Lan Cangfeng stood in the center of the courtyard. He wore a suit of blue fitted martial robes with a black scabbard at his waist. He drew his sword and ran his fingers along its edge, his brows as sharp and fierce as the blade in his hand.
It was a fine sword, and Ruan Xuezong could tell at a glance.
The moment it cleared the sheath, a flash of brilliant light erupted from it. The edge gleamed with lethal sharpness, enough to instill fear in any ordinary onlooker who dared not touch its keen point lightly.
“A sword is the pinnacle of art,” Lan Cangfeng declared. “No one appreciates the beauty of art more than I do.”
A flicker of arrogance crossed his features, and he had every reason for it. His talent in the way of the sword was exceptional. At just nineteen years old, he stood out among the second-generation disciples of Famous Sword Villa.
“Coincidentally, I know nothing of a sword’s artistry,” Ruan Xuezong replied with polite courtesy. In the first half of his life, he had only studied the family palm techniques, along with the usual poetry, chess, calligraphy, and painting that defined a disciple of an ordinary noble house. Whatever the scions of prestigious clans learned, so had he. And since he was destined to inherit the manor, he had also picked up some business acumen, leaving him no spare attention for admiring swords.
The courtyard was packed with jostling players, all clamoring for a good view. Hua Bailian glanced at Ruan Xuezong and voiced his instinctive concern. “Swords and blades know no mercy, Manor Lord Ruan. Please take care.”
It was no wonder. Ruan Xuezong was dressed all in white, with flowing wide sleeves cinched at the waist by a cloud-patterned sash and accented by a pendant of pale green jade. This was attire for receiving guests, not for combat.
The pre-fight banter was brief, and the duel began swiftly.
Lan Cangfeng struck first, unleashing Startling Wind Fast Sword. It tore through the stagnant air with ferocious speed. The two combatants moved like startled kingfishers—one a streak of white, the other blue—their shadows blurring into a frenzy of strokes too fast to count. The onlookers could only sense the austere chill of the sword intent as dazzling arcs of light carved deep gashes into the courtyard’s flowers, shrubs, and pavilion corners.
“Holy shit…”
The oncoming sword qi felt like crackling lightning or a gale scraping across their faces. Any player who ventured too close winced as their skin stung from the force. They quickly realized how fragile their avatars were—mere brushes with the sword qi caused heavy blood loss—and scattered to safer distances.
The tension in the air thickened by several degrees.
The players had placed great faith in Ruan Xuezong at first. But now, having witnessed Lan Cangfeng’s swordplay, they clutched their hearts, hardly daring to breathe. Disaster loomed. The opponent was so young yet so powerful—Zongzong was done for.
After all, his foe wielded a weapon while he had none. What a massive disadvantage!
Lan Cangfeng lived up to his reputation as a meticulously trained disciple of a renowned sect. His sword qi danced like flashing thunderbolts, each strike probing for vital points with unerring precision.
Unfortunately… it was all too flashy. Extraneous flourishes crept into his simple chops, thrusts, and slashes, curving them into elaborate arcs.
From the style and pristine condition of the tassel dangling from Lan Cangfeng’s sword hilt, Ruan Xuezong deduced it was a gift from a woman—one he cherished deeply, keeping it vibrant and bright. No doubt, she often watched him practice.
When a swordsman’s blade knew only solitude, his sword heart remained pure, focused solely on efficiency.
But when spectators entered the picture—and he grew accustomed to their gaze—his original purpose warped. He began tailoring his style subconsciously to captivate them, prioritizing spectacle over substance.
System 007 nearly dropped to its knees upon reading Ruan Xuezong’s analysis.
He was spot on. The tassel had indeed come from a young woman, who watched him practice daily. She was none other than Hua Bailian’s younger sister, the top beauty of the Central Plains, Hua Zhanlu. With her charming smiles and admiring glances full of gentle reverence, how could Lan Cangfeng’s swordsmanship remain unchanged? From that moment, the rivers and lakes gained a touch of romantic heroism.
