Thirteen Lethal Swords

"Great, you think giving me a broken sword would allow you to win?"

Suddenly, Jiang Yun burst into laughter. Wan Yan Kun's last-minute tampering with the sword was clearly due to his lack of confidence. A swordsman who lacked self-assurance wouldn't possess a deep understanding of sword techniques. Jiang Yun found this amusing, hence his laughter.

Wan Yan Kun detested Jiang Yun's self-assured smile, which seemed to suggest control over everything. Without further ado, Wan Yan Kun swiftly thrust his sword toward Jiang Yun's chest. Although not empowered by spiritual energy, the strike was still swift.

Wan Yan Kun's move caused Jiang Yun's lips to quirk downwards in mild disdain. His smile carried a hint of mockery as he watched Wan Yan Kun's attack.

If Wan Yan Kun hadn't been so anxious to preemptively strike, Jiang Yun might not have detected his lack of confidence. Preparing a shoddy sword on the spot already displayed his insecurity. Striking preemptively only solidified Jiang Yun's certainty.

At first glance, Wan Yan Kun's strike seemed furious and reckless, but Jiang Yun knew it was merely a feint.

A swordsman lacking self-confidence couldn't execute such an unstoppable sword technique. Wan Yan Kun's strike was merely a bluff, and Jiang Yun faced it without any movement.

As the tip of the sword drew closer to Jiang Yun's chest, Wan Yan Kun's vigilance deepened. Just as Jiang Yun had anticipated, this strike was a feint, and the real attack lay behind it. However, Jiang Yun remained motionless, rendering Wan Yan Kun's follow-up attack useless.

Jiang Yun's composure contrasted starkly with Wan Yan Kun's doubt. It was as if this strike wasn't initiated by Wan Yan Kun but rather by Jiang Yun himself.

As the sword's tip approached Jiang Yun's chest, Wan Yan Kun grew increasingly uneasy. Right until the moment the sword was about to pierce Jiang Yun's chest, Wan Yan Kun realized something was amiss.

What was initially a feint had now become a real strike, with no room for alteration. Wan Yan Kun's originally planned follow-up moves were now useless. He watched as Jiang Yun's figure flashed to the side, narrowly avoiding the sword. It merely grazed his clothes.

The mockery on Jiang Yun's face grew more pronounced. From the moment Wan Yan Kun attacked, the outcome had already been predetermined. Confidence in the sword one wields is crucial for a swordsman, but Wan Yan Kun lacked that.

While executing the Four Elephant Steps to avoid the strike, Jiang Yun's broken sword began to move. There were no dazzling lights or awe-inspiring auras, but this movement placed Wan Yan Kun instantly on the defensive.

Jiang Yun's broken sword was like him—stubborn, unyielding, and relentless. The sword remained aimed at Wan Yan Kun's throat, the target clear.

Even though Wan Yan Kun desperately tried to capitalize on his slight advantage in length and strength, attempting to strike Jiang Yun first, he found himself at a disadvantage. After Jiang Yun dodged, he redirected the sword, and Wan Yan Kun realized that Jiang Yun's broken sword would still reach his throat before he could react.

Perhaps as Jiang Yun's broken sword pierced Wan Yan Kun's throat, Wan Yan Kun's sword might pierce Jiang Yun's chest. However, Wan Yan Kun wasn't willing to gamble on this possibility.

He had to change his strategy, shift from offense to defense. After retracting his sword, Wan Yan Kun attempted to block Jiang Yun's broken sword. Yet, he found himself ensnared in Jiang Yun's rhythm.

If Wan Yan Kun didn't retract his strike, victory or defeat might still be uncertain. After all, Jiang Yun wouldn't sacrifice himself for the sake of an assessment. However, because of Wan Yan Kun's lack of confidence, he changed his tactic. This change was forced upon him, a passive move that threw him into Jiang Yun's rhythm. He no longer held any hope of winning.

Jiang Yun's sword techniques were constantly changing, yet they consistently maintained the sensation that Wan Yan Kun's throat was in danger. It was as if Jiang Yun's broken sword could plunge into his throat at any moment.

Wan Yan Kun's panic gradually transformed into fear. Jiang Yun's quick and unpredictable changes of technique prevented him from determining where Jiang Yun's next strike would come from.

In fact, it wasn't just Wan Yan Kun who couldn't see through it; the audience below and even Fēng Lún, who had been observing Jiang Yun for a while from his seat, couldn't discern it either.

Fēng Lún could confirm that Jiang Yun's sword technique was a chain of continuous strikes, each one fiercer, faster, and more cunning than the last. However, he couldn't decipher Jiang Yun's variations.

Fēng Lún's sword intent had reached an impeccable level, yet he still couldn't unravel Jiang Yun's changes. This set of sword techniques was truly unfathomable.

Jiang Yun's variations became increasingly swift. This was already his fourth strike. Fēng Lún squinted his eyes into slits, his gaze fixed on the sword in Jiang Yun's hand.

His sword wasn't the kind that moved too fast to see its shadow; it was as though you knew the sword was there, and you could sense there were variations, but you couldn't defend against it. You couldn't predict these changes. How could you resist? Even if you blocked this strike, what about the next one?

Jiang Yun's sword was a psychological torture for Wan Yan Kun. Fēng Lún realized that if Jiang Yun wanted to kill Wan Yan Kun, by the third strike, Wan Yan Kun wouldn't have been able to defend.

Yet now, Jiang Yun had executed six strikes, and every strike following the third only added to Wan Yan Kun's torment.

In Jiang Yun's past life, an experiment had been conducted. If a person's eyes were covered and the back of their hand was stroked with a knife, accompanied by the sound of dripping water, they would feel like they were bleeding excessively and would die.

At this moment, Wan Yan Kun felt as if his eyes were covered, his hand was being brushed by a knife's edge, and though Jiang Yun's broken sword hadn't yet pierced his throat, it had struck at his heart. Fear had infiltrated his heart like a spiderweb, gradually spreading.

The seventh strike, Jiang Yun's broken sword evaded Wan Yan Kun's sword and aimed for his throat.

When the icy blade of Jiang Yun's broken sword touched Wan Yan Kun's throat, he tightly shut his eyes. Fear made his legs tremble incessantly, and a sensation of needing to urinate surged from his abdomen to his thighs.

As Jiang Yun's broken sword touched Wan Yan Kun's throat, he retracted it. Without a blade, Jiang Yun's sword couldn't be fatal. With disdain, he glanced at Wan Yan Kun's dampened crotch due to his shock and fear, then withdrew the broken sword.

It wasn't that Jiang Yun didn't want to kill Wan Yan Kun; his current strength just wasn't sufficient for him to act recklessly and kill a disciple of the Heaven Sword Sect. For now, he could only give him a lesson, making him hold a healthy fear of himself.

Though Wan Yan Kun's eyes were tightly shut, he didn't feel the breathing difficulty caused by the sword's penetration into his throat. When he gathered the courage to open his eyes, Jiang Yun had already left the arena. All that remained for Wan Yan Kun was the slender figure, resembling a peerless sword lodged within his heart.

The cold sensation at the base of his thighs made Wan Yan Kun feel a wave of humiliation. His gaze turned increasingly malicious as he stared fixedly at the gradually receding figure.

Fēng Lún's interest in Jiang Yun grew more pronounced. A Qi Martial Stage Fourth Layer cultivator possessed such an enigmatic sword technique. It seemed that Lù Yáo's praise for Jiang Yun wasn't an exaggeration; perhaps she was even modest.