Everyone was baffled by Bai Zihan’s confidence—or rather, his overconfidence.
Perhaps it was the first ti anyone had t soone this arrogant while standing at death’s door.
The silver-haired man sneered.
"Still bluffing?"
He took a step forward, vanishing with a burst of wind.
Whoosh!
His movent was sharp, honed through decades of combat.
His saber left its scabbard with a shriek, trailing light. In that instant, the room seed to bend under the force of his advance.
"One strike," he said coldly. "That’s all it’ll take!"
Bai Zihan didn’t move.
He simply watched.
The air cracked—the saber split the room in half as it ca for him.
Kong Zhanghong cried out, flinching.
"Young Master!"
But just before the strike landed—
CLANG!
The ringing of tal echoed like a tolling bell.
Sparks exploded.
The silver-haired cultivator’s expression shifted from smug certainty to stunned disbelief.
His blade had stopped.
No—been caught.
Bai Zihan’s right hand had snapped upward and caught the saber with his hand.
Barehanded!
The floor beneath him cracked from the rebound of force. Wind howled around his robes.
And yet—he stood unshaken.
Eyes cold. Fingers tight. Blade trembling.
"What?"
The silver-haired man muttered, unable to comprehend what had just happened.
Before he could pull back—
BOOM!
A pulse of power erupted from Bai Zihan’s body.
Spiritual Qi surged in every direction, the floor beneath him breaking in a perfect circle.
The entire room lurched as if struck by a tidal wave of Qi.
The air froze.
Kong Zhanghong stumbled back, mouth agape.
Xie Wanshou’s pupils shrank.
The jade-masked cultivator’s brow finally furrowed.
The silver-haired man?
He was sent flying.
Like a teor, he crashed through the far wall with a thunderous boom, his body carving a trench into the floor as he skidded and rolled—only stopping when he hit a pillar with a bone-crunching sound.
Blood sprayed from his mouth.
Silence followed.
Only the creaking of wood and the soft hiss of displaced air remained.
Bai Zihan slowly withdrew his hand while looking disgusted at the blood he got on his hand.
He exhaled.
And with that exhale—
His true cultivation leaked out.
A tide of pressure descended.
The illusion was gone.
There was no longer any doubt.
Spirit Severing Realm!
He wasn’t just a Soul Formation cultivator, as many had thought.
The jade-masked man didn’t speak.
His gaze locked onto Bai Zihan like a hawk—cautious now, no longer dismissive.
Xie Wanshou’s face finally changed.
Even she hadn’t expected this.
(He is in the Spirit Severing Realm... How is this possible?)
She knew many secrets and info throughout the Desolate Heaven Empire—including the top geniuses.
Even those favored to win in the Dragon and Phoenix Competition were only in the Soul Formation Realm.
But Bai Zihan?
He was on another level entirely.
Those rumors that Bai Zihan was scared to participate in the Dragon and Phoenix Competition?
Complete bullshit!
With this level of cultivation, he had no need to fear anyone.
(No wonder they paid so much to kill him.)
The walls around them groaned under the pressure.
And still—Bai Zihan hadn’t taken a single step.
He looked toward the jade-masked cultivator now.
Expression cold.
Voice calm.
"Next!"
***
"Damn it!"
The jade-masked man’s voice was low.
His hand curled into a fist as his Qi subtly rose.
He wasn’t going to act like the earlier person—he wasn’t undereste Bai Zihan, not after his display of strength.
He had no intention of charging in blindly .
Instead, he turned slightly, calling out toward the collapsed silver-haired cultivator still twitching among the rubble.
"Shan, get up!"
His tone was cold and clipped.
"We’re doing this together."
From within the debris, a grunt of pain erged.
The silver-haired cultivator—Shan—staggered to his feet, blood dripping from his mouth, one arm trembling.
His robes were in tatters, hair disheveled, pride in ruins.
But he didn’t hesitate.
He forced himself upright, wiping the blood from his chin. His eyes burned—not just with pain, but with the need to salvage his dignity.
"He got lucky!"
His voice was hoarse. Then louder, to the room:
"Don’t think I’ll fall for that twice!"
