I Became a Peak Master With No Disciples?!

Wang Tian stood at the edge of the stone courtyard, watching the two figures standing in the center. The morning breeze was cold, blowing through the pines, but the courtyard was tense and quiet.

Su Ming held the Dragon Emperor Sword, its dark steel catching the pale sunlight. Opposite him, Jian Wushen drew the Autumn Water Sword, a slender blade from his waist. It was a peak Mystic-rank sword, its clean edge humming with a cold light.

Restricting his cultivation base to the absolute limit, Su Ming tightened his grip on his sword hilt.

Jian Wushen stood opposite him and did not say another word. He immediately moved.

Jian Wushen stepped forward without using a footwork technique. His sword descended toward Su Ming’s neck, silent and fast.

Su Ming parried.

The blades collided with a sharp ring that echoed across the peak, the heavy impact pushing Su Ming back three steps.

Jian Wushen spun, his body bending as his blade swept toward Su Ming’s ribs. Su Ming retreated, deflecting the blow with a defensive move. He channeled his sovereign will to push through, but Jian Wushen’s Boundless Sovereign Will represented absolute freedom. The sword shifted, bypassing the compressed space like water around a stone.

"Good!" Jian Wushen laughed, his speed rising.

The spar went on for hours under the rising sun. It was a duel of extremes. Jian Wushen executed fluid, relentless attacks from angles that defied logic.

Su Ming relied on his raw power, his body tempered by the Primordial Yang Sovereign Art, to bridge the gap in their sword skill. His strikes were heavy, carrying the crushing force of his sword will, cracking the stone tiles with every parry.

Yet Jian Wushen pressed closer, leaving no breathing room. Forced to pick up the pace, Su Ming reacted on instinct, his sword moving in defensive arcs to deflect the incoming attacks.

Suddenly, Jian Wushen thrust his sword forward with extreme speed, too fast for Su Ming to parry normally.

By pure instinct, his left hand drew the Crimson Heaven Sword.

Channeling his descending sovereign will through the Dragon Emperor Sword in his right hand to dominate space, he simultaneously directed the rising dragon will through the Crimson Heaven Sword in his left.

The two forces met, the Dragon Emperor Sword parried the strike while the Crimson Heaven Sword swept upward in a rising arc. The combined force exploded.

Jian Wushen leaped back ten paces to avoid the crimson slash, staring in surprise.

Su Ming stood at the edge, panting, both of his swords humming in the quiet courtyard.

"Dual swords," Jian Wushen said, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Another Peak Mystic Grade Sword? You were hiding it?"

"I was not," Su Ming gasped, sheathing both swords with trembling fingers as his shoulders slumped. "I never needed to use both swords simultaneously until now."

"Then it was a breakthrough under pressure," Jian Wushen said, sheathing his sword. He walked toward the stone bench near the pavilion. "Amazing. Truly amazing."

He pulled out two jars of spiritual wine and tossed one to Su Ming.

Su Ming caught the jar and sat down on the opposite bench. ’Wine? In the morning?’

But he did not refuse. He broke the seal and took a deep drink. The cold, burning liquid ran down his throat, instantly warming his empty meridians.

Jian Wushen drank half his jar in one go. "You have too much raw power, Brother Su. But you rely too much on that force. If you did not have that strong body, my sword would have already cut you ten times today."

"Your sword skills are too high," Su Ming replied, wiping his mouth. "You do not fight like a normal cultivator."

"A sword is a tool to cut," Jian Wushen said, looking at the sky. "It does not care about cultivation ranks. It only cares about the cut."

As they drank, Su Ming felt a subtle shift inside his mind. The simultaneous use of the rising and descending sword wills during that final attack had left a lingering trace of inspiration on him.

"I do not care about titles or fame," Jian Wushen said with absolute sincerity. "But in front of you, I stand as a sword brother. Let us swear it."

Su Ming recognized the pure, stubborn loyalty in Jian Wushen’s eyes. He knew that Jian Wushen meant well, so he did not refuse.

In this ruthless world, a friend like this was rare.

"I swear it," Su Ming said.

They tapped their jars together, drinking the rest of the spiritual wine.

Jian Wushen stood up, turning his gaze toward Wang Tian, who stood in quiet reverence near the steps.

Jian Wushen’s eyes narrowed. His perception under his boundless sword physique was incredibly sharp. He looked at the silver restrictions on Wang Tian’s chest, sensing the dormant sword rhythm of his bones.

"Brother Su," Jian Wushen said. "Your disciple has a strange constitution. My sword physique is reacting to him."

"His meridians were reconstructed," Su Ming said, sighing. He did not technically lie, but he did not want to reveal everything.

"It is more than that," Jian Wushen said, walking closer to Wang Tian. "He has a sword physique. Even under those seals, I can feel it. He was born to wield a sword."

Wang Tian stood rigid, bowing deeply. "Disciple Wang Tian greets Senior Uncle."

"Uncle?" Jian Wushen laughed, clapping Wang Tian on the shoulder. The heavy blow made him shudder, but he stayed upright. "Yes, since your master is my sworn brother, you are my martial nephew."

Jian Wushen turned back to Su Ming. "The Sword Peak Tournament is in two months. You must let my martial nephew participate. With that physique, he should not be hidden on this peak. Let him fight."

Su Ming looked at Wang Tian, who had an eager light in his eyes.

"We will see," Su Ming said.

"Do not hide him," Jian Wushen said, walking toward the edge. He leaped into the air, intending to fly back toward Sword Peak. "I will see you tomorrow, Brother Su!"

Su Ming watched him disappear, then turned to Wang Tian. "Go back to your practice."

"Yes, Master," Wang Tian said, his voice firm.

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