The tall tower radiated golden light among the clustered buildings, which resembled a mountain city. A young man in white ascended the winding stairs, his steps leading him to the highest point of the Celestial Rankings.
All eyes were on him, and a buzz of conversation spread through the crowd.
A young boy with a tender face, holding a miniature pavilion, looked at the young man in white and gently shook his head.
“Senior Brother, can you tell how formidable he is?” asked a delicate young girl standing beside the boy.
The boy replied, “I saw his eyebrows, and that’s why I shook my head.”
The girl asked, “What’s wrong with his eyebrows? His features are quite handsome.”
“Superficial,” the boy said coldly. “There’s frost and snow between his brows. He flew here on his sword, yet he couldn’t even maintain a spiritual protective aura. How could he be a match for Young Master Xiao Qiu?”
Only then did the girl notice the faint particles of frost and ice crystals clinging between the eyebrows and hair of the approaching young man. They were slowly melting, moistening his brows and eyes. Consequently, his face, pale and slightly dry from the cold wind, now appeared somewhat dewy, like mist among picturesque rivers and mountains, giving him a subtly enigmatic look.
“Senior Brother truly observes carefully,” the girl said. “But… if he dares to come, he must have some support, mustn’t he?”
The boy replied, “Many challengers come for the rankings, but most are merely seeking fame. They just want to use the Celestial Rankings and the powerful figures residing there to gain notoriety. Such individuals might possess some skill, but to truly win… hah, that’s just wishful thinking.”
“I see,” the girl nodded.
Still, the young man looked quite handsome. It was a pity he was about to be beaten—at best, he’d end up bruised and swollen; at worst, his body would be crippled.
Xiao Qiu had just been defeated by a Sword Pavilion disciple, and after months of preparation, his spear intent was now overwhelmingly formidable. The Celestial Rankings had seen few challengers in the past two months, likely because even those fame-seekers Senior Brother mentioned had chosen to avoid his prowess.
The young man in white walked past the building without sparing them a glance.
The girl snorted coldly and muttered, “What an act! Walking so slowly, is he afraid people won’t remember his face? And not saying a word… Does he really think he’s a master?”
The boy said, “Don’t bother looking. The Celestial Star Rankings are showing anomalies… The divine spirits have spoken again; hurry and interpret it. You’ll see many more challengers who are just for show in the future; don’t pay them any mind.”
The girl hummed in acknowledgment and began transcribing the characters that had evolved from the Immortal Rankings within their pavilion.
After a month of relentless travel through wind and snow, Ning Changjiu was ultimately a little weary.
He wore simple clothes and carried an ordinary sword, paying no attention to the crowd’s murmurs. His steps synchronized with his breathing as he slowly ascended the Celestial Rankings.
The tall building of the Celestial Rankings was covered in snow.
The snow was piled neatly and cleanly, without a single footprint.
“What is your name?” Xiao Qiu asked, looking at the newcomer.
The young man’s slow pace had already made him somewhat impatient.
Ning Changjiu replied, “My name is Zhang Jiu, and I am from the Ancient Spirit Sect.”
“Zhang Jiu?”
As one of the eight great divine sects of the Central Plains, the Ancient Spirit Sect was naturally known to Xiao Qiu. However, among his peers within the Ancient Spirit Sect, the strongest seemed to have only reached the Sixth Floor. And for the younger generation, it was said that only a man named Ming Lang and a girl named Ning Xiaoling had entered the Purple Court.
Zhang Jiu… a name he had never heard before.
Xiao Qiu said, “I heard the Ancient Spirit Sect recently suffered a great upheaval.”
Ning Changjiu nodded, “Indeed.”
Xiao Qiu looked at his slightly moist brows and hair, smiled, and simply said, “My condolences.”
With that, he reached out and grasped the spear shaft standing in the snow, then turned and walked into the building.
