Chapter 60: Calm and Unperturbed

Within the Small Heaven and Earth Realm, spiritual energy boiled.

A hundred arenas stood separated from each other by screens of light.

On the arena platforms, the brilliance of spells and the lingering shadows of sword qi intertwined and collided, then vanished, sending ripples through the air.

The roaring voices of the crowd were sealed outside.

Within this Sumeru space, only the hum of spiritual power clashing and the occasional uncontrollable exclamations of disciples merged into a symphony belonging solely to them.

Ye Chen sat in his seat watching the battles.

Beside him, several inner sect disciples, including the Sect Junior Sister named Su Ying, were excitedly pointing out the battle situations on the distant arenas.

“Senior Brother Ye Chen, look over there! It’s Senior Brother Zhang’s ‘Tri-Layered Wave Technique’! So fast!”

“And on Arena Seven, Senior Sister Li’s Firecloud Incantation has already reached mastery—the shield can’t hold at all!”

Su Ying’s cheeks were tinged red with excitement, her voice crisp.

She frequently turned to Ye Chen, eyes shining with anticipation, as if longing for a few words of commentary from this approachable senior brother.

Ye Chen would look in the direction she pointed, then nod gently.

“Mm, not bad.”

“The timing is well caught.”

“The power is adequate, but the spiritual energy is a bit scattered.”

His responses were always so brief and gentle, never condescending—rather, like an older brother from next door chatting idly.

“Senior Brother, it’s my turn! Arena Seventy-Two, second round!”

Su Ying’s identity jade plate glowed softly.

She clenched her fist, both nervous and excited.

“Senior Brother, you have to watch closely and give me some pointers later!”

“Alright, do your best.”

Ye Chen replied with a smile.

The girl’s figure turned into a stream of light and leaped onto the distant arena.

Ye Chen’s gaze fell on Arena Seventy-Two, watching quietly.

Not long after, the identity jade plate at his waist grew slightly warm.

A line of fine ancient script appeared on its surface:

[Third round, Arena Thirty-Six, Ye Chen.]

He nodded slightly to Su Ying’s companions beside him in farewell, then stepped forward, walking at an unhurried pace toward the designated arena.

His figure passed through the bustling crowd without drawing attention.

—

At the highest point of the Martial Arena, on the cloud-shrouded Starwatching Platform.

An Yao stood alone, leaning on the railing.

Her gaze pierced through layers of space, overlooking the battlegrounds below, arrayed like a chessboard.

She had originally… wanted to make him withdraw from this evaluation.

These matches, which seemed meaningless to her, were all a waste of his time.

His sword should only appear on this Starwatching Platform, in front of her.

This thought rose in her heart, carrying a sense of inevitability.

But at the moment she was about to speak, a strange, unfamiliar hesitation, like a thin thread, wrapped around her heart.

Would he… be unhappy?

If she did that, would it trouble him?

An Yao’s fingertip unconsciously traced the cold white jade railing.

This feeling of considering another person, of guessing their emotions, was so new to her, yet so… unsettling.

In her heart, seeing Ye Chen interact with others—especially that chattering female disciple—brought a faint, indescribable sense of discomfort.

But more than her own discomfort, she seemed… even more unwilling to see him troubled because of her.

This contradictory feeling made her heart, once nearly “emotionless,” taste for the first time the intertwining of “gentleness” and “obsession.”

In the end, she did not speak.

She merely watched quietly, her gaze focused.

In the entire Small Heaven and Earth Realm, only that single arena, and that single person, remained.

—

On Arena Thirty-Six.

Ye Chen’s opponent was a tall, steady-breathing young disciple—Chen San.

Chen San’s gaze was complex: scrutiny, unwillingness, and even a trace of fighting spirit he himself hadn’t noticed.

He had once been the brightest among this generation of inner sect Foundation Establishment disciples—until the name Ye Chen appeared.

He was unwilling.

“So, you are Ye Chen?”

Chen San spoke, his voice low.

“I’ve heard your reputation. Today, I want to see with my own eyes if it’s deserved.”

Ye Chen smiled gently.

“You’re too kind. Senior Brother, please.”

He drew the most ordinary standard longsword from his storage ring, spun it in a simple flourish, and pointed it forward—assuming the starter stance 《Wenxin Form》 that every entry-level disciple of the Purple Sky Sword Sect knew.

Simple, steady, without any flourish.

Chen San’s brow furrowed.

To him, the opponent’s actions seemed a kind of silent disrespect.

He took a deep breath, saying nothing more.

He suddenly drew the longsword from his back, its blade ringing with a clear hum.

“Inner Sect, Chen San, Foundation Establishment Peak. Please guide me!”

Before the words finished, his figure became a blur!

“《Hundred Wave Sword Art》!”

