Chapter Fifty-Two: My Sword Has Never Failed to Strike True

The moment these words were spoken, the expressions of the eight changed drastically.

This was an insult.

Who were they?

All top-tier prodigies listed on the Dragon Gate rankings, the elite of their sect, and even among the Greater Xia Academy they were the chosen few favored by their mentors.

They were candidates for the Genius Camp.

They were exceedingly proud. Today, standing on this arena, facing one against eight before the entire world, they already felt deeply humiliated.

And now, before the fight even began, they were being looked down upon by someone at the fifth level of the Qi Sea Realm.

How could they possibly tolerate this?

“Youngster, you’re far too arrogant. Do you think killing Ma Yiqing makes you invincible in the Qi Sea Realm?” someone gritted out.

“Don’t waste time arguing with him, don’t underestimate him. All eight of you, attack and kill him!” Ling Que’s voice thundered in the ears of the eight.

The eight trembled, their doubts vanishing instantly.

A violent aura erupted from them, surging with waves of multicolored true energy that intertwined and formed a tidal wave of force, engulfing the entire arena like a destructive flood.

Clang—

Eight people, eight swords, each radiating dazzling sword light.

Countless eyes on Purple Cloud Mountain fixed on that arena, all eager to see how Lin Hao would respond to such a situation.

One must understand, each of the eight on the stage was no match for Ma Yiqing.

Their cultivation had reached the pinnacle of the Qi Sea Realm, teetering on the verge of transitioning to the Transformation stage.

Among them were even eight-zhang Dragon Gate prodigies and those with unique combat physiques.

Any one of them alone could contend with a first-level Transformation stage warrior.

Logically, a fifth-level Qi Sea Realm expert should have no chance of turning the tide, even against ten-zhang Dragon Gate talents.

The gap was simply too vast!

“This is bad. All eight swords they wield surpass ordinary grade weapons and have reached the Yuan-grade level. If I’m not mistaken, Lin Hao doesn’t have a weapon,” Mr. Ximen exclaimed in alarm.

“Ah, how could we have forgotten about the weapons? How careless!” Ren Baichuan smacked his forehead, anxiously stomping his foot.

Weapons were graded too, generally split into ordinary and Yuan-grade.

Yuan-grade weapons were refined with Yuan energy, granting greater power and crafted from superior materials.

Even Yuan-grade weapons had ranks—Transformation, Heavenly Yuan, Divine Yuan—depending on the cultivation level of their wielder, with significant differences in quality.

Mr. Ximen and Ren Baichuan realized that they had never seen Lin Hao wield a weapon before. The Tai Xuan Sect had completely overlooked this fact.

Lin Hao had come from the small place called Tianbao City, so it was unlikely he possessed any Yuan-grade weapon.

What could be done now?

The battle had begun, and it was clearly impossible to equip Lin Hao with a weapon on the spot.

In a true life-or-death duel, a powerful weapon could greatly amplify a cultivator’s combat strength and often prove decisive.

Now, all eight top-tier Qi Sea Realm prodigies wielded Yuan-grade weapons. How could he possibly fight?

“Lin Hao, let’s see if our swords are sharp enough,” one sneered, pouring violent true energy into his sword. The eight swords hummed, releasing sword auras that writhed like serpents, terrifying and captivating.

Lin Hao remained calm. With a swift flick of his arm, a broken sword appeared in his hand. He said, “My sword is by no means dull!”

***

“Oh my goodness!”

Seeing Lin Hao’s sword, Mr. Ximen and Yi Fuyao both covered their eyes.

It was unbearable to watch!

What was that thing?

Even the elders and disciples of Tai Xuan Sect felt awkward.

“Holy Son, are you here to make a joke?”

No matter how miserable Tai Xuan Sect was, surely they could produce a proper sword.

“What the hell? That’s a sword?”

“How can that be called sharp?”

The people on Purple Cloud Mountain laughed. This discarded talent from a minor family had quite the sense of humor.

This was a life-or-death duel—everyone else wielded Yuan-grade swords, and he was holding a rusty piece of scrap metal.

Was he trying to add some comic relief to the intense atmosphere?

Lin Hao sneered, even noticing the mockery on the faces of the eight on stage.

Laugh all you want. Laugh as hard as you can. Let’s see whose sword is truly sharp.

If it had been before, Lin Hao would never have dared to brandish this broken sword in public—it was too humiliating.

But now things were different. He had every reason to believe this was no ordinary broken sword.

He was eager to test it, having never had the chance to wield it in combat or verify its power.

“Kill him, no dawdling!” Ling Que’s voice rang again in the ears of the eight.

The Ling clan’s desire to eliminate Lin Hao was urgent, not a moment to waste.

“Discarded noble scion, die!” one shouted, and all eight attacked simultaneously.

Their eight Yuan-grade swords released the sharpest sword auras, colliding in midair to form an impenetrable web of blades.

From different angles, with precise aim, they all slashed towards Lin Hao.

Lin Hao remained composed, utterly unafraid.

Within him, the Qi Sea surged turbulently, his Supreme Divine Vein pulsating as a tidal wave of true energy flooded wildly into the broken sword.

But immediately, Lin Hao’s expression changed drastically.

“Damn it, don’t mess with me!”

He couldn’t hold back. The broken sword, once confidently charged with true energy, now felt like a stone sinking into a swamp.

It didn’t release even a flicker of sword aura.

This was useless.

The swords thundered as the eight rushed forward like lightning strikes.

Lin Hao sensed their murderous intent clearly; he understood they had all been bought off by the Ling clan—just like Ma Yiqing, they were the Ling clan’s dogs.

But these eight were far stronger than Ma Yiqing. United, even Lin Hao felt a crushing pressure.

The moment was critical, with no time to hesitate.

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