Chapter 207: Opening Heaven and Dispelling Clouds, Calming The Vast Sea

Chapter 207: Cleaving the Clouds, Calming the Vast Sea

As the crowd watched the icy female swordsman whose aura exploded across the arena, a thought suddenly struck them…

For this “Langya Sword Debate,” many had not come. Aside from those who could not be found, those who had business to attend to, and those who made excuses to stay away, the largest group of absentees were the foreign tribes.

No one had forgotten that for the past two or three years, the top spot on the Hidden Dragon List had always been held by Chi Li, and the number of foreigners on the list was not far behind that of the Shenzhou natives.

Thus, of the two hundred and fifty-some Hidden Dragons, only a few dozen had shown up.

The current fourth and fifth Hidden Dragons were both foreigners and absent.

And Xia Chichi was sixth.

In other words, beneath Wang Zhaoling and Situ Xiao, Xia Chichi was already the foremost contender.

Thinking this, many felt it was only natural that they themselves had not stepped forward… After waiting for half a cup of tea, suddenly many turned their heads to look at the seat to Wang Zhaoling’s right.

The man they were staring at sighed and slowly rose: “Yang Bugui of Hongnong, I request the Xia Saintess’s instruction.”

No matter how many titles Hongnong Yang had borrowed, Yang Bugui was the seventh Hidden Dragon.

If Xia Chichi had a most fitting opponent, it was surely him.

Xia Chichi said coolly, “Why has Young Master Yang come so late?”

Yang Bugui replied, “I did not wish to contend with you amidst a backdrop of successive battles. This should have been a duel between you and me alone.”

Zhao Changhe, who had been staring intently at him from the side, gave a slight nod. Beneath her mask, Xia Chichi’s pretty face also carried a hint of a smile: “If you defeat me, then this problem will no longer exist.”

“Indeed.” Yang Bugui slowly raised his sword: “Please instruct me.”

The moment the words fell, a sharp blue-and-white radiance was already at his brow.

Blue was the sword light; white was the robe. In that scene of man and sword merged into one flying thrust, breathtakingly beautiful, one felt the terror of death.

Yang Bugui had never experienced such ultimate destruction and sharpness in a battle with a peer. It almost entirely avoided any gentle aspect of the “White Tiger” attribute, taking only its most extreme killing intent. Such a powerful urge to destroy could only be worthy of the name “Demon Sect.”

But he had to admit, she was truly strong. Yang Bugui knew this strike could not be blocked. With such overwhelming destruction, even if you parried it with your horizontal sword, the momentum would still graze your throat.

He suddenly sidestepped and dodged, while simultaneously pointing his sword at Xia Chichi’s mask.

Beneath the mask, her beautiful eyes were firm and resolute, charging forward without looking back.

Yang Bugui’s heart leaped, and he knew it was bad.

With a “swish,” the ice blade swept across Yang Bugui’s chest, and blood spattered.

The mask split in two, drifting away with a few strands of broken hair, slowly revealing the face of peerless beauty hidden beneath the tiger visage.

Zhao Changhe shot to his feet.

Yang Bugui clutched the sword wound on his chest and said hoarsely, “I underestimated Miss Xia’s fighting spirit. I deserve this defeat. I admire you.”

Xia Chichi held the sword reversed, clasped her fist in salute, and said nothing.

Finally, someone who did not understand asked Wang Zhaoling again: “What happened? Could it be that they couldn’t even last one move?”

Wang Zhaoling silently gazed at Xia Chichi’s stunning face and replied in a low voice: “Brother Yang’s strike was a very conventional response. After all, this is a sparring match. As long as the opponent does not intend to fight to the death, she would naturally dodge, thus breaking her fierce, unstoppable sword momentum. But this Saintess Xia… her plan was to finish quickly, not wanting to be worn down too much. So she relied on the protective effect of her specially made mask to take the hit head-on, determined to defeat her opponent in one blow. Brother Yang underestimated her resolve, leading to a single-move defeat.”

Everyone drew in a sharp breath, and their gazes toward Xia Chichi shifted slightly.

