Hearing this, Xu Fu snorted coldly, the last trace of caution in his eyes vanishing completely.
“Is there not a single word of truth to your reputation as a Spear Grandmaster?”
He held the twin hammers horizontally across his chest. The thunder patterns on the hammerheads gleamed with a cold metallic luster under the sunlight as a sneer touched the corners of his mouth.
“You don't even know how to use a spear, yet you dare call yourself a Grandmaster of the Spear?”
The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that he had uncovered the truth.
The Way of the Spear had been in decline for centuries. High-level spearmen in the martial world were few and far between, and a Spear Grandmaster capable of founding a sect was unheard of.
How could Chen Zui—an Unaffiliated Wanderer without any sect heritage, guided by no famous master and backed by no sect resources—possibly possess such shocking mastery in spearmanship?
Breaking through two realms in succession back in Jinyang City, and withstanding the self-detonation of a Boundless Realm expert...
Every single one of these feats sounded like a tall tale spun by teahouse storytellers.
The more they were told, the more absurd they became, and the more absurd they became, the wider they spread.
The most ridiculous part was that the entire world had actually believed them.
“Today, I shall expose you as the fake Grandmaster you are for all the world to see!”
Before his voice even faded, Xu Fu stomped hard against the ground. Soaring into the air like a small iron tower, he raised both hammers simultaneously. The thunder patterns on the hammerheads suddenly burst with light, carrying the roar of wind and thunder as he smashed them directly down toward Chen Zui's head.
This strike held no probing; he opened directly with the ultimate signature technique of the Fuyang Sect.
Eight Rushing Thunder Strikes.
Xu Fu was invincible among his peers precisely because of this hammer technique.
In his hands, the massive twin hammers moved with surprising agility, completely sealing off all of Chen Zui's paths of retreat.
He had no intention of giving Chen Zui any room to breathe; he meant to smash this so-called Spear Grandmaster into the ground in one relentless assault.
He would let everyone present see clearly that rumors were nothing but rumors, and that Chen Zui was merely a fraud who had stolen his fame through trickery.
Standing rooted in place, Chen Zui watched the purple-gold hammers grow larger in his vision as his right hand slowly drew the nameless sword from his waist.
The moment the blade left its scabbard.
There was no unusual phenomenon whatsoever.
At this sight, Xu Fu nearly burst out laughing.
Did he really expect to block his purple-gold twin hammers with that piece of junk sword?
Hammer met sword.
“Clang!”
An ear-splitting clash of metal resounded outside the mountain gate.
The sword in Chen Zui's hand firmly braced against Xu Fu's right-hand hammer. Under the heavy blow, the blade bent slightly, yet did not snap.
Xu Fu was slightly taken aback.
How could this tattered sword actually withstand the force of his hammer?
Before he could overthink it, his left-hand hammer swept horizontally in a follow-up strike, aiming straight for Chen Zui's waist.
Chen Zui stepped back and turned sideways. The edge of his blade slid against the surface of the hammer, dangerously parrying the strike away.
His movements were somewhat unrefined, and the connection between his footwork and sword forms was far from fluid.
Yet Xu Fu's hammer techniques grew increasingly fierce.
Once the Eight Rushing Thunder Strikes were unleashed, they raged like a violent storm—each hammer blow faster and heavier than the last.
The purple-gold twin hammers carved dark-golden arcs through the air. Infused with true qi, the thunder patterns hummed with a low resonance, sounding like muffled thunder rolling across the horizon.
Yet Chen Zui merely swung his sword to block.
The sword in his hand sometimes parried horizontally, sometimes thrust obliquely, and sometimes deflected sideways.
He had never used a sword before.
His entire martial foundation was built upon spearmanship.
The breakthrough of every single realm in his cultivation was intimately tied to his enlightenment in the Way of the Spear.
Now, holding a sword instead of a spear, the length was wrong, the center of gravity was wrong, and the way force was exerted was wrong.
Everything felt completely different from the muscle memory in his hands.
Yet he was in no hurry to counterattack.
He was simply blocking, watching, feeling.
Feeling the resistance as the blade sliced through the air, feeling the vibration when the weapon endured heavy strikes, feeling every subtle feedback transmitted through the hilt into his palm.
He was using the most clumsy method to reacquaint himself with a weapon.
Meanwhile, Xu Fu's offense became increasingly unrestrained.
