Chapter 237: Chen Xin — "You Wield a Sword, Too? How Arrogant!"
Upon the spacious arena stage, two towering figures stood facing one another—resembling two majestic mountain peaks, each exuding an aura that commanded awe.
Chen Xin remained clad in his signature snow-white robes; his hair and beard, white as snow, drifted gently in the breeze, as if the traces of time were whispering the tale of his legend upon the wind.
He stood there in silence, akin to a razor-sharp blade just drawn from its sheath—radiating a piercing sharpness that struck fear into the hearts of those who beheld him.
Though his eyes bore the marks of a long and arduous life, they remained incredibly keen—as if capable of piercing through every worldly illusion to discern the deepest secrets hidden within the human heart.
Jiang Bai, too, wore a simple long robe of black and white, his jet-black hair tied back in a casual knot.
He stood there without displaying the slightest hint of overt aggression, yet he projected an air of unfathomable depth—as if his very being concealed mysteries without end.
A distance of ten meters separated the two men; yet, these mere ten meters felt like an insurmountable chasm, charged with palpable tension and suspense.
The gaze of tens of thousands of spectators—like countless searing beams of light—converged simultaneously upon the two figures.
This battle was, without a doubt, the most highly anticipated duel of the Seven Great Sects Tournament thus far, having captured the undivided attention of everyone present.
On one side stood Chen Xin, the Supreme Elder of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect; on the other, Jiang Bai, the Sect Master of the Nine Treasure Glazed Tile Sect.
Both possessed a Soul Power level of ninety-six—sharing the exact same pinnacle of cultivation—yet their combat styles were starkly different.
Jiang Bai—wielder of nine 100,000-year Soul Rings—pitted against Chen Xin, whose standard configuration consisted of two yellow, two purple, and five black Soul Rings: this clash was, undeniably, a battle of true titans.
Everyone held their breath; their very heartbeats seemed to have ceased as they waited in tense anticipation for that thrilling, climactic moment.
Chen Xin slowly raised his right hand, his movements steady and resolute.
In an instant, a longsword materialized within his grasp.
The blade was entirely silver-white—long, slender, and elegant—resembling a exquisite work of art. A faint, cold light swirled across the blade, radiating an aura of chilling frost.
Embedded within the hilt was a pale blue gemstone.
This was the Seven Kill Sword—Chen Xin’s Martial Soul, renowned as the greatest offensive Weapon-type Martial Soul in the land.
It had accompanied Chen Xin throughout his entire life, bearing witness to his glory and triumphs.
From the days of his youth, when he first honed his edge and rose to prominence within the martial world; through his middle years, when his fame shook the continent and he became a powerhouse revered by all; to this very moment, as he faced the twilight of his life—the sword had never once abandoned him. It remained Chen Xin’s most loyal companion.
Chen Xin gently stroked the blade; a complex glint flickered in his eyes—a blend of nostalgia for the past, unwavering devotion to the Way of the Sword, and a sense of uncertainty regarding the future.
This sword was not merely a weapon; it was his very life, his Dao, and his pride.
He raised his head, fixing his gaze firmly upon Jiang Bai, and spoke in a voice that was both deep and resonant: "Sect Master Jiang... please."
Jiang Bai nodded, maintaining that faint smile upon his face—as if everything remained entirely within his control.
He did not manifest his true Martial Soul; instead, he simply cupped his right hand in a loose grip, allowing his Soul Power to condense within his palm.
In the blink of an eye, a three-foot-long sword materialized in his hand.
The blade shimmered with a shifting, nine-hued radiance, dazzling the eyes with its brilliance. Faint dragon motifs seemed to surface and recede along its length, as if a colossal dragon were coiled within the sword itself—brimming with mysterious power.
The edge was incomparably sharp, and the tip gleamed with a piercing, frigid light that sent shivers down one’s spine.
The entire crowd erupted in an instant uproar; people leaned in to whisper to one another, their voices rising in a clamor of speculation.
"He didn’t manifest his Martial Soul? Is that sword merely condensed Soul Power?"
"Didn’t they say Jiang Bai’s Martial Soul was a tower? And what about his nine 100,000-year Soul Rings?"
"He intends to use that sword to challenge the Seven Kill Sword? That is sheer arrogance!"
The murmurs of discussion rose and fell like surging tides, echoing through the air.
Chen Xin’s brows furrowed slightly, his gaze betraying a hint of both bewilderment and displeasure.
When it came to the Way of the Sword—in the entirety of the Douluo Continent as it stood today—he firmly believed that, save for Qian Daoliu of the Spirit Hall, there was no one who could equal him.
