Chapter 58: Eight Trigrams Lock the Scorching Sun, The Night-Illuminating Taoist

On the arena, two figures intertwined, shifting and moving within a tiny space, afterimages flying wildly, blows landing solidly with every punch.

It was Chang'an Zi and Daoist Liangshan.

The latter hailed from the Numinous Official Sect, a lineage dedicated to protecting the Daoist gates, renowned for formidable combat prowess and immensely tough bodies.

Daoist Liangshan was the very first person in the martial trials to block a punch from Chang'an Zi. They had already exchanged dozens of blows.

Both of them fought with absolute exhilaration.

In terms of body-refinement, they were a match made in heaven.

This primitive and brutal combat style made many Daoist practitioners frown, yet it excited a great number of martial artists.

Separated once again by the recoil force, Chang'an Zi and Daoist Liangshan exchanged a glance, sharing a tacit understanding as they each retrieved their magical artifacts.

Liangshan drew an iron whip, while Chang'an Zi lowered his heavy sword. The moment the heavy sword touched the ground, it produced a resounding thud.

"Fellow Daoist, take care," Chang'an Zi warned.

Daoist Liangshan said excitedly, "I return the exact same words to you, Fellow Daoist."

With those words, both Daoists moved simultaneously.

At the initial collision of their artifacts, even with prior preparation, Daoist Liangshan still felt his tiger's mouth go numb from the shock of the heavy sword.

Fortunately, he was no ordinary Daoist, and the iron whip in his hand also possessed considerable weight, allowing him to recover instantly.

As the artifacts clashed, the void boomed, the air distorted, and spiritual power surged. The two Daoists exchanged dozens more blows.

Like the tip of a needle against the point of an awl, neither yielded an inch, and through the fight, a sense of mutual admiration began to grow between them.

After trading over a hundred blows, Chang'an Zi and Daoist Liangshan decided to settle the victory with a single strike.

"Fellow Daoist, take this whip from me!"

"Fellow Daoist, behold my sword!"

As the iron whip swung upward, it instantly turned brilliant gold and razor-sharp. As it descended, the void itself seemed to emit light. At that moment, Daoist Liangshan resembled a protective divine general—majestic, awe-inspiring, and overflowing with fighting spirit.

Chang'an Zi swung his sword in a sweeping, open motion. The giant sword plummeted from the sky like a cascading waterfall, carrying immense weight and momentum. Its sword Qi was dense, and its sword intent was as heavy as a mountain.

The iron whip and the heavy sword clashed, producing a harsh, metallic screech. After lingering in a stalemate for a few breaths, Daoist Liangshan buckled at the knees, dropping to one leg. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he tottered under the crushing pressure.

At this, the outcome was decided.

Chang'an Zi emerged victorious.

Daoist Liangshan offered a formal bow.

"Fellow Daoist possesses extraordinary strength, and this poor Daoist is deeply impressed. I accept this defeat wholeheartedly, and look forward to your guidance again in the future."

Chang'an Zi returned the bow.

"Fellow Daoist's strength is equally remarkable. This poor Daoist also anticipates sparring with you once more."

***

Up in the stands, the spectators from the Seeking Truth Temple beamed with joy.

He won!

Not only had Chang'an Zi broken into the top twenty-five, but he remained completely unharmed and still possessed the strength to fight again.

Perhaps he could push his ranking even higher.

The thought that the Seeking Truth Temple might produce a supreme prodigy who ranked in the top ten of the Dao Origin Assembly filled them with excitement.

In the second-tier stands, True Person Huang Li of the Numinous Official Sect laughed heartily. "This lad is interesting, and the Seeking Truth Temple is even more interesting. I am growing increasingly eager to meet True Person Xuanming."

---

Sitting cross-legged on the arena floor, Chang'an Zi regulated his breath.

The arena was inscribed with spirit-gathering arrays, which helped Daoists draw in ambient spiritual energy, recover their magic power, and adjust their essence, breath, and spirit.

The other Daoists who still retained the strength to fight did the same. Once they recovered, the martial trials resumed.

Chang'an Zi drew lots once more.

Among the twenty-five competitors, one person would receive a bye.

His luck was neither good nor bad; although he did not draw a bye, his opponent's strength fell short of Daoist Liangshan's. After thirty exchanges of blows, he pinned the opponent to the ground with a single press of his heavy sword. The pressure, akin to a mountain resting upon them, left the opponent immobile, securing an easy victory and propelling Chang'an Zi into the top twelve.

The disciples of the Seeking Truth Temple grew even more ecstatic, sitting upright in the stands with beaming smiles. Xuanxu, feeling exceptionally generous and bold, gave low instructions to Xuankong: once this affair concluded, he was to reserve two tables of food and wine at the Immortal's Welcome and have them delivered to the Immortal Forest Pavilion.

The Seeking Truth Temple had achieved consecutive triumphs; such an occasion demanded celebration!

Even Daoists who practiced restraint and freed themselves from worldly desires still possessed the seven emotions and six desires. Normally well-controlled, today they found themselves unable—and unwilling—to suppress them.

What a joke! How could such a joyous occasion not be celebrated?

Chang'an Zi continued recovering his magical power. The battles ahead would all be tough fights, and he had to be even more focused.