System 007 thought to itself that Ruan Xuezong’s mind was truly befitting a villain. If the original story hadn’t disfigured him, crippled his limbs, and subjected him to betrayal, he might have conquered everything long ago.
Little did it know, Lan Cangfeng was equally stunned on his end.
His sword intent surged with overwhelming might, forcing Ruan Xuezong to dodge left and right, seemingly overwhelmed. Yet whenever their eyes met and locked on each other’s pupils, it was clear: Ruan Xuezong betrayed no panic whatsoever.
Behind the bronze mask, those eyes were pitch-black like an endless night, still as a bottomless pool without a single ripple. His opponent wasn’t the flustered mess he’d imagined but utterly composed.
Lan Cangfeng’s heart quivered faintly.
He knew full well that when a swordsman’s intent failed to crush his foe’s will, he had already lost.
Now it was Ruan Xuezong’s turn to counter. He spoke lightly, “Young Hero Lan, I truly don’t grasp the beauty of swords. I only know that killing requires but one palm.”
With those words, he slipped through the storm of blades with nimble grace and closed the distance. A single, unadorned palm shot forth from his sleeve, silent and unassuming. It seemed utterly ordinary—until it neared Lan Cangfeng’s face, revealing its blinding speed and crushing aura.
Decisive and ruthless, yet devoid of malice—pure dominance from start to finish.
Shock roiled through Lan Cangfeng like a tempest. At last, he pressed his lips together and admitted, “I have lost.”
It was the players’ first time witnessing a clash between two special NPCs in Jianghu. They had been utterly absorbed in the whirlwind of sword strikes, dazzled by the spectacle. Then, out of nowhere, Ruan Xuezong extended a hand, and the fight ended.
When they finally focused, they were left slack-jawed. Ruan Xuezong’s palm hovered at the crown of Lan Cangfeng’s head—right over his Baihui acupoint. Lan Cangfeng stood rigid, unmoving, as if the scene had frozen mid-frame, paused like a glitch.
Two seconds passed before Ruan Xuezong withdrew his hand. As if determined to drive home the palm’s ferocity, he casually flung the lingering qi from his palm.
He aimed it at the pavilion.
The palm force struck with tyrannical might. Marble pavilion and stone floor shattered like a mountain cleaved by the sea in an instant. Visually explosive, chunks of earth and debris flew everywhere. The wind didn’t stop there—it punched straight through the tall wall looming behind the pavilion.
Only then did Ruan Xuezong retract his hand fully, standing at ease as if he’d merely sliced through a block of tender tofu—nothing worth mentioning.
One could imagine: had that palm connected with Lan Cangfeng’s skull, it would have pulverized his cranium in 0.3 seconds, spraying blood and brains in a gory burst.
The players excelled at grim visualization. Once the thought sank in, an uproar erupted.
Lan Cangfeng stared at the wreckage, his phoenix eyes wide. His lips paled, the back of his sword-gripping hand bulged with veins, and sweat slicked his palm. It was as if his very soul had been yanked from his body.
A single strike of Pushing Heart Palm had shattered stone and shaken the heavens, radiating world-ending arrogance!
Hua Bailian snapped out of his daze and stepped forward to support his junior brother. He found the young man trembling faintly, his sword hand gone numb.
“You’ve lost, Junior Brother,” he said softly. “Martial arts know no true hierarchy—your defeat stems from excessive pride.”
Hua Bailian had sensed it even before Ruan Xuezong donned his mask in his presence: the Young Manor Lord of Heart Washing Manor was a brilliant yet enigmatic figure. Unmarred by disfigurement, yet he allowed vicious rumors to fester unchecked in the rivers and lakes. Possessed of supreme skill, yet he kept an exceedingly low profile.
Young as he was, Ruan Xuezong was shrouded in mystery, sparking Hua Bailian’s curiosity.
Lan Cangfeng replied, “I admit it—I have lost.” Had Ruan Xuezong not pulled back, he would likely be dead on the spot.
As an exceptional swordsman, given time, he could demonstrate Famous Sword Villa’s full arsenal: ethereal, intricate forms infused with profound principles.