The rules of the Celestial Rankings were simple: the winner of the current floor’s competition could proceed to the top floor to meet the Ranking Spirit. The spirit would then present a long scroll, and the victor simply needed to write upon it whatever message they wished to proclaim to the world.
Thus, challengers needed no distractions; only victory mattered.
While the young man in white’s challenge caused a stir within the building, most people remained occupied with their own affairs. Only a few idlers turned their gaze towards the tall structure, anticipating the arrogant, seemingly “punchable” young man being physically thrown out.
Ning Changjiu entered the room.
Xiao Qiu stood with his back to him, holding his spear.
It was a peculiar spear; its shaft was as bright as a mirror, reflecting the images of both Xiao Qiu and Ning Changjiu. It appeared incredibly fragile, yet simultaneously seemed to contain infinite space.
“You can still leave now,” Xiao Qiu said. “My spear will show no mercy later, regardless of your sect’s recent tragedy.”
“There’s no need,” Ning Changjiu replied.
Xiao Qiu turned around, looked at him, and asked, “I heard the new Sect Master of the Ancient Spirit Sect is a woman?”
Ning Changjiu nodded, “Yes.”
Xiao Qiu asked, “Did your Sect Master order you to come here?”
Ning Changjiu thought for a moment and replied, “Yes.”
Xiao Qiu laughed, “I imagine your Sect Master must be a peerless beauty; otherwise, why would you willingly risk damaging your cultivation to come here? Those who recklessly endanger themselves for a woman never meet a good end.”
Ning Changjiu listened to Xiao Qiu’s words. If not for him, Ning Changjiu would have even forgotten that Siming was still the Ancient Spirit Sect’s Master…
And Lu Jiajia was the Sect Master of the Imperial Sword Heavenly Sect.
Hundreds of years ago, the Sect Masters of these two sects were still lovers…
Ning Changjiu inexplicably thought of these things, then lightly bit his lip. Pondering what might have happened during his absence, he couldn’t help but gasp… His kind and innocent Jiajia, encountering such a treacherous and cunning woman, surely she must be living a miserable life every day… He should have brought Jiajia with him.
Ning Changjiu felt a pang of guilt.
Xiao Qiu watched his slightly conflicted gaze, assuming he had struck a nerve. He smiled faintly, “If you wish to leave, I won’t force you to stay.”
However, if he left, the Ancient Spirit Sect, now just a facade, would be utterly disgraced.
Ning Changjiu shook his head. “I’m not leaving.”
With that, he slowly drew his sword and said, “The Sect Master said my swordplay is quite good, and my spear skills are passable, so I might as well try.”
Xiao Qiu said, “Your Sect Master wants you dead.”
He said no more. Gripping his spear, he twisted his wrist.
The spear tip pointed downwards, slowly sweeping across the ground in a seemingly gentle arc.
Ning Changjiu stared at the trajectory of the spear tip and suddenly asked, “How many sword strikes did the Eighth Disciple of the Sword Pavilion use to defeat you?”
Xiao Qiu’s expression sharpened.
That battle had been his glory, as for centuries, no Sword Pavilion disciple of comparable cultivation had ever been defeated outside their sect. Yet, it was also his sore spot, for three months prior, the Sword Pavilion disciples’ undefeated myth had been shattered. It was rumored that at the Sea Kingdom Banquet, a stunning woman in white had defeated the Seventh Disciple of the Sword Pavilion with a single sword, and when he asked for her name, she gave no reply. This incident had caused a huge stir.
For someone else to accomplish what he could not was always painful.
This young man named Zhang Jiu was clearly deliberately poking at his wound.
“Do you intend to disrupt my Dao heart with such lowly words?” Xiao Qiu gently shook his head, his sigh tinged with suppressed anger.
Ning Changjiu replied, “I merely wanted to ask.”
Xiao Qiu took a deep breath. An image of that battle, which had replayed in his mind countless times, flashed before him. He calmly replied, “Five sword strikes.”