Soon, the drawing of lots began anew. He was paired against a young Daoist in the fourth realm of refining essence. The youth was exceptionally handsome with wide-sleeved Daoist robes, carrying himself with elegance and grace. Hailing from the Qingyang Sect, he possessed an air of supreme arrogance, though he had the capital to be proud.

In this battle, Chang'an Zi exchanged over a hundred and fifty blows with him. Unleashing his fists and sword simultaneously at full firepower, Daoist Xinguang wore a jade wheel atop his head that shone like the blazing sun, casting brilliant sunlight everywhere.

Wherever the light shone, fist intent melted away like snow; wherever the hot wind swept past, sword Qi burned like dry grass.

"To have reached this step, Fellow Daoist, you truly possess remarkable skills and have brought glory to the Seeking Truth Temple. But prosperity cannot last forever, and fortune cannot overflow indefinitely. Meeting me, Fellow Daoist, your journey ends here."

Relying on his jade wheel artifact, Daoist Xinguang floated briefly in mid-air, standing with his hands behind his back as he looked down at Chang'an Zi from on high.

With those words, Daoist Xinguang transformed into a scorching sun and slammed downward fiercely, leaving roaring flames in his wake.

Yesterday, his master had instructed him: if he encountered either of the two disciples from the Seeking Truth Temple, he need not be polite. He should attack with full force and, ideally, ruin their foundations. Swords had no eyes, and such occurrences were not unprecedented in past Dao Origin Assemblies.

Chang'an Zi remained silent. Until the outcome was decided, saying anything was premature.

Granted, his opponent was a realm higher than his own.

Granted, his opponent hailed from a major Daoist sect.

Granted, he found himself on the defensive in this battle.

Yet, it was not as if he had no chance of turning the tables. He had already established a superior Dao foundation, cultivating both his physical body and magic power; defeat was not a certainty.

***

Sensing the powerful force bearing down upon him, Chang'an Zi calmed his mind. He gripped his heavy sword tightly, dancing as he stepped out the Eight Trigrams patterns.

The two-hundred-pound heavy sword moved with absolute lightness and agility in his hands, feeling as weightless as nothing. As the Eight Trigrams derived and he completed eight consecutive steps, the heavy sword inverted, pointing upward, multiplying from one into eight.

Eight matchless beams of sword light formed the Eight Trigrams Sword Array, locking down the blazing sun. The sword light surged, striking the plunging sun blow after blow. With every impact, the brilliance of the sun dimmed by a fraction.

Xuanxu sighed in admiration. "Nephew Chang'an Zi's mastery of the Eight Trigrams Sword nearly rivals our own. He can truly be called the pinnacle of the fourth-generation disciples."

"Senior Brother speaks wisely. With the Eight Trigrams Sword Array in hand, the outcome of this battle is already sealed."

Xuanyin nodded in profound agreement.

Only when one's Eight Trigrams swordsmanship reached perfection could one single-handedly deploy a temporary Eight Trigrams Sword Array, causing one's combat power to skyrocket.

Bolstered by the sword array, victory was securely within Chang'an Zi's grasp.

And indeed, facts proved it so.

No matter what tricks Daoist Xinguang tried, he failed to break the sword array, and instead found himself increasingly compressed. Eventually, the blazing sun and the sword array extinguished simultaneously. The moment Xinguang reappeared, Chang'an Zi reacted with lightning speed, fiercely swinging his heavy sword. Xinguang took the blow straight to the face as if struck by a heavy door plank, sending him spinning backward out of the arena. When he landed, his handsome face was utterly disfigured, swollen black and blue like a pig's head.

In this battle, Chang'an Zi was the victor!

Up in the stands, the disciples of the Seeking Truth Temple cheered in high spirits.

True Person Yuquan's mood was foul, yet he forced himself to maintain his composure, managing a stiff, unnatural smile. In stark contrast, True Person Donglai, the Grand Elder of the Purple Mist Sect sitting opposite him, wore a radiant grin. As Yuquan's gaze swept past him, Donglai even raised an eyebrow and stroked his beard.

The two were old rivals. Donglai didn't even need to open his mouth for True Person Yuquan to know what nonsense—or rather, what expression—he wore on his face:

Some people were clearly petty-minded yet pretended to be magnanimous, putting on airs and acting superior. It was utterly ridiculous!

Understanding this all too well, Yuquan's gaze turned as sharp as a blade.

---

Everything outside the arena temporarily had nothing to do with him.

Panting heavily, Chang'an Zi swallowed a medicinal pill to heal his injuries and restore his magical power. When the time came to draw lots again, he shook his head with a bitter smile, while a surge of fighting spirit instantly ignited within him.

For his opponent was Daoist Zhaoye of the Purple Mist Sect.

During the literary debate on Dao principles, he had taken first place.

During the trials of the hundred arts of immortality, he had still taken first place.

Ever since the martial trials began, he had breezed through effortlessly, and no one had ever lasted more than five moves against him.

Rumor had it that he possessed extraordinary innate talent, exceptional bone structure, and peerless comprehension. At merely twenty years of age, his cultivation had already reached the perfection of essence-refining, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with the older generation and perhaps even surpassing them slightly.

He was the undisputed favorite to win the championship of this Dao Origin Assembly.

To be able to spar and fight against such a formidable opponent filled Chang'an Zi with cautious reverence and boiling blood alike.