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Chapter 73: Ch-73: Cringed Old Man
"Begin."
The bell rang.
Tian Shen moved first.
He didn’t summon flame.
Instead—he drew his sword.
A clean, fluid motion. Quiet as breath. The blade gleamed, and for the first time in a public duel—Tian Shen stepped into the realm of Sword Intent.
Let’s try it, he thought. Let’s see where I stand.
Li Cheng’s eyes narrowed slightly.
"You’re not using your spirit flame?"
Tian Shen didn’t reply. His feet shifted into a forward stance, body low, blade angled slightly downward—flowing like water.
The pressure changed.
Around Tian Shen, a beastial aura emerged.
Li Cheng smiled faintly.
"I see. So you’ve stepped into the path of the sword as well."
He lifted his own blade.
Then—they vanished.
A single clash echoed across the arena.
CLANG!
Sparks flew from the center of the platform.
Both reappeared, skidding away from one another.
Tian Shen’s eyes flickered. Li Cheng was faster. But not by much.
"Good first step," Li Cheng said. "Let’s see your second."
He blurred forward again—faster than before. His sword flicked out in rapid, precise strikes—each one light as a breeze, but sharp enough to carve stone.
Tian Shen stepped between them—parrying, weaving, flowing.
This is like dancing on a blade’s edge...
He couldn’t overpower Li Cheng head-on. So instead, he sought to match rhythm.
Not speed, not strength.
Timing.
And then—he struck.
A precise counter-cut—aimed at Li Cheng’s wrist.
The older disciple tilted his blade, catching the blow. But the force behind it made his eyes widen slightly.
Tian Shen stepped forward—deliberate, smooth. His blade shimmered now with intent. Not merely slashes, but will given edge.
"Who taught you this?"
Li Cheng asked as their blades met again and again.
"This isn’t sect swordsmanship."
Tian Shen didn’t answer. He stepped sideways, spinning the sword into a low arc, grazing Li Cheng’s knee. Blood splattered.
The audience gasped.
He was holding his own—without holding back.
Li Cheng narrowed his gaze.
"Then I shall answer with my own."
He slashed downward—and the sword hummed. A wave of red Sword Qi exploded outward like a whip of compressed lightning.
Tian Shen leapt backward, sword glowing faintly golden red.
And then—he breathed.
For a moment, everything slowed.
He raised his blade.
The wind shifted direction.
And Tian Shen struck—
A single arc.
A sword slash so fine, it shimmered like moonlight on still water. It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t powerful.
But it was clean.
Li Cheng blinked—and blood bloomed across his left shoulder.
The crowd fell silent.
That slash had cut through Li Cheng’s defense—like water flowing through cracks in stone.
"What was that?"
Li Cheng murmured.
Tian Shen exhaled, his chest rising.
"No name. Just a thought I followed."
"Then you’re dangerous," Li Cheng muttered. He grinned. "Time to get serious."
His sword lifted—and all of a sudden, the world narrowed.
Li Cheng’s Sword intent unfolded.
The aura around him turned red—petals of crimson sword light swirling like a blizzard. The air trembled.
His sword moved once—
And hundreds of strikes burst forth, raining down upon Tian Shen from all directions.
Tian Shen stood still.
Then—his blade moved.
One cut. One turn. One pivot.
Every motion smooth, fluid, inevitable.
The strikes hit—but didn’t land.
Each one was deflected by the narrowest margin—redirected along arcs of flowing movement.
It wasn’t just technique.
It was Sword Intent. The Beastial Sword Intent.
And then Tian Shen burst forward—
He spun, his blade whistling like wind through reeds.
One slash.
Two.
Three.
Each one precise—aimed not at the body, but the foundation of Li Cheng, his aura, his intent.
Cracks formed in the swirling petals.
The crowd erupted again.
"Is he dismantling a Core Formation sword intent—with only swordplay?!"
Li Cheng ground his teeth.
He swept his sword horizontally—and all the petals condensed into a single, blooming lotus of energy behind him.
"Crimson Bloom!"
Tian Shen closed his eyes for a heartbeat.
When they opened—gold light shone within.
"Beastial Sword Intent."
The two slashes met.
Silence.
Then—
Boom.
Light burst outward, golden and crimson. The arena trembled. Wind howled. A massive crater formed where they clashed.
Dust clouded the air.
When it settled—
Tian Shen stood with one knee bent, sword embedded in the stone.
Li Cheng stood too—chest heaving, blood at his lip.
But then—he staggered.
And fell.
The bell rang.
[Winner: Tian Shen]
The arena exploded in cheers.
"He won!"
"He didn’t even use his usual!"
"Was that sword intent? That was sword intent, right?!"
Elder Duan stepped forward slowly, looking at Tian Shen with a new gaze.