Ning Changjiu nodded and remained silent.
Xiao Qiu looked at his face, having already resolved to cripple him.
He gripped the spear shaft, arms spread wide. One end of the spear rested against his back, the other angled towards the ground. Muscles beneath his clothes rippled like water. The light in the room seemed to be drawn into the spear’s mirrored surface, dimming the surroundings, with all brilliance converging on the weapon itself. At a glance, it looked as though Xiao Qiu held a beam of light in his hand.
Ning Changjiu did not look at Xiao Qiu’s spear. He deliberately drew the sword from his sheath.
Xiao Qiu looked at his sword and shook his head again.
He could tell at a glance that it wasn’t a truly good sword; it was merely a standard weapon for an inner sect disciple.
“Your new Sect Master truly has a venomous heart,” Xiao Qiu remarked.
Ning Changjiu did not refute him. “That’s true,” he said.
Xiao Qiu frowned, finding him very peculiar.
His words were strange, and his swordplay was even stranger.
This strangeness was akin to the Empty Fort Strategy in military tactics—his movements were remarkably simple, riddled with flaws, like those of a novice sword disciple.
Xiao Qiu had never encountered such a person, which made him feel it was peculiar. But then he reconsidered: perhaps this feeling of not knowing where to begin was simply because the opponent had too many weaknesses, and he didn’t know which one to exploit first.
Finding the opponent’s handsome, aloof face rather annoying, he decided not to hold back any longer.
Suddenly, Xiao Qiu’s body crouched down. His posture was like a spring compressed by a finger, holding immense potential energy, ready to erupt at any moment. His toes shifted slightly on the floor, his footing instantly secure. He fixed his gaze on his opponent, his taut body pushed to its limit, then exploded into motion.
The sound of two quick steps was almost imperceptible. In the very next moment, Xiao Qiu leaped up, his form like a soaring eagle. He raised the translucent, mirror-bright long spear and swung it down towards Ning Changjiu’s position.
It was a devastating, sweeping strike.
Ning Changjiu stood not far from the doorway.
A strong wind suddenly rose behind him, carrying snowflakes that swirled in and brushed against his cheek.
The gentle snowflakes carried by the wind and the fierce long spear approaching head-on created a contradictory beauty.
Ning Changjiu stared at the spear.
The long spear struck down like a bolt of lightning.
Steel clashed loudly.
Xiao Qiu’s expression shifted slightly. He had expected the young man to use some unusual footwork to evade, but he hadn’t anticipated him directly meeting the strike with that slender sword blade.
Ning Changjiu parried the first spear strike. The sword blade clashed with the spear shaft, causing his body to sway slightly, and the spear shaft was deflected.
Xiao Qiu’s expression remained unchanged. Gripping the spear, he swung his arm, sweeping it down diagonally again towards Ning Changjiu.
Ning Changjiu stood his ground, his wrist rotating. The sword blade pierced into the long spear’s trajectory, like a butterfly flying into a storm. This sword strike miraculously and precisely hit the spearhead, and amidst the metallic sparks, the spear was again knocked away by Ning Changjiu’s sword.
Xiao Qiu remained airborne, never touching the ground. After two spear strikes were blocked, he used the momentum, gripping the spear with both hands, and swung it in a massive semi-circular arc in the air. With no frills, he brought it down towards Ning Changjiu’s head with immense, crushing force.
Ning Changjiu raised his sword to block.
The spear shaft collided with the sword blade, erupting in a plume of snowy white sword fire that instantly bleached Ning Changjiu’s pupils white. His body was sent sliding backward by the impact, almost breaking through the door.
But within that bright white light, Xiao Qiu distinctly saw that Ning Changjiu’s eyes were exceptionally calm.
Xiao Qiu landed, his clothes billowing around him. Lightning, like surging dragons, coursed within, and abundant destructive power erupted from his body. He gripped the long spear with both hands and suddenly shook it. On the mirrored spear shaft, countless afterimages flickered. Though these mirrored spear images were illusory, they reflected each other, layer upon layer, instantly filling the entire room, forming a towering wall like a giant wave.
