Before long, the disciples of both sects had gathered at the training ground.
Each of them carried rising fighting spirit.
Dragon Mountain Daoist and the Divine Sword Old Man sat calmly on grand armchairs at the front, both wearing faint smiles.
The two communicated through voice transmission.
"Divine Sword Senior Brother, what do you think of this idea?"
"You old Daoist… I didn't expect you to be this scheming."
Dragon Mountain Daoist chuckled lightly.
"Senior Brother misunderstands. This old Daoist merely wishes for the disciples to gain experience. Think about it—before, it was always the two of us fighting while they watched. What could they truly learn? At best, they were spectators."
"But now, they personally step onto the field, carrying the honor of their sects on their shoulders. They will naturally give it their all. The results will be completely different."
Divine Sword Old Man snorted.
"Hmph. When my Divine Sword Sect disciples beat your True Martial Sect disciples until they cry for their parents, this old man will generously allow you to stay on Zhenwu Mountain for a few more years."
Dragon Mountain Daoist only smiled, not refuting him.
Divine Sword Old Man, however, felt a trace of gratitude in his heart.
He knew very well that Dragon Mountain Daoist had proposed this change partly to preserve his face.
In truth, he never intended to reclaim Zhenwu Mountain. At most, he wanted to vent his dissatisfaction and exchange a few sharp words.
Gratitude aside—
Face still had to be fought for.
"If I can't beat you, then my disciples beating your disciples amounts to the same thing!"
He was very confident.
At Dragon Mountain Daoist's nod, Luo Wentian stepped forward and looked at the disciples of both sects.
"As my Master and Divine Sword Senior have said, this sparring session is mainly for experience."
"You must go all out, but you must also know when to stop. Malicious injury will be severely punished."
"Of course, those who perform well will not lack rewards."
"Now—who wishes to go first?"
The crowd immediately stirred.
Soon, a young man from the True Martial Sect stepped forward.
"I am Wang Chong, an outer sect disciple of the True Martial Sect. Which Divine Sword Sect disciple is willing to give me guidance?"
He was full of youthful vigor.
Both sects had similar structures—Outer Sect, Inner Sect, and True Disciples.
Outer Sect disciples were in the Body Tempering Realm. Inner Sect disciples were in the Inner Yuan Realm. Those who reached the Gang Yuan Realm were already elders.
As for True Disciples, they were not ranked by strength, but by personal acceptance under the sect masters.
A Divine Sword Sect disciple drew his sword and stepped forward.
"I am Li Bing, an outer sect disciple of the Divine Sword Sect!"
"I'll take you on!"
The two immediately clashed.
Sword light flashed, fist winds roared.
Those who dared to step out first were naturally confident.
Many nodded in approval.
Ning Qi watched quietly.
He rarely fought, but for him, observing combat was itself cultivation. With his comprehension ability, a single battle could bring him more insight than others gained from years of practice.
"Wang Chong will win."
Wang Chong used Tiger Fiend Fist—a technique Ning Qi himself had once practiced.
He had already cultivated it to perfection, and even fused it into his own martial understanding. Ning Qi understood this fist technique better than its original creator.
As the thought formed, Wang Chong's fist roared like a tiger, carrying a trace of fierce evil qi, blasting Li Bing backward.
"Thank you for the guidance."
Wang Chong stopped decisively.
The True Martial Sect disciples cheered.
The Divine Sword Sect disciples, on the other hand, grew restless.
"I'll go next!"
The atmosphere was completely ignited.
Outer sect disciples from both sides entered the arena one after another.
However, it quickly became clear—the True Martial Sect disciples had deeper foundations. Their wins far outnumbered their losses.
Divine Sword Old Man frowned slightly, then said with mixed emotions,
"Dragon Mountain… you old Daoist, you've really taken in a fine batch of disciples."
Dragon Mountain Daoist stroked his beard and laughed, his gaze unintentionally drifting toward Ning Qi, his heart full of satisfaction.
After nearly two years of using the improved Body Tempering Powder, the results were already evident.
In the future, the True Martial Sect's foundation would only grow deeper.
