The Blade That Earns Its Place

The air inside the sect arena was thick with anticipation. Disciples gathered around the elevated stone platform, whispering amongst themselves. The duel between Ling Hua and Lin Shaoyang had begun, and all eyes were locked on the two figures exchanging rapid blows.

CLANG! CLANG!

Sparks flew as their swords clashed, the force of their strikes echoing throughout the arena.

Ling Hua moved swiftly, her blade weaving through the air like a silver thread under the moonlight. Yet, no matter how fast she was, Lin Shaoyang's sword always met hers at the perfect moment, blocking her every move with practiced ease.

His experience was undeniable.

"Too slow," Lin Shaoyang remarked, sidestepping an incoming thrust. With a smooth motion, he swung his blade in a sharp arc.

CLANG!

Ling Hua barely parried, but the force behind his attack sent her skidding back. She clenched her jaw.

She wasn't just fighting Lin Shaoyang's cultivation—she was fighting his superior technique.

Even though they were at the same realm, he had fought countless battles. His mastery over the sword was evident in every precise strike. Meanwhile, she had always been surviving, not truly fighting.

Yet, she refused to yield.

I can't afford to lose.

Lin Shaoyang pressed forward, unleashing a flurry of quick slashes. His movements were fluid, effortless—forcing her onto the defensive.

The watching disciples murmured:

"She's struggling."

"Lin Shaoyang's technique is overwhelming."

"She won't last much longer."

Huang Zhenhai sighed, shaking his head. "It was expected."

But Xu Tianran remained silent, his gaze unreadable as he watched the battle unfold.

CLANG!

Ling Hua staggered back as Lin Shaoyang's blade narrowly missed her side. Sweat trickled down her temple. Her breathing grew heavy.

She was losing ground.

Then—

SLASH!

A sharp sting ran through her shoulder as Lin Shaoyang's sword nicked her flesh, leaving a shallow wound.

Her grip tightened.

No.

No more being chased.

No more being defeated.

No more being weak.

She shut out everything—the murmurs of the crowd, the pain in her body. Her mind focused only on Lin Shaoyang's movements.

She studied them.

The shift in his footing, the slight pause before an attack, the way his blade always angled toward her openings.

She watched.

She understood.

And then—

She adapted.

The moment Lin Shaoyang lunged for another strike, she moved differently.

She didn't just dodge—she anticipated.

Her body responded before his blade could reach her. She twisted at the last moment, his sword narrowly missing.

Lin Shaoyang's brows furrowed. "What—?"

Before he could adjust, Ling Hua struck back.

Her blade lashed out—not with brute force, but with a flowing precision, perfectly exploiting the gaps in his stance.

CLANG!

Lin Shaoyang barely deflected the blow, but the impact sent him staggering a step back.

The watching disciples fell silent.

Ling Hua's aura had changed.

She was no longer just reacting—she was reading him.

She saw through his movements, adapted in real time, and countered with efficiency. Her footwork stabilized, her posture firm. Her swordplay no longer carried hesitation—only absolute focus.

Lin Shaoyang clicked his tongue. "Tsk—"

He swung his sword again, but this time, Ling Hua dodged effortlessly.

Her blade grazed his arm before he could react.

A stunned silence filled the arena.

Huang Zhenhai's eyes widened. "She—she's keeping up?"

Lin Shaoyang clenched his jaw, feeling a warm trickle of blood from the cut.

"She's learning my movements as we fight…"

His expression turned serious. He could no longer afford to underestimate her.

With a deep breath, he adjusted his grip, his aura surging as he executed a sharper, more refined technique.

But Ling Hua—

She had already adjusted again.

Her sword danced, countering his every move with growing ease.

The balance of the fight shifted.

Lin Shaoyang wasn't dominating anymore.

The once-clear gap in technique was closing rapidly.

Each exchanged blow pushed him back further.

And then—

Hesitation.

It was only for a split second.

But that was all she needed.

Ling Hua lunged forward, her blade cutting through his final defense.

SLASH!

Lin Shaoyang's sword flew from his grasp, spinning through the air before clattering onto the stone floor.

He stumbled back, sweat dripping from his face.

Ling Hua's sword stopped just before his throat.

A deep silence filled the arena.

For a long moment, no one spoke.

Then, Lin Shaoyang exhaled and chuckled. "Looks like you win."

He surrendered.

The watching disciples were speechless.

Ling Hua had done it.

She had defeated Lin Shaoyang.

She stepped back, her breathing heavy, but her eyes burned with a newfound sharpness.

Then—

Xu Tianran's voice broke the silence.

"You've proven yourself."

Ling Hua turned, meeting his gaze.

His expression was as unreadable as ever, but his words carried undeniable weight.

"From this moment on, you are my first direct disciple."

The air trembled.

The disciples gasped in shock.

Xu Tianran—who had never taken a disciple before—had acknowledged Ling Hua as his own.

A rush of emotions surged within her.

After everything—her struggles, her past, her battle just now—she had finally gained recognition.

She lowered herself to one knee.

"Disciple Ling Hua greets Master."

Xu Tianran merely nodded.

The decision was made.

And Ling Hua's new path had begun.