Chapter 457: Testing the Sword Against a Hundred Tribes

Chapter 457: Testing the Blade Against a Hundred Clans

The second bout had already begun in the arena, with Zhao Changhe facing off against a large, bearded man.

Gu came in many varieties: those that enhanced oneself, those used for attack like tamed beasts, those that only took effect upon entering an opponent's body, and those that generated various external energy effects.

At this moment, Zhao Changhe was facing a peculiar form of external projection.

A palm struck out toward him, bringing with it a raging torrent of blazing fire.

That was no mere palm; it was a fire Gu.

For those in the lower realms of martial arts, things like fire and thunder were nearly impossible to counter; it was not like a game where taking a fireball merely chipped away a portion of one's health—fire could burn a person to death directly. Even Yan Que of the Earth Rankings dared not withstand lightning with his bare flesh, and fire was the same; once ignited, it meant severe injury at the very least.

Thus, the Vermilion Bird’s combat power was often overestimated by onlookers, who always felt that the Black Tortoise, keeping a low profile, was not nearly as terrifying. In the Maitreya's final battle, the Vermilion Bird’s fire had achieved little effect against his corpse-demon physiology, marking the first time in her cultivation history she had encountered such a situation; on most occasions, her opponents dared not meet her flames head-on.

Zhao Changhe reflected that if this kind of Gu were brought to the Central Plains, it would render one practically invincible on the battlefield—he wondered if they existed in large numbers, and if they were difficult to breed?

The thought flashed through his mind as his sword was already unleashed, piercing directly through the spraying flames ahead to reach the very center of his opponent's palm.

"?"

The large man was utterly dumbfounded; why was this man not afraid of fire?

He frantically withdrew his hand, but the subtlety and variations of his palm techniques were far inferior to Meng Tai’s from moments ago, so how could he possibly evade Zhao Changhe’s blade?

With a sharp clink, his palm suddenly resembled metal and stone, actually blocking the sword!

The bronze-skin Gu!

Yet in the next breath, the large man still shrieked in pain and retreated frantically, his palm sliced open anyway as a fiery-red Gu insect poked its head out from his skin, looking unexpectedly adorable.

No matter how much a Gu insect could reinforce the epidermis to resemble stone, copper, or iron, it was a pity that the ancient sword, Dragon Emperor, was a divine weapon; even without unleashing its special powers, its material alone could cleave through gold and jade.

The large man pressed the insect’s head back in and bandaged his palm, still entirely bewildered: "Why is Guardian Si not afraid of fire? You didn't use any powerful true qi to disperse the flames, did you?"

Zhao Changhe smiled: "I told you I have Gu as well; my great-strength Gu happens to double as a fire-resistant Gu, they don't conflict, do they?"

They indeed did not conflict, but everyone's Gu insects were bred over a long period; one person could not possess countless Gu simultaneously, stuffing every single one they found into their body—who did he think he was, a courtesan picking clients?

Could your luck truly be so outstanding that the Gu insect you bred since childhood was so precise, perfectly countering your opponent in this very battle?

This time, even Sisi failed to understand, quietly asking Yue Hongling: "How did he avoid the fire?"

Yue Hongling felt a bit unsure of herself as well: "It feels... as though he possesses an affinity for fire, capable of dismantling flame energy that isn't too strong... This man's fire Gu just happened to be within his threshold of tolerance. Strange, when did he ever practice fire-related martial arts?"

Sisi shook her head, having no idea.

How could Zhao Changhe dare tell them that this was the intent passed to him when he kissed and exchanged breaths with Huangfu Qing back in the Kungang Secret Realm? That was the Winged Fire Serpent of the Twenty-Eight Mansions; what did this man's fire amount to? It was a pity Huangfu Qing refused to truly engage in dual cultivation, otherwise it would probably not be difficult for him to make the flames turn back upon their master.

Zhao Changhe let out a long breath, holding his sword as he asked once more: "Who else wishes to grant me instruction?"

"Swish!" An almost invisible Gu insect lunged from behind him.

Zhao Changhe's ears twitched slightly; he tilted his body, and the Gu insect grazed past his neck—it was a sneak attack meant to take his life directly!

Zhao Changhe did not show any courtesy either, sending a sword stroke in pursuit, intending to slice the Gu insect into two halves.

The Gu insect buzzed its wings and darted, dodging the strike with immense agility before turning right to fly away, seemingly about to land in the hand of a tall, thin man.

"Come back here!" Zhao Changhe's left hand suddenly made a grabbing motion.

A vortex of fierce qi erupted ahead, and the Gu insect seemed to be seized by an invisible giant hand, screeching wildly yet unable to fly even half an inch further.