Was it worth it, miss? That mask of yours was no divine artifact. If it hadn’t blocked the blow, you would have been disfigured!

No, wait—damn, she’s gorgeous!

The entire banquet hall fell silent, all eyes fixed on Xia Chichi’s face, everyone frozen in place.

The summer sun hung high in the sky—why had it come so late…

She had come too late to make her name known across the world… Even this time, it was not for herself, but for Zhao Changhe.

Xia Chichi did not care about the exposure of her true face. She remained calm: “Is there anyone else who wishes to offer instruction?”

Still, dead silence.

Wang Zhaoling’s brow furrowed tightly.

Originally, even if Yang Bugui could not defeat Xia Chichi, he would surely have drained her significantly. Then, with successive battles, after two opponents, she would have been defeated. He had not expected this battle to end like this. Apart from destroying a trivial mask, Xia Chichi had barely expended any energy. If this continued, not only would her victory count be high, but she might actually be able to take down everyone single-handedly.

Moreover, this demoness was extremely ruthless. Both her opponents were now seriously injured. She knew full well that victory was determined by “number of wins.” Yang Bugui and the like might still have been able to achieve more wins than her through various tactics, so she simply injured them directly.

The clan’s treasure was meant to bait Zhao Changhe, not to gift to the Four Symbols Sect…

Even if Xia Chichi was taking it for Zhao Changhe, that would mean the Wang family was sending a gift to give Xia Chichi face—no fool would be that foolish.

Finally, he sighed: “If I were to personally step forward, would the young lady think I am bullying you?”

Xia Chichi’s always icy expression now twisted into a mocking smile: “Young Master Wang testing the Hidden Dragons is only proper. You should have been the first to step forward and challenge the heroes, like Situ Xiao, rather than now trying to block others’ victories. Young Master, at this point, are you not feeling a bit uncomfortable?”

Wang Zhaoling pressed his lips together and did not refute.

Xia Chichi said coolly, “Since you are stepping down, then let us fight. I do not necessarily think I am inferior to you. Why do you have to posture yourself as someone suppressing the entire arena… Forgive my bluntness, but you are not worthy.”

This was indeed true… The third and sixth Hidden Dragons were already considered very close in the eyes of the Chaos World Record. It was said that their levels were similar, and crossing ranks was almost impossible—but that was only “almost.”

A young master lacking experience, and a demoness tempered in the Demon Sect—the outcome was truly uncertain.

Xia Chichi’s words were blunt, but Wang Zhaoling was not angered. He merely smiled slightly: “This posture is not something I deliberately create. If I did not even have such confidence, I would have no face to remain the third Hidden Dragon. In this battle, I will not use a weapon. I will fight with empty hands. Miss, take care.”

Xia Chichi did not respond. Suddenly, her figure flickered, and once again her sword thrust straight for Wang Zhaoling’s throat.

The momentum, the technique, the angle—exactly the same as the strike against Yang Bugui. Fierce and murderous, shattering mountains and rivers.

But whether the intent was the same, no one knew. This was also a kind of psychological warfare.

Yang Bugui, bandaging his wounds nearby, watched this strike intently, wondering how Wang Zhaoling, who could analyze others’ battles so clearly, would perform when he himself was in the fray.

Wang Zhaoling’s response was simple. He merely pushed out an unremarkable palm.

In an instant, the sea roared, mountains and rivers changed color.

It was as if dark clouds pressed down from the sky, blotting out the sun, but then a sudden gale arose, sweeping through like a giant hand of a god or Buddha, clearing the thick clouds away, leaving the sky high and clear, with not a cloud in sight.

The arrow shooting toward the blazing sun in the sky collided with this sudden storm, was directly swept back, and wobbled down like a fallen feather.

Xia Chichi’s fierce and murderous sword was slapped back by a single palm. She flipped backward, her embroidered shoes scraping a long mark on the ground, her left hand supporting her, her head slightly raised, her eyes full of surprise.

