Young hero, stay put and don't be reckless.

Chapter 112 The Xiao Family

Zhou Jing and Song Qingshu clearly already knew that he was going to replace Zhao Tieyi, and their attitudes were quite polite.

After exchanging a few pleasantries, the group took their seats.

Jiang Xun sat down next to Chen Lei, crossed his legs, and glanced toward the northern border.

The Northern stands were opposite the Central Plains stands, facing each other across the training ground, clearly separated by a distinct boundary.

There were also several people sitting over there, dressed in various colored leather robes. Some had curved knives hanging from their waists, while others carried bows and arrows on their backs. Each of them had a stern face and exuded the fierceness of a nomadic people from the grasslands.

Tuoba Feng sat on the far side. For some reason, he had changed his personality and was wearing a dark blue outfit today, which made him look more pleasing to the eye than yesterday.

There was someone sitting next to him.

He was in his early twenties, with a handsome face and a touch of heroism between his brows. He wore a dark brown brocade robe, a jade belt around his waist, and leather boots, looking like a noble young master.

He was speaking softly to the person beside him, his demeanor composed, a faint smile playing on his lips, yet it was impossible to discern what lay beneath that smile.

"That's Xiao Rui," Chen Lei said in a low voice.

Jiang Xun nodded and glanced at Xiao Rui again; this was a member of the Xiao family.

The man who spoke to Xiao Rui was also in his early twenties, but he looked much more rugged.

He had thick eyebrows and big eyes, a broad back and a burly waist, and wore a gray-white leather robe with a curved knife hanging at his waist.

Several gemstones were inlaid on the scabbard, sparkling in the morning light, as if afraid others wouldn't know he had some money.

"That's Huyan Fei," Chen Lei said. "The eldest son of the Huyan family, he grew up on horseback and has superhuman strength. He should not be underestimated."

Jiang Xun nodded, memorizing both faces.

As he was watching, the stands suddenly fell silent.

The group walked out from the corridor behind the high platform.

The leader was a man in his fifties, with a burly build, a resolute face, and a hint of ruthlessness between his brows.

He wore a black brocade robe and a gold belt around his waist. His steps were steady, as if each step had been measured.

Helian Quan, the lord of Shuofeng City.

Two people followed behind him.

One was an elderly man in his fifties, with a thin face and piercing eyes, wearing a gray cloth long coat—it was Huang Hu, who claimed to be the Sword God's follower.

The other was a man in his thirties, with a strong build, ordinary face, and a pair of short knives hanging at his waist.

Jiang Xun didn't recognize the man, so he leaned closer to Chen Lei and whispered a question.

"His name is Jin Yan," Chen Lei said in a low voice. "He is the captain of the city lord's personal guards, and his martial arts skills are extremely high. I heard that he has already received Helian Bo's true teachings."

A disciple of Grandmaster Helian Bo?

Jiang Xun couldn't help but glance at Jin Yan again.

The man stood behind Helian Quan, his head slightly bowed, his posture respectful, but he exuded an unsettling chill.

Helian Quan sat down in the main seat in the center of the high platform, while Huang Hu took a seat in the chair to his right.

"I am deeply honored that you have come from afar." Helian Quan's gaze swept across the entire arena. His voice was not loud, but it clearly reached everyone's ears, carrying an air of authority that came from long-held superiority. "Today, I am using this arena to select talents for the Sword God's legacy. Please feel free to display your skills and do not hold back."

After he finished speaking, he nodded to Huang Hu.

Huang Hu stood up, walked to the front of the stage, and glanced at the crowd.

"Gentlemen, today's competition is to select five outstanding individuals to enter the Sword God's Inheritance Grounds." His voice was aged, yet full of vigor. "The rules are simple: opponents will be determined by drawing lots. I will not judge heroes by victory or defeat, but will comprehensively consider everyone's strength and potential."

You are all outstanding individuals selected from various regions. Today, there's no need to hold back; just give it your all...

