Chapter 71 Zhao Wenxian, Head of the Zhao Family-From Servant to Saint: The Path to Enlightenment(The mountains rise high beneath a small, distant moon.)

A single remark drew everyone's attention back to Shen Yan.

Shen Yan silently wiped the blood from the corner of his lips, then finally replied, "On the arena, life and death are ruled by fate. He can kill, but others cannot kill him? After all these years, he still knows no shame?"

"You..." Zhao Ruoqin was infuriated by his words, yet he had no way to refute.

Mysterious Master also spoke up, "On the arena, life and death are ruled by fate. Since Xu Mao has stepped onto the stage, he must be prepared for death."

After saying this, he glanced at Shen Yan, inwardly astonished. He hadn't expected Shen Yan to act so ruthlessly, beheading Xu Mao on the platform. Things had become hard to resolve now. But at this point, no matter how difficult, the matter had to be settled.

Mysterious Master looked at Zhao Ruoqin, then at those around him. "The second round still belongs to Friend Yan. Who will take the next challenge?"

The crowd fell silent, their gazes turning to Zhao Ruoqin. At this moment, besides the Zhao clan's elder on stage, who else would dare step forward?

Yan Sheng was indeed a swordsman—decisive in killing, ruthless beyond measure, completely disregarding the influence of the Zhao, Xu, and Chen clans. Such a person, if not certain of defeating him in a single strike, was best left unprovoked.

Now, the Xu family wept aloud, their eyes also fixed on Zhao Ruoqin. At this point, he was their last hope—the late-stage Foundation Establishment patriarch of the Zhao family.

Zhao Ruoqin ignored them, his eyes locked fiercely on Shen Yan. After a moment, he spoke, "I will take the third round!"

His voice was cold, weighed down with gravity. If possible, Zhao Ruoqin would rather not step onto this stage. His opponent had already proven his strength—a true swordsman, decisive in temperament, formidable in battle! Victory was not guaranteed; even if he won, killing Yan Sheng might not be possible, and doing so would require a great price. It was not a wise choice, but he had no alternative.

Xu Mao and he were closely allied. If he didn't fight, subduing the Xu family would be an arduous task. With Xu Mao gone, the Xu clan was a juicy prize—he could not let it fall to others. Moreover, the several supreme magical artifacts and storage pouch of Xu Mao had been taken by the opponent. That was nearly half the Xu family's fortune—how could he let another claim it?

"Let me see how much strength you truly possess!"

On the stage, Zhao Ruoqin's beard and hair bristled with fury. His eyes flashed like lightning, exuding a terrifying aura. The crowd recoiled in awe.

"This old devil has grown even stronger!"

"The Zhao clan's Astral Qi Technique is indeed extraordinary!"

"I've heard he was once a famed battle cultivator."

"He reached late-stage Foundation Establishment decades ago. Perhaps now he's perfected that realm."

"Perfected Foundation Establishment? Would he dare leave his home then?"

The crowd whispered among themselves, curiosity shining in their eyes. Even Mysterious Master looked intrigued.

The Foundation Establishment realm had four stages: early, middle, late, and perfection. But those who perfected Foundation Establishment usually remained in seclusion, striving for the Golden Core. They rarely ventured out, nor dared to leave the protection of their great formations. The world was unpredictable—accidents too many!

Thus, late-stage Foundation Establishment was typically the highest fighting strength. Zhao Ruoqin had reached this stage decades ago. Even if he hadn't broken through to perfection, his strength was unfathomable—the most powerful among those present.

Could he defeat Yan Sheng? The crowd watched with anticipation.

Seeing this, Shen Yan wasted no words. He soared with his sword, seizing the initiative for the first time in three rounds—a testament to the pressure Zhao Ruoqin brought.

"Hmph!" Zhao Ruoqin snorted coldly. Without using any magical artifacts, he met the fierce sword light bare-handed.

"Bang!"

A sharp explosion rang out as Zhao Ruoqin struck with his palm. Behind him appeared a shadow of astral energy—claws gleaming with white light, crashing onto the sword glow and leaving five deep marks that lingered.

It was the Astral Qi!

He was a physical cultivator, his foundational technique, Astral Qi Technique, cultivated to mastery. One more step, and he would reach perfection. Then, even against a Golden Core cultivator, he could exchange blows—such was the power of this art.

Its unique astral energy was a lethal weapon, rivaling any ordinary swordsman.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Zhao Ruoqin pressed in, the astral energy blasting wildly, overwhelming by sheer force. He made no attempt at tricks, nor could Shen Yan. After several exchanges, the dazzling sword light grew dim.

The crowd sighed inwardly.

"Yan Sheng has fought hard, his strength is spent!"

"Especially breaking four of Xu Mao's supreme artifacts in one blow earlier—imagine the drain!"

They shook their heads, doubting the outcome. Mysterious Master frowned, considering how to resolve the situation.

"Bang!"

At that moment, the Flowing Cloud Sword unleashed its edge.

Yet this strike was blocked, forcing Shen Yan to tumble back, staggering and leaving drops of crimson behind. His sword was now scarred and cracked, his hand bloodied—a shocking sight.

Such was the might of the Astral Qi. No matter how strong a magical artifact, it was still just an artifact. The Astral Qi's power surpassed that category, rivaling low-grade defensive and offensive spiritual treasures. In such a clash, how could the sword remain undamaged?

Seeing his opponent wounded, Zhao Ruoqin pressed his advantage, launching a fierce assault.

Yet Shen Yan's expression remained indifferent. He soared with his sword, merging man and blade into a single dazzling beam—a golden sword light like the midday sun.

The Flowing Light Sword Technique!

The sword light surged, stretching several yards long, like a celestial waterfall crashing down, cleaving straight toward Zhao Ruoqin.

"Bang!"

A thunderous crash erupted, the brilliant light blinding all eyes. In the midst of searing pain, only white radiance could be seen.

It seemed an eternity before vision returned through stinging tears and ears ceased to ring, restoring clarity.

The two opponents stood facing each other.

One, with white beard and hair bristling, pressing his hand to his chest, his eyes filled with shock, anger, and disbelief.

The other, crown shattered and long hair loose, temples now fully grey and withered, as if drained of blood and essence.

Zhao Ruoqin.

Yan Sheng.

The onlookers saw the two, standing opposite.

Who had won?

Zhao Ruoqin stared fixedly at Shen Yan, rasping, "A Golden Core sword technique?"

"Just one move," Shen Yan replied, his voice flickering like a candle, gripping his scarred Flowing Cloud Sword.

Zhao Ruoqin stared at him for a long time before speaking, "Just a first-grade spiritual land, and you achieved this?"

Shen Yan's expression did not change. He answered quietly, "Yan has wandered half a lifetime, finding only a single place to settle. For this, I wield my sword—unbending, even if broken!"

"You..." Zhao Ruoqin tried to speak, but his injuries flared. His body trembled and blood welled in his throat.