The next day, the sun was shining brightly over the Outer Sect Martial Arena.
The 130 smaller platforms had already been dismantled, replaced by a massive stage rising two zhang high at the center of the arena.
Today’s matches would be personally hosted and refereed by the Outer Sect general steward, Bi Fang.
Since the entrance exam, Song Yan hadn’t seen Bi Fang—this was only the second time.
Bi Fang swept his gaze over the thirteen disciples standing below the stage, his tone deep: "Today's competition will use a points system. Defeat an opponent and earn one point. Whoever has the highest score becomes number one in the Outer Sect! Leon Huang, you’re up first!"
"Yes, sir!"
Song Yan answered and leapt onto the stage.
"Who wants to challenge Leon Huang first?" Bi Fang glanced at the remaining twelve below.
"I will!"
A strikingly handsome young man soared onto the stage—it was none other than Lance Easton, founder of the Sun–Moon Society.
"Junior Brother Huang, I’ve been wanting to spar with you for ages. Today’s the perfect chance!"
"I’ve heard plenty about Senior Brother Easton’s reputation. Seeing you today, it’s all true!" Song Yan replied with a smile.
Lance Easton’s expression cooled slightly. "Then let’s settle it right here on the stage!"
"Please!"
"Please!"
Both moved at the same time.
Song Yan fought with his fists; Lance Easton wielded a sword.
Like two torrents, they crashed together in an instant. Explosions rang out, energies flew in all directions, and even the sturdy stage trembled slightly from the impact.
There was no denying it—Lance Easton truly lived up to his reputation. His swordplay was masterful, and he was using the three-star Dawn–Sun Sword technique.
Each strike was like the rising sun, brimming with overwhelming force.
Unfortunately for him, his opponent was Song Yan, who cultivated the Undying Phoenix Codex—far beyond any ordinary sky-rank art—and wielded the superior five-star martial technique, Nine Mystic Flame Forms.
For the first ten exchanges, Lance Easton could barely keep up, but after that, he started to fall behind.
On the twenty-fifth move, Song Yan sent Lance’s sword flying with a punch, claiming victory.
Bi Fang’s hearty voice rang out at just the right moment: "Song Yan scores one point!"
As the dust settled, another figure landed on the stage.
"I am Xu Chao. Greetings, Junior Brother Huang!"
"Hello, Senior Brother Xu!" Song Yan cupped his fists in salute.
Just then, Xu Chao suddenly launched an attack at Song Yan.
A sneak attack?
But Song Yan merely tilted his head and easily dodged Xu Chao’s ambush.
Seeing this, a hint of regret flashed in Xu Chao’s eyes. He stepped aside and said, "Junior Brother Huang, I concede."
Conceding after a failed sneak attack... Song Yan couldn’t help but find it amusing, but soon understood Xu Chao’s intent—he was simply conserving his strength.
The third challenger was a young woman.
Her movements and footwork were exquisitely subtle. As soon as the match began, she kept her distance and darted around the stage, refusing to clash head-on with Song Yan.
In response, Song Yan simply stood his ground, calmly letting her tire herself out.
After several failed attempts to break through, the woman had no choice but to admit defeat.
"Your total score is three points. After three consecutive matches, you may rest for a quarter-hour. Do you wish to take a break?" Bi Fang asked Song Yan.
"No need, let’s continue!" Song Yan waved his hand nonchalantly.
In the fourth round, Song Yan defeated his opponent in just five moves.
In the fifth round, his opponent conceded without a fight.
In the sixth round, his opponent also conceded.
In the seventh round, Song Yan defeated his opponent in just three moves.
In the eighth, ninth, tenth, and eleventh rounds, all his opponents chose to concede.
In the twelfth round, Feng Yun walked slowly onto the stage, two swords strapped to his back.
His gaze was serious as he looked at Song Yan, his tone steady: "You’re the only opponent worthy of my full strength. I hope you won’t hold back in this match—fight me with everything you’ve got!"
His words sent a stir through the crowd below. Did Leon Huang really have strength left in reserve?
Song Yan smiled, "You’ve got a keen eye to notice I’ve been holding back. Very well—since you ask, I’ll grant your wish!"
A shrill hum echoed through the air.
A fiery red longsword flew from Feng Yun’s back into his hand. Its blade was dazzlingly bright, gleaming under the sunlight, and an intense aura radiated from it, making everyone around the stage tense up.
"A grade-two spirit weapon!"
Someone exclaimed—after all, a grade-one spirit weapon might have an aura, but never this powerful.
Feng Yun spoke again: "This sword is called the Scarlet Mist Sword, forged from thousand-year Fire Jade. Now it’s a grade-two spirit weapon—be careful!"
The crowd murmured in agreement, their eyes fixed on Song Yan. If Feng Yun was bringing out a grade-two spirit weapon, would Song Yan really fight barehanded?
"Come on, let me see the power of a grade-two spirit weapon!"
Song Yan beckoned Feng Yun forward.
"You’re not using a weapon?" Feng Yun frowned slightly.
"Haha, I don’t need one just yet. Go ahead!"
"Alright! Here I come!"
In the next instant, Feng Yun’s sword shot forward in a dazzling arc.
The attack was blindingly fast—like a comet streaking across the sky, like the midday sun, radiant and fierce.
Song Yan’s heart tightened and he swiftly retreated.
But Feng Yun’s sword seemed to lock onto him, sticking close like a shadow, its power growing with every moment.
"I can’t retreat any further!"
Song Yan’s eyes narrowed. If he kept retreating, he’d have to use one of his trump cards to block the attack—and the Outer Sect tournament wasn’t worth revealing them.
He let out a low shout.
True energy surged through his body like a raging river, rumbling without end. At the same time, the essence of the Nine Mystic Flame Forms activated within him...
Whoosh!
Three feet of flame erupted from his body, enveloping him completely. Even from seven or eight meters away, the crowd could feel the heatwave, breaking out in a sweat instantly...
Boom!
A deafening explosion shook the arena. Song Yan’s flames died out as he staggered back five or six steps before regaining his footing.
As for Feng Yun, his sword arm trembled as he was forced back seven or eight steps before steadying himself.
"Impressive. You’re even stronger than I imagined. This sword can’t defeat you, so I’ll have to switch!" As he spoke, Feng Yun sheathed the Scarlet Mist Sword and drew another blade.
As the new sword appeared, the air seemed to freeze, and an even more powerful aura radiated outward.
Its blade was clear and crystalline, thin as a cicada’s wing.
"This is the Crystal Cicada Sword—a grade-three spirit weapon. Will you still refuse to use a weapon?" Feng Yun asked.
Grade-three spirit weapon!
The crowd’s breathing quickened as their eyes locked onto Feng Yun’s sword—some in envy, some in jealousy, and some in greed.
"Sigh, I hadn’t wanted to rely on weapons to win, but if I want to beat you, I’ll have to!" Song Yan shook his head and reached into the air. Instantly, a black iron longsword appeared in his hand.
The sword gave off no aura and looked utterly ordinary.
But Bi Fang, the referee, was visibly moved. "Leon Huang, is that the Falling Star Sword?"