The Southriver Sword Sect’s Century Genius Is Nothing Special

The Dustleave Ancient Sword sliced through the air and landed, nailing itself into the ground right in front of Drake Yu.

The ground, normally rock-hard, split open as if it were cotton beneath the blade's edge.

Seeing Evan Lin's move, everyone around was stunned.

Wasn't this basically handing over the Dustleave Ancient Sword on a silver platter?

"In the end, he still chickened out," someone sighed.

"Isn't this totally normal? Unless you're an idiot, you'd never go against the Southriver Sword Sect—especially not with Drake Yu!" another person chimed in, clearly approving of Evan's approach.

Beside them, Bob Moore's face subtly relaxed. As long as Evan Lin backed down, everything could be negotiated.

"Damn, you just gave away the sword like that? Bro, that's seriously lame!" Warren Wang grumbled, clearly dissatisfied.

Different people had different thoughts, and their looks toward Evan Lin were full of mixed meaning.

But Evan just stood there, face calm and indifferent, watching Drake Yu, who hadn’t moved yet. He spoke lightly: "What, I told you to pull the sword—did you not understand me?"

"You want the sword, I’m giving it to you. Whether you can take it or not depends on your own skill."

Drake Yu snorted coldly. "At least you know your place."

He slightly restrained his aura, thinking Evan Lin was just giving himself an out.

Drake Yu stepped forward, standing before the sword. For a moment, his gaze burned with rare intensity as he stared at the ancient blade.

"My master always said the Mu Family Ancient Sword was a divine weapon. But in our sect, too many have fate but not fortune with it. I am the true chosen one. Today, on behalf of the Southriver Sword Sect, I’ll personally claim this sword!"

As Drake Yu finished speaking, he reached out and gripped the hilt. A chill seeped into his palm.

But Drake didn’t care. After all, the blade was only buried three inches deep—so shallow he could pull it out in seconds, right?

He tightened his grip and yanked upward!

"Huh?"

Drake Yu froze in surprise.

Dustleave in his hand didn’t budge at all—not even a mark in the earth!

"Why aren’t you pulling it out?"

The onlookers watched Drake Yu, whispering curiously.

Drake Yu glanced at Evan Lin, eyes narrowing. "Petty tricks!"

He snorted coldly and suddenly increased his strength, veins bulging on the back of his hand as he tried again to pull out the sword.

The Dustleave Ancient Sword stayed perfectly upright in the ground, unmoving, like an immovable divine needle.

Wait, he’s not refusing to take it—he can’t take it!

Warren Wang, who’d been half-distracted, suddenly snapped to attention as if he’d realized something. He stared and then grinned.

His words made everyone’s face change, and in an instant, the whole crowd reacted.

Drake Yu can’t lift the sword?

No way, right?

No, he really can’t! The veins on the back of his hand are popping out—he’s using all his strength! But the sword isn’t moving at all!

The crowd erupted in shock.

They’d just seen the ancient sword fly from Evan Lin’s hand and stab into the ground in front of Drake Yu!

But now, Drake Yu really couldn’t pull the sword out!

Bob Moore and the others’ faces changed, and the people behind Drake Yu—like Su Chun—looked downright grim.

Pull the sword—try again. If you get it out, it’s yours. Well? Tempted?

Evan Lin whistled at Drake Yu, lips curling up. His tone was mocking and playful, but his words were a brutal slap in the face.

You’re asking for it!

Drake Yu was furious. He glared at Evan Lin, voice full of rage: "You think you can stop me from taking the sword with a few cheap tricks? Too naive!"

"Come out!" Drake Yu suddenly raised his head and shouted. He let go of the sword hilt, then stomped hard on the ground.

In that instant, a torrent of overwhelming force burst out from him like a flood, shaking the earth around Drake Yu into rubble with a thunderous roar!

Dust and sand swirled up, choking the onlookers and making them cough.

When everything settled and the dust blew away, everyone stared in shock at the scene before them.

Within five meters of Drake Yu, the ground was shattered and cracked beyond recognition—but the patch where the ancient sword pierced the earth, the spot beneath its tip, remained untouched!

The sword stood tall, blade perfectly straight, glinting coldly in the sunlight.

"I don't believe this! Come out!"

Seeing this, Drake Yu grew even angrier, humiliation burning on his face as if he’d been made a fool of.

He let out a furious roar, his clothes whipping around him. His palm suddenly swelled, growing a full size larger, and a terrifying pressure radiated out, making everyone shudder.

This time, he didn’t try to pull the sword—he swung his palm sideways at the hilt, trying to blast the ancient sword out of the ground by brute force.

I gave you a chance, but you just couldn’t do it. Can’t even lift the sword. Southriver Sword Sect’s hundred-year genius? That’s all you’ve got.

Evan Lin strolled forward, stopped in front of the ancient sword, and reached out his right hand to grip the hilt tightly for all to see.

The instant Drake Yu’s palm slammed into the hilt, a massive shockwave erupted, blasting out with terrifying force in all directions.

Some of the weaker spectators were sent flying by the sudden blast of energy.

The wild power made many people’s faces change. Even several Southriver Sword Sect experts, standing too close to Drake Yu, were forced to retreat over and over—proof of just how strong that palm strike was.

"How is this possible!"

The next second, Drake Yu’s androgynous face twisted with rage as he stared at the unmoving ancient sword, roaring out loud.

He, the Southriver Sword Sect's once-in-a-century genius, couldn’t even lift a sword!

Utter humiliation!

The ancient sword he’d dreamed of was right in front of him!

Hearing Drake Yu’s furious roar and seeing the unmoved sword, no one dared breathe loudly, afraid they’d get caught up in his rage.

Some people looked over at Evan Lin, Master Lin of Seacrest—he really lived up to the name!

Many sighed inwardly, full of admiration.

"What tricks did you pull!" Drake Yu’s eyes flashed murderously. He suddenly lunged at Evan Lin, swinging a fist straight at Evan’s face.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Drake Yu’s fist cracked through the air, bursting with explosive power. This punch could probably smash through a stone wall!

Just as Drake Yu closed in, Evan Lin calmly lifted his foot and planted it squarely on Drake Yu’s face.

The kick landed at the exact moment Drake Yu’s fist was five centimeters from Evan’s cheek, leaving Drake’s punch nowhere to go. Evan sent him flying across the arena.

Drake Yu spun through the air and landed steadily, but now half his face was stamped with a deep, bruised footprint for all to see.

Some spots were purple, some red—his once-handsome, slightly feminine face now looked like a mud-splattered farm boy dragged through a field!

I gave you a chance, but you just couldn’t do it. Can’t even lift the sword. Southriver Sword Sect’s hundred-year genius? That’s all you’ve got.

Evan Lin strolled forward, stopped in front of the ancient sword, and reached out his right hand to grip the hilt tightly for all to see.