The elder's declaration crashed through the hall like a decree of heaven itself.
"All who endure this trial," he continued, his eyes gleaming like cold stars, "will earn the right to ascend to Soaring Dragon Peak. There lies the true test—the Spear Ancestor's legacy. Fail here, and you will never set foot upon it."
A storm of emotions broke out among the disciples. Some clenched their fists so tightly that blood welled at their knuckles. Others paled, already feeling defeat before a single strike was exchanged. And yet, in the eyes of a few—the chosen few—burned a fire that could not be dimmed.
The elder's palm swept through the air, and from the tiles below rose a formation—an ancient dueling stage of carved jade, its surface etched with runes of suppression. The arena pulsed faintly, sealing the space so that stray qi could not ravage the spectators.
"Step forward in pairs," the elder commanded, his voice like thunder muffled by stone. "Show me your spear. Show me your will."
