I Became a Peak Master With No Disciples?!

Jian Wushen smiled and walked over to Wang Tian. He clapped the boy on the shoulder, the impact making Wang Tian’s frame stiffen slightly, though he did not budge. "I will be watching your performance tomorrow, martial nephew. I wish you good luck. Go out there and show them what a disciple of Brother Su can do."

"Thank you, Senior Uncle," Wang Tian said, bowing again. "I will not disgrace my master."

"Do not just avoid disgrace. Win," Jian Wushen laughed. He turned back to Su Ming, leaping onto his Autumn Water Sword. "I will see you tomorrow at the arena, Brother Su. Do not be late."

With a sudden burst of wind, Jian Wushen soared into the sky, his blade disappearing into the clouds.

Su Ming watched him leave, then looked at Wang Tian. "Go back and rest. Rest your mind, not just your Qi. Tomorrow will be a long day."

"Yes, Master," Wang Tian said, retreating back toward the pines.

The next morning, the mist over White Lotus Peak was thick and cold, clinging to the ancient trees.

Su Ming stood at the edge of the courtyard, his hands tucked inside his sleeves. Beside him, Wang Tian stood ready, his sword strapped to his waist.

Using his Essence Sight, Su Ming scanned his disciple one last time. Wang Tian’s cultivation base was stable, resting steady at the peak of the Foundation Establishment realm. His sword meridians were tempered recently in the Sword Pool. The Threefold Meridian Restriction Seal was active on his chest, keeping the chaotic hunger of the Shattered Sword Physique suppressed.

"Remember my words," Su Ming said, resting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. "In the arena, limit the use of the unique traits of your physique. Do not absorb random sword Qi. Do not trigger any phenomenon. Stick to using basic sword forms as long as possible."

Wang Tian nodded without hesitation. "Disciple understands."

"It is not just about secrecy," Su Ming added. "A strong physique is a gift, an innate talent, but it can also become a shackle. Such talents only define your starting point, but hard work and mastering the basics will decide how much further you can go. So master the basics first. Let the sword become an extension of yourself, not your constitution."

"I will remember, Master," Wang Tian said, his eyes darkening with determination.

"Then let’s depart," Su Ming said.

They walked toward the edge of the peak. Su Ming summoned a simple, green flying sword. Wang Tian stepped onto the blade behind him, his hands tucked inside his sleeves.

With a soft hum, the sword rose into the air, cutting through the morning mist as they flew toward the center of the Heavenly Cloud Sect.

The air was cold and crisp at this height. Below them, the vast peaks of the sect stretched out like sleeping giants, their slopes covered in ancient forests and hidden valleys. Clouds drifted between the cliffs, catching the early sunlight and glowing with a pale, golden light.

As they approached Heavenly Sword Peak, the number of cultivators in the air increased. Flying swords, spiritual beasts, and wooden carriages converged from all directions. The disciples wore the blue and white robes of the inner sect, their faces filled with excitement.

Heavenly Sword Peak was the second tallest peak in the inner sect, shaped like a massive sword pointing directly toward the heavens. Its sheer cliffs were carved with ancient runes, and waterfalls cascaded down its mountains, disappearing into the mist below.

They landed on the wide, stone plaza near the summit. It was crowded with thousands of disciples, the sound of their chatter creating a low hum that filled the air.

As they landed, Jian Wushen was already waiting near the steps, his arms crossed over his chest. He smiled when he saw them, walking alongside Su Ming as they entered the grand plaza.

Jian Wushen led the way, his expression excited. He was in Sword Peak’s Personal Disciple’s robes. Su Ming, on the other hand, wore his standard white robes and kept his aura suppressed. To the ordinary disciples around them, he looked like a normal elder.

However, some of the inner disciples of Sword Peak recognized them. Whispers broke out as they passed.

"That is Elder Su Ming, the Peak Master of White Lotus Peak. They say he personally slew a mutated demon lord during the beast tide."

"I heard he did not just kill the demon lord. He fought the Demon King, injured him, and captured him alive for the Beast Peak."

"He looks like an ordinary cultivator, but his strength must be enormous."

"Wait, why is Senior Brother Jian talking to him?"

"Does he know him personally?"

"Whoever can defeat a demon lord alone and face a Demon King is no simple cultivator."

"No wonder Senior Brother Jian stands beside him as an equal."

"But what is he doing here?"

"Looks like he is with his disciple."

"I remember him. During the demon king attack, he and the eldest disciple of White Lotus Peak threw a powerful attack at the demon king. But I do not see her here, though."

As their murmurs gradually turned into a blur of background noise, Su Ming took his seat.

Wang Tian ignored the whispers, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground in front of him. His expression did not change, but his grip on his sword hilt tightened slightly.

Su Ming did not pay attention to the crowd either. He had heard enough of these. In the cultivation world, reputation was a fragile thing, built on rumors and destroyed by a single defeat. The only thing that mattered was strength.

They climbed the stone steps leading to the grand arena. The arena was a massive, circular amphitheater carved directly into the summit of the peak. Rows of stone seats rose high into the air, already packed with spectators.

In the center of the arena lay the primary stage, a vast platform of grey stone reinforced with ancient arrays.

Jian Wushen parted ways with them near the entrance, heading toward the highest tier of the arena. Su Ming led Wang Tian down toward the main stage, where the participating disciples were gathering.

At the highest tier of the arena, a raised platform stood under a wooden canopy. The Peak Master of Sword Peak, Jian Wufeng, sat in the center. He looked like a middle-aged man with sharp features and grey hair, his eyes carrying the quiet depth of a master swordsman. He wore a dark blue robe, a sword resting across his knees.

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