Chapter 2: Luck

Tao Ran did not reply, nor did he even pay attention to what the other person was saying. After stepping onto the platform, he gazed silently at the sword in his hand, feeling both familiar and unfamiliar.

Familiar because he had learned swordsmanship at ten, and over the next twelve years, he gradually elevated his sword technique to the realm of 'Extreme Concealment of Intent,' which was also his capital for roaming the Primordial Dome Realm in his early years.

But since he attained the Golden Core at twenty-two and switched to practicing the Flying Sword Art, how long had it been since he last held a sword in his hand?

Tao Ran felt his once surging emotions suddenly cool down. He thought to himself, Tao Ran, Tao Ran, what are you rushing for? Wasn't the calm, indifferent, open, and cheerful state of mind always what you prided yourself on?

Although this body he now inhabited was not his own, its foundation was commendable, and it possessed innate spiritual bones, far surpassing his original physical body in terms of cultivation talent. As long as he could break through the original owner's dying obsession, it would not be difficult to achieve perfect integration of body and soul, and even go a step further to condense the 'Postnatal Dao Embryo,' which he had long yearned for but never attained.

And although this world was unfamiliar to him, its abundance of primordial spirit far exceeded that of his 'hometown,' the Primordial Dome Realm. With his foundation in the Dao and his accumulated knowledge, given sufficient resources, he could elevate this physical body to the Mahayana stage within fifteen years, or even ten, and restore his primordial spirit to its original state.

As for the Primordial Dome Realm—before leaving, he had severely wounded the various demons, and he expected these villains to lie low for a time before wreaking havoc again; and although the traitor held a key position, within the sect, the three masters and five swords he had personally cultivated were enough to deter him; as for the current emperor of the Langya Heavenly Dynasty, though ambitious, his claws and fangs had been severed, making it difficult for him to cause trouble for a while; and the 'Heavenly Dao Sect' in the south would have to bypass the two top-tier sects, the Profound Yuan Holy Mansion and the Lingnan Sword Sect, before heading north.

Carefully calculating, these troubles would take at least twenty years to erupt one by one, so he still had time, didn't he?

He, Tao Ran, should have more confidence in the fruits of his thirty years of leading the Divine Thunder Sect and in the many rising talents within the sect.

As the saying goes, heroes are tempered by adversity, and true colors are revealed in storms. In the past thirty years, the Divine Thunder Sect had always been under his wing, so many disciples appeared mediocre, all seemingly ordinary.

But after his departure, there might still be outstanding juniors who would emerge and shine with their own brilliance.

With the accumulated foundation of the Divine Thunder Sect, what did he have to worry about?

When Tao Ran thought of this, his mind gradually calmed, but at that moment, a sudden explosion rang out from his chest. The violent force sent him stumbling back seven steps, nearly causing him to fall.

Tao Ran snapped back to attention and looked ahead, finding that the cold weapon comprehensive combat match on the stage had already begun. The referee beside him raised a red flag: "Heavy hit! Five points!"

Across from him, the man named Ichabod Wood was brandishing his heavy sword triumphantly: "Boy, what are you daydreaming about? Are you too stupid to surrender? Don't blame me; Parthian Ichabod has already given you a chance."

Tao Ran frowned and tightened his grip on the sword. He began to focus his mind, directing his attention to the present. As he attempted to circulate his blood and spirit, familiarize himself with this body and the long sword, and recall the feeling of wielding a sword from decades ago, the referee swung the black flag downward again.

The next moment, another dull thud sounded. The blunt force caused layers of magical arrays to spontaneously unfold outside his shoulder guard. Yet the force transmitted from his shoulder still made Tao Ran wince and stagger backward again on the arena.

This kindled a faint anger in Tao Ran's eyes.

Ever since his Flying Sword Art had also ascended to the realm of 'Extreme Concealment of Intent,' even someone as powerful as the Nine Heavens Desire Demon, Dugu Tianyi, had never dared to act so insolently before him.

"Side hit, three points!"

As the referee's announcement rang out, Ichabod across from him said discontentedly: "Hey, can you stand still? It could have ended in two more hits. Do you want to be beaten more?"

Tao Ran, instead of getting angry, smiled. He had suppressed the unwarranted restlessness in his heart. Then he stood tall and solemn, tracing a strange semicircle with his sword before stopping it three feet in front of his knee, pointing diagonally forward.

His spirit, with the adjustment of his breath, entered a wondrous state—his mind like still water, his intent like a clear mirror.

