Chapter Thirty-Two: Clash of Geniuses (Part Two)

Ji Mo’s name was one he had heard before. Her performance during the selection was so dazzling that she drew everyone’s attention; and after her entry, her conduct remained so peculiar that it was impossible not to take notice. Yet today was the first time they met face-to-face. Ji Mo’s cultivation was only at the third stage of Qi Refining, but the moment Mu Baiyun saw her, a notion rose unbidden in his heart—this person was his true rival.

“Very well, I’ll accept your challenge.” Ji Mo was not one for courtesy. No sooner had she spoken than she surged forward, fist raised, charging at Mu Baiyun. The pressure Mu Baiyun exerted was far beyond anything Zhong Yao could muster. When she’d attacked Zhong Yao before, she’d only used a fraction of her strength, and even as her fist was about to connect, she’d deliberately held back. But now, facing Mu Baiyun, she unleashed the bulk of her power from the very start.

Mu Baiyun was not only a master of swordsmanship; his body-tempering had reached the peak of the tenth postnatal layer. Coupled with his sixth-stage Qi Refining, his physical strength and resilience should not have been inferior to Ji Mo’s. So when he saw Ji Mo attacking with nothing but her fists, he gave a short laugh, did not draw his sword, and met her with his own fist.

The judge standing at the edge of the dueling platform couldn’t help but close his eyes, sighing inwardly, “Ah, Mu Baiyun is far too proud.”

Bang! The two fists collided, pure and unembellished. Ji Mo stood unmoved as a mountain, while Mu Baiyun was sent stumbling back seven or eight steps before he could steady himself. A faint flush crept up his pale cheeks. He took a dozen breaths before finally saying, “Sister Ji, you are indeed formidable!”

“Brother Mu, are you mocking me? My specialty is body-tempering, and my Qi Refining is only at the third stage. You, on the other hand, are at the sixth stage and a sword cultivator at that. Yet you chose to confront me with your bare hands. If you intend to persist in this way, don’t blame me for showing no mercy.” Ji Mo’s expression darkened, her pretty face clouded with displeasure.

“I overestimated myself. The power of the Transcendence Realm is truly beyond what late-stage body-tempering can compare with. Sister Ji, take my sword!” Mu Baiyun took a deep breath, forcing down the surging qi and blood within him. He borrowed an ordinary iron sword from one of the disciples watching below, and with a sound like wind and thunder gathering, he slashed at Ji Mo.

Mu Baiyun’s renown was not baseless. The sword he had nurtured was an earth-grade spiritual weapon, the Rainbow Severing Sword, one of the five great earth-grade spiritual swords of the Spirit Sword Peak. Legend had it the sword was the relic of the peak’s second-generation master, the True Lord Severing Rainbow, who had once been a mighty nascent soul cultivator before disappearing under mysterious circumstances, leaving his weapon in the Spirit Armory.

Three years ago, when Mu Baiyun had first advanced to the third stage of Qi Refining and entered the Spirit Armory, the Rainbow Severing Sword had chosen him as its master. This caused a great stir in Moonwatch Sect—the sword had lain dormant for tens of thousands of years, yet now acknowledged a mere Qi Refining youth. It was impossible not to provoke an uproar.

That was three years ago. Now, after three years of nurturing, even though he could not yet fully bond with it, the power of an earth-grade spiritual weapon was undeniable. Even if Mu Baiyun could only wield a fraction of its strength, Ji Mo would stand no chance. But Mu Baiyun’s pride was such that, though he could not best her bare-handed, he refused to use the Rainbow Severing Sword to win.

In Mu Baiyun’s hand was nothing more than an ordinary iron sword, but as he slashed, the wind and thunder still roared. This alone showed that his sword skills had reached the threshold of mastery. Ji Mo, seeing that Mu Baiyun chose to fight her with a mere iron sword, was somewhat vexed. As the longsword came cleaving down, she leapt nimbly into the air and swung her fist at the blade itself.

Mu Baiyun’s eyes flashed. This junior sister Ji was truly bold—she dared to meet the sword’s sharp edge with nothing but flesh and bone. Since she was so reckless, he could not be blamed for teaching her a lesson. With that thought, the sword, roaring with wind and thunder, slashed toward Ji Mo’s arm.

Bang! Man and sword collided. Mu Baiyun was sent flying several yards, while Ji Mo was knocked from midair to the ground. Once she regained her footing, she discovered a deep sword wound had appeared on her arm. Ji Mo’s eyes flickered—Mu Baiyun was indeed strong; with an iron sword alone, he could still wound her.

