Chapter Twenty-Five: The Sun-Eroding Sword Formation

If before, Lin Xiaobao’s victory over the monkey could still be attributed to luck and coincidence, now, watching him hold his own against Han Yongfeng—the third-ranked among the senior disciples—no one dared question his strength any longer. Even if Lin Xiaobao were to lose in the end today, no one would look down on him, for he was, after all, a seventh-stage martial artist going up against a ninth-stage opponent.

At first, though everyone admired Lin Xiaobao, none truly believed he could win this fight.

Han Yongfeng’s figure flickered continuously as he launched one sword strike after another at Lin Xiaobao, each swifter than the last. He seemed to have seized control of the fight, dominating the tempo at will.

Yet this was only how it appeared to the onlookers. The truth, felt only by Han Yongfeng himself, was far different. The longer he fought Lin Xiaobao, the more unsettled he became. Though Lin Xiaobao was only at the seventh stage, his strength was in no way inferior. More terrifying still was his uncanny ability to anticipate Han Yongfeng’s moves—every time Han Yongfeng struck, Lin Xiaobao would dodge aside in advance, thrusting his own sword toward Han’s vulnerable points, forcing him to constantly change position.

It seemed that Han Yongfeng was suppressing Lin Xiaobao and controlling the pace, but in reality, Lin Xiaobao was driving him relentlessly, dictating the true rhythm of the battle. If Han’s footwork faltered for even a moment, he would instantly be forced into direct contact with Lin Xiaobao’s sword. If this continued, once his strength was spent, defeat would be inevitable.

Han Yongfeng moved swiftly, seeking an opening while considering how to break free from this stalemate. Meanwhile, Lin Xiaobao’s sword seemed almost sentient, always appearing precisely where Han’s feet would land. In less than the time it takes to burn an incense stick, sweat was already beading on Han Yongfeng’s brow.

No! I can’t go on like this! By now, Han Yongfeng could no longer care about the dignity of a ninth-stage martial artist. As he attacked, he shouted, “Devouring Sun Sword Formation!”

Some of the disciples had already sensed the subtlety of the fight as Han Yongfeng failed to prevail. But when he called out the name of the formation, even the senior disciples were taken aback.

The Devouring Sun Sword Formation was a joint sword formation requiring seven martial artists of at least the eighth stage. Its might was reputedly unmatched by anyone below the innate realm. Was Lin Xiaobao, merely at the seventh stage, worthy of such a response from Han Yongfeng?

“Brother Feng, using the sword formation might be fatal...” Though the other six had already stepped forward, one still hesitated. They knew all too well the power of the formation—they had once used it to hunt a third-tier beast as strong as a first-stage innate martial artist.

Plundering the new disciples’ quarters was one thing, but killing someone would be much harder to cover up. Besides, it was clear to all that Lin Xiaobao’s talent was extraordinary; if such a promising disciple died at their hands, none of them would escape unscathed. Thus, the other six wavered.

“What are you afraid of? He’s just a new disciple! Even if he dies, so what? If anything happens, I’ll take responsibility!” Feeling his authority challenged, Han Yongfeng barked harshly.

Perhaps it was due to Han Yongfeng’s long-standing dominance, or perhaps they thought no one would care about a new disciple, but under his shout, the six joined the fray.

“Kill him!” Forced to use the sword formation against a seventh-stage disciple, Han Yongfeng’s rage and humiliation boiled over as he glared, eyes bloodshot.

“Hurry and help Lin Xiaobao!” Seeing Lin Xiaobao surrounded by all seven, the new disciples were aghast. These were one ninth-stage and six eighth-stage martial artists; with the formation, their power was not simply added together—it was multiplied.

No one could stand by any longer. The new disciples surged toward the sword formation, but the senior disciples, unwilling to let themselves be bested, leaped up to intercept them.

After a brief lull, the chaotic melee between new and senior disciples of Snowwind Pavilion’s outer sect erupted once more. The attackers now turned defenders; their sole task was to keep the new disciples from disrupting the sword formation until Lin Xiaobao was down.

As long as Lin Xiaobao fell, their spirits would collapse, and the rest would be easy prey.

The boy with no eyebrows, Hu Dequan, and Meng Ying exchanged glances, instantly understanding each other’s intent. They gathered together in a triangle, pushing forward. Among the new disciples, only these three had reached the eighth stage; united, they aimed to break a hole through the blockade and rescue Lin Xiaobao.

With six more joining the fray, Lin Xiaobao’s movement was greatly restricted, and Han Yongfeng finally escaped the endless deadlock. In a flash, the seven surrounded Lin Xiaobao, assuming the positions of the Big Dipper.

Devouring Sun Sword Formation—Seven Stars Devour the Sun.

Although Elder Wu had yet to formally teach Lin Xiaobao the art of formations, he had often imparted simple foundational principles. Now, Lin Xiaobao’s spiritual sense spread out, locking onto the positions of the seven. In his mind, he began to deduce the workings of the formation.

Han Yongfeng flicked his sword tip upward. The disciples in the positions of Alkaid, Mizar, and Alioth shouted in unison and attacked Lin Xiaobao from three directions. Their swords created a shimmering wall of light, sealing off his east, south, and north.

The west? Lin Xiaobao’s lips curled slightly. Anyone ignorant of formations would instinctively dodge west, only to be struck by the combined might of all seven—a blow that even an innate martial artist might not withstand.

“Elder Wu, if you don’t help me now, I really will die!” Though Lin Xiaobao understood the formation’s workings, he was still a novice, unsure how to break it. He could only call out to Elder Wu. His earlier triumph had boosted his confidence, but he wasn’t so arrogant as to believe he could face all seven alone.

“When the Dipper points east, the world is spring; when south, it is summer; when west, autumn; when north, winter.” Elder Wu’s voice sounded in Lin Xiaobao’s ear. “Three inches to your left!”

While teaching Lin Xiaobao how to break the formation, Elder Wu did not neglect to impart the principles behind it—danger engraved lessons deep into memory.

After this battle, Lin Xiaobao would never again doubt the two elders’ strength. Though the sword wall on his left closed in, he ignored it and shifted left by three inches.

Is he mad? The three rescuers—No-Brow, Hu Dequan, and Meng Ying—were stunned. Instead of dodging toward the opening, Lin Xiaobao stepped straight into the sword curtain, eyes wide in disbelief, their attacks growing all the more desperate.

As Lin Xiaobao moved, confusion flickered in Han Yongfeng’s eyes. How could this kid…