"...Tian Shen. Prodigy Disciple. You may now enter the Pavilion’s Heart Chamber."
Tian Shen sheathed his sword, the blade still warm from use.
Feng Yin rushed forward, catching his arm.
"You were insane," she hissed, eyes shining. "And brilliant."
He gave her a tired smile.
"I wanted to see how far the sword alone could take me."
She looked at him for a moment—then leaned in close.
"And now everyone knows. The flame isn’t your only weapon."
He chuckled.
The crowd still roared behind them.
But for Tian Shen, the match was over.
...
The Pavilion’s Heart Chamber stood at the highest point of the inner sect’s cultivation grounds—a place few ever saw, and even fewer dared to approach.
It was ancient, older than any living elder, said to be built when the first Sect Master walked the earth.
The Heart Chamber was both blessing and trial. A place of immense opportunity... and equally immense risk.
Tian Shen stood at the foot of its staircase.
The night had deepened. Most disciples were still celebrating his victory, but Elder Duan had led him here in silence, a single lantern in hand, its light casting long shadows on the stone walls.
"This is the furthest a disciple has gone without any Core Formation techniques," Elder Duan finally said. "You’ve made quite a stir."
Tian Shen didn’t answer. He felt it—something was calling him beyond the gate. A resonance, as if his sword intent stirred something within the chamber itself.
Elder Duan raised a talisman.
With a low hum, the great bronze doors opened.
"Tian Shen," the elder said quietly. "Inside, the chamber will test you in its own way. I do not know how. I only know this: if your will wavers, you may lose far more than the opportunity."
Tian Shen nodded once.
"I understand."
Then he stepped through.
The doors shut behind him with a final-sounding thud.
...
Inside the Heart Chamber
Tian Shen blinked.
There was no floor.
No ceiling.
No walls.
Only space. Endless, weightless space—like floating through the void between stars.
Then—he heard it.
"You... are not yet worthy."
A voice, but not sound. It echoed in his bones.
From the darkness, a figure stepped forward.
A man—tall, robed in ethereal blue, with a sheathed blade across his back. His face was obscured, but his presence was vast. Like a mountain forged from sword intent.
"Who—?"
"I am the one of the Honoured Ones—One Sword, or to be precise—his broken apart consciousness. You stand in the Trial of the Sword."
Tian Shen’s grip tightened.
"What must I do?"
The figure raised a hand—and a blade materialized in Tian Shen’s hand. Not his own sword, but something older, heavier. Alive.
"Survive."
The world exploded.
From all directions, swords came. Flying, striking, thrusting—all forms, all paths, all techniques Tian Shen had never seen before. Sword lights rained like stars.
He moved.
Parried. Dodged. Countered.
But they came faster. Harder. The weight of every swordmaster who had ever lived pressed upon him.
Minutes passed.
Hours?
No. Time didn’t exist here.
He bled.
A cut to his cheek. Another across his thigh.
Pain sharpened, fatigue clawed at him as well.
He dropped to one knee, panting.
The swords hovered around him, spinning like a vortex.
The Echo spoke again.
"Why do you wield the sword?"
Tian Shen took deep breathes as he confirmed.
"To look Cool."
The voice, as if speechless by his answer, didn’t act out for a good while, then it spoke.
"...Try again."
He paused, pondering.
’Maybe trying the OG one will do.’
Shaking his head with a chuckle, he continued.
"To protect those I care about. To walk my own path, not someone else’s."
But this clearly wasn’t enough.
"Speak not in cringy ideals. Speak your truth."
Tian Shen blinked, surprised by the voice. In the darkness, he saw faces.
Feng Yin. Little Mei.
And then he saw the sword in his hand.
"I wield the sword... because I was powerless once. Because I was forced to watch myself suffer. I wield it now... because it lets me choose. Not just to protect, not just to fight."
His eyes snapped open.
"I wield the sword to be free."
Silence.
Then—all the floating swords disintegrated.
The space twisted.
And a new figure stepped forward.
This time—it was himself.
’Finally, the old goat is out. Told ya, CRINGE is the solution.’
Tian Shen Smirked inwardly, all in his instincts.
But the old man here is—an older, uglier version of Tian Shen? With golden hair trailing like fire, eyes like a storm, and a sword aura that made the entire void tremble.
[A/N: Old is gold❌, Tian Shen is Handsome✓.]
"You’ve touched the path," the echo said, "but the journey is long."
The Ugly and fake Tian Shen raised his blade.
"Prove you can walk it."
They clashed.
...
Outside
Hours passed.
Feng Yin waited near the sealed doors, arms folded, eyes fixed. Several elders had gathered nearby, murmuring among themselves.
"Most disciples last an hour at most."
"He’s been in there for four..."
Just as the fifth hour approached—
Boom.
The Heart Chamber shook.
The doors flung open.