With a single thrust, the sword light split in mid-air, forming layer upon layer of waves, one after another, sealing off all of Ye Chen’s escape routes.

Each wave of sword light was extremely fierce, making the watching disciples below shudder.

At the same time, Su Ying, who had just won her match, ran back to her original spot, her face flushed with excitement.

“Senior Brother, I won! I just—eh? Where’s Senior Brother Ye Chen?”

She looked around, but the familiar figure was gone.

“Su Ying, look over there!”

A companion pointed to a distant arena.

“Senior Brother Ye Chen… he’s on the field!”

Su Ying hurriedly looked, her heart leaping into her throat.

On the arena, Senior Brother Chen San’s 《Hundred Wave Sword Art》had already unfolded, its momentum overwhelming.

As for Ye Chen… he merely held his sword, standing still, unmoving.

Su Ying’s heart instantly raced.

However, what happened next made everyone hold their breath.

Faced with the surging sword waves, Ye Chen finally moved.

He didn’t dodge, nor did he unleash any advanced sword techniques.

The ordinary longsword in his hand simply thrust forward at a seemingly slow but precisely perfect angle.

“Ding.”

A light sound.

His sword tip struck directly at the edge of the first sword wave.

That fierce sword qi, as if crashing upon a rock, instantly scattered into motes of spiritual light.

Then—

“Ding, ding, ding, ding…”

A series of crisp, dense sounds rang out like rain beating on plantain leaves, merging into a rhythm.

Ye Chen’s wrist flicked, the longsword tracing graceful arcs in front of him.

Every stroke landed perfectly upon a sword wave.

There was no earth-shattering clash of spiritual power, no dazzling contest of sword qi.

Only the ordinary iron sword, again and again, using the smallest force to break apart the opponent’s storm-like offensive.

In the eyes of the spectators, this scene was utterly bizarre.

Senior Brother Chen San’s sword technique was clearly fierce and unstoppable—yet before Senior Brother Ye Chen, it became as gentle as a lamb, easily brushed aside.

Su Ying’s mouth hung open in disbelief.

She couldn’t understand it, but she felt it was a realm of ease and mastery she had never seen before.

On the arena, Chen San’s heart churned with waves of shock.

Only he knew what a terrifying existence he faced.

His sword art was endless, yet his opponent’s sword always waited a step ahead, anticipating his next move.

He felt like a child, swinging a wooden sword before a grandmaster.

“Ahhh!”

Chen San roared, his pride unable to accept this “mockery.”

He poured all his spiritual power into his blade, merging a hundred sword waves into one giant sword qi—like a dragon bursting from the sea—striking down toward Ye Chen!

This was his strongest attack!

Faced with this full-power blow, Ye Chen’s eyes finally changed, showing a trace of approval.

He did not strike with the sword tip again.

Instead, with a twist of his wrist, he turned the sword horizontally, applying gentle force along the direction of the sword qi’s surge.

A subtle guide.

Buzz——!

The terrifying sword qi, which should have split the jade arena, was gently diverted.

It brushed past Ye Chen and struck the Defensive Light Screen beside him, sending violent ripples through the air.

Because Chen San’s all-out attack had suddenly gone astray, his body lost balance.

He stumbled forward several steps, nearly falling.

He stopped in shock, sword hand trembling.

The outcome was decided.

“Your spiritual power is strong, but too dispersed.”

Ye Chen sheathed his sword, still gentle in tone.

“When you focus all your strength into one strike, your center becomes wide open.”

Chen San stared blankly at Ye Chen, then lowered his gaze to his unguarded chest.

He knew that if the other had not guided the attack, but struck with his sword, he would have lost instantly.

He did not lose in cultivation, but in understanding of “the way of the sword.”

It was a difference as great as heaven and earth.

Chen San took a deep breath, then bowed deeply to Ye Chen, utterly convinced.

“Thank you, Senior Brother… for your guidance.”

With that, he turned and walked off the arena in silence.

There was no unwillingness—only reflection.

Below the stage, all eyes that watched this place were first silent, then erupted in noise.

“What happened? Senior Brother Chen San… just lost like that?”

“I didn’t understand… it seemed Senior Brother Ye Chen barely used any force?”

“He… he was guiding Senior Brother Chen San!”

A well-informed disciple spoke with a trembling voice.

Su Ying’s eyes shone brightly.

She finally understood—the strength of this approachable senior brother did not require proof.

The Dao Lake never tolerated falsehoods.

And the rumors that Ye Chen was weak in actual combat were dispelled.

Above.

An Yao’s clear eyes reflected the lone figure below.

She understood.

She understood the string of crisp pointers, the final gentle guidance.

Complex sword principles, transformed into the simplest action, achieving the most perfect result with the most basic method.

Yet, such a crude occasion could never display even a fraction of the beauty of his swordsmanship.

His sword was a form of art.

Just like her own.