Chapter Thirty-Six: A Different Path

Inside the venue, a middle-aged man wearing a traditional cotton-padded jacket stepped onto the arena stage. After a few standard opening remarks to liven up the atmosphere, he dispensed with any further delay and immediately announced the start of the tournament.

An LED screen, positioned about two meters away from the stage, began to display a rapidly scrolling list of names. Suddenly, the image froze, and two names locked into place:

Li Qianyi vs. Li Wenzhe

Two teenagers walked to the side of the stage, where, with the assistance of dedicated staff, they donned their protective gear. Once suited up, they moved to the nearby weapon rack to select their blades.

The clan-provided armor, a black-and-white design made from a cutting-edge carbon fiber material, was lightweight, sturdy, and possessed a degree of elasticity. The entire suit, including the helmet, shielded the wearer completely, leaving only the joints exposed. Despite this level of coverage, the entire set weighed no more than five kilograms—hardly a burden for those trained in swordsmanship, feeling little different from wearing everyday clothes.

The defensive capabilities of this gear were unquestionable. The interior lining utilized the same material found in specialized bulletproof vests; it could stop a bullet, let alone a sword strike. Even with Li Qi’s explosive force of nearly a ton concentrated at the edge of a blade, he could only hope to shatter the outer casing; cutting through to the flesh was impossible.

Of course, if an average person were hit by his full-force strike, they might not be sliced open, but internal injuries would be inevitable. However, life sciences in this world were highly advanced. Perhaps because the practice of cultivation was fundamentally an exploration of the mysteries of life, medical technology at this point in time far surpassed that of Li Qi’s previous life. Even if a limb were severed, it could be reattached within half an hour with no lasting effects. Some masters with incredibly vigorous life forces could even use their own bodily control to forcibly hold shattered internal organs together until modern technology could restore them. Naturally, this was only possible for the elite; for an ordinary person, such an injury would be fatal. Other injuries, like damaged tendons or internal bruising, could heal on their own, though it required a period of recuperation and a decline in vitality. Therefore, avoiding injury remained the best outcome.

The two youths stepped onto the stage. At the referee’s signal, they began by testing each other with tentative footwork, edging closer until, almost simultaneously, they both swung their blades. After a single clash of steel, they retreated, widening the gap between them.

The clan’s weapon trials followed rules largely similar to external tournaments: losing one’s weapon or stepping out of bounds resulted in an immediate forfeit. Beyond that, anything went until one side ran out of points. Each contestant started with thirty points. A strike to the torso deducted ten points, a strike to the limbs deducted five, and a strike to the head deducted twenty. The first to lose all points was eliminated.

In professional matches outside, the scoring was more granular, with the body divided into many specific zones, each carrying subtle point differences; the clan trials simply kept things less complicated.

Both youths were sixteen or seventeen, around Li Qi’s age, and their swordsmanship was at the first level—just the beginning of the path. If Li Qi hadn’t broken through the "delusion of the womb" and awakened the memories of his past life, he would have been at this very level. In fact, he had faced Li Qianyi last year and had barely scraped by with a five-point victory.

But times had changed. Looking at them now, seeing two people who were once his peers dueling, he felt like he was watching children at play. Their footwork was chaotic, their strikes lacked power, and they were barely utilizing seventy percent of their true strength. Their blades were neither fast nor accurate. Li Qi didn't even need to look for flaws—the entire performance was one giant flaw. He believed that if he possessed their same physical stats, he could finish them in a single strike. With his current speed and power, he could disarm them with one blow.

Undoubtedly, this was the perspective gained from standing at a higher vantage point. It was not merely an increase in strength or speed.

"I have stepped onto a different path."

For the first time, Li Qi felt the profound difference in everything. Seeing these two was like looking at his former self, and having witnessed a different horizon, he could never go back.

Time ticked by until noon. While it took less than five minutes to put on the gear, and two novices were unlikely to have a stalemate lasting hundreds of rounds, each match lasted about fifteen minutes. This was primarily because, at the first level of swordsmanship, activating one’s "qi and blood" required a long period of buildup. Consequently, most matches began with the two parties testing each other while struggling to ignite their internal energy. Whoever succeeded first held half the victory. Before that, they would exchange one move and retreat. Only a rare few would choose to press the attack. Most of the ten-minute match was spent in this tactical maneuvering. Otherwise, take Li Qi, for example—he could strike four times per second; a single minute would be enough for two hundred and forty strikes. Under normal circumstances, matches at his level were over within thirty moves—or in his case, it would take less than ten seconds.

Of course, many external matches boosted scores for the sake of entertainment, extending the duration, but even then, it was rare for a fight to exceed two minutes.

During the three hours of the morning, only fifteen matches were fought. Yet, these matches demonstrated that every novice had their own unique approach and logic. One might say that the duels of masters were all alike, while the duels of novices each possessed their own spirit.

Li Qi was not drawn in the morning. It wasn't until the afternoon that someone was matched against him, and that person chose to forfeit without a moment's hesitation. It was a joke to think of facing a blade with a ton of force behind it; anyone matched against Li Qi knew better. No one found this result surprising. Some were merely curious if Li You’an would forfeit if he eventually faced Li Qi. After all, he had already entered the realm of cultivation; if he forfeited, it might look a bit shameful.

The second and third days followed. As expected, everyone who was matched with Li Qi forfeited immediately. As for Li You’an, he had a bit of luck; he was never matched with Li Qi and remarkably advanced straight to the finals.

Over these few days, the clan members felt the pressure and dominance Li Qi projected from yet another perspective. An opponent forfeiting all the way to the finals—it could only be said that the "ton-force blade" was simply too powerful. Because of this reputation, Li Qi unexpectedly gained an additional five points of "Fate."

Indeed, the hearts of men were fate itself; where hearts gathered, there was destiny. Of course, this required a genuine, strong impression. If one were merely grandstanding and seen as a clown, it would not generate Fate.

Finally, on the afternoon of the third day, the last match—the championship—arrived. Li Qi and Li You’an faced off. Li You’an was under immense pressure but did not forfeit. As a standout of the younger generation, he had his pride; even knowing he was outmatched, he had to test his limits.

At that moment, Li Qi felt a profound sense of destiny. Something intangible seemed to coalesce, and a voice told him that the moment of his breakthrough was right before his eyes.