Chapter Ninety-Three: A Visitor

Turning around, he returned to the stands.

Guihai Xin watched his exceptionally gifted second son and shook his head with calm indifference, unable to find the words to express his feelings at that moment. Just then, a fierce battle had already erupted atop the Lingjue Arena.

Jin Tianzuo, with casual grace, flicked a golden aura sword in reply to Jun Bulang’s defensive stance—a gesture Jun Bulang recognized as his third senior brother showing leniency. Without dwelling on it, Jun Bulang snapped his paper fan, instantly unleashing four aura swords shooting toward Jin Tianzuo from all directions.

Jin Tianzuo, whose golden lamp never extinguished, swept his arms, and six golden swords soared to meet the attack. The air echoed with tremors as Jun Bulang skillfully manipulated his hands: the four aura swords scattered in midair, transforming into a flurry of leaf-shaped daggers. Jin Tianzuo’s beard twitched; with a flick of a mystical gesture, his six golden swords also morphed into shields shaped like falling leaves. The daggers clashed against the shields, sending sparks flying and creating a spectacle.

Seeing his massed attack fail, Jun Bulang instantly altered his mystical technique. The leaf daggers condensed into a gigantic maple leaf—not soft and beautiful, but edged with cold gleams at its sharp corners. With a whistling sound, it pierced through, smashing the scattered small shields and sending them flying.

“Tenth brother Bulang, your Falling Leaf technique has made great progress!” Jin Tianzuo praised, but his hands remained ruthless. With a sudden roar, the shattered shields did not vanish but quickly regrouped. As Jun Bulang’s maple leaf sword was about to strike Jin Tianzuo, the shields gathered into a giant maple leaf shield. Though it trembled under the blow, it did not retreat an inch.

Jun Bulang seemed to have anticipated his third senior brother’s defense. As his maple leaf sword struck the shield, he soared into the air, flicking his folded fan to hurl a white aura straight at Jin Tianzuo’s head.

Jin Tianzuo laughed heartily. Without any apparent movement, he merely lifted his head, and the white aura scattered and dispersed. Jun Bulang, as if subjected to immense pressure, twisted several times in midair before barely landing on the ground, grimacing. “Third senior brother, your Golden Lamp technique has reached its peak. Congratulations from your junior.”

“Haha, Bulang, I only benefit from this Spirit Blood Heritage—hardly comparable to your true cultivation realm,” Jin Tianzuo admitted generously, acknowledging that the previous move was due to his Spirit Blood Heritage. For a cultivator, possessing Spirit Blood Heritage paved a soaring path, yet few realized it came in varying grades; even the lowest tier was an object of envy among practitioners.

Jun Bulang smiled. “You flatter me, third senior brother. Please, enlighten me further.” As he spoke, his scholar’s robe fluttered without wind, revealing his true power as Gentleman Jun Bulang.

“Wow, what luck—we made it just in time for the excitement!” A sudden voice rang out from below the stage. Though the other cultivators were absorbed in the duel, Mo Bai was drawn by the voice. Turning, he couldn’t help but chuckle—it was those two troublemakers.

Not far from Mo Bai stood three figures, two of whom were particularly striking: one, towering and dressed like a scholar; the other, scrawny and clad entirely in armor. Without question, they were Da Wu and Er Wen, whom Mo Bai had briefly met at the bun shop the other day. Between them stood a refined youth with a sword at his waist.

“It’s your fault! You always sleep till you wake naturally—we nearly missed the show,” Da Wu chided Er Wen.

Er Wen shook his armor indignantly. “Nonsense! You were the one reciting poetry under the moon last night, drunk and greedy for wine. That’s why we’re late. If not for you, we’d have seen the best of it.”

Da Wu chuckled. “Wrong, Er Wen—now is when things get exciting!”

Er Wen was baffled, shaking his head. “Who are you fooling? Neither is from Guihai City nor Yihua Sect—what’s exciting? Wait, that’s odd.” He suddenly realized, exclaiming, “How are two Falling Leaf Sect disciples fighting here? Both possess considerable cultivation.”

Da Wu waved his disproportionately large fan. “Of course! These are two of the Eleven Gentlemen of Falling Leaf Sect—hence the powerful aura surge.”

Er Wen grew even more confused. “The Eleven Gentlemen are brothers in arms—how could they be fighting so fiercely? This is unbelievable. Wu Suanwen, are you mistaken?”

Da Wu replied mysteriously, “That’s the most exciting part.”

The young gentleman between them, who had been silent, suddenly spoke, “Perhaps the real excitement has yet to begin. At least three have not appeared. How could the Lingjue Arena be considered exciting yet?” His words implied he didn’t even regard the two on stage—Jin Tianzuo and Jun Bulang—as worthy opponents, his arrogance beyond ordinary.

Fortunately, the spectators focused on the intense duel above, and no one noticed the young gentleman’s words—otherwise, it would have caused an uproar.

Er Wen asked in confusion, “Who could surpass the core power of the Five Great Spirit Sects’ Falling Leaf Sect? If I’m not mistaken, the gold-bearded one is Third Gentleman Jin Tianzuo—the old man has come out of seclusion.” He shook his head in disbelief.

Da Wu laughed. “Er Wen, you never admit your own ignorance—no wonder you run about in armor all day. I’m telling you, these three are even greater than Jin Tianzuo.”

Er Wen asked curiously, “Who? Are you talking about me, Second Lord? Though I consider myself unmatched, against Old Jin I might barely hold my own. To claim superiority—well, I dare not.”

Da Wu smirked. “So you do know your limits.”

Hurry and check out the author’s recommended works.