The cold pressure spread across the stage.
Shen Ku stood silently, four daggers floating around his hands like dark fangs. Thin black threads connected each blade to his fingers, almost invisible beneath the sunlight.
Fang Lin stood opposite him.
His robes were torn in several places.
A thin line of blood marked his cheek.
His expression remained calm.
The crowd held its breath.
No one shouted now.
This battle was different.
Shen Ku did not fight for pride like Xu Ren.
He did not fight with clean skill like Sun Jie.
He fought like someone searching for the fastest way to destroy a person.
Shen Ku's fingers moved.
The four daggers disappeared instantly.
Fang Lin's eyes sharpened.
Flowing Wind Steps.
His body shifted sideways.
A dagger passed through the place where his throat had been.
Another curved toward his ribs.
The third struck from behind.
The fourth flew low toward his ankle.
Every angle was vicious.
Fang Lin's spiritual perception spread across the platform. The threads became clearer in his mind.
Not visible.
Felt.
Each one carried a faint vibration.
Each vibration revealed direction, speed, and intent.
Fang Lin stepped forward instead of retreating.
The dagger aimed at his ankle missed.
He tilted his shoulder.
The blade behind him grazed his robe.
Then his palm rose.
Wind gathered.
Shen Ku's eyes narrowed.
His fingers pulled sharply.
All four daggers changed direction at once.
They shot toward Fang Lin's back like hunting shadows.
The crowd gasped.
"Behind him!"
Fang Lin did not turn.
His foot shifted half a step.
His body lowered suddenly.
Phantom Transformation.
Only a slight change.
His shoulder narrowed.
His height dropped by a fraction.
Two daggers passed over him.
The other two cut empty air beside his waist.
No one in the audience noticed the transformation clearly.
They only saw Fang Lin slip through an impossible gap.
Shen Ku's pupils contracted.
For the first time, his expression changed.
"How did he avoid that?"
Fang Lin appeared in front of him.
Wind Break Palm.
Boom!
Compressed wind exploded toward Shen Ku's chest.
Shen Ku crossed his arms instantly.
A dark layer of Qi formed before him.
The palm force struck.
Bang!
Shen Ku slid backward several meters, his shoes carving marks into the stone.
But he did not fall.
His arms trembled slightly.
A trace of blood appeared at the corner of his mouth.
Fang Lin's eyes narrowed.
"His defense is stronger than it looks."
Shen Ku slowly lowered his arms.
"You almost touched me."
His voice remained flat.
Then his fingers moved again.
The black threads trembled.
This time, the daggers did not fly directly.
They circled.
Slowly.
Around Fang Lin.
One in front.
One behind.
One left.
One right.
The arena became silent.
Li Shan's expression turned serious.
"He is sealing Fang Lin's movement."
Han Zhi nodded.
"Shen Ku knows he cannot win with simple attacks. He is trying to limit Flowing Wind Steps."
Murong Yue clenched her fists.
"That guy is disgusting."
On the stage, Fang Lin could feel the danger increasing.
The four daggers spun slowly around him, each connected to Shen Ku's fingers. The threads formed a loose cage.
If Fang Lin moved carelessly, the threads would tighten.
If he attacked, the daggers would close in.
If he retreated, Shen Ku would control the rhythm.
Fang Lin exhaled softly.
Then he closed his eyes for a breath.
The crowd stirred.
"He closed his eyes?"
"What is he doing?"
Shen Ku's gaze became colder.
"You dare."
His fingers snapped inward.
The four daggers shot toward Fang Lin simultaneously.
At that instant, Fang Lin opened his eyes.
The world became clear.
Not through sight alone.
Through soul perception.
The vibration of the threads.
The killing intent behind the blades.
The subtle movement of Shen Ku's fingertips.
Everything entered his mind.
Fang Lin moved.
Not fast.
Precise.
One step.
A dagger passed beside his cheek.
Half a turn.
Another missed his spine.
His palm struck sideways.
Clang!
The flat of his hand knocked one dagger away.
Then his sword flashed.
Clang!
The cracked black iron sword intercepted another blade.
Sparks burst in the air.
Fang Lin stepped through the cage.
Shen Ku's expression darkened.
He pulled one thread violently.
A dagger that had already missed suddenly curved back toward Fang Lin's neck.
Danger.
Fang Lin's body leaned back.
The blade sliced across his collar.
