Ji Zikang’s use of the Zongyun Sword once again captured everyone’s attention.
Anyone with even a bit of status in Luoshui City could recognize this signature sword technique of the Ji family.
That young master Ji—wasn’t he just twenty-five this year?
And he could already use the Zongyun Sword Technique?
Though he was still far from complete mastery, just being able to execute it was already astonishing.
The kid standing opposite him, while strong in his own right and even holding his own earlier, would likely suffer now that Ji Zikang had brought out the Zongyun Sword…
“How long do you think this kid can hold out under the Zongyun Sword?”
“Hold out? I’d say… about the time it takes for an incense stick to burn.”
“An incense stick?”
The other man shook his head.
“You’re a sect elder—you should know how terrifying this technique is. And look at that kid’s weapon. It’s not even a proper magical tool—it’s practically a fruit knife! How’s he going to stand against the Ji family’s heir?”
“Honestly… I don’t think he’ll even last half an incense stick’s time…”
“Fair enough.”
Another slightly younger elder sitting nearby nodded in agreement as he glanced at the platform.
Most of those present shared the same thought.
After all, anyone with any knowledge of family techniques knew just how powerful the Zongyun Sword Technique was.
Unfortunately, Lin Wuming wasn’t one of them.
He had neither status nor broad vision.
While he did notice that his opponent’s swordplay seemed a bit different now… was it really that big of a difference?
He didn’t think so.
Facing Ji Zikang’s fierce assault, he simply gripped his “fruit knife” and lightly thrust it forward.
“Zongyun Sword Technique, First Form: Wind-Stepping Zongyun!”
At that moment, Ji Zikang shouted out the name of the technique, drawing gasps from the crowd once more.
“He’s not just learned the form—he’s even mastered the actual sword skills within it?!”
“Young Master Ji truly is a once-in-a-millennium genius of Luoshui City!”
“That boy won’t even be able to take this one move…”
Clang—!
The crisp sound of metal striking metal rang out across the stage—and into every spectator’s heart.
That tiny sword, looking more fit to peel apples than to fight, had lightly pierced forward… and blocked Ji Zikang’s attack.
Blocked the Zongyun Sword.
No flourishes, no dodging, no retreat—just a straightforward parry.
And most infuriatingly of all, Lin Wuming still had an innocent expression on his face, as if he had no idea what he had just done.
In his mind, this Ji family heir’s swordplay wasn’t even as pretty as the old grandpa back in his village.
But seeing Ji Zikang’s reaction, he could tell… something was off.
“Say… bro, don’t tell me you’re actually being serious now?”
He hesitated a long while before asking.
Blocked…
Ji Zikang was stunned.
His eyes were empty.
His sense of self was collapsing.
This move—his trump card—had been saved for a grand moment, for the perfect strike to amaze the crowd.
And yet, it was blocked—nonchalantly, effortlessly, like it meant nothing.
Lin Wuming was regretting it a little now.
He’d tried to hold back, avoided attacking too aggressively.
And yet… things still seemed to be going sideways.
He looked around.
Good lord.
No one was paying attention to any other duels anymore.
Every pair of eyes was locked onto their stage.
“Hahahahaha…”
Just as Lin Wuming was inwardly groaning, unsure of what to do next—Ji Zikang suddenly burst into laughter.
It was wild laughter. Bitter and self-mocking.
“I always thought… in Luoshui City, I’d never find a worthy opponent. I dreamed of leaving here one day, seeking a grander stage…”
He swept his gaze across the crowd.
Yes, he—Ji Zikang—had always looked down on the people of Luoshui, looked down on the women fawning over him.
He thought he was different.
That he didn’t belong here—that he was destined for a greater world.
But now… he had lost.
Lost so cleanly, so thoroughly.
Even though his opponent’s cultivation was clearly weaker, Ji Zikang hadn’t even forced him to get serious.
In Luoshui, Ji Zikang was considered a prodigy.
Arrogant as he was, he still respected strength—so he was not afraid to admit defeat.
“I… was simply not good enough.”
He took a deep breath, then looked at Lin Wuming.
“I admit defeat!”
“Huh?”
Lin Wuming was stunned.
He… won?
“Thank you for the lesson. I understand your intent now.”
Ji Zikang continued speaking, as if in his own world.
He understood.
He finally understood.
That strange line Lin Wuming had said at the start of the match—it hadn’t been some random nonsense.
It was mercy.
A gesture of kindness.
From start to finish, Lin Wuming had been acting, putting on a show.
Playing the fool to jolt Ji Zikang out of his arrogance.
Letting him see that there were always greater heights, that pride unchecked becomes one’s inner demon.
The truth was—he, Ji Zikang, had been the clown all along…
Lin Wuming—the man who shocked everyone at the Music Gathering, defeating the sect master of the Tianyin Sect—wasn’t just lucky or musically gifted.
If Ji Zikang was a once-in-a-thousand-years genius for Luoshui City…
Then this man was a once-in-ten-thousand-generations prodigy for the entire Azure Continent!
To lose to someone like him—Ji Zikang felt no shame.
In fact, he felt honored.
Because he had seen it—seen the day this youth would stand at the very peak, overlooking the entire world.
But… that didn’t mean he would give up.
Even if he could never catch up to such a being, he would carve out his own path—one worthy of his life.
“You understand? Understand what?!”
Lin Wuming looked utterly baffled.
Was this kid… brain-damaged now?
“No need to say more. Today, I owe you a favor. If you ever need anything, you have but to ask—I, Ji Zikang, will not refuse!”
With that, Ji Zikang turned and walked away—his back lonely, but unyielding.
“???”
Lin Wuming was completely dumbfounded.
What the hell just happened?
He’d just wanted to act a little, keep the fight low-profile—how did it end with him beating someone up, and they were thanking him for it?
Was this world full of masochists or something?
So weird…
Everyone present was still reeling from the result, not noticing a cloaked middle-aged man standing quietly in a corner.
The man lowered the brim of his hat and chuckled softly.
“Thirty thousand years… and the Ji family has fallen this far? Still… the dragon vein endures. The royal bloodline remains. The thief shall pay in time…”
His gaze shifted to the still-confused Lin Wuming on the stage.
“But this child from the Lin family… he’s quite the surprise…”
His eyes then lifted toward a distant point high in the heavens, a flicker of uncertainty in his expression.