Volume One, Chapter 20: Danger Surpassed by a Counterattack, Sharpness Revealed

“I know what you intend to do, but you won’t succeed,” Lin Fan said sharply, his gaze like a blade piercing Wang Chong.

The air around them seemed to freeze, thick with tension as if swords were drawn.

Wang Chong snorted coldly, then turned away, a cruel and sinister aura emanating from his retreating figure.

Lin Fan took a deep breath, suppressing the fury within. He knew this was not the time to settle scores with Wang Chong; he had to focus on the upcoming contest.

At the registration area, crowds surged as disciples from various sects rubbed their hands in anticipation, eager to prove themselves.

Lin Fan felt curious, contemptuous, and even hostile gazes cast upon him.

Calmly, he approached the registration desk and wrote down his name.

News spread quickly, causing a stir among the crowd.

“Lin Fan? That lowly servant disciple?” “He actually dares to enter the contest? How presumptuous!” murmurs floated around him. Yet Lin Fan paid no heed and strode toward the arena.

In the center of the contest grounds stood a towering platform, surrounded by a sea of people. Cheers and whispers surged like waves, relentless and overwhelming.

Lin Fan stood atop the platform, countless eyes fixed on him—some filled with expectation, some with ridicule, others with indifference. Yet he remained unmoved, as imposing as a mountain.

He inhaled deeply, steadying his emotions and feeling the power surging within.

The tense atmosphere was like a taut string, ready to snap at any moment.

His first opponent, Li Hong, an inner sect disciple, stepped onto the stage with measured grace. His azure robe embroidered with golden cloud patterns, a white jade longsword hanging at his waist, exuding an air of ethereal elegance and Daoist refinement.

Li Hong glanced at Lin Fan with contempt, a sneer curling his lips. “You dare to challenge me? Such arrogance! A servant should know his place—like a toad dreaming of swan’s flesh!” His voice was low but carried clearly across the arena, igniting a ripple of uproar.

The buzzing voices around were like a swarm of flies, irritating and relentless.

Lin Fan’s expression was unreadable, his eyes calm and clear as still water, as if he hadn’t heard the provocation.

“Begin!” the judge commanded. A cold gleam flashed in Li Hong’s eyes as he drew his white jade sword. A fierce sword aura shot straight at Lin Fan.

“Presumptuous,” Li Hong sneered, the sword’s radiance intensifying.

The white jade blade sliced through the air with a piercing whistle, its sword aura like a rainbow striking toward Lin Fan’s face.

With a light tap of his toes, Lin Fan nimbly leapt backward, barely evading the deadly strike.

Li Hong’s assault was like a storm, sword flashes flickering and sword auras crisscrossing, enveloping Lin Fan in a deadly net.

Lin Fan could only defend passively, dodging continuously, each clash weighing heavily on him.

“Such pitiful skill and you still dare step onto the stage? What a disgrace!” Li Hong’s taunts stung like needles. His swordplay grew more furious, sword auras weaving a dense web that sealed off Lin Fan’s escape.

The audience watched anxiously, originally expecting Lin Fan’s swift defeat, yet surprised he held out so long.

Some began to worry for Lin Fan, others gleefully awaited his humiliation.

Under Li Hong’s relentless assault, Lin Fan retreated steadily, his breath growing ragged, sweat beading his forehead.

He sensed a strange force interfering with his qi flow, slowing his once agile movements.

This force was eerie and unfathomable, like a festering wound clinging to his bones, refusing to let go.

“What’s happening? My qi…” Lin Fan’s heart jolted in alarm. He had never encountered such a phenomenon.

The oppressive force made him feel trapped in quicksand, almost paralyzed.

Li Hong’s attacks grew fiercer, sword auras sharp as icy blades. Lin Fan’s body bore several minor wounds.

Blood trickled from the cuts, staining his clothes crimson.

“Looks like you’ve run out of tricks!” Li Hong taunted.

“Not yet…” Lin Fan gritted his teeth.

“A desperate struggle!” Li Hong sneered, his sword suddenly slashing down, a fierce sword aura like a fierce ribbon aimed straight at Lin Fan’s chest.

Lin Fan’s body trembled violently.

“What are you doing?” Li Hong suddenly sensed something amiss and instinctively halted his strike.

A faint, eerie smile appeared on Lin Fan’s lips.

That strange smile was like a winter plum blooming suddenly in the cold, carrying a hint of resolve and danger.

