The members of the Swan Sea Sect stared at the amputated arm in horror. Many couldn't believe what their eyes were looking at. The sight was just too gruesome and unexpected.
Though some disciples were injured before, they were all recoverable injuries. At most, they'd spend a few days recovering, and could take some healing pills to get better. But this arm – there was no attaching it back.
Harry, too, had once chopped off a man's arm. It was during his 10 vs 1 fight against some disciples from the Ox Ford Sect. But that was a totally different situation, because those opponents were trying to kill him. In that battle, Harry was fighting with his life on the line.
In contrast, this battle was meant to be a friendly exchange of pointers. It was a competition, not a fight meant for serious injury or death. There was no enmity between the two combatants, so such a vicious action was uncalled for.
As one, the crowd of Elders all stood up, looking like they were ready to storm the stage and attack Theodore Nott. In response, he just let out a mocking laugh.
"What are you all looking at me like that for? What, are you upset over that trash? Your disciple only has himself to blame for being so weak. And to think he actually questioned my fighting ability, haha, what a joke! I really wonder where he found the courage to get up on stage with me."
To everyone's surprise and anger, Theodore didn't act like he did anything wrong. He actually tried to justify his actions by mocking his opponent. And from the reactions of the New Port Sect, they wholeheartedly agreed with Theodore's point of view. Everyone from the Swan Sea Sect was glaring at Theodore, but he stood there, unaffected.
"All of you, sit down," the Swan Sea Sect's Sect Master ordered. The Elders had no choice but to obey, and reluctantly sat back down.
"Hehe, Gwenog, at least you understand what the Nott Sacred Clan represents," Macnair gave a nasty, toothy grin to the Swan Sea Sect. "If your Elders really attack my disciple… I'm sure I don't need to explain the consequences."
Once Macnair said that, all the Elder's faces ashened. In their anger over how their disciple was injured, they foolishly thought to restrain Theodore Nott and teach him a lesson. They forgot about who he was – and more importantly, his background.
As one of the 28 Sacred Clans of the empire, the Nott Clan was akin to the rulers of the empire, while they were just citizens, or perhaps even peasants, in comparison. And of the 28 clans, the Nott Clan had a reputation for brutal violence and revenge for the slightest grievances. If they actually attacked Theodore Nott, the next day, an Elder from the Nott Clan would come to raze their sect to the ground.
A Swan Sea Sect's Elder silently picked up the wounded disciple to carry him to the Healers, and the rest of the disciples stood mutedly.
"Indeed," Theodore Nott sneered, looking down upon everyone from his vantage point. "It's good that you know your rightful place. Now, who's the next person who wants to fight?"
Next person?
Everyone blanched. Who was still planning on fighting Theodore Nott?
Many people had thoughts of avenging their fellow disciple, but when thinking of how he lost his arm, those thoughts were immediately discarded. Nobody wanted to be next. With just one brief fight, Theodore deterred the entire Swan Sea Sect from participating in the competition.
His sword attack was just too powerful, and no one wanted to be on the receiving end of the shower of blades. If any of those blades were off by just a few inches, his arm wouldn't be only thing the disciple lost.
Further, Theodore's display of Sword Intent was also too frightening. None of the disciples in the Swan Sea Sect had any experience with it, in fact, many of them didn't even recognize it until the Elder shouted it out. And for those who did, they only knew of it as a mystical cultivation technique that only battle-hardened cultivators in the Core Formation Realm could display.
If they stepped onto the stage, that meant they were facing a man who wanted them seriously hurt – not like the other disciples, who left comparatively shallow injuries. Needless to say, many of them were terrified of Theodore Nott's strength.
Fear was a powerful deterrent. When the stakes were suddenly real and permanent, and the opponent was this vicious, nobody dared to step up.
And even more importantly, Macnair confirmed that Theodore was from one of the 28 Sacred Clans! Given that background, who still wanted to attack him? Even if there was someone stronger than Theodore Nott, there wasn't anyone who dared to really injure him. Even the Elders had to back down!
Silence met Theodore Nott's open challenge, and he let out another mocking laugh.
"Really? No one? What a pity, I didn't think the Swan Sea Sect was full of cowards. As expected, only trash can be found in trash places. I have no choice but to issue direct challenges then. You, you at the 8th level. Come up here."
He pointed a man who was indeed at the 8th level of the Qi Absorption Realm. Said man gulped at being singled out, and backed up.
Even if his cultivation level was higher, he didn't think he could win. If he were put in his fellow disciples' situation, he wouldn't have been able to defend against that flurry of sword strikes either. But most of all, he wasn't prepared to lose an arm for a competition they were already badly losing!
"I admit defeat," he hastily said.
Loud laughter and jeering broke out from the New Port Sect.
"Haha, so this is the Swan Sea Sect?"