This was the final spear strike he had used against the Eighth Disciple of the Sword Pavilion.
Back then, Zhandi had found the true spear among his countless afterimages. With a single, simple sword strike, he had destroyed all the spear afterimages along with the real weapon.
But there was only one Eighth Disciple of the Sword Pavilion in the world.
The spear descended like a great tide.
The only thing he couldn’t comprehend was why the young man remained utterly unperturbed.
Ning Changjiu raised his sword. This sword technique was deeply ingrained in his memory—Qiu Ziguan’s Ascension Sword.
Although Qiu Ziguan’s end was unfortunate, his magnificent spirit—scoffing at the world, disregarding true dragons and phoenixes, and solely aspiring to the grand Dao of ascension—was truly worthy of the title “Sword Saint” of that era.
Ning Changjiu held the sword.
The radiance of the Golden Crow, the power of Asura, and countless insights into the Way of the Sword all attached themselves to the blade. They were like fire and lightning, and also like a candle flame igniting in an instant.
Ning Changjiu looked at the sword but remained unsatisfied. He flicked his wrist.
Everything on the sword blade vanished in a flash, turning to darkness, casting no metallic sheen.
This was the Sword of the Underworld.
But Ning Changjiu was still not entirely satisfied. He flicked his wrist again, and the sword turned blood-red, carrying the murderous intent of piercing through seas of people to create mountains of corpses. He flicked his wrist once more, and the sword transformed into graceful cranes and white rainbows; on the sword tip, figures of snow-clad women swayed, drawing their swords and dancing with the wind.
This was a sword technique Ning Changjiu had comprehended while watching women dance at the Sea Kingdom Banquet, but he had never used it, fearing Lu Jiajia would strike him if she saw it.
All of this happened in mere instants.
Xiao Qiu caught this fleeting moment, filled with doubt and surprise. What kind of bizarre trickery was this? It wasn’t drawing a sword; it was clearly like performing Beijing Opera’s “face-changing” for himself.
The sky full of spear afterimages poured down.
Ning Changjiu simultaneously looked up and thrust out his sword.
The air inside the room seemed to be instantly sucked out, and the snowflakes from outside rushed in, filling the entire space.
Ning Changjiu’s figure disappeared amidst the swirling snowflakes.
This was a spell once performed by the White Crane True Monarch.
When spear afterimages filled every corner of the room, where could Ning Changjiu hide?
After Xiao Qiu’s spear landed, he immediately retracted it and looked back. The sweeping snow was like fragments of silver swords, parting before his brows like water currents splitting around a reef.
Suddenly, a single snowflake slowly drifted down and gently stopped before his eyes.
“Presumptuous,” Xiao Qiu growled. Without hesitation, he thrust his spear at the snowflake.
The remaining afterimages pressed forward simultaneously.
But those afterimages did not obey his guidance.
He suddenly realized that every spear afterimage was covered with a snowflake. These snowflakes were like winter cicadas fluttering their wings; they clung to the spears, immobilizing them all.
The snowflake falling before his eyes magnified in his vision, then suddenly exploded in the depths of his pupils.
Amidst the dusty silver fragments, Ning Changjiu’s sword, parting clouds and waves, had already struck down like lightning.
This single sword strike contained several entirely distinct auras. Xiao Qiu felt as if he wasn’t facing one person, but seven disciples from different sects simultaneously drawing their swords and displaying their unique techniques.
There was no longer any hint of underestimation in his eyes.
Xiao Qiu ignored the mixed sword intents. His mind instantly expanded, locking onto the exact location of that snowflake.
