Naked Sword Art

The two faced each other on the massive stone platform, and the crowd hushed.

Xun Wei narrowed her eyes and shifted into a relaxed stance—sheathed weapon, no posture—just calm breathing. Lin Wu cracked his neck and grinned.

"I hope you can last more than a few seconds," Lin Wu taunted with a smug grin.

Xun Wei didn't respond.

High above the stage, seated atop the Matriarch's viewing platform, Shi Lan observed in composed silence, her hands resting gently on the armrests of her throne-like seat. Behind her, Supreme Elder Song stood with arms folded, eyes narrowed. Beside Shi Lan, Supreme Elder Yao Wu sat upright, her gaze sharp and unblinking as her direct disciple stepped forward onto the battlefield.

"I'm getting goosebumps," Yao Wu murmured.

Shi Lan let out a quiet chuckle. "My, my. I didn't expect you to be so invested in this tournament. Or is it simply because your own disciple is in the spotlight?"

"It's not that," Yao Wu replied, her voice low. "You weren't there during the mock tournament... so you wouldn't know."

Shi Lan tilted her head. "Know what?"

"That girl, Xun Wei," Yao Wu said, her expression unreadable. "In close-quarters combat—she's untouchable."

"Untouchable?" Shi Lan raised an elegant brow. "That's bold praise, especially for the one ranked lowest among our ten. Perhaps you're being a little generous because she's your disciple?"

Yao Wu gave a tired, almost haunted smile. "She had a weakness. The others found it, and used it against her."

"So you're saying," Supreme Elder Song cut in, "if the Flowing Blade Sect exploits that same weakness, she'll lose."

Yao Wu didn't look away from the stage. Her reply came slowly—cold and deliberate.

"No," she said. "I said she had a weakness."

A long pause hung in the air.

"This tournament is going to be very interesting indeed."

Then—suddenly—a golden flare burst upward between Xun Wei and Lin Wu, signaling the start of the match.

The crowd roared.

And the silence that followed felt heavier than ever.

In the next moment, Lin Wu unsheathed one of his sabers and dashed forward, wind gathering at his feet.

The first match had begun.

…

The crowd held its breath as Lin Wu shot forward, wind coiling around his legs, amplifying his speed with every step. In an instant, he closed the distance, sabers flashing out like silver streaks under the sun.

Xun Wei didn't move.

At least, not in any way the crowd could follow.

The first strike came from Lin Wu's right saber, aiming for her ribs. But just before the blade reached her, it clanged off something invisible. Sparks flew—no one saw what deflected it. The second saber came up immediately, slashing upward toward her chin.

Again, deflected.

A faint metallic chime echoed across the stage, too fast and too subtle to trace. The crowd leaned forward.

"She hasn't even drawn her weapon," someone whispered.

"Is she using some kind of barrier technique?" another asked.

But before the crowd could finish their speculations, Lin Wu staggered back.

A thin red line appeared across his forearm.

Blood.

He blinked in confusion, glancing at the wound. His saber had never been blocked so cleanly—there was no movement from her, no visible defense. And yet he was the one bleeding.

"Impossible," he muttered, stepping in again. This time he launched a series of throwing knives at her midsection—small, razor-edged weapons that curved through the air like swallows.

A loud clink-clink-clink rang out as every blade was struck off course, spinning harmlessly to the side. Then—

Another red line.

Across his chest.

Then another—this time down his thigh.

The wounds weren't deep, but they were surgically precise, and they were starting to add up.

From the crowd, even the Elders from the Flowing Blade sect furrowed their brows.

…

"Did she move just now?" one of them asked.

"I… don't think so," another replied, eyes narrowed.

"But he's getting cut."

…

Xun Wei's posture hadn't changed. Her feet remained planted, and her hands rested calmly near her waist, one lightly brushing the hilt of her blade, the other at her side. Her gaze was still. Unwavering.

"How… how are you doing that?!" Lin Wu snarled, his breath ragged as fresh crimson traced new lines across his arms and ribs.

Each charge ended the same way: his blades swinging at air, a cold sting dancing across his skin a heartbeat later.

Xun Wei said nothing.

She moved with eerie stillness, her sword still sheathed as she began to walk forward, each step slow and measured. Her eyes were distant—calm, yet unfeeling.

Lin Wu's jaw clenched. He staggered back instinctively, his instincts screaming. But pride yanked him forward again.

"Enough!"

He roared, flooding his twin sabers with Qi until they hummed violently with golden light.

A powerful gust exploded outward as he launched himself forward.

"[ Flowing Blade Style – First Formation! ]" he shouted.

His movements blurred—fluid, cutting, aggressive. Each strike layered over the last like a torrential wave. For a moment, even the commentators could barely follow.

"She's on the defensive!" the male announcer shouted.

"The Flowing Blade Style's rhythm is overwhelming her!" the woman added.

But Xun Wei's face never changed. She slid back, evading with almost lazy steps, her sheath never rising, her hand never twitching.

Then—

[ Second Formation ]

Lin Wu spun in midair, blades becoming crescents of gold. He feinted, twisted, reversed.

Still—nothing landed.

Then a line opened across his thigh.

Another over his collarbone.

He stumbled, panting.

"What—what is she—?!"

"Sheathed sword… but those cuts…?!" one elder muttered from the crowd.

Xun Wei finally stopped walking. She tilted her head.

Still silent.

Lin Wu gritted his teeth and roared.

"[ Sea Dragon's Maw! ]"

Qi surged from his body. He vanished from sight—then reappeared above her, blades poised to cleave her in two.

Time slowed.

Xun Wei activated her [ Nine Winds of the Azure Dragon ] spirit attribute, making her body glow with a soft silver hue.

Then her hand moved.

Hum.

A breath.

A flash of silver light burst from her sheath.

Then silence.