He stopped dodging and instead bore Li Hong’s blade head-on. The sword aura sliced a bloodied wound across his chest, crimson soaking his robe.

Li Hong—

But just as his sword was about to strike down, Lin Fan’s figure vanished like a phantom.

Li Hong’s blade cut through empty air, leaving a cold trail.

Gasps erupted from the crowd; no one saw how Lin Fan avoided the fatal blow.

In the next moment, Lin Fan appeared behind Li Hong, clutching a rusted short sword that hadn’t been there before.

The short sword bore no gleam, appearing plain and unremarkable, yet as Lin Fan gripped it, it emitted a low, resonant hum.

With a swift, piercing thrust, the short sword aimed at Li Hong’s back.

Li Hong was shocked; never before had he seen such a bizarre sword technique. Hastily, he twisted aside to evade.

The short sword grazed his shoulder, tearing flesh and causing a scream of agony.

Lin Fan’s offensive pressed on, agile as a leopard, the short sword flashing relentlessly, each strike chilling to the bone.

He was no longer the passive servant disciple receiving blows but a killing god risen from the abyss, every move ruthless.

Li Hong faltered, his swordplay chaotic and confused.

“Is this really Lin Fan?” someone shouted in disbelief from the stands, eyes glued to the nimble figure as if watching a monster.

Li Hong could no longer maintain his arrogance. Lin Fan’s attacks were fast, fierce, and precise, each strike targeting his vulnerabilities as if anticipating his every move.

He retreated step by step, new wounds blooming across his body, blood staining his azure robe. The earlier aura of ethereal refinement was gone.

Lin Fan’s energy surged stronger; the short sword seemed alive, its hum growing sharper.

Li Hong felt trapped as if caught in an enormous net, unable to move.

Lin Fan’s gaze was icy. He swung the short sword again, aiming for Li Hong’s throat.

Just as the blade was about to pierce, Lin Fan halted, the tip mere millimeters from Li Hong’s throat.

He withdrew the short sword and stood quietly as if nothing had occurred.

Li Hong collapsed to the ground, gasping heavily, staring at Lin Fan in terror as if beholding a demon from hell.

At that moment, a soft sigh came from the crowd: “His cultivation method…”

Xia Jiang’s eyes never left Lin Fan’s figure; she could feel the resolute and unwavering spirit radiating from him.

Her hands clutched her clothes tightly, knuckles whitening from the grip.

Every time Lin Fan faced danger, her heart felt crushed by an invisible hand, nearly suffocating.

Yet she knew she could not show weakness; she had to believe in Lin Fan’s strength to overcome all adversity.

Beside her, Zhao Ling’er observed the battle calmly. She keenly noted Li Hong’s changing moves and weaknesses, relaying this information to Lin Fan in time.

One supported with deep affection, the other with sharp wit, silently standing by Lin Fan’s side.

“Thank you for the match,” Lin Fan’s voice was calm and powerful, echoing through the arena like a valley’s call.

Li Hong struggled to his feet, shooting Lin Fan a hateful glare, clutching his wounds as he staggered away.

Lin Fan straightened his posture, feeling the power surging within.

The judge declared Lin Fan the victor, triggering thunderous applause and cheers.

Some were inspired by his triumph; others shocked by his strength.

Lin Fan descended from the platform quietly, greeted immediately by Xia Jiang and Zhao Ling’er.

“Lin Fan, are you alright?” Xia Jiang asked with concern.

“I’m fine.” Lin Fan smiled gently and patted her hand, reassuring her.

“Your sword technique just now was amazing! I couldn’t even see how you dodged Li Hong’s attacks,” Zhao Ling’er said excitedly, her eyes shining with admiration.

“Just lucky,” Lin Fan replied modestly.

“Who’s your next opponent?” Xia Jiang asked, voice tinged with worry.

“I don’t know,” Lin Fan shook his head. “But whoever it is, I’ll give it my all.”

At that moment, a mysterious man clad in black, wearing a bamboo hat, stepped onto the stage.

His figure was tall and imposing, radiating a chilling aura that sent shivers down spines.

He slowly lifted his head, revealing eagle-like sharp eyes that coldly swept across the crowd.

“Lin Fan, your next opponent is me,” the man in black said in a deep voice, sounding like a demon from the underworld, terrifying and merciless.

“Who are you?” Lin Fan asked, his voice steady.

The black-clad man offered no answer but slowly removed his hat.

A grotesque face appeared before the crowd, marred by scars twisting like centipedes in a horrifying pattern.

“I am Ghost-Faced Asura.”