The silver line arrived instantly.
Fast.
Sharp.
Silent.
For a brief moment, Fang Lin felt as though the entire world had narrowed into that single sword strike.
It was aimed directly at his heart.
There was no wasted movement.
No scattered Qi.
Only a clean killing edge.
Fang Lin's eyes became calm.
At the final instant, his body shifted.
Flowing Wind Steps.
His figure moved sideways like drifting wind, but Sun Jie's sword suddenly changed direction in midair.
The silver line bent.
The crowd gasped.
"It changed?"
"That sword followed him!"
Fang Lin's pupils narrowed slightly.
This was not an ordinary sword technique.
Sun Jie had already predicted his movement.
The blade cut toward Fang Lin's chest again.
This time, Fang Lin did not dodge fully.
A faint grey glow flashed beneath his skin.
Nine Nether Phantom Body.
Only for a breath.
Only enough.
Clang!
Fang Lin's black iron sword struck against Sun Jie's blade at an angle.
The collision sent sparks flying.
At the same time, Fang Lin's body slid backward several steps.
A thin cut appeared across his chest.
Blood seeped through his robe.
But the wound was shallow.
Sun Jie stood several meters away, his sword lowered slightly.
His eyes sharpened.
"You blocked that?"
The crowd was stunned.
Even Li Shan's expression changed.
"That strike was meant to pierce through his movement."
Han Zhi nodded slowly.
"Sun Jie adjusted the sword path after Fang Lin dodged. That means he predicted the Flowing Wind Steps."
Murong Yue clenched her fists.
"Then Fang Lin is in danger."
On the stage, Fang Lin glanced down at the wound on his chest.
Then he looked back at Sun Jie.
"You read my footwork."
Sun Jie replied calmly, "Your movement technique is strong, but you have used it many times."
His sword rose again.
"Every technique has rhythm."
Fang Lin's eyes flickered.
Rhythm.
That word settled inside his mind.
Sun Jie was right.
Flowing Wind Steps had become one of Fang Lin's greatest strengths, but during the competition, too many people had watched him use it repeatedly.
The direction changes.
The timing.
The way his Qi flowed before each step.
A skilled opponent could study those patterns.
Sun Jie was one of them.
Fang Lin slowly exhaled.
"Then I will change the rhythm."
Sun Jie's eyes narrowed.
The next moment, Fang Lin moved.
But this time, his movement was different.
Not faster.
Not stronger.
Different.
He stepped forward, then stopped halfway.
His figure leaned left, then shifted right.
The Qi beneath his feet flowed unevenly for a moment before suddenly becoming smooth again.
Sun Jie's expression changed faintly.
The rhythm broke.
Fang Lin's body appeared before him in an unexpected angle.
Wind gathered in his palm.
Sun Jie reacted quickly and raised his sword.
Boom!
Wind Break Palm struck the blade.
The compressed force exploded outward, sending both of them back at the same time.
The stage trembled.
Sun Jie's wrist shook slightly.
Fang Lin's palm also felt numb.
Neither side had gained the advantage.
But the crowd had already noticed the change.
"He forced Sun Jie back."
"No, they both retreated."
"That is already terrifying. Sun Jie's sword is famous for suppressing opponents completely."
Fang Lin did not stop.
He stepped forward again.
This time, he used his sword.
The black iron sword slashed downward.
Simple.
Direct.
Sun Jie blocked easily, but Fang Lin's left palm immediately followed.
Sun Jie shifted aside.
Fang Lin's footwork changed again.
Not graceful like before.
More abrupt.
More unpredictable.
Sun Jie's sword flashed three times.
Fang Lin avoided two strikes and blocked the third.
Clang!
The impact pushed Fang Lin back, but he immediately returned.
Again.
And again.
The fight became faster.
Sword light and palm force crossed repeatedly across the platform.
Sun Jie's sword remained sharper.
His skill was higher.
But Fang Lin's perception allowed him to survive each exchange.
More importantly, Fang Lin was learning.
Every strike Sun Jie used.
Every turn of the wrist.
Every change in sword angle.
Fang Lin silently memorized them all.
Sun Jie noticed it.
His eyes became colder.
"You are adapting during the fight."
Fang Lin replied calmly, "You gave me enough time."
Sun Jie's gaze sharpened.
Then his aura changed.
The silver light around his sword became thinner.
Brighter.
More dangerous.
Han Zhi's expression shifted.
"He is using it."
Luo Chen frowned.
"Silver Thread Severance."
Murong Yue immediately looked tense.
"Isn't that his strongest technique?"
Li Shan nodded.
"One of them."
On the stage, Sun Jie held his sword with both hands.
The silver light around the blade condensed into a thread so thin it was almost invisible.
But Fang Lin's spiritual perception caught it clearly.
That thread was terrifying.
It was not wide.
It was not loud.
But its sharpness was concentrated to the extreme.
If it landed, even Fang Lin's strengthened body would suffer.
