Another morning passed by, and Lin Mei, always cheerful and full of life, called out, "Join us for breakfast!" as she led the way, her voice bright with the promise of a fresh start to the day. Her steps were light, the glow of the early sun casting a golden hue on her face. The aroma of freshly prepared food drifted through the air, making the day feel even more inviting.
"Only eight of you will fight today," the old man said, his voice carrying authority. The atmosphere grew tense as his words settled over the room.
A figure suddenly stepped forward, and the crowd parted. It was Hua Jingyi, the old man's other daughter.
With a slight, knowing smile, she said, "Here you are," as she sat beside me, her eyes locking onto mine with clear interest. Her gaze was sharp, studying me with an intensity that felt both challenging and curious, as if trying to gauge what I was truly made of.
"Is there something on my face?" I asked, sensing her intense gaze.
She tilted her head slightly, then smiled, though it was more of a challenge than anything else. "Nothing," she said with a hint of amusement in her voice. "I just hope you make it to the finals. I want to fight you."
Her words hung in the air, the challenge clear. It wasn't just a passing comment—it was a promise of something to come. Her eyes gleamed with anticipation, and I could tell she was already imagining what that fight would look like.
An hour passed as we finally reached the edge of the arena grounds. The towering stone walls loomed ahead, humming faintly with enchantments, and the roar of the crowd was muffled but ever-present.
I found a quiet spot under the shade of a gnarled tree, away from the others, and sat cross-legged. The noise faded into the background as I closed my eyes, letting my breath slow.
I meditated, steadying my pulse and focusing my energy. The rush of earlier excitement dulled, replaced by a calm readiness. My mind cleared, centered on the moment.
Then, a voice echoed across the field.
"Contestant jeo soon—step forward."
I stood, eyes opening to the blazing sunlight above. My time had come.
As my name echoed across the arena, I rose without a word.
The wind caught my coat as I stepped forward, my eyes narrowed beneath the shade of the hood. The sun blazed above, casting long shadows across the stone floor as I reached the edge of the platform.
I leapt.
The world slowed.
Wind roared in my ears, the sky above a blur of gold and white. My figure cut through the air like a blade, cloak fluttering behind me in sharp, dramatic folds. Gasps rippled through the crowd as I descended.
With a heavy thud, I landed in the center of the stage—one knee down, one fist braced against the ground. Dust spiraled up around me like smoke from a lit fuse.
Silence.
Then I stood, slowly, deliberately—my gaze sharp, locked forward.
A soft gust swept across the arena as another figure stepped into view—graceful, poised, and silent.
He moved like a whisper, almost floating down from the opposite platform, his robes trailing behind him like silk banners caught in the breeze. His steps were feather-light, yet precise, each one deliberate, as though he danced to music only he could hear.
The crowd stirred in murmurs of awe and confusion.
Long silver hair, tied in a flowing ribbon, shimmered beneath the sun like strands of moonlight. His skin was pale, unblemished, with sharp, delicate features that would befit a noble lady more than a warrior. Soft pink lips curved in a faint, unreadable smile, and his lavender eyes gleamed with a calm that bordered on eerie.
"Lián Yè," he said, voice clear and smooth—neither soft nor sharp, but oddly serene. "Third son of the Mistveil Pavilion."
He tilted his head slightly, studying me as though peering into my thoughts.
"Let's make this interesting," he added, that smile never fading.
Despite his gentle appearance, there was something… off. Beneath the elegance, a strange stillness—like a calm before something violent. Like a sword hidden in silk.
I narrowed my eyes.
Pretty face or not, I could feel it. He wasn't here to play.
"Begin!" the referee's voice rang like a thunderclap.
In an instant, the air shifted.
Lián Yè's smile vanished. His hand blurred.
"Wind Fang Combo Slash."
The moment the words left his lips, the arena howled.
The wind answered him.
He vanished in a blink—no footsteps, no warning—just a streak of motion tearing through the air like a ghost wrapped in blades. I barely caught the flicker of silver hair as the first strike came.
SLASH!
I blocked just in time, but the impact sent a tremor up my arm. His blade danced—too fast, too sharp. Before my feet could fully ground, he twisted, spun—
SLASH! SLASH! SLASH!
The second, third, and fourth strikes came in a seamless cyclone of cuts, each one sharper than the last, slicing through the wind itself. Dust exploded around us, the arena floor groaning beneath the speed of his assault. His blade left faint trails of wind qi in the air—arc-like crescents that shimmered like glass before fading.
Then came the fifth.
He reappeared behind me, arm drawn back, eyes glowing with cold fire. The final strike came down like a falling star—
BOOM!
A gust erupted as his blade slammed against my block, the sheer force dragging my feet across the stone. Sparks flew where steel met resistance, a ring of shattered wind bursting outward and sending dust and petals swirling like a storm.
I skidded back, boots grinding the floor, heart thundering.
He stood still again, like nothing happened, one hand behind his back, blade lowered. That damn faint smile returned.
"Your turn," he said softly.
I just smiled.
That alone made his face twitch—something about the calm in my eyes unsettled him. Then—
Flash.
He vanished in a blur of wind.
CLANG—!
The hiss of a blade cutting through air cracked like thunder as he appeared right in front of me, his sword descending with lightning speed.
But I had already moved.
I dipped low, the blade barely missing my scalp, slicing through the space I'd just been. My body surged forward—boom!—my knee rammed into his ribs with a thudding crunch that echoed in the air.
Before he could recover, I twisted.
A back-spin kick followed, the heel of my boot crashing into the same spot—his ribs again—drawing out a strained grunt from him as he staggered sideways, breath knocked out of his lungs.
But I didn't stop.
Pivoting into the next motion, I arced into a hook kick from my left—my foot slicing through the air like a scythe.
