The First Summoner - Chapter 86

Watching from below the ninth stage, Zhuge Youlin recognized Shen Yan’s intentions from the techniques she used.

She wanted a sparring partner.

An intrigued smile tugged at his lips. He was beginning to wonder about her true strength.

The match was decided after roughly fifteen minutes.

Shen Yan cut the young woman’s throat with one stroke and won. The spectators looked at her in a new light, thinking that she was indeed another monster capable of fighting above her realm.

Slightly wounded, Shen Yan stepped down and prepared to enter another match.

Zhuge Youlin also went his separate way. They each continued fighting: he for money, Shen Yan for combat experience. Her swordsmanship was not yet refined enough.

Her second opponent was a man at Mystic-rank level two.

He fought far more viciously than the previous woman. Armed with a long saber and surrounded by a savage baleful aura, he looked every inch an executioner.

Shen Yan summoned the Spirit Phoenix Divine Sword.

Their gazes met. Neither dared underestimate the other, for both saw familiar killing intent in the other’s eyes.

Shen Yan tightened her grip and swung.

“Gale Sevenfold Break!”

Seven blades of sword energy erupted at once and bombarded the man. He swiftly raised his saber to block. Explosions boomed one after another, driving him several steps back. Planting his heel, he twisted his wrist and sent saber wind slicing toward Shen Yan.

Fast!

The saber wind hurtled toward her.

Shen Yan swept up her sword. Her figure flashed, and she was suddenly before him, bringing the Spirit Phoenix Divine Sword down with both hands.

Clang!

Sword and saber locked.

Neither yielded. Then the man abruptly unleashed mental power, attempting to attack Shen Yan’s sea of consciousness.

He had not expected her mental power to be vastly stronger than his.

The backlash struck his own sea of consciousness, wrenching a pained grunt from him. At that exact instant, Shen Yan kicked his knee hard and forced him back.

A fire dragon coiled around the Spirit Phoenix Divine Sword, releasing a terrifying blaze. Pressing her advantage, Shen Yan slashed at him.

Boom!

The man raised his saber in alarm, but the fiery sword sent him crashing to the ground.

Blood trickled from his lips. Instinctively sensing danger, he rolled aside and avoided Shen Yan’s next blow.

He sprang up and confronted her again.

His cultivation surpassed hers, but his speed and perception did not.

They exchanged more than a hundred moves.

In the end, Shen Yan drove her sword through his heart.

The spectators erupted in cheers. Once again, she had killed an opponent above her realm. In their eyes, it had been an exceptionally thrilling fight.

Two consecutive matches had consumed some of Shen Yan’s stamina and spiritual power.

She was about to step down and rest when someone leaped onto the stage.

“I challenge you.”

Shen Yan turned.

The newcomer was tall and carried a sheathed sword. Crisscrossing scars covered the exposed back of his hand.

Her expression shifted slightly.

“What is your cultivation?”

“Mystic-rank level three,” the man replied.

Shen Yan narrowed her eyes and studied him.

He was also a sword cultivator.

And likely an excellent one. His cultivation surpassed hers by three minor levels. If she restricted herself to swordsmanship, she might lose.

Seeming to notice her hesitation, he said, “We can exchange sword techniques only and stop once the outcome is clear. Neither of us needs to harm the other’s life.”

The spectators laughed.

“Who would believe that?”

“I’ve seen plenty of dirty tricks on these stages. What he really means is: if he can kill you, he will, but if he can’t, you aren’t allowed to kill him.”

“Who cares whether it’s true? I want to see them fight! Can that girl really cross three minor levels and beat him?”

“If they fight, I won’t know where to place my bet.”

Under the crowd’s gathered gazes, Shen Yan nodded.

“Fine.”

She did not trust his promise. She merely trusted herself to survive.

One had to challenge those stronger than oneself.

The young man raised his sword horizontally and drew it. Golden light flashed across the blade, releasing a frigid sword intent.

He looked at her with deep eyes.

“Draw your sword.”

Shen Yan’s expression grew solemn. She summoned the Spirit Phoenix Divine Sword once more and faced him.

Their impending match left the spectators conflicted. Should they bet on the higher-ranked man or Shen Yan, who had already won twice against stronger opponents?

“He’s three minor levels above her. The girl will definitely lose.”

“What if she overturns the odds again?”

…

They moved.

The young man raced toward Shen Yan. In an instant, his sword turned transparent, making her expression change.

His pressure descended.

The transparent blade left his hand and seemed to dance chaotically through the air.

Shen Yan’s gaze sharpened. She guarded against the man while dividing her attention to locate the invisible sword.

He shouted, “Moon Blade—Conceal!”

A sword abruptly manifested behind Shen Yan and stabbed toward her back.

Sensing it, she spun and blocked.

Clang—

The collision produced a piercing screech.

Shen Yan seemed to detect something else. Her expression changed sharply as she knocked away the sword and dodged sideways.

The transparent edge still pierced her arm, leaving behind searing pain.

The young man’s control over his sword was effortless, and his techniques were unlike anything Shen Yan had seen.

Turning a sword transparent…

Her eyes darkened. Invisible or not, the sword still existed. If it existed, it had to leave traces.

She stopped relying on her eyes and used mental power to capture it instead.

About thirty minutes later, once she could track its position, Shen Yan rapidly broke through his technique. Forced to recall the sword, the man changed forms.

“Gale Stream!”

Shen Yan slashed. A torrent of sword energy poured forth like a waterfall plunging from a cliff, its impact ferocious.

A crack split the stage beneath it.

Boom—

The young man was driven back several steps. Sharp sword wind opened a bloody line across his scarred hand.

He looked down at it, then abruptly sheathed his sword.

“I concede.”

Shen Yan’s gaze chilled.

She had only just found the rhythm of practicing her sword, yet he surrendered so easily.

The man immediately leaped off the stage and left.

Shen Yan frowned.

What a strange person.

The spectators were dumbfounded. Those who had bet on him lost money and hurled curses after his retreating figure.

After three consecutive victories, Shen Yan stepped down and collected her prizes and winnings.

She was about to find Zhuge Youlin when a deafening uproar from another stage caught her attention.

Stage five was packed on every side.

A black-clad youth stood upon it, drenched in blood and wearing a blue, fanged mask. His eyes were savage and bloodthirsty, and he gripped an entirely black sword in his left hand.

Shen Yan frowned slightly.

His eyes reminded her of…

Pei Su, the Tianfang Sect’s young master.