Cultivation of immortality begins with an eighty-year-old eunuch.

Chapter 655 Sword Intent! Still just one sword strike!

On the arena, Chen Fan sheathed Eleven and turned to walk off the stage.

Han Cen and Ouyang Ye stepped forward in the waiting area, both of them with undisguised shock on their faces.

Han Cen stroked his beard and sighed repeatedly, "Master Chen, your sword strike... I've lived for hundreds of years, and this is the first time I've ever seen such sword intent."

Ouyang Ye unusually spoke a few more words: "Although I am not proficient in swordsmanship, I can see that the power of this sword strike does not lie in the sword technique itself, but in the sword intent. When you just drew your sword, your aura was as calm as water, without the slightest leakage of spiritual power, yet even a Nascent Soul cultivator could not withstand a single move. This state of returning to simplicity is something that even a mid-Nascent Soul sword cultivator may not be able to achieve."

Chen Fan nodded slightly, offering no further explanation. He simply sat cross-legged on the prayer mat in the waiting area, placed Eleven across his lap, and closed his eyes to rest.

His mind was still preoccupied with that sword strike.

That feeling was extremely subtle.

At the moment he drew his sword, it was as if he wasn't drawing a sword, but doing something perfectly natural, like eating, drinking, breathing, or blinking.

Without deliberately building up strength or using complicated sword techniques, he simply raised his sword and thrust it out, thus sealing off all of his opponent's escape routes.

This is not a breakthrough in technique, but a sublimation of artistic conception.

His brief conversation with Naren on the grassland, the tranquility he felt while sitting alone on the mound, and his lingering and contemplation at the threshold of the Nascent Soul stage all subtly catalyzed his sword intent.

It was just a hair's breadth away.

That trace wasn't an accumulation of spiritual power, nor an understanding of artistic conception, but something deeper.

Chen Fan has not yet found his own path to becoming a Nascent Soul cultivator.

He felt he needed a catalyst before he could successfully achieve godhood.

Half an hour later, the second round of drawing lots began.

Chen Fan casually pulled out a jade slip with the words "Yi Wu" engraved on it.

When he arrived at the fifth-ranked arena, his opponent had already stepped onto the stage.

He was a middle-aged cultivator wearing a blue robe. His face was fairly decent, but his eyes and brows carried an undisguised arrogance.

Early stage of Nascent Soul cultivation. A Nascent Soul cultivator from the Great Yan Kingdom.

"Yan Chixiao of the Great Yan Dynasty." The cultivator announced his name, sized Chen Fan up and down, and a faint smile appeared on his lips. "I saw you defeat Wuchi with a single sword strike just now. Your sword intent was indeed quite skillful, but Wuchi is a Gu cultivator. Gu cultivators excel at using their Gu worms; cultivation is not their strongest point. Your victory over his Gu worms with your sword intent was not honorable. I cultivate the 'Chixiao Sword Technique,' a direct descendant of the Great Yan royal family. I have immersed myself in the sword path for hundreds of years and have never lost to anyone in swordsmanship. No matter how profound your sword intent is, it is nothing more than showing off your limited skills in front of me."

With a flick of his right hand, a long, crimson sword appeared out of thin air.

A wisp of earth's core fire was sealed within the sword, and as it was swung, the flames followed, raising the temperature on the arena several degrees.

The sword intent of the early stage of the Nascent Soul realm was released without reservation, with faint flame runes flowing on the sword, exuding a domineering and fierce aura.

The cultivators from the Great Yan Kingdom below the stage all wore smug expressions, and one of them shouted, "Elder Yan, let this eunuch see what true swordsmanship is!"

Someone else chimed in, "Wu Chi is a Gu cultivator, so losing to him isn't shameful. But if this eunuch thinks he can show off in front of sword cultivators with just that little bit of sword intent, he's dreaming!"

Qin Zhan sat in the stands, his brows slightly furrowed.