"They're a group of cowards who won't even get on stage."
"That's Senior Brother Nott for you! Even those at the 8th level don't dare to fight him!"
Theodore shook his head in mock pity.
"So, you won't come up? Then I challenge you," he pointed at another man at the 8th level of the Qi Absorption Realm.
"I – I also admit defeat," the second man quickly said.
"You. You. You," one by one, Theodore challenged down the rest of line of Inner Disciples, who all admitted defeat.
The Elders of the Swan Sea Sect all glared at Theodore hatefully, but also at their disciples disappointedly. If they lost, that wasn't such a big deal. Winning and losing were both common experiences in a cultivator's life. But losing without even daring to fight… that was too shameful.
Meanwhile, Macnair stood there with a victorious expression, obviously having predicted this situation. He must have chosen these rules so that his personal disciple could show off, and win it for the New Port Sect. His disciple could cripple his opponents, but his opponents didn't even dare to attack Theodore Nott, whether due to his strength or background. This was an extremely shameless move, one that had no counter. But it was effective and guaranteed his victory.
The next two disciples of the Swan Sea Sect forfeited immediately, while the third hesitantly looked at the Sect Master. Because of the tie, whichever sect reached 25 victories first would be the overall winner, and the New Port Sect already won 24 battles. If he admitted defeat, then the New Port Sect would win.
He knew that the Sect Master stood to lose a Heaven Grade treasure – therefore, even though he didn't want to fight, he couldn't just immediately forfeit. This disciple felt like he had to make an impossible choice, and could only look at the Sect Master for help.
To his surprise, she just said, "If you don't want to fight, then there's no need to force yourself to."
The man almost collapsed in relief, and forfeited. And once he did, the New Port Sect burst into cheers.
"Haha, Gwenog, I didn't think your disciples would be this disappointing. I thought we need to fight 50 battles, but turns out just 35 were enough. Are you prepared to give up your Beast Core?" Macnair smirked and couldn't resist taunting the Sect Master.
"Wait," Theodore Nott spoke up. "Master, please allow me to finish the rest of the battles. To come all the way here, but to only be able to fight once, is just too disappointing."
"Of course, of course. Go right ahead," Macnair laughed. Naturally, he knew his disciple didn't actually care for fighting these people. Theodore Nott just wanted to humiliate the Swan Sea Sect a bit further, and he had no objection to that.
Theodore challenged some more Inner Disciples at the 8th level of the Qi Absorption Realm, who all conceded. Every single one of them admitted defeat without even stepping onto stage. The competition was already lost, so what was the point of going up now? As the score approached 36 – 9, with only five battles remaining, the mocking smile on his face grew larger and larger.
"What a pity, what a pity. My Master told me that the Swan Sea Sect would be a place I could practice my skills. Turns out, it's actually a sect of cowards. Maybe, if I challenge someone at the 9th level, I will get a chance to fight. You, do you dare to fight?"
Theodore pointed at a man at the peak of the Qi Absorption Realm, who glared back at him.
"We may have lost the competition, but for the sake of the Swan Sea Sect's pride, I accept. I'll teach you to reign your arrogance in today."
With that, the man leapt onto the stage. Now that he was out of the crowd, Harry could see he was also a sword cultivator. A meter-long sword was strapped to his back.
"That's Warren Hopkins, the strongest Inner Disciple from the Hopkins Clan! He's the perfect opponent to counter Theodore!" Shaun exclaimed. "He's also a sword cultivator, but he also cultivates formation techniques that can summon a barrier of Qi around him. Not to mention Theodore, even 9th level Qi Absorption Realm opponents can't pierce it. He's one of our strongest Inner Disciples."
But Harry didn't share Shaun's enthusiasm, nor the confidence the rest of the Swan Sea Sect was displaying. Every instinct he had was telling him this battle was going to go badly.
"I am 27 years old, and at the 9th level of the Qi Absorption Realm," Warren stated. "I'm also a sword cultivator, and I look forward to exchanging pointers. Make your move."
"It's not often I get to test my skills against the 9th level," Theodore said with a sharp grin. He didn't look scared at all, rather, he seemed incredibly excited. "Take this!"
"Rain Pours from the Sky!"
Once again, sharp blades appeared in the atmosphere, falling down like the heavy rains that accompanied a thunderstorm. But this time, the number of blades surpassed the amount from before, by a large margin. Hundreds were covering the entire stage, and in a flash, they covered the figure of the Warren.
"Is he going to be alright?" Harry exclaimed.
"Don't worry," Shaun assured him. "You can't sense him, but I can. He's fine."
A moment later, the rainstorm stopped and the figure of Warren Hopkins was visible. He was still standing tall, without a single scratch on his body. A shimmering, translucent shield covered his body, and the source of the shield was a sheet of paper he held in his hand. The paper had countless symbols – runes, Harry realized – inscribed on it.
