After several more hours, the sky gradually darkened.

Chen Changsheng looked up. Beneath the fading light, an Immortal Island appeared before his eyes.

But that island wasn’t shrouded in mist or thick with immortal energy as imagined. Instead, it looked utterly ordinary.

As he drew closer, Chen Changsheng spotted several palaces on the island. However, these palaces had long been abandoned; some had already collapsed under rainfall damage.

That wasn’t all.

A massive ditch about a hundred zhang wide split the complex in half.

All he could see were ruins everywhere.

Chen Changsheng flew down on his sword, landing before the palaces.

When he lowered his gaze, he saw a plaque broken into two pieces.

Piecing it together, it read:

【Qinle Palace】

Chen Changsheng’s lips parted slightly. He stared at the vast Immortal Sect’s remains—such scale meant it must have once ranked among the finest in the Cultivation World.

“That’s no exaggeration.”

Likely, that hundred-zhang crevice was left by Zhao Yuqing.

Chen Changsheng raised his eyes, peering into the distance.

A mountain appeared in his view.

Without surprise, that must be Yunfu Mountain.

Yet this mountain wasn’t actually part of the island.

Chen Changsheng leaped lightly, flying toward it.

A layer of soft clouds supported the lofty peak.

He murmured while looking at it: “Clouds beneath mountains, mountains upon clouds.… No wonder it’s called Yunfu.” (Floating-Cloud Mountain)

Chen Changsheng walked toward the base of the floating clouds.

Though the island’s foliage grew thick, a Great Dao path stretched beneath the clouds.

Suddenly, Chen Changsheng paused. He looked ahead.

‘Besides Zhao Yuqing… who else is here?’

At the path’s end sat a man. Eyes closed, he guarded the entrance to Yunfu Mountain, a black Sword Case standing upright beside him.

As Chen Changsheng neared…

The man snapped open his eyes and stood. Hand pressing firmly on the Sword Case, his voice carried cold warning:

“Halt!”

Chen Changsheng studied the man’s face and froze in recognition.

He’d seen him before.

After a moment’s thought, it came to him.

“So it’s you.”

Yan Bei’an paused, finally taking in the person before him.

He too recognized Chen Changsheng but remained silent.

Chen Changsheng eyed Yan Bei’an’s sword. “Seems the Old Sword Cultivator did set you on the Sword Immortal path. Yet you should be at Sword Mountain—what brings you beneath Yunfu?”

Yan Bei’an stared but offered no explanation. He stayed quiet.

Seeing him unwilling, Chen Changsheng pressed no further.

“Won’t speak?” Chen Changsheng said. “Very well.”

“I have matters atop that mountain. Might you step aside?”

Yan Bei’an took a step forward. “I promised its master no one passes.”

Chen Changsheng asked: “What debt do you owe Zhao Yuqing?”

Still no answer. Yan Bei’an gripped his Sword Case, vigilant.

Chen Changsheng sighed. “And if I insist on passing?”

Yan Bei’an glanced at his hand resting on the Sword Case—the threat was clear.

Swords would be drawn.

But Chen Changsheng shook his head while eyeing the case. “The Old Sword Cultivator guided us both, making me a friend of your guide. Drawing blades seems unwise.”

Those words struck Yan Bei’an deeply. His grip loosened slightly.

Chen Changsheng continued: “Besides, whether blades clash matters not—I will pass. Why force this?”

Yan Bei’an watched him, mouth opening.

“I…”

He struggled: “Cannot yield the path.”

Chen Changsheng pressed: “At least give reason.”

“He promised… If I guard this spot ten years… he would teach me that Sword Technique. Only one year remains.”

Yan Bei’an knew he couldn’t win against this opponent. But after guarding nearly nine years, mere months were left…

Understanding dawned, Chen Changsheng asked: “What Sword Technique could be worth ten years?”

Yan Bei’an shook his head. “I know not its name. Only its sight…”

Chen Changsheng fell into thought, murmuring:

“I see…”

His gaze lifted toward Yunfu Mountain’s peak.

There stood Zhao Yuqing, sword in hand, watching Chen Changsheng below.

Their eyes met in that instant.

Chen Changsheng broke away, turning back to Yan Bei’an.

He stated calmly:

“Perhaps no climb is needed now.”

Confusion flashed in Yan Bei’an’s eyes.

At that very moment…

On Yunfu Mountain’s summit, Zhao Yuqing raised his blade.

“Rain-Listening.”

Chen Changsheng frowned. He stretched out his hand—the Rain-Listening Sword hidden nearby flew into his grasp.

“Humm.”

A sword chime resonated from it.

Yan Bei’an recognized this blade instantly—the ninth sword once stored within the Sword Case.

Chen Changsheng gripped the hilt and gazed toward the cloud-veiled peak.

His wrist flicked casually as he swept it upward.

As the blade moved, a Sword Qi shot forth!

Effortless as this strike seemed, executed with just a lift…

Yet a magnificent arc of light burst past Yan Bei’an.

Yan Bei’an’s heart lurched. He whirled around.

The aftershock whipped his hair upward. Watching that Sword Qi soar skyward, his mind reeled like a storm-tossed sea.

Simple in appearance, yet carrying immense, fearsome power.

Suddenly, another ripple pulsed from Yunfu Mountain.

“Shiing!”

Then came a Sword Qi streaking from its peak to clash with its rival.

“BOOM!!!”

As two Sword Qi attacks collided…

The Immortal Island shook violently. Shockwaves scattered the clouds above. Even the few surviving palaces of ruined Qinle were leveled instantly.

Thunderous roars deafened Yan Bei’an.

He covered his ears—futile. Sounds vanished completely. Temporarily deaf.

Staggering back, he gaped at the scene.

Flashing before his eyes: those two sword strikes.

Scattered remnants of Sword Qi tore through floating clouds. Trees and cliffs shattered, rocks exploded, forests obliterated.

“CRAAACK-RUMBLE!”

Such force nearly flattened the entire island.

Gasping, Yan Bei’an stumbled as echoes faded. His head spun. Only after moments did faint sounds return.

Chen Changsheng sheathed his sword—taken aback.

A draw?

Impossible. He knew his swordsmanship stemmed from mortal manuals. Zhao Yuqing should outmatch him.

Yet here they stood equal.

Chen Changsheng refocused. He stared at Yan Bei’an:

“Did Zhao Yuqing not excel in Sword Dao?”

Yan Bei’an froze.

“Not… excel?”

His mind blanked briefly.

From the mouth of the Green-Robed Gentleman…

Could swordsmanship of this level truly be called… inexpert?