The Crane-Controlling Art!

The tall, thin man was greatly alarmed and reached out to catch his concealing Gu, but the insect shrieked and charged straight toward him instead, its invisible wings slicing across the tall man's fingers, leaving them dripping with blood.

The man urgently pulled his hand back, but a sword light flashed before his eyes, and Zhao Changhe’s blade was already pressed against his throat!

"Stop!" Lei Zhentang suddenly intervened, his Miao dao drawing a bizarre arc, arriving later yet striking first to intercept Zhao Changhe’s sword.

Zhao Changhe’s wrist quivered, and the long sword seemed to defy physical laws, suddenly accelerating by half a fraction to pierce the man’s throat before Lei Zhentang could block it.

"Clang!" Only then did the Miao dao collide with the long sword, its immense power forcing Zhao Changhe to withdraw his blade and step back, but the man was already clutching his throat, toppling backward onto the ground.

An uproar erupted in the hall.

Lei Zhentang pointed at Zhao Changhe and said sharply: "This is a martial contest to determine victory, who permitted you to deal a fatal blow?"

"He used a concealing Gu to launch a sneak attack on me; had I not dodged, I would be the one lying on the ground." Zhao Changhe’s expression remained unchanged: "If someone respects me a foot, I respect them a ten-foot yard. If someone wants to kill me, then please proceed to the Yellow Springs first. I have always been fair."

Lei Zhentang said indifferently: "Who can be certain if he merely wished to hold it against your neck to force a surrender? Regardless, the one who deals a fatal blow first is judged the loser. Who objects?"

Zhao Changhe burst out laughing: "The coalition has not even been formed yet, your one-man rule is a long way off."

Holding his sword, he asked again: "Who wishes to fight!"

"I will!"

"Let me!"

Several men leaped forward, and after looking at one another for a moment, they all laughed aloud.

Lei Zhentang’s expression became as dark as the bottom of a pot.

No matter how different the cultures were, the tradition of respecting heroes was universal.

Others were willing to compete against this miraculous swordsman, and your coalition was not even formed yet—what right did you have to act as judge?

Furthermore, many in the arena realized that this Elder Si was facing a gauntlet of consecutive challenges yet showed absolutely no fear; such a grand hero—if he truly managed to win until the end, there would be nothing left to say, he would rightfully deserve a seat, and perhaps many small clans would be more willing to listen to him than to the other four major clans.

This was a hero.

Zhao Changhe looked at Lei Zhentang with a half-smile, saying leisurely: "Clan Chief Lei is still standing here, does this mean you intend to personally step down and test your skills against me?"

Lei Zhentang said: "It seems there would be no harm in that?"

"Then Clan Chief Lei had better think it through carefully; it would be fine if you win, but should you accidentally suffer defeat at my hands, this Black Miao seat might not look so stable anymore..." Zhao Changhe pointed his long sword from afar, his smile suddenly vanishing: "Do you wish to fight?"

Lei Zhentang’s face shifted between cloud and sun.

It was not that he felt he would lose, but rather that it was too unseemly.

The chief of the undisputed strongest clan, recognized as the most powerful expert present, running out to contest the ring against a minor clan of a few hundred people and an obscure guardian?

Would there be any prestige even if you won? If you were to sustain even a small scratch, that would be something people would gleefully talk about and mock for an entire year; one only had to look at what became of Xue Canghai in the Central Plains to know the outcome.

Moreover, this Elder Si had fought multiple bouts consecutively and had surely depleted his strength; could he truly hold out until the end of this gauntlet? Better to let him exhaust himself, and at the final moment, someone else would deliver the deciding blow.

Thinking up to this point, Lei Zhentang cast a glance toward a faction on the side, and someone over there nodded slightly. Lei Zhentang finally burst into a heroic laugh: "Old me competing against a green young lad like you? How disgraceful. This is your stage, carry on."

With that, he returned to his seat, calmly resuming his watch over the matches.

Zhao Changhe knew exactly what he was thinking, smiling with utter indifference as he suddenly pulled out a wine gourd and took a deep draught: "The finer the clothes worn, the fewer the heroes found. A pity a certain good friend of mine isn't here, leaving me short of someone to drink with."

An expression of deep admiration flashed across Pan Wan’s eyes, and she purposefully asked: "You have fought three bouts in a row, do you require a rest?"

Zhao Changhe hung the gourd back at his waist, and without looking back, pointed his sword toward the arena: "Since it is a grand gathering, what need is there for rest? The Spirit Clan has descended from the mountains to test its blade against a hundred clans; whatever special methods you have, bring them on!"