Yet the most artistic swordplay wasn’t always the most practical in a duel. Ruan Xuezong’s single strike had laid bare the disparity.
A true martial artist honored wagers. Proud as he was, with the outcome so clear, Lan Cangfeng had no qualms admitting defeat.
Hearing this exchange, the players puffed out their chests with vicarious pride. They restrained themselves from cheering loudly, opting for tight-lipped smiles—serious and composed, careful not to let their grins run too wild, lest they seem petty in victory, mocking the loser.
But restraint was easier said than done.
Linghu Xiao couldn’t hold back; his lips curved upward again, nearly splitting to his ears. This drew a glare from the haughty sword hero. “You brat—are you laughing at me?”
Linghu Xiao straightened his face at once. “Not at all, Great Hero Lan! Martial exchanges have winners and losers—it’s the way of the world. Why would I laugh at you?”
“But you were grinning at me the whole time without stopping!” Lan Cangfeng fumed.
“Ah, well… it’s my character’s face. Peach-blossom eyes and smiling lips give me this springtime warmth even at rest. I swear it’s not on purpose.” Linghu Xiao blinked innocently, hoping the NPC would buy his “sincerity.”
Lan Cangfeng didn’t grasp “character creation,” but he inferred it meant a naturally cheerful face, not deliberate mockery.
Lacking proof, he snorted coldly and sheathed his sword with reluctance.
He could tell Linghu Xiao had weak footwork and no inner strength—a righteous hero like him wouldn’t strike down the defenseless.
The players stifled their laughter, terrified of provoking a red-name slaughter from this special NPC.
Ruan Xuezong had no such reservations. Beneath his bronze mask, his thin lips curved faintly, betraying good humor. And why not? That display had cowed plenty.
Moreover, with Famous Sword Villa’s backing, Lan Cangfeng carried real weight in the rivers and lakes. Defeating him would elevate Heart Washing Manor’s standing once word spread.
With the duel over, the villa homage concluded.
The two swordsmen departed after exchanging friend requests—Lan Cangfeng’s favorability ticked positive. Ruan Xuezong had proven his mastery: palms honed to perfection, killing with one strike, no need for fancy blades. In this jianghu, might made right.
The trio agreed to reunite next month at Peacock Manor for the lord’s sixtieth birthday banquet on Yanghe Mountain.
News spread like wildfire on the forums, igniting a frenzy of posts.
[Heart Washing Manor Pavilion: Epic Duel Between Two Major Sect Special NPCs! Ruan Xuezong’s Palm Shakes Heaven and Earth—Epic Video Attached. Sword Theft Mystery Deepens, Sequel Unknown]
Discussions blazed.
“No way Zongzong stole it—he’s a palm master. Why bother with a sword?”
“Right? Pushing Heart Palm is god-tier. One hit does Separate Mountain Hit Cow, obliterating pavilions and walls like dust. Who needs your junk sword? Though if Great Hero Lan insists on gifting it…”
“I ain’t qualified to learn it yet, but Pushing Heart Palm is fucking badass. Ruan Xuezong is the GOAT! (Thunderous applause) Spread the word, repost army!”
“Pushing Heart Palm is fucking badass. Ruan Xuezong is the GOAT! (Thunderous applause) 1”
“Pushing Heart Palm is fucking badass. Ruan Xuezong is the GOAT! (Thunderous applause) 2”
The repost brigade flooded two or three hundred replies before mods shut it down. Still buzzing, players replayed the video at 0.25 speed to savor Ruan Xuezong’s poise anew. Some speculated on the sword theft follow-up; others pondered if Peacock Manor hinted at the next plot beat.
Just then, the lingering players received a notification: 【Triggered Quest: Repairing Fake Mountain Pavilion】
【Quest Description: The duel has ended amid heart-pounding thrills, but great battles leave destruction in their wake. Heroes, step into the roles of masons and architects—restore Heart Washing Manor’s pavilion and wall exactly to spec!】
【Participants: Unlimited】
【Rewards: 1000 EXP, 1 tael of silver, 10 Heart Washing Manor Contribution Points, +1 Ruan Xuezong Favorability】