Zhuo Ma Yan Chixiao was considered a prominent figure in the Great Yan Dynasty. He was a sword cultivator in the early stage of the Nascent Soul realm, and his sword intent was domineering and fierce, making him a rare opponent among those of the same level.

Although Chen Fan's defeat of Wu Chi with a single sword strike was impressive, Wu Chi was a Gu cultivator, and sword intent naturally had a restraining effect on Gu worms.

The situation was completely different when facing Yan Chixiao, who was also a sword cultivator.

Song Tianren stood with his hands behind his back, his dark eyes filled with even more caution.

On the stage, Chen Fan remained expressionless.

He drew his sword, eleven, held it horizontally, and pointed the tip at Yan Chixiao.

The movements were exactly the same as before.

Yan Chixiao sneered, and with a sudden jolt of his crimson sword, fiery sword intent erupted from his body like a volcanic eruption, transforming into a fiery sword curtain several meters high in front of him.

Fire dragons swirled within the sword curtain, and the deafening clang of swords illuminated the entire arena in a crimson glow.

At the same time, he held the sword with both hands, and the flames on the sword surged, transforming into a giant flaming sword more than ten feet long, which he slashed down at Chen Fan.

"Crimson Sky Slash!"

This sword strike was powerful and heavy, carrying the full cultivation of a swordsman in the early stage of the Nascent Soul realm. Wherever it passed, the air was burned into a vacuum.

Many Nascent Soul cultivators below the stage turned pale at the mere sight of the sword's power, their breathing quickening. The cultivators of the Great Yan Kingdom stood up excitedly, chanting Yan Chixiao's name in unison.

Chen Fan still gave a light stab.

There were no flames, no sword curtain, no deafening sword cries. Eleven's sword tip pierced through the fiery sword curtain as easily as a hot knife cutting into butter.

The swirling fire dragons shattered the moment they touched the sword tip, turning into countless sparks that scattered across the sky. A thin crack appeared on the fiery sword curtain, which expanded at a visible speed until the entire sword curtain collapsed with a deafening roar.

Yan Chixiao's pupils shrank sharply. His Chixiao Slash was already halfway through its swing, but the sword had already reached his brow.

His Crimson Sky Slash remained suspended in mid-air, three feet above Chen Fan's head, unable to strike down any further.

It's not that I don't want to chop, it's that I'm afraid to chop!

He could feel that if he moved even slightly, the sword would pierce his brow.

His protective sword aura was rendered useless in the face of this sword strike.

"You lost." Chen Fan's voice remained indifferent.

The arrogance on Yan Chixiao's face had vanished, replaced by disbelief and shock.

He opened his mouth several times before finally squeezing out a sentence from deep in his throat: "Your sword intent... You're only at the Great Perfection of the Nascent Soul stage, how can you possess such sword intent?"

Chen Fan did not answer.

He retrieved Eleven, sheathed it, and turned to walk off the stage.

The entire room fell silent.

Defeating Wu Chi with a single sword strike could be considered a clever trick, but what about defeating Yan Chixiao with a single sword strike?

That was a genuine early-stage Nascent Soul swordsman, who had immersed himself in the sword path for hundreds of years and had never lost to anyone in swordsmanship. But in front of Chen Fan, he couldn't even finish a single move.

Off the stage, Chen Fan sheathed Eleven and slowly walked back to the waiting area.

In his sword strike just now, the concepts of cause and effect, life and death, and stillness naturally merged together, forming a realm that even he himself had not yet fully comprehended.

However, this fusion is incomplete; it's still missing something.

He knew that he was only a thin layer of paper away from becoming a true god, but it was this thin layer of paper that prevented him from ever seeing the scenery behind the door.

So be it.

Today is a stage for cultivation, not a place for secluded meditation and enlightenment.

After the Hundred Sects Conference concludes, Chen Fan plans to find a quiet place to reflect and perhaps achieve his goals naturally.