"See what I mean? He's a formidable cultivator, who has accomplishments in both cultivation and formations. Warren should be able to stop Theodore for sure!"
Harry wanted to believe it, but he still had misgivings over the situation. It was the expression on Theodore's face – somehow, he just looked too confident.
"Not bad, not a bad formation at all," he sneered. "But do you really have the face to call yourself a sword cultivator?"
"Why can't I call myself a sword cultivator?"
"You don't understand the sword at all," Theodore said with a despising expression. "To wield a sword is to wield a weapon of pure offense. Thus, to be a sword cultivator is to sacrifice defense, and focus all out on attacking your opponent. If you hide behind a shield, how can you call yourself a sword cultivator? You're a disgrace to the way of the sword."
"Hmph. You have a big tone," Warren snorted. "Only an idiot would fight with pure offense. Break through my shield before you talk about your offense."
"Very well then," Theodore agreed. "Again! Rainstorm Sword – Rain Pours from the Sky!"
It was the same move, but this time, Theodore poured more of his power into it. Blades fell like the rain during a heavy monsoon, completely obstructing the view of the stage. When it finally cleared, everyone sighed in relief when they saw Warren still standing tall.
But this time, Warren had an ugly expression on the face. Everyone could see the small, but numerous, hairline cracks that had formed on his barrier.
"Impossible!" someone muttered. "Warren's barrier can defend even against the 9th level of the Qi Absorption Realm! Then…"
The conclusion was left unsaid. Did that mean that Theodore Nott actually had the power beyond the peak of the Qi Absorption Realm, despite only being at the 7th level?
"You're indeed powerful, as expected from someone from the Sacred Clans," Warren praised. He was truly in admiration of Theodore's strength. "But I wonder, how often can you use that move? I can tell it depletes at least 20% of your Qi every time you attack. You can't recover fast enough to keep using it. As for me, I can defend here all day."
Even as he spoke, he took out another formation paper, which activated and merged with the existing shield. In an instant, all the cracks were repaired, and the shield was as good as new.
"What do you know?" Theodore sneered. "You're just a countryside bumpkin, a frog in the well. I've never needed more than three moves to defeat someone. You can count yourself lucky for surviving my first two, that's all."
"Are you going to defeat me in your next move then?" Warren snorted. "I don't believe it. Let's see you face against this."
With his right hand, he pulled out dozens of formation papers, and Harry's eyes widened. How many shields had this guy created? Warren tossed them into the air, and they gathered together into a wall of runes that strengthened his shield further.
And with his left hand, he unsheathed the sword on his back, and stood in a fighting stance.
"Warren's defense isn't what makes it difficult to fight him," Shaun explained. "It's that he can attack with his weapon, and defend with a formation, both at the same time. He hasn't attacked Theodore yet, maybe because Warren has a sense of pride. But now that he's going on the offense, he'll win for sure."
"If you don't believe it, that's because of your ignorance," Theodore shot back. "Can an ant know of the vastness of the ocean, or a cicada know of snow? Perhaps my Nott Sacred Clan has been too low-key for too long, and now even trash like you dares to question my strength. If I don't teach you a good lesson, then how will the rest of the ants know to respect my name? Today, I'll give you a demonstration of true power."
To everyone's surprise, Theodore actually sheathed his sword, and held his hand out, as if another sword would drop out of the sky and land in his outstretched palm.
"Centuries ago, when my Nott Sacred Clan dominated the empire, my ancestor meditated during a rainstorm and achieved enlightenment. That night, he created the five moves that formed the Rainstorm Sword, and this technique has allowed my clan to maintain its position all these years. I've only used the second move, but now I'll use the third. You can be proud of losing to this attack. Open your eyes, sword cultivator," he said the last two words mockingly.
'What's he doing?' people wondered, but the next moment –
"Bloodthirsty Sword Spirit, come out!" Theodore roared.
In his outstretched hand, a sword shimmered and appeared out of thin air. The sword was the color of dark red, with a jagged, sharp edge. Just the blade was two meters long, taller than Theodore Nott himself, but he wielded it expertly, like an extension of his own arm. When it appeared, Theodore's whole demeanor changed, and he appeared to be even more vicious and bloodthirsty than before.
"It's – it's a Rank 4 Magic Spirit! Rank 4!" someone exclaimed, and Harry found himself surprised too. Needless to say, it was his first time witnessing a Magic Spirit with such high rank.
It was clear there was a difference between Rank 3 and Rank 4. Even though this Magic Spirit was an inanimate sword, it seemed alive, as if it had an awareness, even more so than Rank 3 Magic Spirits like Maynard's, which were Magic Beasts that were actually alive. It radiated a pressure that caused everyone to feel an inner suppression, a suppression of the spirit. Under this feeling, people were unable to control their own Magic Spirits properly.
