Ding Ying raised his arm, and the silver lotus crown on his head bloomed like a living thing. The originally closed petals stretched outward, swaying gracefully. Ding Ying placed the miniature flying sword at his fingertip into it, and the crown returned to its original state, the silver petals closing one after another.

Ding Ying stood with his hands behind his back, gazing at the stream of sword energy so close at hand. Even for Ding Ying, this scene was a rare and magnificent sight in his life.

While looking down at the snow-white brook suspended in the mortal realm, Ding Ying smiled and asked, “Chen Ping’an, is that the sword control technique of a swordsman? You and Feng Qingbai both used it before. I was careless, not expecting you to be able to control the sword from so far away. But it doesn’t matter, the overall situation is already set. Besides, such a celestial sword, you, as its master, don’t truly hold the hilt, but instead use a trick, a mere feigned grip, isn’t that too wasteful?”

Ding Ying retracted his gaze and turned to look at Chen Ping’an, “Or is it that you actually can’t fully master this sword? A pity, a pity. Are these things that seem like mist yet aren’t, seem like water yet aren’t, all sword energy? Sword energy should dissipate quickly.”

Chen Ping’an hadn’t expected Ding Ying’s discernment to be so keen, seeing through his and the sword’s “outward agreement but inward discord” so quickly.

That sword, Changqi, Chen Ping’an had drawn from its sheath once outside Flying Falcon Fortress. Chen Ping’an’s entire arm’s flesh and blood had been completely eroded by the sword energy, leaving only white bones. It was only with the Yin-Yang family’s Lu Tai’s miraculous elixirs that the bones regrew flesh. This time, controlling Changqi to come to his side wasn’t because Chen Ping’an’s swordsmanship had reached a divine state, capable of controlling a long sword from so far away. Rather, it was because of the constant companionship between Chen Ping’an and Changqi, the sword energy permeating his body, his spirit in turn drawing the sword energy. Even if the two were separated, there was still an inseparable connection.

Ding Ying pointed to his lotus crown, “At this moment, you have obtained the sword, while I have temporarily lost the divine power of this celestial crown. With this exchange, wouldn’t it be considered a fair fight next?”

Chen Ping’an slightly increased the force of his five fingers holding the hilt. The long river of sword energy, originating from the alley courtyard and ending in Chen Ping’an’s palm, instantly converged. The sword energy reunited on the sword body, and the Changqi sword in his hand no longer showed any strange phenomena.

Chen Ping’an “weighed” the weight of the Changqi sword, finding it just right, heavier than the lovesick sword of Flying Sword Fifteen. Ever since Chen Ping’an obtained the “Sword Arts Canon” in Old Dragon City and began practicing swordsmanship on Peach Blossom Island on the ferry, he had always felt it was too light. Now, even with just a feigned grip on Changqi, he felt it was suitable.

Just right is good.

Only at this moment did Ding Ying elevate Chen Ping’an from the likes of Lu Fang and Zhong Qiu to Yu Zhenyi, who had cultivated immortal techniques.

The difference between the two was that no matter how profound Lu Fang’s swordsmanship was or how invincible Zhong Qiu’s boxing was, in Ding Ying’s eyes, they were still children playing with willow branches and old men swinging fists. Only Yu Zhenyi, whose offense and defense were both at their peak, had a chance to injure Ding Ying.

Chen Ping’an let out a heavy breath.

The only good thing here was that the martial arts contest wouldn’t target Chen Ping’an’s breathing technique.

It seemed that the martial artists here lacked the first step in becoming a pure martial artist in the Great Li world. On Chen Ping’an’s side, martial artists went against the path of cultivators, needing to first dissipate all the spiritual energy in their bodies and refine a pure essence of Qi. The Qi was like a flood dragon, wandering through the five viscera, six bowels, hundreds of bones, and Qi mansions, like an elite frontier cavalry opening up territory, creating paths suitable for the circulation of true Qi. Only then could they be considered to have entered the hall and truly embarked on the path of martial arts.

But in this world, probably due to the scarcity of spiritual energy, martial artists simply didn’t have this emphasis, and thus lacked that tempering. So the foundation was poorly laid from the start. Many martial arts masters in the martial world pursued returning to simplicity, but in reality, it was only after reaching a certain height on the path of martial arts and suddenly awakening that they began to reverse course.

Even so, this century’s martial world had still produced geniuses like Ding Ying, Yu Zhenyi, and Zhong Qiu. In history, there were even more amazing talents like Wei Xian, Lu Baixiang, and Sui Youbian.

Ding Ying smiled slightly, “Besides the lotus crown on my head, the sword in your Chen Ping’an’s hand is the second thing I, Ding Ying, want to obtain.”