Yet Jiang Bai sought to challenge him with a sword—an act which, in his eyes, was undoubtedly one of sheer arrogance.
He gazed at the sword in Jiang Bai’s hand, then shifted his gaze to Jiang Bai’s eyes.
Those eyes were as calm as still water, devoid of the slightest trace of disdain or arrogance; instead, they held an indescribable confidence—as if victory were already firmly within his grasp.
Chen Xin took a deep breath, steadying his emotions. His voice was low and grave: "Sect Master Jiang, my sword shows no mercy."
Jiang Bai smiled faintly, his voice soft yet resolute: "That suits me perfectly."
No sooner had the words left his lips than Chen Xin moved!
His figure flashed like a bolt of white lightning, appearing instantly before Jiang Bai with a speed so blinding it left the eye struggling to follow.
The Seven Kills Sword was drawn from its sheath, its blade gleaming like a rainbow. That single strike was speed incarnate—so fast, in fact, that the naked eye could not possibly track it.
The entire arena saw nothing but a streak of silvery-white light slicing through the air—a shooting star hurtling straight toward Jiang Bai’s face.
Jiang Bai did not dodge. With composure and calm, he raised his hand and brought his sword up to parry.
"Clang—!!!"
The two swords clashed, sending sparks flying in all directions and ringing out with a crisp, resounding impact.
A terrifying shockwave radiated furiously outward from the two combatants—like a sudden, violent storm—sweeping across the entire arena stage.
Fine cracks instantly spiderwebbed across the surface of the stage; it seemed as if the structure, overwhelmed by the force of the impact, was on the verge of collapse.
Chen Xin’s pupils constricted slightly, and a jolt of surprise ran through him.
He had never imagined that Jiang Bai would be able to block his attack—nor that his grip on his sword would be so incredibly steady, standing firm and unyielding like a towering mountain peak.
He withdrew his sword, then thrust again—once, twice, three times... The flashes of his blade cascaded like a waterfall, a ceaseless, relentless torrent.
The swordsmanship of the Seven Kills Sword was renowned for its ferocity; every single strike carried with it an indomitable, forward-charging momentum—and every single strike was imbued with a lethal, absolute resolve.
Jiang Bai stood his ground, not yielding a single step.
He raised his sword to parry, blocking each of Chen Xin’s attacks with pinpoint precision—as if he had already anticipated the exact trajectory of every incoming strike.
"Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang—!!!"
The ringing clash of metal on metal rained down thick and fast; sparks flew, and sword-lights crisscrossed as the two combatants met speed with speed, exchanging dozens of blows in the blink of an eye.
The entire audience watched, dumbfounded—stunned into silence by the magnificent duel unfolding before their eyes.
"Jiang Bai... he actually blocked Sword Douluo’s Seven Kill Sword?!"
"Doesn’t he possess a Tower-type Martial Soul? How can his swordsmanship be this formidable?!"
"What kind of monster is this?!"
Gasps of shock and cries of astonishment rose in a continuous wave, echoing throughout the entire arena.
Within Chen Xin’s heart, too, a tempest of emotion was raging.
His own swordsmanship—every single stroke—had been honed and tempered countless times over.
Yet, Jiang Bai was able to parry his attacks with such apparent ease; it left him utterly astonished.
He realized that Jiang Bai’s swordsmanship was not merely a product of innate talent; it, too, had been forged through countless real-world battles, cultivating a sword sense of such extraordinary acuity.
Taking a deep breath, he retreated several paces, widening the distance between himself and Jiang Bai.
Then, he raised his head to look at Jiang Bai; within those aged eyes, a blazing battle intent now burned fiercely.
"Sect Master Jiang, you are formidable," his voice was low and grave. "This old man is about to go all out."
Jiang Bai smiled faintly and replied softly, "Please, proceed."
Chen Xin closed his eyes and began to chant: "Seven Kill Sword—The ’Kill’ Incantation!"
When he opened his eyes once more, a razor-sharp sword intent erupted from within him—an intent so potent it felt almost tangible, soaring straight toward the heavens.
Before his words had even faded, a blindingly brilliant beam of sword-light burst forth from the Seven Kill Sword.
It did not thrust in a straight line, but instead wove and flowed through the air like a dragon-like flourish of calligraphy.
Pale azure trails of light sketched themselves across the void—strokes, sweeps, angles, and hooks.
In but a fleeting instant, a single character—Kill—bold as iron and imbued with an ancient, boundless killing intent, hung suspended between heaven and earth. Every stroke of that character—"Kill"—was imbued with Chen Xin’s lifelong mastery of the Way of the Sword; as the sword-light swirled, the very air was sliced apart, crackling and screaming in protest.
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