The Sacred Leaves Family's Wishes for Peace

"Yantian, do you think that Lin family prodigy can truly defeat Wang Li Jiao with a single strike?"

At the banquet, Yun Yan Shuang's bright eyes fixated on the ongoing duel between Wang Li Jiao and Lintian Sheng, her face full of curiosity.

"Probably," Yun Yantian replied calmly. "Otherwise, that Lin family disciple wouldn't boast so brazenly in public."

"But their cultivation levels seem evenly matched—they're both at the sixth layer of the Embryo Breath stage. For him to claim victory in a single strike… isn't that a bit ambitious?"

"Master once said that in battles between cultivators, the level of one's cultivation isn't the sole determinant of victory," Yantian explained, his tone steady. "For Lintian Sheng to make such a bold claim, he must have something to rely on. Let's watch and see what makes this Lin family disciple so confident."

"This match could offer us valuable insights for our own cultivation paths."

The two turned their attention back to the duel, as did the rest of the audience, all eager to see how Lintian Sheng, with seemingly equal cultivation, could possibly make good on his audacious words.

"Go ahead and strike," Lintian Sheng said with a smug smirk. "No need to hold back. No matter your approach, you won't touch me in the slightest."

The taunt made Wang Li Jiao's expression turn cold. Without a word, his figure flickered, his sword lunging toward Lintian Sheng in a seamless motion.

A sharp glint of sword light, as fluid as moonlit water, streaked directly toward Lintian Sheng's forehead, its killing intent palpable.

Fast—it was incredibly fast.

Yet, Lintian Sheng evaded it effortlessly, his movements as fluid as a shadow slipping through cracks.

"I've heard your Wang family boasts a Huang-grade sword technique, the 'Jade Forest Sleeve Sword.' Why not show it to me?" Lintian Sheng said, his tone mocking. "This rudimentary swordsmanship of yours is hardly a threat."@@novelbin@@

"Against you, there's no need for such techniques," Wang Li Jiao retorted icily.

With a sharp swing of his blade, a wave of sword energy swept across the field, its gust fierce and biting. Yet, it struck nothing but an afterimage.

Even as Wang Li Jiao's strikes grew fiercer, Lintian Sheng's elusive movements rendered them futile. Not even the edge of his robe was touched.

"That's Lin family's signature movement technique, 'Spring Rain Silently Falls,'" Li Qing observed from his seat as he sipped a glass of Red Mulberry Spirit Wine. "It's a Huang-grade fourth-tier art. The user moves as subtly as spring rain nourishing the earth—silent, yet pervasive. Unless one's cultivation far surpasses the practitioner, even spiritual sense would struggle to lock onto them."

Yun Yan Shuang and Yun Yantian listened attentively, silently absorbing the insights.

"If Wang Li Jiao can't match Lintian Sheng in agility, it'll be near impossible for him to land a blow," Li Qing continued.

Yan Shuang, her gaze sharp, murmured, "Wang Li Jiao's energy already seems unstable."

"You've got a keen eye," Li Qing said approvingly. "Prolonged offense without result naturally leads to imbalance. But Wang Li Jiao isn't likely to make a reckless mistake—he's probably feigning vulnerability to lure Lintian Sheng into striking."

Yun Yantian added gravely, "It's like a snake lying in wait."

"A snake?"

"Indeed, Master Li," Yantian explained. "When I was young, I often accompanied my father into the mountains for hunting. There's a venomous snake called the 'Southern Thorn Snake' that uses its tail as bait, lying perfectly still to lure prey. The moment the prey makes a move, the snake strikes with precision and lethality."

"Ah, an apt comparison," Li Qing said with a chuckle. "Wang Li Jiao's current posture resembles that very strategy. Knowing he cannot match Lintian Sheng in movement, he feigns weakness to bait a response. Once his opponent engages, he'll likely unleash the Wang family's Jade Forest Sleeve Sword—a technique renowned for its precision and ferocity."

"Now the question is," Li Qing mused, "will Lintian Sheng fall for it?"

In the arena, Wang Li Jiao tightened his grip on his sword. "What's wrong? Does a Lin family disciple only know how to run? Or are you too afraid to face me head-on?"

"Save your provocations," Lintian Sheng scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain. "Your feigned instability might fool others, but not me. You wish to bait me into attacking, so you can counter with your so-called Jade Forest Sleeve Sword. How predictable."

"Then why not test it?" Wang Li Jiao shot back, his voice sharp as his blade.