In a feigned grip, he held Changqi.

Chen Ping’an moved forward with the H撼山Shaking Mountain Fist six-step stance, containing the peak meaning of Zhong Qiu’s grand boxing form.

Each step had a different magnitude, but after a million punches, everything was natural. The boxing intent had already penetrated Chen Ping’an’s bones. Coupled with Zhong Qiu’s previous feigned sparring, which was actually a secret instruction of the peak of the boxing form, it already had a flowing meaning. The two connected seamlessly.

In Ding Ying’s eyes, Chen Ping’an’s six steps didn’t reveal the slightest flaw, truly a unity of man and nature, in harmony with the Great Dao.

In sixty years, Ding Ying had extensively collected and compiled the world’s martial arts. Ding Ying himself was a martial arts prodigy rare in a century, integrating everything and trying to compile a treasure that would teach the world’s martial arts into peerless skills.

Seeing these ordinary six steps forward, Ding Ying’s eyes lit up. It seemed that his secret book still had room for improvement.

Since there was no chance to kill with one blow, and also thinking of extracting more extra-territorial martial arts from Chen Ping’an, Ding Ying simply avoided his sharp edge.

But Ding Ying quickly realized that this retreat was a miscalculation.

After the sixth step, Chen Ping’an’s aura had risen to its peak, his boxing intent so concentrated that it seemed to condense into water, like water droplets rolling on a lotus leaf. After carrying the Changqi sword day after day to temper his spirit, the sword intent that slowly permeated Chen Ping’an’s body was the veins of that lotus leaf.

Leaping high, he slashed down with his sword.

Chen Ping’an held the sword with both hands, the sword edge changing from vertical to horizontal, flashing past.

The street was divided into left and right by that sword energy. If someone was on either side of the street, they would find that in an instant, the scenery across the street had become blurred and distorted.

Ding Ying had retreated three zhang, twisting his heel and turning sideways, the snow-white sword qi whistling past in front of him.

Like a tourist watching the tide crash on the shore.

Facing the second sword sideways, Ding Ying slapped his palm, his feet leaving the ground, his figure drifting in the air, dodging the surging sword energy coming waist-high. One palm just landed on the Changqi sword body, the palm touching the sword’s spirit, like a grindstone grinding against each other.

Ding Ying frowned, his palm bloody. He suddenly exerted force, flicking a finger at Changqi, using the force to roll over and drift backward.

However, Ding Ying, who had lost the initiative, found it not easy to get rid of Chen Ping’an.
With his next six-step walking stance, Chen Ping’an’s first step landed an inch above the ground, the second a foot above. He ascended with each stride, as if climbing to the heavens. Simultaneously, he released the Changqi Sword, transforming it into a white rainbow that surged forth, pursuing Ding Ying.

Of course, this wasn’t because Chen Ping’an had reached the seventh realm of martial arts, the Wind Riding Realm. It was a clever maneuver, borrowing momentum from the Changqi Sword. By harnessing the connection between man and sword, he could defy gravity and soar through the air. However, his earlier, brief aerial strides during the battle with Zhong Qiu, when he first broke through to the fifth realm after the Da Long baptism, were merely a temporary overflow of energy before it stabilized. Zhong Qiu recognized this and assisted Chen Ping’an in solidifying his martial foundation through their fight.

Ding Ying stomped his foot, causing an explosive ripple beneath him. His body leaned towards a higher point in the air, and with another stomp, the same scene unfolded. He condensed his outward-projecting qi into stepping stones, placing them in the air before his feet landed, allowing him to travel anywhere he pleased in the sky.

This was almost a rudimentary form of the Wind Riding Realm found in the Vast Sky.

If Ding Ying could ascend and leave Lotus Flower Paradise, his future achievements would be unimaginable.

Unlike Ding Ying, the other nineteen individuals, whether local martial artists or exiled immortals, all considered the pinnacle of achievement within the confines of Lotus Flower Paradise to be the Unity of Heaven and Man. Reaching this point was a struggle, consuming countless efforts. But Ding Ying was different. He was merely held back by the limitations of Lotus Flower Paradise, forced to remain at the Unity of Heaven and Man realm, year after year, waiting for others to climb the mountain step by step. He had long stood at the summit, gazing upon the world with utter boredom.

Therefore, Ding Ying chose to fight against the rules and fundamental principles of this realm.

This was an earth-shattering battle in the heavens.

Chen Ping’an wielded the techniques of a swordsman controlling his sword.

His moves were supplemented by the “Avalanche” style from the *True Scripture of Swordsmanship*.

He consistently prevented Ding Ying from creating distance while also preventing him from getting too close, staying out of arm’s reach.