Smack!
The impact landed clean on his shoulder, twisting his upper body from the force. He looked stunned—caught in my rhythm, my tempo, my fight.
Then I stepped in close.
My right knee rose with brutal intent—crack!—slamming into his jaw like a piston. His head jerked back, eyes wide, a spray of blood misting into the air.
But he was fast. Too fast.
Even reeling, he moved on instinct. The wind howled.
His sword blurred in a furious arc—shhick!
I barely had time to react before cuts opened on my side and forearm—thin, precise, burning. He had created space with one savage strike, dancing backward through the wind, widening the gap between us.
I touched the blood running down my side. Still warm. Still alive.
Across from me, he wiped his lip slowly, dragging crimson across his pale cheek like a smudge of war paint. The faintest grin curved his lips.
"You're… dangerous," he breathed, eyes gleaming. "Good."
And then, silence. The arena seemed to hold its breath as we faced off again—wounded, grinning, and ready for the next clash.
"Don't blink."
His voice was cold, deadly calm, as if every word weighed the moment. My eyes narrowed, and I shifted my weight in anticipation. He wasn't playing around anymore.
With a quick motion, his hands moved in fluid precision, his sword glowing with a strange, ethereal light.
Whoosh!
The air thickened with an unsettling hum, and then—
Sword Spirit Possession.
The blade trembled in his grip, and a golden aura enveloped him, pulsing like the heartbeat of the weapon itself. His body seemed to blur, his movements accelerated, each twitch of his wrist sending the blade into motion faster than the eye could follow.
Buff: Attack speed and critical hit rate increased.
Golden Body Sword Guard.
A barrier of golden light flickered into existence around him, shimmering like a cocoon of defense. His body became nearly untouchable, every movement amplified by the blade spirit, his sword's power surging with newfound ferocity.
CRACK.
The sound of a shield forming. The aura around him pulsed brighter, his attack speed skyrocketing, and his sword was suddenly a blur of golden arcs, slashing through the air faster than I could track.
But I didn't flinch. Not once. My body was still, my eyes watching. I could feel the thrum of his spirit-infused blade in the air, but I knew—he wasn't ready yet.
He stepped forward, and just as I predicted, the world seemed to freeze.
Then, BOOM.
A sudden flicker, a burst of golden energy, and the next thing I knew—
He was gone.
No warning, no sound. One second, I saw him. The next, I felt the cold breeze against my skin as he appeared before me, too fast to follow. The blade flashed like lightning—no time to think, only to react.
Frostshadow Flash.
His sword slashed through the air in a split second, and I barely registered the motion. The world around me seemed to freeze, the slash leaving a chilling trail of frost in its wake.
CRASH!
I barely blocked it in time, my arm raised to deflect the icy blade. But the force of the strike sent me skidding backward, my boots scraping across the ground.
The freezing trail cut through the air like a wound, slashing into my focus, slowing my movements with the bitter sting of frost. His golden aura burned brighter, the chill freezing everything in its wake.
I stood my ground, teeth gritted, even as a chill crawled up my spine.
Is this it? My heart pounded, but my body didn't flinch.
He stood there, his sword poised, eyes locked on me with a savage grin. The aura around him was blinding, his golden body glowing like the very sun. He'd just teleported behind me—his sword slicing the air at an impossible speed—and the frost left behind was an aftermath I could feel in my bones.
But I wasn't backing down.
The clash of blades and fists rang out like thunder as Lián Yè and I exchanged strike after strike. His movements were swift and precise, his sword a flash of deadly light. I parried and blocked, my fists moving with equal speed, the momentum of the fight building with every exchange. Sweat dripped down my face, and the sound of impact echoed in my ears, but I remained focused. I wasn't just fighting for victory; I was fighting to push beyond my limits.
He was relentless, no hesitation in his attacks, but I could feel myself becoming sharper, my movements more instinctive with every blow. I'd been waiting for this moment—the moment when I could turn the tide.
Then, it came.
Lián Yè swung his sword in a powerful, downward arc, aiming for my chest. I didn't dodge. I didn't block. Instead, I embraced it. As the blade descended, I activated Colossus Form.
My body surged with immense strength. My muscles expanded, hardened like stone, each fiber of my being becoming an impenetrable wall. The sword struck me with a heavy clang, but it barely moved me. The impact felt like a slap against a mountain.
His eyes widened. He thought he had me. He thought I was finished. But that was the mistake.
I didn't even flinch.
With a snarl, I surged forward, unleashing the full weight of my power.
Ragnarok Reel.
The air seemed to crackle with the force of my strike as I swung with everything I had. My fist became a hurricane, an apocalyptic hook lariat that tore through the space between us. The world seemed to slow as I watched my punch connect with his body—one single blow that sent him spiraling through the air, his body becoming a ragdoll in the wake of my strength.
His body twisted mid-air, the sheer force of the impact lifting him higher, but he didn't have time to recover.
As he descended, still dazed from the devastation of my blow, I closed the distance in an instant. My right leg shot up, propelling me into the air with a force that could break mountains.
Downward Kick.
My heel connected with his stomach with a sickening thud, the impact so powerful it sent shockwaves through his body. I felt his ribs cave under the force, the sickening crunch of bone filling the air. His body rocketed back down, crashing into the arena floor with a resounding crash. The ground cracked beneath him, and for a moment, all was still.
I landed gracefully, my breath steady, my body thrumming with power. I watched as Lián Yè struggled, gasping for air, his body unable to move.
The arena was silent. The crowd held its breath.
I stood over him, my muscles still pulsing with the power of Colossus Form, ready to end this. But for now, I let the moment hang in the air, letting the force of my presence speak louder than any words.
This fight was mine.