He was a disciple of the Mysterious Pill Saint Pavilion, diligently practicing martial arts and refining medicine for self-sufficiency. His greatest mastery was spear techniques, a martial art passed down through his family. His father, a general in a mortal dynasty, though unable to cultivate, had achieved illustrious military feats. Before sending Xiao Qiu to train at the Mysterious Pill Saint Pavilion, his father had privately taught him those peerless combat techniques gleaned from life-and-death battles, cherishing them like family treasures. But Xiao Qiu had never truly taken them to heart.
He knew his father was a formidable general, but his father was not a cultivator. The experiences honed on mortal battlefields seemed more like an old man’s stubbornness, and to dismiss them would be to dismiss his father’s entire military life. He had accepted the long spear passed down by his father, but he had never used it, for that scarred weapon was far too ordinary compared to this “Shadowless” one.
Now, as the sky-filled spear afterimages were broken and a snowflake was about to strike his brow, many words the old man had spoken suddenly flooded his mind.
He had thought he had long forgotten them.
The snowflake entered his eye.
Xiao Qiu let out a fierce, low roar. He pressed his body forward, his shoulders swinging with a huge, powerful motion. From his creaking bones, the mirror-like spear shaft spat flames, thrusting out as if thrown.
He then realized that this was the fastest spear strike he had ever launched in his life. In this single strike, his abundant spiritual energy and resilient muscles were pushed to their absolute limits.
He even felt that this spear strike could defeat Zhandi.
The snowflake was swallowed by the flames.
Ning Changjiu’s figure appeared, and his eyes revealed a hint of approval.
This spear strike was fast, but within his temporal authority, it was as slow as an old ox pulling a cart. He pinpointed the spear’s most vulnerable point and swung his sword down.
The long spear was struck to the ground.
The flames extinguished.
Ning Changjiu held his sword in one hand, half his body wreathed in wind and snow.
This was Xiao Qiu’s fastest spear strike, yet he defeated it with only one move.
Xiao Qiu still held the posture of having thrown the long spear.
He stared blankly at the spear on the ground, unable to comprehend why.
“You value your life too much,” Ning Changjiu said. “These countless spear afterimages seem powerful, but they are not your strength; they are your cowardice.”
Xiao Qiu’s mind was suddenly jolted.
He clutched his head, suddenly recalling his childhood sparring sessions with his father. His bamboo sword had been knocked to the ground countless times, his arms long numb. He cried, saying he didn’t want to practice anymore, but his father was relentless. Unable to bear it, he furiously threw the bamboo sword, then charged at his father’s wooden stick, yelling and scratching.
In the end, he won, because his cries had startled his mother, who rushed over. She instantly bowed to his fierce-looking father, then stroked his head, adopting a benevolent demeanor.
This mental disorientation should have been fatal, yet it allowed him to gain a new enlightenment.
He didn’t pick up the spear from the ground; instead, he casually made a grasping motion, as if holding an invisible spear.
He slowly straightened up, staring at Ning Changjiu.
“I don’t know who you truly are, but I thank you for not striking me just now,” Xiao Qiu said. “I will repay your benevolence with this spear strike.”
Ning Changjiu nodded gently. “It’s a good spear,” he said.
Xiao Qiu said nothing. He used every ounce of his strength, even from the roots of his hair, to unleash this “shadowless” spear strike.
This single strike consumed all his strength.
Snowflakes were still dancing in the room.
Ning Changjiu stared at the howling void approaching him and extended his finger.
He could have easily evaded it with the Water Moon in Mirror technique, but he still chose to meet it head-on.
Like cicadas, the snowflakes flapped their wings and converged from all directions within the room.
Cold snow formed a sword.
The tangible sword collided with the shadowless spear.
Before Xiao Qiu could react, the tide of snow slammed into him. He was violently thrown backward by a force and pressed against the wall.
He slowly slid down the wall and sat on the ground.
Snowflakes landed on his hair, clothes, brows, and lips, covering him as if he were a snowman.
Xiao Qiu’s lips trembled.