Meanwhile, below the stage, William Jacques had covered his eyes, unable to bear watching any longer.

Until a melodious, clear, and cold female voice sounded in his ear: "How is it going? Does Andre have a chance?"

"Miss, as you can see, Amo has already lost 8 points. He doesn't even have room to fight back."

William turned around and found that the club's president, Louise Linden, was indeed standing behind him. His voice carried helplessness: "He seems to have been scared stiff by Ichabod and can't move. Damn! Just earlier, when he was with me in the club, they were evenly matched, half a pound to eight ounces."

The young girl Louise was watching the stage, a hint of bewilderment in her beautiful eyes.

She felt that the guy's state was strange; he seemed to have completely merged into the environment, becoming an inseparable part of the entire background, even of this world—much like the martial realm of 'Unity of Heaven and Man' described by Easterners.

But she soon noticed the scoreboard beside her. Louise shook her head, thinking she must be hallucinating. The blow of this defeat was too heavy, and she was too desperate for a miracle, giving rise to such an illusion.

"So William, do you have a chance in the match fifteen minutes from now?"

"There's a bit of a chance. My opponent should be about my level. I'd say my odds are seventy percent, his thirty. But it's useless, my lady."

William spread his hands: "At best, I can make it to the third round, and no further. But so far, only four people from our club have entered the second round. Right now, unless two people can reach the quarterfinals, we won't get enough points. And only you, Miss Louise, can do that."

"Indeed—"

Louise's expression dimmed slightly. As she was lost in thought, the corner of her eye caught a burst of fire on the stage, accompanied by a tremendous shock like a thunderclap that shook the entire venue, drawing everyone's attention.

Under their gaze, Ichabod Wood's body seemed to have been hit by a truck. He flew twenty meters off the ring and crashed heavily onto the ground, causing the surrounding audience to scream in panic.

"What happened?"

"Is that Ichabod?"

"Did his armor just explode?"

"Does anyone know what's going on?"

"I didn't catch it. Anyway, the armor's magic array suddenly fully deployed, then exploded, and Ichabod was sent flying."

The referees on stage were also shocked. They rushed to Ichabod's side to check on him, while others hurried to the monitoring room to review the footage.

"He's unconscious, but his vital signs are still there. Minor fracture of the cervical spine, contusions all over."

"The neck component of the armor is also completely destroyed for unknown reasons. Professional assessment is needed."

"Can we wake him up? Has the holy healer arrived?"

"It's useless. Even if he wakes up, he can't continue fighting. Holy healers can't cure moderate to severe concussions."

"Has the footage been retrieved? What exactly happened?"

"Still unclear. We only saw the armor's protective array deploy and then suddenly explode. It's suspected to be a problem with the armor."

This chaos and bustle lasted a full five minutes. After five minutes, the referee presiding over Platform P12 walked back to the stage with a dazed expression and raised the red flag in his left hand.

"Given that Ichabod Wood is unconscious, Andre Lee Wieldenstein wins and advances to the second round!"

Tao Ran, standing nearby, raised an eyebrow in dissatisfaction, but ultimately said nothing and silently walked off the stage.

Below, William Jacques and Louise Linden were dumbfounded, then looked at each other.

"That works too? What luck—"

William said helplessly: "Well, Miss, your luck is pretty good too. Amo has preserved some hope for us. Now, besides you, as long as one more person from our school reaches the top sixteen, we can get enough points."

Louise gave a weak smile, then left the P12 platform with a heavy heart, heading in another direction.

William watched her go, a hint of sympathy in his eyes. He knew what the lady from Linden Academy was worried about. This unexpected victory had indeed preserved some hope for Linden Academy.

But the situation was still far from optimistic. Apart from Elena and John Richardson, who had transferred, no one else in the cold weapon club had a solid chance of reaching the top thirty-two.

Considering that those two had withdrawn from the competition, clearly someone was scheming against Louise Linden, the outlook was even less optimistic.

Just then, Tao Ran returned to his side. William grinned and slung an arm around his shoulder: "Hey, you lucky bastard, you actually advanced. I think I should call you Lucky Andre now? No, Lucky Amo!"

Tao Ran glanced at him indifferently: "You're mistaken. It wasn't luck."

But William laughed heartily and thumped his chest: "Oh, so you knocked him flying with your sword? Alright, buddy, wait for me a bit. My match is in a few minutes. After I win this one, we'll go back together."

Then he ignored Tao Ran and walked alone toward another platform, number 15, his expression full of confidence, as if victory was already assured.