Seeing Dragon Mountain Daoist act so composed, Divine Sword Old Man snorted unhappily.
Soon, it was time for the inner sect disciples.
At this level, the gap narrowed.
The Divine Sword Sect's combat experience was clearly strong. It was rumored that Divine Sword Old Man had once obtained a fragment of a Sword Saint's legacy.
The results between the two sides were nearly even.
Only then did Divine Sword Old Man's complexion improve slightly.
His gaze swept the field.
A young man in white understood immediately and leapt forward.
His bearing was dignified, eyes sharp as lightning. The three-foot green sword in his hand gleamed like autumn water.
"Divine Sword Sect's Sixth True Disciple, Yan Shiheng."
"I ask the True Martial Sect's True Disciple for guidance!"
The crowd was stirred.
True Disciple battles represented the true foundation of a sect.
Ning Qi's interest rose.
Qin Yun was about to stand—
But someone beside him reached out and stopped him.
A thin young man in a blue Daoist robe smiled.
"True Martial Sect's Sixth True Disciple, Sun Chuanhai, requests guidance from Senior Yan."
Sixth against sixth.
This was proper.
The two saluted, then charged at the same time.
The moment they exchanged blows, the difference was apparent.
Though both were in the Inner Yuan Realm, their combat power far exceeded that of inner sect disciples. Their moves were refined and powerful, drawing constant gasps.
Even Dragon Mountain Daoist and the Divine Sword Old Man watched intently.
After several hundred exchanges, Ning Qi's eyes narrowed.
"Sixth Senior Brother… is going to lose."
Sun Chuanhai's inner strength circulation had begun to falter.
Divine Sword Old Man's eyes lit up.
As expected, Yan Shiheng's sword suddenly appeared at Sun Chuanhai's throat.
The first True Disciple match—
Divine Sword Sect wins.
"Senior Yan's swordsmanship is astonishing."
Sun Chuanhai spoke calmly, accepting defeat.
Yan Shiheng returned the salute.
"Senior Sun is too kind. I've merely eaten rice for a few more years."
He looked toward the remaining True Martial Sect disciples.
"Is there anyone else who wishes to spar?"
The Divine Sword Sect disciples relaxed slightly.
Now it was the True Martial Sect's turn to feel pressure.
Qin Yun finally stepped forward.
His figure landed lightly opposite Yan Shiheng.
"True Martial Sect's Eighth True Disciple—Qin Yun."
Battle intent surged.
Yan Shiheng frowned.
Qin Yun was much younger. Winning against him would bring little glory.
But the moment Qin Yun drew his saber—
Yan Shiheng's expression changed.
A single slash.
The saber light was fierce and overwhelming.
This youth was stronger than Sun Chuanhai.
Saber and sword lights interwove.
The arena rang with metallic clashes.
After only a hundred exchanges—
A saber light tore through Yan Shiheng's chest robe.
Cheers erupted.
"Eighth Senior Brother is mighty!"
An Eighth True Disciple defeating a Sixth True Disciple—
Morale soared.
Divine Sword Old Man's expression turned complicated.
He could see clearly that Qin Yun's talent was terrifying. Such a young age, yet already approaching Inner Yuan Major Achievement.
The Divine Sword Sect had no one like this.
Dragon Mountain Daoist smiled faintly.
Before Ning Qi arrived, Qin Yun had been the most talented disciple in the sect.
Qin Yun sheathed his saber calmly.
"Thank you for the match."
Yan Shiheng forced a bitter smile and stepped back.
Dragon Mountain Daoist turned and said,
"Divine Sword Senior Brother, shall we end today's sparring here?"
"The disciples have gained enough understanding. Let us decide victory and defeat again in ten years."
Divine Sword Old Man fell silent.
Outer sect—loss.
Inner sect—slightly behind.
True disciples—one win, one loss, yet his Sixth lost to their Eighth.
His face burned.
His gaze shifted—
And landed on Zhuang Chen, the little fatty sniffing nearby.
After a moment, he gritted his teeth.
"How about…"
"One more match?