A thin wound opened near his shoulder.
Blood appeared.
But Fang Lin had already entered striking range.
Nine Nether Phantom Body.
A faint grey glow flickered beneath his skin.
His fist shot forward.
Shen Ku crossed his daggers to block.
Boom!
The impact sent him backward again.
This time, his arms shook harder.
The crowd erupted.
"He forced Shen Ku back again!"
"Fang Lin broke through the dagger cage!"
But Fang Lin did not chase.
His breathing had become slightly heavier.
Shen Ku's fighting style consumed too much attention. Every exchange required full focus. Even with his perception, Fang Lin had to guard against hidden changes.
Shen Ku looked at his trembling hands.
Then at Fang Lin.
"You are not only reacting."
Fang Lin said calmly, "You are not only attacking."
A faint silence passed between them.
Then Shen Ku smiled.
It was small.
Cold.
Unpleasant.
"You noticed."
The dark Qi around Shen Ku began to thicken.
His killing intent gathered inward, no longer spreading wildly.
Instead, it compressed.
The four daggers returned to his hands.
Then he raised one and cut across his own palm.
Blood flowed onto the black thread.
The thread darkened.
The crowd became uneasy.
"What is he doing?"
Han Zhi's face changed.
"That is not a normal technique."
Li Shan stood up slightly.
"Blood thread control."
Murong Yue's eyes widened.
"He is using that here?"
Even the referee elder frowned.
"Shen Ku."
His voice carried warning.
Shen Ku did not look away from Fang Lin.
"It will not kill him if he is strong enough."
The elder's eyes turned cold.
"If you cross the line, I will stop the match."
Shen Ku did not answer.
His fingers moved.
The blood-soaked threads trembled.
Suddenly, the daggers vanished.
Fang Lin's pupils contracted.
Too fast.
A sharp pain appeared on his arm.
Blood sprayed.
One dagger had cut him.
Before the first wound settled, the second dagger appeared near his waist.
Fang Lin shifted.
It still grazed him.
The third came from below.
The fourth from behind.
The speed had doubled.
No.
The timing had changed.
The threads no longer moved like controlled weapons.
They moved like living things.
Fang Lin retreated continuously.
Cuts appeared across his robes.
One.
Two.
Three.
None were fatal.
But each one drained him.
The crowd grew tense.
"Fang Lin is being cut!"
"Shen Ku's technique became faster!"
"This is bad!"
Xuo Mu's face turned pale.
"Brother Fang…"
Xue Ji's hands tightened.
"He is still calm."
Indeed, Fang Lin's expression had not changed.
Even while blood stained his robes, his eyes remained steady.
Inside his spiritual sea, the silver sea rippled faintly.
The Soul Metamorphosis Technique stirred.
A single soul strike could disrupt Shen Ku.
Even a slight disturbance would break his control over the blood threads.
The thought appeared.
Then Fang Lin crushed it.
Not here.
Not yet.
He would win without revealing it.
Fang Lin inhaled slowly.
The Nine Nether Phantom Body activated deeper.
A grey glow moved beneath his skin.
His body became heavier.
Stronger.
His wounds tightened slightly, slowing the bleeding.
At the same time, he used Phantom Transformation subtly.
His shoulder shifted.
His waist narrowed.
His arm length changed by the smallest amount.
Each change lasted only an instant.
But it made Shen Ku's dagger angles miss their true mark.
A blade aimed at the tendon only cut cloth.
A dagger meant for the ribs scraped skin.
A thread meant to wrap his wrist closed around empty space.
Shen Ku's eyes narrowed further.
"Your body…"
He could tell something was wrong.
But he could not understand it.
Fang Lin moved forward.
Step by step.
The daggers attacked constantly.
Fang Lin endured shallow cuts and avoided deep ones.
His eyes locked onto Shen Ku's hands.
The threads.
The blood.
The vibration.
"There."
He finally saw it.
Every time Shen Ku changed the dagger path sharply, his left ring finger moved first.
A habit.
Tiny.
Almost invisible.
But real.
Fang Lin's gaze sharpened.
He waited.
A dagger shot toward his throat.
Another toward his knee.
The third hovered behind him.
Shen Ku's left ring finger twitched.
Now.
Fang Lin moved.
Flowing Wind Steps erupted.
But his rhythm broke midway.
