After Henry Clark's sword trace swept by, David Bennett's gaze sharpened. He noticed something unusual in Henry Clark's swing, but couldn't quite discern what was off about this sword strike.

"Beautiful!"

Unlike David Bennett, all the sword immortals on the main stage were astonished, and Elder Logan in particular shuddered, taking a deep breath. A satisfied smile appeared on his face, and a gleam flashed in his eyes. As the saying goes, laymen watch the excitement, experts see the subtleties. Just from Henry Clark's single sword move, he could tell that this youngster's understanding of the sword had already far surpassed his peers, even among the sword immortals currently on the main stage—half of them couldn't match him. For example, the Master Warren beside him. Then, he noticed Henry Clark's right foot subtly stepping forward.

"So steady?!"

He was startled, focusing his attention on Henry Clark's sword-wielding right hand. The sense of steadiness, as if a mountain, made his chest tighten inexplicably.

"It seems that another remarkable figure is about to emerge from Luofu!" said the Grand Elder of Wansian Valley, Red Staff Elder, sitting beside him. However, his words carried a hint of sourness.

Elder Logan smiled and replied, "Oh, not at all. This child is just a bit more diligent than the average disciple!"

A bit more diligent!

If the disciples below heard this, they'd probably laugh their heads off. This kid is actually the laziest among the third-generation disciples of Luofu; otherwise, he wouldn't have earned the nickname "Luofu's Pig."

Enough with the small talk. Henry Clark raised his longsword, assuming the opening stance of the Eight Trigrams Nine Palaces Sword.

"Senior and junior brothers, if you don't make a move, I will. By then, you won't even have a chance to fight back!"

This statement ignited the fighting spirit of all the challengers.

Yes, your strength is impressive—beyond our expectations. But there are thirty of us and only one of you. Are we supposed to be afraid of you? Who do you think you are? Even if you're a core disciple of the inner sect, you're still our peer. Are you really that much stronger than the rest of us?

That was what all the challengers were thinking, and at the same time, they sprang into action.

With remarkable coordination, they moved together—not in a chaotic attack, but in organized waves, three to a group, launching their assault on Henry Clark.

Every sect has its own unique methods for one-on-one combat, and naturally, for group fights as well. The method these challengers used was the simplest, most basic, and most suitable for the current situation.

Three people, three swords, attacking Henry Clark from above, middle, and below. But it wasn't just three people—it was thirty, in groups of three, surging toward Henry Clark like waves.

A broader smile appeared on Henry Clark's face. He was all too familiar with this kind of attack. For the past twenty days, in order to stand firm in the water and practice his swordsmanship, his greatest opponent had been the torrents rushing down from the mountaintop waterfall. Compared to those unpredictable rapids, these incoming swords were child's play. All were disciples of Luofu, using the sect's own sword techniques, their movements slow, and using this method to attack was simply courting disaster.

Easily, just as he had knocked down Andrew Scott earlier, he barely needed to move. He simply, naturally, knocked away their swords in the gaps between their attacks, and added one more move—tapping them on the head to knock them out. Because they attacked in waves, the people in front blocked the view of those behind, so the ones charging forward from the back couldn't see what was happening ahead. All that could be heard was a chaotic clatter of "ping ping pong pong," and all thirty challengers were knocked unconscious on the ground.

A helpless expression appeared on Henry Clark's face. He glanced at the stunned audience around him, then at the clearly surprised people on the main stage, smiled, and swept his gaze around the arena.

"Anyone else want to challenge me?"

He asked three times, but no one responded.

Henry Clark sheathed his sword and looked at the presiding elder. "Shishu, may I leave now?"

"You may!" The presiding elder nodded. Unlike before, his eyes were now filled with delight and affection.

For an outstanding disciple of the sect, how could an elder not be pleased? It was just that his somewhat enthusiastic gaze made Henry Clark a bit uncomfortable. After bowing, he quickly leapt back to his original spot. This time, perhaps in his haste, his figure floated among the other nine core inner disciples like a big lump of pork belly—oh, no, like a big ball of cotton. His oddly graceful movement once again drew exclamations of amazement.

Chapter 11: Gradually Reaching Perfection

"Fifth brother, well done!" As he walked into the crowd, David Bennett, who had always kept his distance from the other nine, suddenly spoke up, even showing a rare smile. Henry Clark was taken aback, then smiled as well.

Looking at the others, except for the somewhat forced smile on Robert Evans's face, the rest all showed genuine sincerity and admiration in their smiles, even a sense of shared honor.