He roared as if to shatter the mory of his earlier defeat. His spiritual Qi surged again—wilder now, edged with fury.
The floor cracked beneath his feet as he jumped, returning to stand beside the jade-masked man.
The room shifted again. Tension thickened.
Two Spirit Severing Realm cultivators now stood side by side—battle-hardened, experienced, cautious.
Their arrogance had burned away.
Now?
Only killing intent remained.
Shan rolled his shoulder, flexing his spiritual Qi, gaze locked on Bai Zihan.
"You really tricked there, but your luck has run out now!"
He pointed his saber at him.
Bai Zihan couldn’t help but laugh.
This guy—Shan charged in by himself, got humiliated, and now thought he could get his revenge?
The jade-masked cultivator raised a single hand, drawing forth a strange silver formation disc from his robe.
It floated in the air between his palms—rotating slowly, humming with layered inscriptions.
The pressure spiked.
Spiritual Qi from three Spirit Severing Realm cultivators surged through the ruined chamber, cracking walls and rattling lanterns.
Dust rained from the ceiling. The air felt heavy—like the sky before a thunderstorm.
Boom!
Bai Zihan vanished.
In a blink, he was there—right between them. Blade in motion, feet light, body graceful.
Like a dance.
Except each step could kill.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Sparks flew as Shan’s saber t the Eternal Spirit Sword. The impact forced him back again and again, each clash biting deeper into his defense.
Bai Zihan’s strength was overwhelming—unlike anything they had faced.
Then—an arc of light!
The jade-masked man barely blocked it—only to find three more strikes already following, like a flowing current.
(What is this technique?)
The silver-haired man roared and swung wide, aiming to catch Bai Zihan off-guard—
Fwoosh!
But his strike hit nothing but the afterimage.
One Bai Zihan beca three.
Three beca five.
The five beca nine.
Each one shimring, flickering, flowing like moonlight reflected in running water.
The Nine Shadows Flowing Light Sword.
"What the hell!?"
Shan slashed at a shadow—it vanished.
The jade-masked man unleashed a barrage of talismans and spirit chains.
Bai Zihan didn’t even dodge.
He shifted his stance.
And then—his sword swept in a circular arc, gentle as a breeze.
The chains and attacks were deflected, scattered like raindrops against a still lake.
Eternal Flowing Water Sword Technique.
Smooth. Soft. Untouchable.
Every technique they threw at him was rendered useless.
No matter the power.
No matter the speed.
The silver-haired man snarled.
"Fight like a man!"
Bai Zihan chuckled, casually spinning his blade as the afterimages reford around him.
He sidestepped another thrust from the jade-masked cultivator and flicked his sword—one, two, three tis.
Then, he turned his back.
In the middle of a fight.
Hands behind his back.
"I’ve seen enough."
His voice was quiet.
"Spirit Severing Realm... not as overwhelming as I thought."
The jade-masked man’s eyes widened.
"You—"
"I needed to see how much I’ve improved," Bai Zihan interrupted, still not looking at them. "You two served your purpose well."
He finally looked over his shoulder, golden eyes gleaming beneath his tousled hair.
"Now let’s end this before you drag soone else into the fight and make it boring."
The nine afterimages suddenly aligned.
A flash of gold and silver light gathered at Bai Zihan’s blade as he raised it overhead—still one-handed, still composed.
The jade-masked man’s instincts scread at him to run.
But it was too late.
"Nine Shadows Flowing Light—Third Form."
His voice echoed.
The light flared.
Then—
WHOOSH!
A single stroke.
Too fast to see.
Too silent to hear.
But the aftermath was impossible to ignore.
A perfect arc cut through the battlefield. Wind scread as the energy passed, tearing through formation defenses, warping the walls, and slamming both Shan and the jade-masked man backward as if heaven itself had pushed them.
BOOM!
They crashed into the far wall—bloodied and unconscious.
The arc continued, slicing clean through the far barrier and out into the night sky, leaving behind a glowing scar in the earth that shimred for several seconds before vanishing.
Silence!
Bai Zihan exhaled once more and sheathed his sword.
The pressure disappeared.
The shattered remains of the room trembled around him.
He looked at the ss, then at the unconscious enemies.
"Too fragile!"
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