The two clashed in the sky above the capital city of the Nanyuan Kingdom, constantly moving towards the south of the city.

The collision of sword qi and fist energy created deafening rumbles, like rolling thunder, causing the people of the entire capital to look up in awe.

A young man in a snow-white robe, wielding a sword that resembled a white rainbow, created a spectacular and moving scene, like a heavy snowfall without the falling flakes.

Among the onlookers was the Emperor of the Nanyuan Kingdom, heavily guarded by the Imperial Guard.

There was the old cook from the Crown Prince’s residence, who had rushed out of the house wearing an apron, along with Crown Prince Wei Yan and Immortal Fan Wan’er from the Mirror Heart Pavilion.

Zhou Fei and Lu Fang stood shoulder to shoulder outside a street corner tavern.

The woman who was destined not to reach the Jiang surname scholar’s residence slumped against a wall. She glanced at the spectacle above her. The woman was filled with regret. She slowly closed her eyes, feeling truly tired. Even if she met her beloved scholar, knocking on the small courtyard door, what would happen? Would she let him see her covered in blood? Perhaps it was better not to meet this last time. Even if he heard others say she was a bad person, at least he would remember her as a beautiful woman.

So the woman tilted her head and fell asleep with a smile.

Empress Zhou Shu Zhen did not return to the palace, but instead sneaked into the Crown Prince’s residence, carrying a bronze mirror.

Within the courtyard, Cao Qinglang was helpless and alone, having dropped his firewood knife, crouching on the ground and weeping.

All around, there was no one. The thin little girl, carrying a small stool, swayed into the alley, looking around with curiosity.

Above the southern part of the Nanyuan Kingdom’s capital.

Chen Ping’an’s sword control became increasingly skillful and free.

The sword’s edge was too sharp, its qi too powerful, its moves too strange.

For the first time in sixty years, Ding Ying was so disheveled that he could only focus on defense.

Ding Ying was somewhat irritated, but helpless for the moment. He simply calmed down. He would see how long this young exiled immortal’s Flawless Realm could last. As soon as a flaw appeared, Ding Ying would severely injure Chen Ping’an. Ding Ying was not idle either. With his vast and varied knowledge, he casually unleashed attacks. He threw a crooked punch, not aimed at Chen Ping’an at all, but the fist energy would explode near Chen Ping’an’s side, perhaps near his brow, shoulder, or chest, at bizarre and unpredictable angles. This was Ding Ying applying the techniques of the Eight Trigrams and Plum Blossom Numerology to his fist techniques, making Xiao Lian’er Qiantang’s bizarre movements seem like a joke.

Ding Ying used two fingers to form a sword gesture, flicking them lightly, sending strands of qi like longswords.

With the other hand, he performed a Daoist incantation, displaying the power to move mountains and seas, often tearing large sections of rooftops and trees from the ground to defend against the rolling white sword qi.

Finally, the two landed on the high walls of the outer city of the capital.

Along this rampart, the crenellations and walls shattered, creating plumes of dust that spread throughout the capital.

It seemed that Chen Ping’an, after arriving at this place, finally shed the last bit of restraint and completely unleashed his power.

His sword control was approaching the level of true sword manipulation.

The long rampart was utterly destroyed by Changqi’s rainbow-like sword qi.

Whenever there was a gap, a loophole, and Ding Ying was about to escape, he would be forced back into the sword qi prison by Chen Ping’an’s fist.

Ding Ying, the world’s number one expert, who had reached the pinnacle of the martial world for sixty years, was for the first time steadily dominated, forced into a passive defense.

Although Ding Ying was not injured, several tears had appeared in the sleeves of his robe.

Chen Ping’an moved lightly, strolling casually on the crumbling rampart at a distance that was neither too close nor too far.

Ding Ying clearly felt a burst of inexplicable anger. Changqi Sword was struck several times by his fingertips on the blade or hilt, causing the sword qi to shatter and surge. However, the sword qi was so abundant that it could form a long flowing stream. This bit of damage was like a pebble thrown into the ocean, creating ripples on the shore that were insignificant.

Chen Ping’an, struck by a sudden inspiration, stood on a lone crenellation broken on both sides, performing the Mountain Shaking Fist stance, the Sword Furnace.

Changqi, which had been frantically circling around Ding Ying, suddenly ascended dozens of feet into the air. The flying sword’s already extreme speed defied logic and accelerated even further, disappearing into the sky in a true burst of speed. Then, a white rainbow wrapped in wind and thunder descended from the heavens, the sword cleaving through the capital’s city wall, then bursting out from the wall at the base, instantly appearing beside Chen Ping’an on the wall, hovering and humming.