Jiang Xun leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs, picked at his ear, and looked around listlessly.

Everyone else listened attentively, except for Hu Yanfei, who, like him, couldn't take in the rambling. When he saw Jiang Xun looking over, he grinned.

Jiang Xun felt as if he had met a kindred spirit and returned a friendly smile.

Huang Hu rambled on for a while before reluctantly stepping aside.

A man who looked like a manager walked onto the stage, holding a bamboo tube with ten bamboo sticks stuck in it.

"Please come up on stage to draw lots."

Chen Lei stood up, straightened his robes, and strode towards the stage.

Ye Qingying followed behind, her steps light and graceful, as if floating on water.

Zhou Jing and Song Qingshu followed, as if facing a formidable enemy.

Jiang Xun slowly stood up, dusted off his robes, and strolled leisurely onto the stage.

The draw was quick.

Jiang Xun drew the last group, and his opponent was Hu Yanfei.

He glanced at the bamboo stick in his hand, then at the burly man in the Northern stands opposite him, and smiled indifferently.

In the first match, Zhou Jing of the Yu Cang School faced Xiao Rui of the Da Han School.

The two walked onto the stage and stood three zhang apart.

Zhou Jing's face was tense, his hand gripped the hilt of his sword, and he exuded a murderous aura.

Xiao Rui, on the other hand, looked relaxed, even with a smile on his lips, as if he had come for a walk and to have a fight on the side.

"Please." Zhou Jing drew his sword, its light flashing like a bolt of lightning, and thrust it straight at Xiao Rui's face.

This sword strike was swift and precise; the tip of the sword pierced the air with a sharp whistling sound.

Xiao Rui sidestepped, effortlessly dodging the attack, and then struck out with a backhand palm.

The palm strike was chilling and piercing, aimed straight at Zhou Jing's chest, and wherever it passed, even the air seemed to be covered with a thin layer of frost.

Zhou Jing raised his sword to parry, their palms clashed, and with a "bang," he staggered back three steps, his hand holding the sword trembling slightly.

Looking down, I saw that the sword was covered with a layer of white frost, and the cold air seeped into my palm from the hilt.

Xiao Rui, seizing the advantage, pressed his advantage relentlessly, his palms flashing and creating a series of shadowy strikes that trapped Zhou Jing in the middle.

His palm techniques were unpredictable, each strike carrying a chilling force, like a bone-deep infection that could not be shaken off.

The chill seeped into Zhou Jing's right arm through the sword, causing his swordplay to become increasingly stiff and his movements to gradually become distorted.

Ten moves, twenty moves, thirty moves... Zhou Jing's forehead was covered in sweat, his breathing became heavier and heavier, and his steps began to become erratic, like a drunkard who had drunk too much.

Xiao Rui, however, became more and more composed as he fought, his palm strikes like a tidal wave, one after another, giving Zhou Jing no chance to catch his breath.

In the thirty-fifth move, Xiao Rui suddenly changed his move and struck Zhou Jingjian with a palm.

This seemingly casual palm strike was surprisingly powerful—the longsword flew out of his hand, tumbled several times in the air, and landed on the platform with a "clang," breaking in two. The white frost on the blade gleamed coldly in the sunlight.

"You flatter me." Xiao Rui withdrew his palm, smiled slightly, his breathing was steady, and there wasn't even a drop of sweat on his forehead.

Zhou Jing's face turned ashen. He picked up the broken sword and walked off the stage without saying a word.

His right arm hung down at his side, still trembling slightly.

"Xiao Ruisheng," Huang Hu announced.

On the northern side of the stands, several people cheered loudly, their pride impossible to hide.

Jiang Xun leaned back in his chair, staring at Xiao Rui's back—this man was indeed not easy to deal with.

His palm techniques were unpredictable, his internal strength was profound, and his attacks were decisive and swift.

That cold-blooded skill is even more troublesome; when facing him, the first thing to do is to prevent your weapon from freezing.