Sun Jie spoke calmly.
"Your body is strong."
His sword pointed forward.
"So I will cut through one point."
Fang Lin's expression became serious.
The entire arena quieted.
Even Chen Hao watched closely now.
He wanted to see it.
He wanted to see how far Fang Lin could be pushed.
Sun Jie vanished.
This time, there was no silver flash.
Only a thin line appeared in the air.
Fang Lin moved immediately.
Flowing Wind Steps.
But the line followed him again.
Fang Lin changed rhythm.
The line changed with him.
Sun Jie had locked onto him completely.
Danger rose inside Fang Lin's heart.
He could use Soul Trasher.
One silent strike, and Sun Jie's mind would tremble.
The battle would end.
But Fang Lin suppressed the thought instantly.
Not here.
Not now.
His eyes became colder.
If he could not use soul arts, then he would break through with body and technique.
The faint grey glow beneath his skin deepened slightly.
Nine Nether Phantom Body activated.
Not fully.
But more than before.
His muscles tightened.
His bones hummed faintly.
Power surged through his body.
At the same time, Wind Break Palm condensed in his left hand.
Fang Lin stopped moving.
The crowd froze.
"He stopped?"
"Is he insane?"
Sun Jie's sword thread arrived instantly.
Fang Lin raised his black iron sword.
Clang!
The silver thread struck the blade.
A sharp sound pierced the arena.
Crack.
A thin crack appeared on Fang Lin's black iron sword.
But Fang Lin did not retreat.
His feet sank into the stage.
The stone beneath him shattered.
Blood trickled from his palm as the force tore through his grip.
Yet his eyes remained steady.
Sun Jie's expression changed.
"He blocked it head-on?"
Fang Lin's left palm moved.
Wind Break Palm.
But this time, it was not released outward immediately.
He compressed it further.
The wind gathered tighter.
Sharper.
He stepped forward against the sword pressure.
One step.
Then another.
Sun Jie's pupils contracted.
The silver thread trembled.
Fang Lin's cracked sword suddenly shifted, guiding the thread away from his heart by a narrow margin.
The sword light cut across his shoulder.
Blood sprayed.
But Fang Lin was already inside Sun Jie's range.
His palm struck.
Boom!
The compressed wind exploded directly against Sun Jie's chest.
Sun Jie's protective Qi shattered instantly.
His body flew backward across the stage and crashed heavily onto the ground.
The arena fell silent.
Fang Lin stood at the center of the platform.
His black iron sword was cracked.
His shoulder bled.
His breathing was slightly heavy.
But he remained standing.
Sun Jie coughed and slowly pushed himself up with his sword.
His face was pale.
He tried to raise the blade again, but his hand trembled.
The referee elder watched carefully.
Sun Jie looked at Fang Lin for several breaths.
Then he lowered his sword.
"I lost."
The words were calm.
No anger.
No humiliation.
Only acceptance.
The referee elder nodded.
"Victory, Fang Lin."
The arena exploded.
"Fang Lin won again!"
"He defeated Sun Jie!"
"That was Rank 11!"
"He is climbing too fast!"
Cheers spread through the alliance side, while the faction side turned heavy and silent.
Chen Hao's expression did not change, but his eyes grew colder.
Yue Fang quietly looked at Fang Lin's bleeding shoulder.
Shen Ku's gaze became sharper.
Mo Yun opened his eyes for the first time in a long while.
On the platform, Sun Jie slowly stood.
He looked at Fang Lin and said, "Your sword is still weak."
Fang Lin nodded.
"I know."
Sun Jie paused.
Then he said, "But your judgment is terrifying."
Fang Lin did not reply.
Sun Jie turned and walked down from the stage.
The crowd parted for him.
Fang Lin looked at the cracked black iron sword in his hand.
It had served him well.
But after this battle, one thing was clear.
Against true ranked disciples, an ordinary weapon was no longer enough.
He sheathed the damaged sword carefully.
Then he stepped down from the platform.
As he returned to Li Shan's group, Murong Yue immediately rushed forward.
"You are bleeding!"
"It is not serious," Fang Lin said.
Bai Qing frowned slightly.
"That shoulder wound is deep."
Li Shan looked at Fang Lin's sword.
"You need a better weapon."
Fang Lin nodded.
"Yes."
Han Zhi quietly added, "And stronger opponents will not give you time to adapt."
Fang Lin looked toward the faction side.
Chen Hao was watching him.
Their gazes met.
Neither spoke.
But the meaning was clear.
The closer Fang Lin climbed, the closer he came to Chen Hao.
And Chen Hao would not be like the others.
Fang Lin calmly withdrew his gaze.
Inside his spiritual sea, the grey stone pulsed faintly.
The smoky mist around it stirred.
As if the battle had fed something within it.
Fang Lin closed his eyes briefly.
Then opened them again.
His path upward had not stopped.
It had only become sharper.