Warren's expression turned stern, but before he could even react, Theodore Nott raised his hand behind his head, like he was about to crack a long and painful whip, and then –
"Rainstorm Sword – One Flash Lightning Bolt!"
Theodore slashed his sword downwards with all his might. A brilliant flash of light erupted, and a wave of energy shot towards Warren, who's eyes widened.
"Go!" he roared, and the dozens of formations around his body all activated at once. There was also a bright flash of light on Warren's side, and his formations combined to form a three-layered shield, and at the same time, he swung his own sword at the incoming slash.
BANG!
The two attacks met in the middle of the stage, and immediately after, there was an ear-splitting explosion. The two attacks were too violent and powerful for Harry to determine what happened, but the next moment, he heard an enormous cracking sound, followed by a scream of pain.
And when the light settled and the sound dispersed, the members of the Swan Sea Sect worriedly stared at the figures on stage.
The first thing they saw was Theodore Nott, still standing proudly on stage. Then they turned their gazes towards Warren, with a sinking feeling in their hearts.
The shields around Warren were shattered completely. The only things left of his formations were small scraps of paper that were scattered all across the stage, like debris. The sword in his hand lay broken in countless shards by his feet, and blood spewed out an enormous gash across his torso. He was still standing, but barely, and his hands were futilely trying to seal the wound.
Most impressively, a shallow but long crack could be seen on the stage, right where Theodore's attack had struck. It started at Warren's feet, and extended all the way to the edge of the Dueling Hall. A chill went up Harry's spine.
'That stage – only Core Formation Realm cultivators can do any damage to it! That's why there's a rule saying only Qi Absorption Realm cultivators and below can fight in the Dueling Hall. But Theodore – he actually managed to put a crack into it!'
There was no need to say what that meant for Theodore's strength. As expected, the cultivation talents from the 28 Sacred Clans couldn't be judged by normal standards.
"What. A. Powerful. Sword," Warren croaked as he fell to his knees. "I've lost."
He toppled over, having fainted. A deathly silence hung over the Swan Sea Sect. People were in too much disbelief to voice their thoughts – one of their strongest disciples was defeated, just like that?
Just as Nott said, it really just took him three moves!
They all thought Theodore Nott was boasting, but he actually had the power to back his statements up. This entire time, he was hiding such a powerful spirit and attack! Suddenly, those who forfeited against him felt they had escaped the clutches of death.
And though Warren lost, nobody belittled him. There was no shame in losing to Theodore Nott.
With that, the Swan Sea Sect was completely subdued. After Warren was carried off the stage, nobody wanted to fight anymore. Theodore challenged three more people, who all readily forfeited, and that was the end of the competition. A heavy air hung over the Swan Sea Sect.
The final score was 40 to 9. They actually lost over four times as many battles as they'd won! In the past, they had never lost in such a miserable fashion. And of those 40 losses, half of them were against the same person! That was such a horrible result that the whole Swan Sea Sect stood in silent shame.
"Well, well, Gwenog, every year your sect gets more and more disappointing. I think this is your worst result yet, isn't it? Are you going to hand over the Beast Core now?" Macnair nastily taunted.
Without a word, the Sect Master brought out her Beast Core, and floated it over to Macnair. But before Macnair could make some more taunts, to everyone's surprise, the Sect Master pulled out another Beast Core of her own.
"What's this?" Macnair sneered. "You want to hand me two of them?"
"I was just thinking, your Outer Disciples came so far, but didn't get a chance to display their skills. Why don't we double the competition? We'll fight another 50 battles, between the Outer Disciples this time. Whoever wins the most out of 100 will win the competition, and all four Beast Cores. How does that sound?" the Sect Master suggested.
'Oh no,' Harry suddenly thought. Could it be…
"Gwenog Jones, have you lost your mind?" Macnair laughed. "Or have you gotten desperate? Do you think adding another 50 battles can turn this around for you? For your sect to win, you would need to win 41 of the 50 Outer Disciple battles. Do you really think your sect can do that?"
Macnair was still riding the joy over winning a Heaven Grade Beast Core, and he didn't think about why the Sect Master would make this action at all. He didn't even care that he stood to lose three Beast Cores, while Gwenog Jones only stood to lose one. In his mind, there was no way she could win. She was just delivering more treasures to him.
"Then you should have no problem accepting this bet, right? Or are you too scared?" the Sect Master taunted.
"Of course not. Since you're trying to throw your wealth away, naturally I'll take it. But don't be disappointed when you lose it."
"Haha, you won't need to worry about that." Right after, the Sect Master looked right towards where Harry was standing. Their eyes locked.
"James, get on the stage."