“Sure,” Ji Zikang replied with a smile.
Though he inwardly dismissed Lin Wuming’s request, outwardly he remained the same elegant, courteous young master — a persona he had cultivated since childhood.
His plan was simple: defeat Lin Wuming as quickly as possible, and then just say, “Didn’t expect him to be so weak. Oops, got a bit carried away.”
After all, they weren’t going to cross paths much in the future.
Besides, even though this kid had gotten some attention at the Wan Yin Tournament, he had offended the sect leader of the Tianyin Sect.
Sooner or later, that man would surely retaliate and leave the boy with no grave to speak of.
There was no need to show mercy to a soon-to-be dead man.
Meanwhile, Lin Wuming let out a small breath of relief.
‘If we drag the match out a bit, I can hold back, make the fight look intense and hard-fought, then win by a narrow margin. The mission reward shouldn’t be too bad then…’
While Lin Wuming was making his calculations, Ji Zikang was fully focused on exposing the Lin family’s “conspiracy.”
So even though he agreed verbally, he struck without holding back — a fierce punch aimed straight at Lin Wuming.
“Hm?”
Lin Wuming immediately sensed something was off.
‘Why does this guy’s attack… not look like he’s holding back?’
But as he effortlessly dodged the blow, feeling the light strength and weak spiritual energy sliding past him, realization dawned.
‘Ah, I see. He’s acting.’
Even though Ji Zikang’s cultivation was far above his own — practically at the peak of Qi Condensation, close to his own junior sister’s level — the attacks felt weak and hollow.
‘This guy’s acting pretty well.’
Watching Ji Zikang’s “full-force” attacks, Lin Wuming genuinely believed he was going all out.
So, determined to stall a bit longer, he kept dodging casually — even shooting Ji Zikang a knowing glance:
“Not bad, bro, your acting’s pretty convincing!”
But to Ji Zikang, that glance meant something entirely different.
To him, those teasing, almost admiring eyes combined with his failure to even touch Lin Wuming looked like outright mockery.
“Oh wow, look at you trying so hard… and still can’t even graze me?”
Ji Zikang, the pride of the Ji family, who had always been the center of attention, had never suffered a blow to his ego — especially not from someone younger than him.
His anger flared.
And in a flash, he unsheathed the sword on his back and slashed at Lin Wuming.
The blade, wrapped in spiritual energy, howled through the air toward its target.
“Damn… is he actually acting, or did this just get real?”
Lin Wuming quickly drew his own short sword — no longer than a handspan — and met the strike.
Weapons weren’t prohibited in the clan tournament.
Ji Zikang’s sword was clearly expensive — not quite a spiritual weapon, but definitely not ordinary.
It was a magical artifact, an intermediate between mortal weapons and spiritual ones.
Though lacking in comparison to true spirit swords, magical artifacts were vastly superior to common blades — expensive and powerful.
Lin Wuming’s own sword, on the other hand, looked absurdly ordinary — short, plain, like a fruit knife.
Yet when the two blades met, Lin Wuming’s “fruit knife” struck precisely at the weak point in Ji Zikang’s spiritual energy coating.
His blade tip touched the other sword gently but with pinpoint accuracy, disrupting the spiritual flow.
With a soft hum, the energy coating scattered completely.
Ji Zikang staggered back several steps, his stance barely stabilizing.
“Alright, alright, bro. You’re overdoing it. No need to act that exaggerated… Come on, just be a little more serious.”
Lin Wuming’s deadpan comment nearly made him laugh.
‘That opening was huge. You really just left it wide open for me to poke?’
What Lin Wuming didn’t realize was that all martial arts have flaws.
Only his own bizarre cultivation method — a solid, impenetrable “Basic Vitality Cultivation Technique” — had no weak spots.
It made his foundation unshakable.
Ji Zikang hadn’t left a weak point on purpose — and definitely wasn’t “holding back.”
This was just Lin Wuming’s refined instincts and overwhelming foundation doing their work.
Thanks to his time in Newbie Village and everything he’d picked up from observation and mimicry, Lin Wuming had become “newbie-fied” in all aspects — solid, precise, and freakishly efficient.
His cultivation level may still be at early Qi Condensation, but in terms of purity of spiritual energy and technique, he could rival — or even surpass — peak-stage cultivators.
He truly thought he was kindly telling Ji Zikang to focus — to make the fight seem more real, not so fake.
But to Ji Zikang, that line hit like a slap in the face.
“Let’s get serious?”
That could only mean, “I haven’t even started trying, and you’re already this pathetic?”
“You want me to get serious?”
Ji Zikang raised his head slowly, eyes locked on Lin Wuming.
“Fine. You said it.”
“…What the hell, bro…”
Lin Wuming muttered, raising an eyebrow.
‘He’s taking this way too seriously…’
But before he could think more, Ji Zikang charged in again — this time clearly different from before.
“Wait a minute…”
Among the onlookers — mostly members of the Four Great Families — someone recognized the move Ji Zikang had just executed.
“That’s the Ji family’s ancestral sword art — Zongyun Sword!”
“Hisss—!”
The name alone drew gasps from the crowd.
Zongyun Sword, a sword style passed down from Ji family ancestors, was said to originate from an empire over thirty thousand years ago.
Although parts of the technique had been lost to time, its core remained powerful.
Among the Four Great Families, each had unique skills — but none surpassed the Ji family’s Zongyun Sword in terms of sword techniques.
Even the city lord of Luoshui coveted this technique.
Its fame came not just from power and complexity, but also because it was extremely hard to master.
Even the current Ji family patriarch hadn’t fully grasped it until he was over fifty.
And yet… Ji Zikang?
He was barely twenty-five — and he could already wield it?!