Volume One, Chapter Seventeen: Zi Xuan Yi’s Mockery and Another Way to Achieve First Place

Upon seeing the jade box that Qingtian Yuan produced, everyone’s eyes widened instantly, their expressions filled with disbelief.

“There are ninth-grade elixirs inside the jade box. It seems the Divine Sword Manor has really gone all out this time.”

To refine a ninth-grade elixir, the alchemist must be at least tenth-grade, and such tenth-grade alchemists are exceedingly rare among the five great powers.

That Qingtian Yuan could summon a tenth-grade alchemist to craft elixirs speaks volumes about the extraordinary status of the Divine Sword Manor’s master.

Qingtian Yuan smiled as he addressed the crowd, “Among the rewards for first place is the Xuan Yuan Heavenly Elixir, a ninth-grade pill refined by the renowned alchemist Xuan Long.”

“The Xuan Yuan Heavenly Elixir is a supreme ninth-grade elixir. Those who consume it can clear their meridians and cleanse impurities lingering within their bodies.”

Every cultivator harbors some impurities within, which greatly hinder their progress. Once these are purged by the Xuan Yuan Heavenly Elixir, the cultivator’s advancement accelerates tremendously, a sensation becoming more pronounced the stronger they are.

The crowd in the pavilion above showed astonishment. “The Divine Sword Manor’s master actually brought out the alchemist Xuan Long to refine the elixir!?”

Xuan Long belongs to no faction; he is a wanderer who enjoys traveling. Occasionally, in good spirits, he pauses to refine elixirs. Finding him is a rare feat. Not only did Qingtian Yuan find him, he even commissioned a ninth-grade elixir from him.

A middle-aged man in a blue robe stepped forward and looked at Qingtian Yuan. “Divine Sword Manor’s master, enough with the words. Let the Shiya Sword Gathering commence.”

Their favorite event was the Shiya Sword Gathering. Winning first place there meant obtaining the Xuan Yuan Heavenly Elixir.

“Very well,” Qingtian Yuan said, scanning the many in the pavilion. “I now announce the official start of the Shiya Sword Gathering. Show your full strength.”

The Shiya Sword Gathering begins with a poetry contest, followed by swordsmanship duels.

One contender steps forward to challenge someone from the pavilion above. The victor continues, while the loser leaves the stage.

Zhao Yi gazed down at the spacious platform—the arena for the contest—and then turned to Gu Changfeng.

“Your Highness, will you be the first to step onto the stage for the poetry contest?”

He was eager to see the extent of Gu Changfeng’s poetic talent. Gu had mastered many verses and could easily dominate once on stage.

Gu Changfeng shook his head slightly. “I will not be the first. I need to observe their movements.”

He understood very well that going first in a poetry contest was akin to debating a crowd—an exhausting ordeal.

He wanted to wait for the right moment. When that moment came, he would rise to claim first place.

Qingtian Yuan ascended to the largest pavilion and addressed the crowd. “Let the first contestant step forward.”

At his words, a young man in a purple robe strode onto the platform. Bowing slightly, he said, “I, Zi, will be the first to engage in the poetry duel. Please show me courtesy.”

Upon hearing this, the crowd collectively inhaled sharply—Zi Xuan Yi was putting on airs.

But his arrogance was justified. He had last dominated as six-time champion. Though his swordsmanship was held back by Champion Chen Xuan, in contests like this, he was far superior.

None of them believed they could defeat Zi Xuan Yi, and their confidence faltered.

Observing their hesitation, Zi Xuan Yi sneered, “Are you all cowards? Even I dazzle you?”

His words stung the crowd deeply. After discussion, they sent a man to challenge Zi Xuan Yi.

Zi Xuan Yi’s arrogance was unbearable; they needed to humble him, to teach him a lesson in humility.

“Dongfang Nan of the Dongfang family steps forward to accept your challenge,” the man said with a slight bow.

Zi Xuan Yi’s gaze lingered on Dongfang Nan before responding, “I will recite the first line; you respond with the second.”

Dongfang Nan nodded in agreement.

Thus began their poetry duel, a spectacular exchange that stirred the hearts of the audience.

“I once wished to be wild without restraint, yet you force me to embrace madness.”

“Madness breeds arrogance; without madness, one is humbly modest.”

...

Zhao Yi grew increasingly excited as he watched their battle of verses. “They are composing poetry with madness as their theme!”

Zi Xuan Yi pushed his arrogance to its extreme, but Dongfang Nan had a retort for every line.

Gu Changfeng raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Their poetry duel is unexpectedly fascinating.”

Gu Changfeng himself was a transmigrator, yet in poetry, he did not consider himself superior to either of them.

Hence, he had to draw upon the verses of renowned literati to secure his eventual victory.

Zhao Huai’an patted Gu Changfeng’s shoulder. “Brother Gu, I see you are not skilled in poetic duels. Would you like me to show you a way?”

He sensed something unusual in Gu Changfeng’s eyes—Gu was certain not to win by poetry and would need another method to claim first place.

“What method?” Gu Changfeng asked, a hint of hope in his voice.

If Zhao Huai’an could truly offer a way to win without poetry, it would save him much trouble.

Zhao Huai’an spoke two crucial words: “Sword duel.”

He explained, “To win the Shiya Sword Gathering by swordsmanship, you must defeat the top ten winners.”

Relying solely on swordplay was an extreme approach. Gu would have to overcome all top ten victors.

“Very well, I will use the method you suggested,” Gu Changfeng said, a faint smile curling his lips.

At his current Grandmaster level, defeating the top ten would be like playing with novices.

It required little effort to secure first place—an excellent opportunity indeed.

“I concede!” Dongfang Nan lowered his head in despair.

Though he could have defeated Zi Xuan Yi, the latter’s final line delivered a knockout blow, sealing his loss.

Zi Xuan Yi taunted, “Dongfang Nan, the poetic genius of the Dongfang family—this is all you have?”

Dongfang Nan’s head bowed even lower at the scornful words.