Stop right there.

Under the guidance of Du Haifan’s eight flying knives, the countless flowers across the mountain were swept up into the barren field above. Upon closer inspection, the height reached over sixty feet. The knives spun at incredible speed, stirring the sea of blossoms into a vast, all-encompassing tornado that fully enveloped the two masters within. From thirty feet away, the gathering crowd grew larger and larger, yet the flower storm obscured their view, hiding the master's figures from sight. Outside the floral tornado, the spectacle was magnificent and breathtaking, while inside, danger lurked at every turn. The eight flying knives circled the vortex, occasionally darting out to counter the raging currents. The swirling blooms confused Song Qingtian’s eyes completely, but masters no longer relied on sight alone in battle; they fought with their hearts as mirrors and their spirits as weapons. When forces were evenly matched, victory hinged on who could find a new path, exploit an opponent’s slight flaw, and seize the advantage.

Regrettably, these two top-ranked swordsmen in the world had honed their martial paths through relentless trials, nearing the perfect union of mind and weapon. Their minute imperfections were hidden without a trace, which explained the staggering length of their duel—three days and three nights without end.

Song Qingtian closed his eyes and declared, “Though heaven and earth may collapse, I shall remain unyielding in my dominance.”

The King of Blades, seeing his opponent unleash his signature skill, no longer held back. He extended his hand forward, causing the flower sea to retreat three feet, clearing a tranquil space. Then his colossal blade surged into the floral whirlwind, stirring the elements. The onlookers witnessed the floral tornado sway unpredictably, on the verge of bursting apart. Suddenly, a seventeen-foot-tall mirage of scarlet emerged from the side of the flower storm, gradually encroaching like a voracious predator. The two forces rose and fell, evenly matched. After an hour of stalemate, the flower sea exploded with a thunderous roar, scattering blossoms like rain. As the petals settled and blanketed the mountain peak, the crowd finally saw the red shadow behind the King of Blades begin to dissipate. Unlike Song Linjie’s complete enveloping aura, it stood behind him, amplifying his presence.

Song Linjie gazed at his grandfather’s figure in the distance, relieved to see him unharmed.

Li Jingqiu’s expression remained grave. “This is just the beginning.”

The academy’s attendees were astonished. Had the titanic battle just witnessed not yet reached its conclusion?

Li Jingqiu, unshaken, calmly explained, “That was merely a warm-up—a small taste of their skill. They drew upon the power of heaven and earth, a technique unique to the Return to Origin realm, unleashing a force capable of overturning mountains. Now, the real decisive battle begins.”

Du Haifan’s heart settled firmly to the ground. No longer riding the flying knives, he switched to wielding the Ice Blossom Blade by hand. The eight flying knives returned, four clinging closely to each side of the Ice Blossom Blade, channeling the absorbed power of heaven and earth into the main blade. Du Haifan asked, “Brother Song, shall we continue?”

With the flying knives supporting and the hand blade striking the main blows, Zhang Ling observed carefully, committing every detail to memory.

---

Song Qingtian offered no reply. He exhaled softly, inhaled deeply, and his aura surged anew with a sudden intensity.

The three essentials of the Overbearing Blade technique: first, swift strikes, facing death without retreat—this had long been understood by the master and his disciples, grandfather and grandson alike. Second, piercing breakthroughs—through relentless assault, uncovering the opponent's weak points, attacking their vulnerabilities—Song Yutian and Li Jingqiu had mastered this, and Song Linjie was nearly there, lacking only the final step in combat. The third essential was true overbearing spirit—not only must the blade be resolute, but so must the wielder's character. The one Song Qingtian worried about least was the currently trailing Song Linjie; the others fell far short of this ideal.

Song Qingtian skipped the first two stages entirely, entering the unrivaled realm of Overbearing Spirit. His gigantic blade roared like a lion shaking mountains, a spectacle so extraordinary that even spectators thirty feet away trembled with awe. Had they drawn nearer, they might have fled in fright. In sheer momentum, Song Qingtian dominated supreme.

Du Haifan faced no fear. His blade concealed a restrained power, silent until it struck—a sudden, earth-shattering force that caused the world to gasp at its rise and fall.

Within the imperial city, many martial heroes gazed toward the scene. Yet from such distance, once the flower sea shattered, the view blurred. They shifted toward the southern city gate, hoping to catch a glimpse before the victor emerged.

Inside the palace, the Imperial Tutor Wang Qianzhong’s mind was elsewhere. For the emperor’s safety, he climbed to the rooftop, keenly sensing the battle’s pulse. Though himself a master of the Return to Origin realm, a supreme grandmaster, he still faced an insurmountable gulf compared to Song Qingtian’s unparalleled warrior spirit. He earnestly wished for this fight to be the leap that would elevate him.

Throughout Jin Yu City, only the diligent Prime Minister Xiao Qin remained unmoved by the display of heaven-and-earth power wielded by two grandmasters. Focused on reviewing official documents, his lips nonetheless muttered curses—not from the paperwork’s burden, but in scorn for the corrupt officials neglecting their duties: “Wang Qianzhong, you old fool, why don’t you just become a monk? Standing there like a useless statue, you’re just asking for heaven to strike you down.”

The world’s two top swordsmen wielded blade momentum that had reached the pinnacle, unstoppable once unleashed. From the mountain’s vantage point, the King of Blades’ single strike shook heaven and earth like a lion battling a rabbit, expending all his might and naturally gaining the upper hand. Experts knew well that Du Haifan concentrated all his momentum into the single Ice Blossom Blade. Outwardly gentle and harmless, it was in truth a voracious maw devouring the torrent of power, gradually turning the tide.

The battle began to level. Du Haifan shed his fragile gentleman’s guise, leapt upward, ascending like an immortal basking in the spring breeze, determined to seize victory in one fell swoop.

He laughed aloud, “Brother Song, it seems I shall hold the title of number one swordsman for another ten years.”

---

From the moment they first met, these two had been kindred spirits and rivals, spurring each other onward along the path of the blade. In the beginning, they could distinguish victories by individual moves, but once both ascended to grandmaster ranks, even the slightest progress failed to shake the other. Thus they had fought for decades. Du Haifan, nearing his sixtieth year, felt a surge of excitement, intensifying his momentum and pressing his blade without reservation.

Song Qingtian swallowed hard, exhaling a mouthful of blood, easing his discomfort. Born stubborn, he refused to yield even an inch, despite his suffering.

Du Haifan withdrew his blade and stepped back, preparing to gather energy for a decisive strike.

Song Linjie anxiously asked, “Is he about to lose?”

Just as Du Haifan pressed forward, an unexpected vine wrapped around his ankle. He intended to sever it with a blade, but suddenly a heavy palm struck his chest. The blow was thick and seasoned, reversing his vital energy and dissipating much of the blade’s remaining force.

Du Haifan sighed inwardly. This fight had never been fair; outside interference was inevitable. Upon reflection, he realized that winning the title of number one swordsman under such conditions was beneath his usual carefree nature.

Calm, he saluted an empty space without a word and departed mysteriously. The scattered flying knives followed in his wake.

Even the stubborn Song Qingtian finally exhaled with relief. The title of the world’s greatest swordsman need not be surrendered so begrudgingly.