the watchful eyes of countless terrified gazes, Ye Xuan slowly turned around.

He walked expressionlessly to Zhang Kuang's headless corpse. Under everyone's bewildered stares, he bent down and skillfully untied a dusty gray storage bag from the corpse's waist.

He did not even bother to wipe the blood off his sword. Carrying the dripping blade, he calmly walked down from the arena.

Whoosh!

The disciples in front of him reacted as if they had seen a ghost. Screaming, they scrambled and crawled out of his way, forcibly clearing an incredibly wide path before him.

No one dared to block his path.

No one dared to meet his eyes.

They only lowered their heads in terror, their bodies trembling violently from fear, until that grim reaper-like figure completely disappeared at the end of the martial arts arena.