Starting as the heir of a marquis's mansion, I gained access to a summoning system.

Behind the Sword Debate Platform, on a tall pavilion.

Four white-haired elders stood side by side, looking down at the four sword masters on the dueling platform. They came from the four extreme sword sects of the East, West, South, and North, and each of them was a top expert at the eighth level of the Grandmaster realm.

The sect leader of the Eastern Sword Sect spoke first, his voice aged yet steady: "This child, Xie Changkong, is increasingly showing the style I had back then."

The sect leader of the Western Sword Sect sneered: "You back then? You'd be lucky to have even half of Ye Guhong's swordsmanship talent back then."

"What did you say?"

I'm stating the facts.

The sect leader of the Antarctic Sword Sect was an old woman. She waved her hand and said, "You two have been arguing for decades. Aren't you tired of it? In my opinion, Meng Hanshuang is the strongest of this generation. She has already mastered the seventh level of the Blazing Fire Sword Technique. Even I am amazed by it."

The sect leader of the Arctic Sword Sect was a taciturn old man. He only said four words: "Ouyang Xue, there is hope."

The four sect leaders each held their own version of events, and none of them would concede to the others.

The Eastern Sect Master sighed, "Forget it, let's not argue anymore. The Four Extremes Sword Alliance has been able to survive for ten thousand years not because of who is stronger, but because the four sects are of one mind."

The Western Sect Master, unusually, did not refute, but simply nodded.

The old woman from Antarctica gazed at the backs of the four young men on the dueling platform, her eyes filled with satisfaction: "The golden age has arrived, and geniuses are emerging in the Eastern Continent. Wangwo from Wanfo Temple, Guiyuan from Zhenwu Dao Sect, Chu Yunxiao from the Chu family, Li Tianxing from Tianmo Sect, Wu Zetian from the Northern Territory... it's time for our four children to go out and make their mark."

"You mean, let them participate in the Heavenly Pride Tournament?"

"Exactly."

Besides the four sword masters of the Four Extremes Sword Alliance, countless other geniuses are rising in the Eastern Continent.

The Chu family, Cangwu Mountain.

Chu Yunyan stood atop the mountain, dressed in snow-white robes, a long sword hanging at her waist, her long hair flowing in the wind.

She was exceptionally beautiful, with exquisitely detailed features and an ethereal, otherworldly air about her. She was a woman from a collateral branch of the Chu family, but her talent in swordsmanship was astonishing, earning her the title of "the number one genius of the collateral branch" from the Chu family.

"Miss Yunyan," a maid approached and whispered, "the master requests your presence."

"I understand," Chu Yunyan replied indifferently, then turned and went down the mountain.

Her steps were as light as clouds, as if she were walking on cotton. Passing a bamboo grove, she casually drew her sword and slashed out—

Bamboo leaves fluttered down.

Each bamboo leaf was neatly cut in half and fell to the ground.

Chu Yunyan sheathed her sword and left without looking back.

Behind him, the bamboo forest was silent, as if nothing had happened.

East China Sea, the Long family.

The Long family is located on the coast of the East China Sea and has made a living by fishing for generations. However, the Long family's martial arts heritage is in no way inferior to that of any other aristocratic family.

Long Aotian, the most dazzling genius of the Long family in this generation.

He was twenty years old, tall and burly, with broad shoulders and a thick waist, his muscles bulging like cast iron. His short hair stood on end, and his eyes were bright and piercing, like copper bells.

At this moment, he is standing on the beach, empty-handed, swinging his fist at the sea.

With a single punch, a column of water exploded on the sea, reaching a height of ten zhang.

Another punch was thrown, and the waves surged back, standing upright like a wall.

With another punch, the air exploded, producing a deafening roar.

"One punch can break all techniques!" Long Aotian withdrew his fist and stood up, laughing heartily. "This is the kind of kung fu a man should practice! What's the point of those flashy sword and saber techniques?"

Behind them, the young disciples of the Long family looked at each other in bewilderment.

"Senior Brother Aotian is too powerful..." A disciple swallowed hard. "That punch must have had the force of ten thousand jin, right?"

"Not only that." Another disciple shook his head. "Senior Brother Long has already mastered the Heavenly Dragon Technique to the fifth level. One punch from him is enough to shatter gold and split rocks. Even a peak Grandmaster is no match for him."

Long Aotian turned around, grinned, and revealed a set of white teeth.

"Brothers, let's go! Let's go for a drink!"

"Okay!"

The group departed in a grand procession, leaving behind only the turbulent sea, which had been battered by Long Aotian, and which remained undisturbed for a long time.

Nanzhou, the Murong family.