He appeared to move left, then suddenly dropped low and surged forward.
The dagger behind him curved too late.
Fang Lin's cracked black iron sword flashed.
Not toward Shen Ku.
Toward the thread.
Clang!
The blade struck the blood thread directly.
The thread trembled violently.
It did not break.
But its rhythm collapsed.
One dagger fell slightly off path.
Fang Lin's palm followed.
Wind Break Palm.
Boom!
The compressed wind exploded into the tangled thread path.
The shockwave scattered the daggers for a single breath.
Shen Ku's expression finally changed.
Fang Lin disappeared.
When he appeared again, he was directly before Shen Ku.
His fist glowed faint grey.
Nine Nether Phantom Body.
Shen Ku crossed both arms.
Bang!
The punch landed.
Shen Ku's body flew backward and crashed onto the stage.
The crowd erupted.
"He hit him!"
"He broke the blood thread technique!"
Fang Lin did not pause.
He knew Shen Ku was not finished.
Sure enough, Shen Ku rolled to one knee and flicked his fingers.
One dagger, hidden beneath the dust, shot toward Fang Lin's back.
Fang Lin's eyes turned cold.
He did not turn around.
His body shifted slightly.
Phantom Transformation changed the position of his spine and shoulder by a fraction.
The dagger missed the vital point and pierced through the side of his robe, cutting flesh but failing to sink deep.
At the same time, Fang Lin reached back and grabbed the thread.
Blood immediately cut into his palm.
The thread was sharp.
But his grip tightened.
Shen Ku's pupils shrank.
Fang Lin pulled.
Hard.
Shen Ku's body lurched forward.
Wind gathered in Fang Lin's other palm.
This time, the compression was heavier than before.
Shen Ku tried to release the thread, but Fang Lin had already stepped in.
Boom!
Wind Break Palm struck Shen Ku's chest.
The protective Qi around him shattered.
Blood sprayed from his mouth.
His body flew across the stage and slammed near the platform edge.
The entire arena shook.
Silence fell.
Shen Ku tried to rise.
His fingers twitched.
One dagger moved faintly.
Fang Lin stepped forward and pressed his cracked black iron sword against Shen Ku's throat.
The blade was damaged.
But still sharp enough.
Shen Ku froze.
Fang Lin looked down at him calmly.
"You lost."
Shen Ku's eyes were cold.
His lips moved slightly.
"You still hid something."
Only Fang Lin heard it.
Fang Lin replied quietly, "So did you."
For several breaths, neither moved.
Then Shen Ku's fingers relaxed.
The remaining daggers fell onto the stage.
Clang.
Clang.
Clang.
Clang.
The referee elder stepped forward immediately.
"Victory, Fang Lin."
The arena exploded.
"Fang Lin won!"
"He defeated Shen Ku!"
"Rank 9! He defeated Rank 9!"
"He is still climbing!"
The cheers rolled through the arena, especially from the alliance side and the ordinary outer disciples.
But Fang Lin stood silently.
His robes were torn.
Blood marked his arms, waist, shoulder, and palm.
His Qi was nearly empty.
His body felt heavy.
Very heavy.
This fight had exhausted him far more than the others.
Shen Ku had forced him to use Flowing Wind Steps, Nine Nether Phantom Body, Wind Break Palm, and Phantom Transformation together while suppressing his soul arts the entire time.
Even victory carried a price.
On the faction side, Chen Hao's gaze became colder.
Yue Fang spoke softly.
"He won again."
Chen Hao did not answer.
Mo Yun opened his eyes slightly.
Qiao Lei crossed his arms, his expression serious for the first time.
Even Jian Wuji, seated far above the crowd, glanced toward Fang Lin for a breath longer than before.
On the alliance side, Li Shan exhaled slowly.
"He is exhausted."
Han Zhi nodded.
"But he adapted again."
Zhao Feng's gaze was sharp.
"That strange dodge appeared more than once."
Murong Yue frowned.
"What strange dodge?"
Zhao Feng did not answer immediately.
He was not sure.
It had not felt like footwork.
It had felt like Fang Lin's body itself had changed.
But that was impossible.
Probably.
Fang Lin slowly withdrew his sword from Shen Ku's throat.
The sect healers came forward and carried Shen Ku away.
As they passed, Shen Ku opened his eyes and looked at Fang Lin one last time.
There was no rage.
Only cold curiosity.