This young master seemed to be the opposite of Zhao Changhe. Zhao Changhe, a stalwart man, used delicate grappling techniques for his fists and palms; while this seemingly refined scholar, Wang Zhaoling, struck with such overwhelming, mountain-toppling ferocity!

Overwhelming force defeats a hundred techniques—the so-called second most ferocious palm technique in the world, as Xuan Chong had said—the palm that cleaves the sky and calms the sea!

Whether he used a weapon or not, the difference was not that great…

Many were utterly captivated, from Situ Xiao and Zhao Changhe, to Xia Chichi and Yang Bugui, and now to Wang Zhaoling.

The splendor of the Shenzhou Hidden Dragons had blazed brilliantly in this half-hour, stirring the blood of countless peers. At this moment, almost no one cared about victory or face—they wanted to fight too!

Except for Zhao Changhe.

He gripped his saber hilt tightly, his eyes fixed on Wang Zhaoling’s palm, fearing that the next strike would be one Xia Chichi could not withstand…

Wang Zhaoling leaped over, looking down from above, and struck a palm down at Xia Chichi, who was still supporting herself on the ground.

Xia Chichi looked up sharply. Her sword rose like a dragon, sword aura surging upward like a tsunami, rushing straight into the sky.

The previous palm could cleave the clouds in the sky—could this one calm the vast sea?

No… that was not a tsunami.

The sword aura suddenly spiraled, drilling straight upward; the onlookers seemed to see an azure dragon bursting its head out from towering waves, roaring as it ascended to heaven.

The azure dragon raised its head!

She was not only the White Tiger Saintess, but also the inheritor of the Azure Dragon!

"Boom!"

The sword aura broke into the palm wind, emitting a piercing shriek.

Then the gale scattered, dispersing in all directions; Xia Chichi spun and tumbled backward, suddenly spitting out a mouthful of blood.

A hand suddenly rested on her back, neutralizing the force, neutralizing again, pulling her back four or five steps, completely dissipating the energy swirling around her.

Xia Chichi did not turn around, but a smile involuntarily curled at the corners of her mouth.

Without turning, she knew it could be none other than Zhao Changhe. By the rules of this sparring ground, he should not have intervened, but Xia Chichi did not blame him for meddling; she knew that without his help, she could not have dissipated the energy and would have suffered internal injury.

His eyes were sharp; he had a clear grasp of the battle situation at the seventh or eighth level of the Mystic Pass, yet he could not bear to watch—he did not want her to suffer even a hint of hidden injury.

Compared to this tenderness for his wife, what did victory or defeat matter?

On the other side, Wang Zhaoling did not pursue either. He looked down at the faint trace of blood on his palm and said quietly, "You really can hurt me... It was indeed overconfident to fight bare-handed... The Four Symbols Saintess lives up to her reputation."

As Zhao Changhe retreated with Xia Chichi, dissipating the force, he replied directly, "Brother Wang is skilled; I concede on Chichi's behalf."

Interfering was against the rules, but as long as he conceded, it was no longer a problem.

Xia Chichi pouted but did not argue, looking like a docile little wife as she let him arrange things.

The surrounding spectators bulged their eyes.

Weren't you just now a cold-hearted swordsman? What are you doing now?

Wang Zhaoling also felt somewhat amused and exasperated: "All the force she should have taken has been completely neutralized by you—not a single hair harmed, while my hand is slightly injured. You act as if your wife was beaten..."

Zhao Changhe: "..."

"So, Brother Zhao, do you mean to fight in her stead and continue the subsequent matches?"

Xia Chichi, afraid that Zhao Changhe might impulsively agree, hurriedly interjected, "The competition is based on the number of wins, not elimination. Why can't I continue after losing one round? Again!"

"Sister, you should take a rest." From the edge of the field came a voice struggling to swallow.

Everyone turned to look; Cui Yuanyang was eating with her cheeks puffed out, barely swallowing the last piece of pastry: "I almost choked to death..."

Then Cui Yuanyang stood up, stretched her arms, did a little stretching exercise, and jumped once: "Cui Yuanyang of Qinghe, I invite the heroes of the world to instruct me."