Chapter 115: Circular Sword Pavilion

The commotion at the mountain gate quickly subsided with the death of the Snake Swordsman.

After taking his life, Liu Zhi no longer bothered to single out those who had been fighting on the mountain path earlier.

On the way to the pavilion designated for the swordsmanship competition, the gathered swordsmen of the martial world continued to discuss the earlier bloody incident.

Some marveled at the Willow Leaf Swordsman’s strength, while others pitied him, wondering why such a powerful swordsman would lower himself to merely guard a gate.

A small group, however, felt fortunate they hadn’t acted impulsively and stepped forward earlier.

It was rather amusing—despite the earlier fighting between two groups on the mountain path, the Snake Swordsman had not been among them. He had voluntarily stepped in to “seek justice.”

Part of his motivation stemmed from a personal dislike of the Willow Leaf Swordsman, while another part was a desire to step on him to gain favor with the Villa Master of Heavenly Sword Villa.

Who could have guessed that Liu Zhi’s actions weren’t actually about finding those responsible for the disturbance on the mountain path?

The so-called search for troublemakers had been nothing more than an excuse to intimidate the gathered martial artists.

Even if no one had caused trouble today, Liu Zhi would likely have found another excuse to kill a few troublemakers and establish dominance over the diverse crowd of swordsmen.

Otherwise, why would he lead everyone to the pavilion right after killing the Snake Swordsman?

The pavilion, located at the very center of Heavenly Sword Villa, was built in a square layout with an open central area. The center served as the competition arena, while the surrounding corridors were lined with seats and tables, complete with tea and snacks, for the guests who would not be competing.

Gu Ning’an and his two companions were assigned seats on the third floor, near the edge of the corridor. From this vantage point, they had an excellent view of the arena without being too high up—a perfect spot.

After they settled into their seats, Liu Feixue, now calmer, bowed deeply to Gu Ning’an.

“Mr. Gu, my tone earlier was disrespectful. Please don’t take it to heart.”

Gu Ning’an waved his hand with a smile.

“It’s fine. Concern leads to confusion… Besides, it’s only natural that you wouldn’t believe your father would kill you.”

Liu Feixue straightened up and leaned closer, lowering her voice.

“Mr. Gu, did you see something earlier?”

Gu Ning’an shook his head.

“Not much. But you mentioned earlier that your father has severed all familial ties… And since he was tasked with intimidating the crowd, if you’d rushed in, not killing you might’ve made it hard for him to answer to the Villa Master of Heavenly Sword Villa.”

Hearing this, Liu Feixue nodded thoughtfully before sitting back in her seat, lost in her own thoughts.

After about the time it takes to burn a stick of incense, nearly 300 swordsmen were seated. They sipped tea and nibbled on snacks while quietly conversing.

“The Villa Master is here!” someone suddenly shouted. Immediately, all eyes turned to the central arena.

There stood Qiu Qianren, his face as refined as polished jade. His thin beard added an air of elegance, and he casually waved a folding fan, exuding a sense of effortless charm and poise.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the martial world, your presence here today truly graces this humble villa!”

With a flourish of his fan, Qiu Qianren cupped his hands and bowed slightly to the gathered swordsmen in the pavilion.

In response, nearly all the martial artists rose to return the gesture, their voices ringing with compliments and pleasantries.

“Hypocrite!” Liu Feixue muttered through clenched teeth.

Hearing this, Ying Du’s eyebrows twitched violently.

“Miss Liu! Mind your words…”

115: Circular Sword Pavilion (2/2)

Liu Feixue glanced at Ying Du and said calmly, “I’ll be fighting him on stage later. When the time comes, I won’t be holding back. If you don’t want to get dragged into this, you’d better stay away from me.”

Hearing this, Ying Du chuckled.

“If I were going to be implicated, it would’ve happened already. But I must remind you, Miss Liu, the gap between your strength and that of the Villa Master is likely quite large.”

Liu Feixue replied indifferently, “I know. Since I dared to come, I’ve already prepared a way to deal with him.”

“Oh?” Ying Du raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Then I look forward to seeing it.”

Beside them, Gu Ning’an sipped his tea while observing the Villa Master, Qiu Qianren, standing in the center of the arena.

The man carried himself like a noble gentleman, speaking with an air of refinement and humility, without the slightest hint of arrogance.

However, in Gu Ning’an’s eyes, the man was shrouded in layers of sin and karmic energy. The blood-red aura of killing intent nearly enveloped him completely.

The accumulated karma of nearly 300 martial artists present didn’t even amount to half of what surrounded him.

But what truly caught Gu Ning’an’s attention wasn’t the man himself—it was the sword at his waist.

The sword’s hilt and scabbard bore traces of rust and exuded an ancient charm, suggesting considerable age. Hidden within it was an intense ghostly aura, the kind that could only be condensed by a ghost cultivator with at least a hundred years of practice.

—

In the center of the arena, Qiu Qianren personally explained the rules of the competition.

The rules were simple: it was a points-based system. Each duel would be one-on-one, and every swordsman would be given five tokens. Winning a duel meant taking a token from the opponent, while losing meant forfeiting one.

In the end, progression to the second round would depend on the number of tokens each participant held. However, he deliberately left out the exact number of tokens required, which led to fierce competition among the martial artists as they fought to accumulate as many tokens as possible.

During the explanation, servants of Heavenly Sword Villa stood on each floor of the pavilion, distributing tokens to every swordsman.

What puzzled Ying Du was that even an elderly martial artist, leaning heavily on a cane, was deemed a participant and handed five tokens.

This old man, with barely any teeth left, was practically a “free point giver.” If he didn’t forfeit, he’d likely be sent to the afterlife with a single exchange of blows.

Yet Gu Ning’an, a young man with a cloth-wrapped wooden sword strapped to his back—a weapon anyone with eyes could recognize—was completely ignored by the servant, as though invisible.

“Hey!”

Ying Du stood up and called out. The servant, who was about to walk away, turned back with a smile and bowed.

“Young master, did you call for me?”

Ying Du held up three fingers.

“How many is this?”

The servant froze for a moment and replied, “Three?”

“Oh, nothing then.” Ying Du sat back down, muttering to himself. “That’s strange. He’s not blind, after all.”

Hearing this, the servant approached with a smile.

“Young master, if I truly failed to recognize a real swordsman, then your fingers themselves are a sword, aren’t they?”

“Huh?” Ying Du hadn’t yet processed the comment when the servant stuffed five tokens into his hands and scurried away without giving him a chance to argue or explain.