Lintian Sheng smirked. "You think I've been evading because I fear you? Don't be ridiculous. I was merely assessing your limits, observing your skill—or lack thereof. Now, let me show you why I claimed victory with one strike!"

Before Wang Li Jiao could respond, Lintian Sheng vanished, his form dissolving into the faintest blur—Spring Rain Silently Falls in its full glory. His sword shimmered with an almost divine light as it streaked toward Wang Li Jiao like a comet tearing through the heavens.

"You hoped to bait me into striking first, so you could counter with your so-called Jade Forest Sleeve Sword for a decisive blow?" Lintian Sheng sneered, his tone dripping with disdain. "How naive."

"Say what you will," Wang Li Jiao shot back, his grip tightening on his sword. "You're afraid of my family's swordsmanship, aren't you?"

"Afraid?" Lintian Sheng chuckled coldly. "You think evasion is fear? I've only been testing your skills, curious to see the supposed prowess of the Wang family's disciples." He paused, a glint of mockery in his eyes. "Frankly, I'm disappointed."

In a blur, Lintian Sheng's figure materialized behind Wang Li Jiao like a phantom. Wang Li Jiao's heart skipped a beat as he instinctively dodged, leaping away.

"You're nothing special," Wang Li Jiao spat, forcing calm into his voice. "Relying solely on your agility to avoid attacks doesn't make you superior."

"Is that so?" Lintian Sheng smirked. "Take a closer look at your back—you've already lost."

"Trying to deceive me?" Wang Li Jiao growled, narrowing his eyes. Refusing to turn around, he stood firm, wary of a trap.

"Li Jiao, enough," came a deep voice from the high table.

"Old Ancestor, I haven't lost yet!" Wang Li Jiao protested, turning toward Wang Qing Shan.

"You've already lost," Wang Qing Shan said, shaking his head with a sigh.

Lintian Sheng's earlier strike, brief as it was, carried a chilling sword intent. Such mastery at a young age was a rarity, and Wang Qing Shan knew that if this disciple of the Lin family continued to grow, he would become a grave threat to the Wang family's future.

"But how—" Wang Li Jiao's words faltered as searing pain shot across his back.

A long, bloody gash slashed diagonally across his back, tearing through his robe to reveal mangled flesh beneath.

"When—how could this happen?" Wang Li Jiao collapsed to his knees, trembling and pale, his forehead drenched in sweat. His mind raced, trying to recall when the injury had occurred. Could it have been when Lintian Sheng appeared behind him? But he had dodged in time—or so he thought.

"Concede," Lintian Sheng said curtly, clasping his hands in a brief salute before returning to his seat beside Lin Yi Ran.

A stunned silence swept through the banquet.

"What just happened? How did Wang Li Jiao get injured without a direct clash?"

"It's sword intent," Li Qing explained, his voice calm but carrying an undertone of gravity.

"Sword intent?" Yun Yan Shuang's eyes widened. Her master had spoken of this before—it was the hallmark of a prodigious sword cultivator, a manifestation of pure mastery in the way of the sword.

Unlike mere techniques or spells, sword intent was a transcendent state of the sword path, where one's will and blade were unified. A cultivator wielding sword intent could strike with devastating precision, even against foes of greater cultivation.

"Master once said sword intent is extraordinarily difficult to comprehend," Yun Yan Shuang murmured, her gaze locked on Lintian Sheng. "It depends entirely on one's talent and enlightenment. That Lintian Sheng... he's remarkable." Explore more at My Virtual Library Empire

"Exactly," Li Qing said with a nod. "No wonder he boasted that no one could take a single strike from him. A swordsman who has mastered sword intent is leagues above ordinary cultivators. Wang Li Jiao's defeat is no disgrace."

Li Qing took another sip of his wine, his expression contemplative. "The foundations of the Three Great Families are indeed terrifying. If the imperial court ever loses its reigning immortal... I fear the royal family may no longer have the means to restrain them."

On the battlefield, Wang Li Jiao knelt in stunned silence, his face ashen.

"I lost... I actually lost," he muttered, his voice hollow.

Not only had he failed to land even the slightest blow, but he had also been felled by a single strike from an opponent wielding a power he had long pursued but never grasped—sword intent.

The bitter realization overwhelmed him, and his spirit crumbled.

A violent cough wracked his body, blood spurting from his lips. His vision dimmed, and he collapsed to the ground, unconscious.