Yet Ji Mo’s regenerative power bordered on monstrous. The wound on her arm bled only a moment before the bleeding slowed, the injury closing with terrifying speed.

Mu Baiyun, struck by Ji Mo’s punch, tumbled twice in the air before landing. Qi and blood churned within him. Two head-on exchanges, and neither had gained the upper hand. Far from being cowed, Mu Baiyun’s fighting spirit blazed in his eyes. He raised his sword and charged again.

Mu Baiyun was born with sword bones—a prodigy among sword cultivators. Though he had practiced the Thunderclap Sword for only a few years, he had already grasped its essence. Now, unleashing his full skill, Ji Mo felt as though she were caught in a raging sea of wind and thunder, a lone boat tossed about, unable to escape.

With no choice, she met force with force. But Mu Baiyun’s sword aura enveloped her, slowing her every move. Each time she threw a punch, the sword was already upon her, while her fist struck empty air. Relying on her formidable regeneration, she ignored the pain of sword cuts and unleashed dozens of punches in the blink of an eye.

Mu Baiyun saw that every strike left only a shallow wound on Ji Mo’s body—nothing truly effective. His competitive spirit was fully ignited. With a clear shout, he unleashed all thirteen forms of the Thunderclap Sword in a chain, pouring even the embryonic intent of the final move into his attack.

Below the dueling platform, the audience saw only the storm of wind and thunder, crackling lightning—no trace of the combatants could be seen. Within that tempest, the instant Mu Baiyun’s sword intent pierced forth, Ji Mo’s heart jolted with alarm; every hair on her body stood on end. She tried to evade, but there was nowhere to go.

A moment later, the three-foot blade pierced through her left shoulder without resistance. Ji Mo grunted, and in the instant the sword was lodged in her body, she seized the opening, driving her right fist into Mu Baiyun, who was only a few feet away.

Mu Baiyun’s sword was still stuck in Ji Mo’s flesh; helpless, he could only meet her with his own fist. The blow sent Mu Baiyun flying from the platform, while Ji Mo, after landing her punch, collapsed onto the stage. The iron sword quivered in her left shoulder.

Mu Baiyun, expelled from the ring by Ji Mo’s punch, closed his eyes and regulated his breath for a dozen cycles before leaping back onto the stage, his face pale and expression complicated. “I admit defeat,” he said.

“No, Brother Mu, it is I who lost. With only an ordinary iron sword, you were my equal. Had you used your spiritual sword, I would have stood no chance.” Ji Mo shook her head. Though she lacked much combat experience, she was no fool. Mu Baiyun was a sword cultivator with a spirit sword at his command. If this had been a true life-and-death duel, she would have perished.

“Sister Ji, you jest. You fought bare-handed. If I had used my spirit sword, it would hardly be honorable. Aside from not employing a spiritual weapon, I gave my all—and yet you knocked me from the platform. No matter how you look at it, I lost,” Mu Baiyun replied, unpersuaded by her argument.

“Ahem, why not call this match a draw?” The judge, who had been silent all this time, finally stepped forward. The thrilling duel had left his heart pounding. These two were rare geniuses the sect had not seen in centuries. Had anything truly gone wrong, he would not know how to answer to the sect. Thankfully, it ended without disaster.

“Lost means lost. Why call it a draw?” Mu Baiyun frowned. He had been knocked from the stage by Ji Mo; whatever the reason, it was a loss. He could not accept it being declared a tie.

“Brother Mu, if you insist on offering those hundred contribution points, I will accept them with gratitude.” Ji Mo’s lips twitched into a smile that was not quite a smile. She yanked the sword from her shoulder and tossed it to the ground, her tone light.

The judge opened his mouth, but seeing their determination, he could say no more. As for those below the platform, few believed Mu Baiyun had truly lost. Though he’d been knocked out of the ring, Ji Mo’s injuries were clearly more severe.

“Sister Ji, take this Hundred Spirit Pill. It will heal your wound swiftly. Also, I look forward to facing you again at the sect’s grand competition ten years hence.” Mu Baiyun, seeing the blood streaming from Ji Mo’s shoulder, immediately produced a small pale green jade bottle and handed it to her.

“Thank you, Brother Mu. In ten years, at your cultivation rate, you’ll likely have reached Foundation Establishment. I fear I won’t be your match then.” Ji Mo took the bottle and shook her head, unafraid of speaking plainly, even if it meant boosting her opponent’s morale over her own.