A Villain’s Applause

At first glance, Bai seemed to have appeared out of thin air. But any skilled martial artist or veteran gamer, upon closer analysis, could deduce what had happened.

Qian Tao wasn't as skilled as Qian Yue, but he was still a True Disciple—an elite among disciples. Yet even he didn't get a chance to react.

She moved quickly—too quickly. It wasn't just her legs, but her entire body that surged forward with an almost supernatural grace. A lightness skill, most likely something akin to Qinggong. It wasn't a rare or high-tier technique; any martial artist could learn it. But the way she moved…

This was something else.

Bai's sword cut through him with precision. Killing would've been easier—one deep strike, and it'd be over. But to land multiple exacting cuts in the span of a single breath, to wound without killing, demanded mastery.

Definitely beyond a—

Peak-Level Second-Rate Martial Artist.

Jiang's breath hitched. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple.

He was reminded of the first time they met. Back then, he had spoken to her so casually, so arrogantly. He'd assumed she was just another NPC—one with a disciplined demeanor, sure, but nothing more. She had tolerated his way of speaking, and he'd dismissed it as just the system at work.

Now, that assumption felt like a noose tightening around his neck.

He swallowed hard.

Then, before he could fully process what had happened, a presence stirred behind Bai.

A single step—controlled, deliberate—carrying the weight of authority. The faint rustle of fabric barely registered before Bai moved, stepping aside with practiced ease, positioning herself near Jiang.

The man stood tall, his black robes lined with golden embroidery. The dragon stitched across the fabric was mature, refined—less ferocious than those worn by disciples, yet exuding a quiet authority. His frame was lean but firm, shaped by years of wielding a sword rather than merely carrying one. A heavy blade rested at his hip, its sheath marked with understated carvings.

Bai sheathed her sword in one fluid motion, then brought her fist to her palm in a crisp, forceful salute. "I apologize, Hall Master Wei," she said.

Yet, there was no humility in her stance. Her back remained straight, her gaze sharp—unyielding. An apology in words alone, while her posture spoke of defiance.

Wei studied her for a moment before finally speaking, his voice calm yet heavy with authority.

"I will not interfere in disputes between disciples," he said, his gaze landing on Yue. "But for someone of your caliber to fight Qian Tao—hardly seems fair."

The gathered disciples began to murmur.

Qian Yue, still gripping her sword, turned to him. "Uncle, but he was the one who first blocked—"

Qian Wei's eyes flicked toward her, his voice like tempered steel. "Disciple Qian Yue, I am not your uncle. I am the Hall Master of the Sword Hall. And as such, it is my duty to ensure fairness for everyone. No matter—"

His gaze shifted, locking onto Jiang for a brief second.

"—who you might be."

A beat of silence.

Then—

Jiang clicked his tongue and clapped.

Once.

Twice. Louder.

Thrice. Even louder.

And then, again.

The sharp sound cut through the murmurs, silencing the crowd.

The disciples exchanged uneasy glances. Some frowned, puzzled. Others stiffened, sensing the undercurrent of mockery in his applause. Qian Yue's grip tightened on her sword, her expression darkening. Even Qian Wei's gaze narrowed slightly, though he remained impassive.

Jiang took a step forward.

[Personality Speech Activated]

"Hall Master Wei, you seem quite the responsible man," he mused.

Wei didn't respond, but his eyes bore into Jiang, the pressure behind them unwavering.

Jiang smiled—or at least, that's what he intended. But it twisted into a smirk, and he didn't seem to mind. He continued.

"But when your prized disciple, True Disciple Qian Tao, blocked our way to the 'sacred' Sword Hall, where were you then?"

Wei frowned slightly, his lips parting. "I—"

But Jiang cut him off. "Surely, someone of your 'caliber' wouldn't fail to notice his loud voice." 

He spread his hands, feigning curiosity. "So tell me, Hall Master, where were you? Enlighten us."

Wei's jaw tensed. "Disciple Jiang Shen—"

Jiang interrupted again, his smirk widening.

"Ah, please, don't say you were busy, Hall Master Wei. Because someone as duty-driven as you surely wouldn't neglect their own hall during teaching hours, would they?"

A ripple passed through the crowd.

Murmurs. Uneasy shifting.

Wei said nothing.

His eyes remained locked onto Jiang, his silence saying everything.

Gotcha.

Jiang chuckled softly.

Now show me what you've got, Hall Master Wei. If this is the best your wit has to offer, I'll be quite disappointed.

Then—

A voice rang in his mind.

"Young Master, he's using sound transmission. Please be careful. The Sword Hall is basically Qian Clan's territory."

Bai's voice.

Jiang's amusement dimmed slightly.

Sound Transmission.

A technique that allowed martial artists to communicate through qi manipulation, transmitting words directly into another's mind. It required control and precision—only those with strong internal energy could wield it effectively.

Which meant—

Wei was speaking to someone else. Someone as skilled as Jiang Bai. But who?

Who, in a place filled with nothing but Second-Rate disciples, could possibly use such a technique?

Jiang's expression remained unreadable, but inwardly, he sharpened his focus.

After a brief pause, Wei finally spoke aloud.

"I did hear Qian Tao call you evil," he admitted. "And as Hall Master of the Sword Hall—and as his master—I should have corrected his behavior."

Jiang frowned slightly. What's he playing at? Is he admitting his mistakes so easily?

Wei continued, "But it is also a long-standing tradition of the Sword Hall that no one may set foot within it unless they pass the trial."

Jiang's brows furrowed.

Trial?

Bai's voice rang in his mind again.

"The Trial refers to being able to perform at least a Mid-Tier Sword Art of the Divine Dragon Sect… to completion."

Jiang's smirk returned.

So that's how you—ah! They want to play it.

Well, my quest did ask me to ridicule you. It would've been a shame if you quit so early.

Jiang cracked his knuckles, rolling his shoulders as if warming up for something trivial.

"Let's begin the Trial, then—

Hall…

Master…

Qian Wei."