Zeng Han had undergone over a century of tempering, encountering numerous fellow cultivators, and was no longer someone bound by rigid rules.
He was well aware that his Yin Light Flying Needle might not be faster than Zhang Yan’s sword ball, and if he didn’t strike first and take the initiative, it would be hard to gain the upper hand.
Thus, when he released that needle, it was exceptionally concealed, moving swiftly and sharply. Only a barely perceptible silver thread skimmed across the water’s surface, tracing an arc and heading directly toward Zhang Yan’s flank.
This "Xuanji Yin Mang Needle" was refined using needles from a Divine Pine from the Taihao Sect. Once it pierced a cultivator’s body, it left no visible wound but could in mere moments sever the target’s meridians, cutting off their spiritual mechanism.
The needle was not suited for direct confrontation, instead excelling in covert techniques, catching opponents off guard, and Zeng Han’s current strike demonstrated mastery of this needle art’s principles.
He had intended for this single strike to accomplish its purpose; however, just as the flying needle reached ten zhang away from Zhang Yan, a streak of sword light flashed down like lightning, blocking the needle. In an instant, the collision generated sparks, followed by a brief tangled exchange in mid-air before the two separated.
Zhang Yan urged his divine thought, recalling the sword ball, which transformed into a stream of light that hovered and danced around him.
His heart brimmed with cold laughter. Not to mention the prior warning by Xin Chanzhen, even if he had been unprepared, his sword ball was imbued with True Recognition and would naturally fly out to protect its master during moments of crisis. How could it fall prey to a sneak attack?
Zeng Han saw this, let out a dry laugh, and, knowing his ambush had failed, decisively shifted from covert strikes to open attacks. Without further concealing his strength, he pointed his finger, releasing all twenty-eight Xuanji Yin Mang Needles at once, transforming them into a torrential barrage of flying needles that surged like a downpour.
Zhang Yan, facing a cultivator skilled in wielding flying needles for the first time, saw the overwhelmingly menacing attack but didn’t underestimate it. Smiling faintly, he raised his hand and pointed. The sword ball trembled abruptly, splitting into seven radiant beams of sword light that surged forward to meet the attack, intertwining with the flying needles in a furious clash.
The twenty-eight Yin Mang Needles twisted and turned, scattering and regrouping, transforming into threads of silver darting through the skies like schools of fish searching for gaps and weaknesses to escape the sword light’s web. However, every attempt was thwarted by the floating shadow-like sword light, preventing them from breaking free of the sword circle.
The two engaged in their fierce back-and-forth; silver rain scattered chaotically in the air, golden rays flickered unpredictably, and piercing cries of weapons echoed incessantly. Amid the dusky twilight, bursts of dazzling sparks periodically shot forth. No one could tell how many exchanges had taken place within mere moments.
The countless Xuan Guang Practitioners observing the duel were astounded by the intensity of the fight. Secretly, they admitted that stepping forward themselves, no matter whom they faced, would likely lead to defeat within moments.
Chu Jiu also watched in awe, exclaiming, "Over the years, Senior Brother Zeng Han has bested his opponents swiftly whenever he unleashed his flying needles, often claiming victory within just a few exchanges. Yet this Zhang Yan proves formidable, able to contend evenly with Senior Brother Zeng!"
Qiu Ju, standing nearby, nodded repeatedly. He had faced Zeng Han before and knew his terrifying strength. Witnessing this scene now, he had to admit that Zhang Yan, as a disciple of Mingcang, deserved his reputation. Not to mention various Dharma techniques within his sect, his mastery of Flying Sword Skill alone was praiseworthy.
Behind them, Miss Shan and Senior Sister Cai were similarly captivated. Miss Shan, though aware that Zhang Yan had once single-handedly slain two avatars of the Jiu Kui Demon King and was far from an ordinary cultivator, still watched with glittering admiration in her eyes.
Zeng Han, however, grew increasingly alarmed as the battle progressed, thinking, "I’ve faced many Sword Cultivators of my generation, including disciples from the Shaoqing Sect, but few have proven more brilliant in Flying Sword Skill than Zhang Yan."
Earlier, he had seen Zhang Yan split and transform the sword ball into light and shadow but hadn’t taken it seriously. Someone capable of defeating Chongyue True Temple’s Beigong Hao could hardly be ordinary; such skill was within reason.
Still, upon observing Zhang Yan’s sword force, not only was it fluid and adaptive, transforming in response to opportunities, but it also lacked fixed patterns. Zeng Han realized he had underestimated Zhang Yan.
He understood that, though he was simultaneously controlling twenty-eight flying needles and appeared to demonstrate superior mastery, needles differed fundamentally from sword balls. The former abandoned the Right Path to focus on eccentric methods, thus being easier to maneuver.
Moreover, despite this, Zeng Han himself hadn’t achieved the Divine Split level of controlling each needle individually, unlike Zhang Yan, whose every beam of sword light moved with his whim, as effortless as moving one’s fingers.
What troubled Zeng Han even more was that, although the two appeared evenly matched, locked in an impasse without victory or defeat...
He knew that Sword Cultivators excelled in swift strikes and retreats, attacking with the speed of light, the precision of an arrow, the aggression of fire, and the suddenness of thunder. Yet Zhang Yan stood atop the Immortal Mansion, unmoving, clearly at ease, and had yet to unleash his true capabilities.