The dust settled, and Ding Ying raised his hand. The sleeves of his right arm were completely torn.

Chen Ping’an reached out and briefly touched Changqi’s hilt, then released it again.

Ding Ying laughed loudly: “For sixty years, my muscles and bones have never felt so relaxed!”
Chen Ping’an posed the same question: “Wasn’t that exhilarating?”

Last time, Ding Ying could remain indifferent, but this time, a look of awkwardness crossed his face.

Ding Ying stomped his foot, and his figure became ethereal, vaguely discernible as he adopted the opening stance of an unknown fist form.

Behind Chen Ping’an, a blurry figure of an old Daoist with a lotus crown appeared, his fingers forming an ancient Celestial Official seal.

To the right, above the capital city of Nanyuan Kingdom, Ding Ying twisted his arms, creating a dazzling ball of light between his palms.

To the left, over the capital’s territory, Ding Ying stretched out his arms, his fingers like hooks, causing two cracks, each dozens of zhang long, to appear on the city wall.

Chen Ping’an, in turn, focused and condensed his sword energy, unleashing a snowslide-like formation-breaking technique, while his longsword met the enemy with the “Spirit Subduing Head” stance from orthodox swordsmanship.

Dividing his attention perfectly.

In an instant.

A massive gap, five zhang wide and six zhang high, appeared in the thick city wall.

Dust filled the sky, obscuring the sun.

Ding Ying stood on the edge of the gap, displaying the demeanor of a profound master, like a deep pool mirroring the mountains.

Behind him, clouds billowed, the result of Ding Ying no longer restraining his vast essence energy. The clouds gathered and dispersed, eventually solidifying into the outline of a cloud-like deity, as if a divine being was about to descend.

Chen Ping’an remained calm, standing on the other side, not even glancing at the extraordinary phenomena Ding Ying had created.

He merely held the hilt of Changqi in one hand, and with the other, used two fingers to lightly stroke the blade from left to right.

This was the sword stroke he had learned from the Old Master Wen Sheng’s landscape scroll, her singular strike.

Even if he only achieved a fraction of the resemblance.

The unruly Changqi sword trembled slightly, as if resonating with Chen Ping’an.

As if finally acknowledging Chen Ping’an, as if asking, what words do you have for this world?

Speak them aloud!

Before this, Chen Ping’an couldn’t even properly grip Changqi, so he could only be considered “near” to the sword, not truly having a sword in hand.

Now, this was truly “one with the mortal realm.”

Chen Ping’an suddenly gripped the hilt tightly, and at that moment, brilliant light burst forth from between his fingers.

Like a rising bright moon, it surged outwards like a tide, illuminating heaven and earth.

Even though it was already daytime with the sun high in the sky, the entire capital city of Nanyuan Kingdom became even brighter.

After gripping the sword.

The sun and moon coexisted.

Changqi currently had no scabbard, but Chen Ping’an still adopted the posture of drawing the sword from its sheath.

Ding Ying was astonished to find that he couldn’t cross the gap. Although shocked, he wasn’t terrified. Behind him, a three-zhang-tall deity formed from essence energy overlooked the insignificant man and his sword.

Ding Ying knew full well that he couldn’t retreat.

He remained motionless, but his hands in front of him multiplied into dozens of arms, dazzling the eye, displaying Buddhist mudras: the preaching mudra, the meditation mudra, the demon-subduing mudra, the wish-granting mudra, the fearless mudra, each glowing with golden light.

There were also Daoist hand seals: the Three Purities Finger, the Five Thunders Finger, the Heaven-Turning Seal, the Celestial Master Seal. Each hand seal was accompanied by swirling winds and the sound of thunder.

There was also Yu Zhenyi’s sleeve energy, Zhong Qiu’s shattering fist, the Mirror Heart Abode’s finger-sword, Liu Zong’s knife sharpening, Cheng Yuanshan’s arc spear…

The deity mirrored everything, displaying whatever mudras and stances Ding Ying displayed, but with even greater power.

Ding Ying’s martial arts prowess was a collection of the strengths of a hundred schools.

Yu Zhenyi stood at the peak of Daoist arts in this world, Lu Fang stood at the peak of swordsmanship, Zhong Qiu stood at the peak of fist techniques, Liu Zong stood at the peak of knife techniques…

But above the peaks of those mountains, Ding Ying stood even higher, already detached from the earth, making him like the midday sun in this Lotus Root Blessed Land.

This was simply too unreasonable.

Chen Ping’an only had one sword.

Simply a sword strike.

After the sword strike.

The deity shattered.

All techniques were broken.

Ding Ying was nowhere to be seen.