The Murong family is located in a prosperous area of ​​Nanzhou and has made a living by doing business for generations. However, the Murong family's martial arts heritage is extremely strange - their hidden weapons and poison skills are unparalleled in the world.

Murong Qiudi, the eldest daughter of the Murong family.

She was nineteen years old, extremely beautiful, with a slender figure and delicate features like a porcelain doll. Her long, jet-black hair cascaded over her shoulders, and a light purple dress accentuated her flawless skin.

She sat in the garden, toying with a jet-black dart in her hand. The dart was only the size of a thumb, yet it emitted a faint, pungent fragrance—the smell of poison.

"Miss," a maidservant approached and whispered, "Master is asking if you wish to participate in the Heavenly Pride Tournament in three months."

Murong Qiudi tossed the dart gently, and it drew a beautiful arc in the air before landing precisely in her palm.

"The Gathering of Prodigies?" A slight smirk played on her lips. "Interesting. Let's go take a look."

She paused, then put the dart into her sleeve, a cold glint flashing in her eyes.

"I've heard that those so-called prodigies are all arrogant and look down on everyone," she said softly, her voice as gentle as the wind, yet chilling. "I wonder if their necks could withstand my darts."

The maidservant shivered and dared not reply.

Xizhou, the Dugu family.

The Dugu family is located in the wilderness of Xizhou. The family is not large, but each generation produces a sword genius.

The genius of this generation is called Dugu Xin.

He was eighteen years old, thin, with a cold and stern face, and his black hair covered half of his face. His eyes were bright, as bright as two cold stars, but he never made eye contact with anyone—because anyone who met his gaze was already dead.

Dugu Xin had a nickname: "Dugu the Sword".

Because he only needs one strike to draw his sword. One strike, and blood is inevitable. No one has ever seen his second strike—for those who have seen it are already corpses.

At this moment, Dugu Xin was sitting on the edge of a cliff behind his family's mountain, holding a jet-black longsword in his arms.

The sword was not drawn, but its sword intent already permeated the air, making birds and beasts within a hundred feet dare not approach.

An old man walked from a distance and stopped a hundred feet away, not daring to take another step forward.

"Xin'er," the old man called out, "Are you going to the Heavenly Pride Gathering?"

Dugu Xin did not answer, but simply hugged the sword in his arms even tighter.

The old man sighed and turned to leave.

He knew that this grandson never needed anyone to make decisions for him.

Dugu Xin remained seated on the edge of the cliff, the wind ruffling his black hair that covered half his face, revealing a cold eye.

He gazed into the distance, his eyes piercing through the clouds, as if looking at something.

No one knows what he's thinking.

Countless geniuses, like stars, adorn the sky of this golden age.

Chu Yunyan's sword, Long Aotian's fist, Murong Qiudi's hidden weapons, Dugu Xin's sword... Everyone has their own path, and everyone is running wildly on their own path.

In teahouses and taverns, everyone was talking about the names of these prodigies.

"Have you heard? Chu Yunyan of the Chu family killed a peak Grandmaster with a single sword strike in the Azure Heaven Secret Realm!"

"Long Aotian is even more formidable! He single-handedly repelled the combined attack of three peak Grandmasters in the East China Sea, emerging completely unscathed!"

"What about Murong Qiudi? She's the infamous 'Poison Fairy,' and I've heard that even Grandmasters don't dare to take her hidden weapons head-on."

"Dugu Xin... this man is too terrifying. No one has ever seen his second sword strike."

People were talking about it, their eyes filled with awe and anticipation.

This is the best of times—geniuses emerge in great numbers, and the strong are everywhere.

This is also the worst of times—a slight misstep can lead to being swallowed up by the tides of history.

While everyone else is chasing fame and fortune and vying for opportunities, there is one person who has always remained unknown and acted in a low-key manner.

No one knows his true strength.

No one knows his true identity.

He was the second son of the Marquis of Weeping Blood and a junior officer in the Garrison Command.

His name is Dongfang Weiwo.

Pingyang County, the rear courtyard of the Zhenfu Division.

The night is deep, and the moon and stars are few.

Dongfang Weiwo stood alone in the courtyard, hands behind his back, looking up at the stars in the sky.

The autumn wind blew by, lifting the hem of his clothes.

The corners of his mouth turned up slightly, and there was an indescribable meaning in his smile.

"A new generation of geniuses is rising..." he said softly, his voice as light as the wind rustling through bamboo leaves, "Interesting."

He felt no envy, no jealousy, and no other emotions whatsoever.

He simply stood there quietly, like a sword hidden in its sheath—no one knew how sharp it was, because it had never been drawn.

And once unsheathed—

It will be earth-shattering.