Wandering Swordsman |

"Alright, then let's see what you're capable of." The eldest disciple said, his figure suddenly shifting, lunging at Shen Mo like lightning. Every move he made contained an extremely high level of comprehension; even his sword techniques, without any internal force, unleashed a torrent of sword energy, seemingly capable of tearing everything around them apart. The training ground was instantly enveloped in a chilling aura, even the surrounding air seemed to be compressed by this powerful force.

However, Shen Mo remained unusually calm. He calmly dealt with each of his opponent's attacks, his Tai'a sword dancing like the wind, accurately blocking every sharp sword move. Although the true disciple's attacks were incredibly swift, Shen Mo maintained a composed demeanor, as if everything was under his control.

In their simple swordplay duels, Shen Mo consistently maintained a slight advantage over the eldest disciple. Whenever the eldest disciple thought he had found an opening and was about to deliver the decisive blow, Shen Mo would skillfully defuse the crisis at the crucial moment and turn defense into offense. Although their strength appeared evenly matched on the surface, Shen Mo always managed to gain the upper hand through subtle advantages.

Everyone present was stunned; they had never witnessed such a spectacular sword duel. The seemingly invincible swordplay of the eldest disciple appeared somewhat inadequate against Shen Mo. However, what no one knew was that the strength Shen Mo displayed was merely the tip of the iceberg.

In fact, Shen Mo did not want to draw too much attention upon returning to the Central Plains, lest he reveal his identity as the Heavenly Demon God. However, in order to win this competition, he had to demonstrate sufficient strength to put his true disciple in his place.

Shen Mo understood that Master Zhang had arranged this competition to make his eldest disciple realize that there are always people more capable than oneself, and that there is always something beyond one's understanding, so that he would no longer be complacent. Therefore, he maintained restraint throughout the battle, trying his best not to reveal his true strength, and still managed to defeat the eldest disciple.

"Just who is this kid? Why are all his moves so exquisite, as if he's completely dominating the senior brother?" A disciple watching from the sidelines couldn't help but mutter under his breath.

Another disciple sighed with emotion: "I hope that our senior brother can understand the sect leader's good intentions, realize that there are always people more capable than him, and that he can curb his arrogant nature."

The sparring match of "Tai Chi Xuan Tian Sword" was already halfway through, and the eldest disciple of the true lineage was gradually feeling the strain. A hint of anxiety began to appear on his once confident face. He realized that no matter how he changed his moves, he couldn't completely suppress the young man before him. On the contrary, Shen Mo was able to gain the upper hand with a slight advantage each time, making him feel immense pressure.

The eldest disciple of the Wudang Sect possessed extraordinary talent from a young age, surpassing his peers with minimal training, which gradually fostered a lazy personality. He believed that with his talent, he would remain a top martial artist even without any effort, growing older with age. Influenced by this mindset, he lived a secluded life and had little reputation in the martial arts world. However, the Wudang Sect Leader did not want his eldest disciple to waste his talent and become a mediocre leader, so he constantly sought a solution.

Just as the eldest disciple's resolve began to waver, Shen Mo suddenly quickened his pace. The Tai'a sword in his hand moved like a nimble silver snake, swiftly slicing through the air and aimed directly at the disciple's heart. Caught off guard, the disciple hastily dodged, but Shen Mo's sword tip still lightly grazed the hem of his robe, leaving a shallow mark.

The eldest disciple grew anxious, his arrogance and confidence gradually replaced by worry. His swordplay became more ferocious and rapid, attempting to turn the tide through a powerful offensive. However, this impatience only exposed more weaknesses in his defenses.

Shen Mo keenly noticed these subtle changes, knowing he could no longer afford to appear to have only a slight advantage. So, in a fierce exchange, Shen Mo swiftly seized upon an opening revealed by the eldest disciple. With a swift movement, he closed in on his opponent like a ghost, his Tai'a sword flashing out like lightning, striking the eldest disciple's blade with pinpoint accuracy. A crisp "crack" rang out, and the eldest disciple's sword snapped in two, the blade flying to the ground with a clear, resounding clang.

In that instant, the entire training ground seemed to freeze, everyone held their breath, their eyes fixed on this dramatic scene.

"You flatter me." Shen Mo immediately sheathed his sword and smiled faintly. He did not press his advantage but chose to stop short of defeat.

Hearing the sound of his broken sword hitting the ground, the eldest disciple of the true lineage suddenly awoke, realizing how foolish he had been to underestimate his opponent. At that moment, this realization immediately transformed into a sense of shame and an intense desire to become stronger.

At this moment, the eldest disciple felt as if a violent storm was raging within him, countless thoughts churning in his mind. He recalled his lazy days of the past, those times that could have been used for diligent cultivation, which he had squandered. He realized that it was this complacency and laxity that had not only caused him to lose to the young man before him, but also to fail to realize his own talent and potential.

The eldest disciple in the true lineage secretly berated himself, "To lose to someone younger than me today is a disgrace! From now on, I must strive to live up to my talent and never let such a thing happen again."

He stood there, stunned, a complex expression flashing in his eyes—a mixture of deep self-reproach and a rekindled determination. He knew that his defeat in this competition wasn't just because Shen Mo was stronger, but also because he had long since lost the will to pursue excellence. At this moment, he finally understood Zhang Zhenren's good intentions in arranging this competition.

The eldest disciple said softly, his voice trembling slightly, "I lost."

Master Zhang stepped forward, patted his eldest disciple on the shoulder, and said earnestly, "Zhang Ye, this defeat is not a bad thing. There are always people better than you, and there's always something beyond your understanding. Remember how you felt when you lost this time, and I hope you will never slack off in your martial arts journey."

Zhang Ye, the eldest disciple of the Wudang Sect, turned to Master Zhang with a firm gaze, his voice filled with determination and promise: "Uncle-Master, I will never waste my talent again. From today onwards, I will devote myself wholeheartedly to cultivation and will never let Wudang down."