Earlier, he had a great realization just before facing death, and now his “shadowless” spear had made significant progress. Yet, these two strikes, which should have turned the tide, were easily overcome by his opponent. Although the young man appeared to have exerted some effort, his face was only slightly pale, and he hadn’t even retreated a single step.
“You… who exactly are you?!” Xiao Qiu’s voice was filled with shock.
He had never been so discomfited.
Ning Changjiu replied, “I am Zhang Jiu.”
Xiao Qiu felt this statement was an insult he could not bear. He suddenly reached out and took out a pill.
It was the God-Devouring Destruction Pill.
He had first gained fame by refining this pill while still in the Long Life realm.
This pill would temporarily devour a cultivator’s spiritual energy in exchange for power that surpassed physical limits.
This was a pill to be consumed during life-and-death struggles. Although Xiao Qiu had gained fame from it, he had never taken it himself.
“Don’t take that; it’s not good for your body,” Ning Changjiu sincerely advised.
These words, however, utterly enraged Xiao Qiu. He took the pill, bit it, and swallowed it.
Xiao Qiu looked up.
His aura had changed; his pupils burned with a blood-red light, and hot spiritual power erupted from his body like fire.
He surged upward and fiercely gripped the long spear on the ground.
The flames on his body also ignited the spear shaft. At this moment, there were no more illusions within the spear, only pure, unrestrained rage.
His two previous enlightenments now overlapped.
He gripped the spear tightly, like a vengeful spirit encountering the enemy who had killed him in life.
This spear strike blurred the line between illusion and reality.
“You broke the rules!”
Within the Celestial Rankings, a voice suddenly boomed, its gender indistinguishable yet deafening, nearly startling Xiao Qiu, who was lost in power, back to consciousness.
It was the Ranking Spirit of the Celestial Rankings.
“It’s fine,” Ning Changjiu reassured the Ranking Spirit.
He intently watched this spear strike, not letting his guard down.
Although Xiao Qiu’s cultivation level was incomparable to the other enemies he had encountered, with this spear strike, he had done his absolute best.
Ning Changjiu’s pupils turned golden, and golden light, like lightning, also flashed on his white robes.
He gripped his sword with both hands and slashed at a point in the void before him.
The sword cut through space as if it were paper.
Flames burst forth, and the spear, so fast it had vanished into the void, was astonishingly revealed and cut once more.
The sword pressed against the high-speed rotating spear tip, and the aura of the underworld, like maggots clinging to bone, instantly enveloped the long spear.
The flames were instantly devoured.
The highly spiritual divine weapon thought it had died, stopped spinning, lost all power to fight, and lay limply on the ground.
Xiao Qiu, exhausted, knelt on the ground. He stared at the spear, slowly regaining his senses.
“W-why?” Xiao Qiu had never imagined the process or outcome of this battle.
Ning Changjiu offered comfort, “You did very well.”
Xiao Qiu couldn’t accept this answer; it felt like a teacher lecturing him…
He remained stunned for a long time.
“Why!” He suddenly looked up, craning his neck, and asked in a near-roar, “Why can you always see through my spear?! Why…”
Ning Changjiu thought for a moment and replied, “Your spear is like a clear mirror, and my heart is also like a clear mirror.”
In the wind and snow, Xiao Qiu stumbled out, carrying the spear.
The spear spirit of this weapon returned to its senses, realizing it had been deceived. It buzzed with indignation, eager to fight again.
But Xiao Qiu no longer had the strength to fight, nor the will.
Xiao Qiu slowly descended the stairs.
At that moment, he suddenly noticed someone else ascending the stairs, a person with neck-length short hair, whose face was both delicate and heroic, making their gender indistinguishable. He wondered if his eyes were deceiving him.
The two walked past each other, brushing shoulders.
“You… who are you?” Xiao Qiu couldn’t help but ask.
The person did not look back, but continued walking forward, calmly replying, “The Fourteenth Disciple of the Sword Pavilion.”
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