He saw with his own eyes that Chen Zui's sword movements were scattered and disorderly. Though his parries were precise, they lacked structured technique, let alone any recognizable sword style.
This was clearly a man who didn't know how to use a sword at all, barely clinging on in desperation.
The rumors outside were indeed completely fake!
What Wind-Riding Realm Grandmaster? What genius of the Way of the Spear? They were all baseless, exaggerated lies spreading through the martial world!
Today, he, Xu Fu, would step on this fake Grandmaster to make a name for himself across the land!
“Chen Zui! Can you only dodge?!”
Xu Fu bellowed loudly, unleashing both hammers at once as the seventh form of the Eight Rushing Thunder Strikes—“Thunderous Might”—came crashing down with almighty force!
The onlookers outside the mountain gate had varying reactions.
At this moment, the young geniuses behind Xu Fu were all turning green with regret.
They cursed themselves for being too slow, allowing Xu Fu to snatch the first credit for free.
Judging by this momentum, Chen Zui was bound to lose within ten moves.
When that happened, Xu Fu would gain instant worldwide fame under the title of “the man who defeated Chen Zui of Jinyang City,” while they could only stand on the sidelines as mere spectators.
Over by Furnace-Listening Pavilion, the mountain-guarding disciples exchanged bewildered looks, their eyes filled with confusion.
A-Tong stomped his feet in anxiety, tugging at Qin Tiegu's sleeve as he whispered urgently.
“Martial Uncle Qin, why isn't Brother Chen fighting back? Where is his Wind-Riding Realm cultivation? If he just unleashes his Grandmaster aura, that Xu Fu wouldn't even be able to stand straight! Why bother struggling like this?”
Qin Tiegu didn't answer, merely frowning tightly as his eyes remained glued to the figure darting and weaving in the arena.
Suddenly, Qi Tianchen spoke up.
Standing high atop the mountain gate with his hands behind his back, he fixed his gaze on Chen Zui, a smile slowly curling at the corners of his mouth.
“Clever kid. He's actually comprehending the sword mid-battle.”
At those words, everyone from Furnace-Listening Pavilion froze in surprise.
Comprehending the sword mid-battle?
What did that mean?
Hearing this, Qin Tiegu stared intently at Chen Zui's sword movements, his pupils suddenly shrinking.
He saw it.
From his initial unrefined and scattered movements to his current emerging rhythm, Chen Zui's sword strikes had evolved from simple parries into something structured and deliberate.
What shocked him even more was that this sword technique was completely different from any known sword style in the world.
Ordinary sword styles favored agility and lightness, focusing primarily on thrusts, slashes, upswipes, and flicks, emphasizing nimble variations.
Yet Chen Zui's sword was piercing forward with pure focus.
The blade extended straight outward, power flowing seamlessly from shoulder to elbow to wrist, connecting step by step.
And ultimately converging into a single point at the tip of the sword.
That was no sword form—that was a spear form.
“It isn't quite as outrageous as it sounds,”
Having seen through the secret, Qin Tiegu suppressed the shock in his heart and explained to everyone in a deep voice.
“Chen Zui's current sword technique is born directly from his spearmanship.
Since he has never practiced swordplay, he simply ignores the rules of sword technique altogether, using the sword to execute the principles of the spear.
However, this level of comprehension... is indeed rare.”
Though he spoke casually, his fingers wrapped around his wrought iron staff tightened imperceptibly.
Comprehending the sword mid-battle sounded easy in speech, but to actually pull it off required a martial artist's understanding of their own martial arts to reach an almost instinctive level.
It was not learning a new set of sword forms, but stripping the core essence of spearmanship away from the weapon of a spear and refitting it into an entirely different vessel—a sword.
Such a conversion would require ordinary martial artists at least several years of secluded contemplation to achieve.
Yet Chen Zui had accomplished it in less than the time it took to drink a cup of tea.
In the arena.
Xu Fu finally sensed that something was wrong as well.
His purple-gold twin hammers felt increasingly strain-heavy to swing.
The Chen Zui who had just been suppressed and forced into awkward parries was now delivering every sword strike with flawless precision.
The tip of the blade always tapped without fail on the exact spot of his hammerhead where force was weakest.
Though the force behind it wasn't heavy, its precision was terrifying.
What was worse, this sword technique completely disrupted his rhythm.
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