Chapter 18: Clash of Legends
“Zong Ji!!!”
The roar carried fury, tangled with complexity and shock, perfectly capturing Mu Ye’s mood.
Zong Ji admitted he loved showing off, but since transmigrating, he’d never faced such an awkward moment from it.
Every eye in the tavern snapped to him, one gaze sharp as a sword, nearly pinning him to the wall.
Zong Ji was at his peak, the world’s greatest, his rise steeped in the dreamy flair cultivators adored—surging past levels, soaring to the top.
He’d trampled Sword Sovereign and pummeled Mu Ye, claiming the throne of fame.
His public persona was impeccable: the aloof, noble Tai Xu Sect disciple, never tarnishing his image.
When he defeated Mu Ye with his unique black-and-white chess weapon, his elegant moves between sleeves won countless scholars’ praise.
A gentleman like the breeze, versed in music, chess, calligraphy, and poetry—pure bonus points.
Nations’ literati adored this meteoric world’s greatest, his reputation stellar.
Oh, and most crucially, his swordsmanship, hyped to mythical heights.
“No one’s seen it; those who have are dead.”
“His sword cleaves clouds, its aura commands autumn.”
As if Zong Ji could duel the sun next, yet droves believed it.
Jing Zhe’s burning stare was 100% due to this!
Zong Ji knew Jing Zhe’s type too well—a battle-crazed maniac, especially for sword-wielding foes.
He’d never let one slip.
If not for urgent Ten Thousand Demons Sect business, Zong Ji was sure Jing Zhe would’ve challenged him on the spot.
If Jing Zhe issued a public challenge, Zong Ji couldn’t refuse without losing face.
Refuse, and he’d face a Saint-tier peak showdown.
Surprised? Shocked? Excited?
Saint-tier peak protagonist versus Saint-tier two-star protagonist—an epic clash. Don’t miss it.
That’s why Zong Ji didn’t dare respond to Mu Ye’s ferocious shout.
That night at Star-Picking Tower, drunk and in Dark Hall Master garb, he’d forgotten to disguise his voice.
Speak now, and he’d be exposed instantly.
Plus, Jing Zhe loathed demon sects.
His life’s tragedies stemmed from the Ten Thousand Demons Sect, fueling his bone-deep hatred.
During seclusion, atop Tai Shu Sect’s main peak, he’d sworn to the heavens to slay all demon sect members with his sword, proving his dao through slaughter.
Demon sect boss · Zong Ji: …
Thinking this, he quietly closed his fan, face calm, moving his other hand forward to cover.
“You—!!!”
Clearly, Zong Ji forgot something else.
Like the sugar pig he’d carried all day, wobbling on its stick, its grinning mouth and big nose facing Mu Ye’s sour expression.
Zong Ji: …
What happened next was obvious.
Mu Ye’s fiery temper couldn’t take it.
Fuming, he drew his blade.
At the critical moment, Zong Ji infused the sugar pig with spiritual energy.
Fearing Jing Zhe recognizing him, he avoided sword aura, using the pig to block Mu Ye’s overhead strike before fleeing.
Talk about a random disaster.
Thankfully, his window-leap was graceful, not losing style, salvaging a bit of his image.
To onlookers, the world’s greatest simply didn’t bother with a defeated foe, brushing sleeves and leaving.
The tavern buzzed with praise.
“That sugar pig, so soft, blocked a half-Saint’s strike. Worthy of the Saint!”
“Exactly, that’s immortal-tier strength… Imagine if the Saint drew his sword!”
“Such power—we can only look up. The cultivation path is long.”
Even after Zong Ji slipped away, the tavern kept buzzing about the world’s greatest, faces alight with excitement.
Meeting such a figure was bragging material for days.
The white-clad Sword Sovereign, quietly sipping tea, lit up when Zong Ji used the sugar pig.
He noted this “eternal sword” world’s greatest.
No sword aura, but sword intent.
As a top swordsman, Jing Zhe sensed the chilling sword will on this world’s greatest.
Surely an exceptional swordsman.
Zong Ji often appeared publicly, his face plastered on jade slips, known across Xuanyu Continent, with fans worldwide.
By contrast, Sword Sovereign Jing Zhe was low-key.
He usually stayed in Central Continent’s Tai Shu Sect, meditating on the Heartless Sword Dao amid snowy peaks.
Using no spiritual energy, he let snow fall on his black-and-white hair, freezing his silver crown, frosting his lashes, blending his white robes with the snow.
Day after day, living in cold solitude.
Thus, the world knew Sword Sovereign’s name, his white robes, silver sword, silver crown, and dual-colored hair, but not his face.
Cultivators revered the strong.
The streets weren’t just full of black-and-gold fan-wielding Saint cosplayers—many mimicked Jing Zhe based on rumors.
Jing Zhe craved peace.
Walking the Heartless Sword Dao, he shunned noise, staying true to heart, dao, and sword.
But now, he had no time to challenge this “eternal sword.”
More pressing matters awaited.
The white-clad Sword Sovereign glanced deeply at the departing figure, left a spirit stone, and vanished, sparking another wave of gasps in the tavern.
Jing Zhe was crossing the Sea of Illusion to the Northern Continent’s deathly desert, treading bones to enter that legendary tiger’s den.
—The Ten Thousand Demons Sect.
Meanwhile, Zong Ji, after leaping the window and shaking Mu Ye, lost his mood to wander.
Switching to Dark Hall Master attire, he returned to the branch.
A dark guard reported Baijing’s latest news.
“Hall Master, the world’s greatest, Sword Sovereign, and half-Saint Mu Ye all appeared in Baijing just now.”
Zong Ji: …
“No need to report my affairs to me.”
He recalled the scholar from the market, casually asking, “Is there a young man named Si Ming in Baijing’s branch?”
“Si Ming?”
Dark Five looked puzzled.
As the Thirteenth Dark Guard stationed in the Eastern Kingdom and branch overseer, he knew all local members.
Especially with a rare surname like “Si.”
“I haven’t heard of such a member. But the name matches the emperor’s chosen scholar…”
Zong Ji’s face darkened.
Dark Five knew Si Ming but not as a Dark Hall member.
That meant one thing.
Si Ming wasn’t Dark Hall.
“Investigate.”
He’d thought he’d met a righteous Dark Hall member standing up to injustice, feeling a spark of pride.
But it was a fraud using the Dark Hall’s name—a traitor. Infuriating.
Zong Ji always played others, yet now he’d been played.
What a turn of fate.
This day was a rollercoaster, making him want to leave Baijing ASAP.
He’d show his face at tomorrow’s banquet, then head to the Northern Continent for the demon sect’s peaceful development meeting.
If the demon sect stirred trouble, the Northern Kingdom’s skies would change.