Merin's gaze fixes on his opponent—the man looks worn, breath uneven, still carrying the fatigue from defeating Yu Qinshan.
"Start!" the announcer calls.
The Water Sword disciple lunges, blade flashing.
Merin sidesteps each strike with calm precision. His jade-qi-coated foot slams into the arena floor, sending a ripple across the ring. The wave of force shatters his opponent's balance.
In the same breath, Merin's jade-qi palm crashes into the man's chest. The disciple flies backwards, skidding out of the ring.
For a heartbeat, the crowd is stunned silent. Then cheers erupt, louder than before, as Merin's next opponent steps forward.
This time, the clash is sharper. Blades and fists meet in bursts of qi. Merin relies only on what he has learned since coming to this world—nothing from before.
At six years old, when he woke in this body, he abandoned every extraordinary skill and Law he once grasped. They had interfered with his cultivation, and worse, whenever he tried to use them, his senses screamed danger.
That warning was clear: if such powers could not be used safely, then someone in this world was strong enough to strike him down for it.
So now he fights only with the methods of this world—firm, steady, untainted by the strength he once carried.
So now he fights only with the methods of this world.
Merin's fist gleams as jade qi coats his skin, hard and unyielding. The sword arcs down at him, but he catches the blade with his bare hand, jade against steel. Sparks leap where qi grinds against metal.
Before the stunned disciple can react, Merin drives his foot forward. His jade-qi kick slams into the man's belly, sending him staggering back with a choked cry.
The crowd gasps, half in awe, half in disbelief—Merin fights without flourish, yet every move lands with crushing certainty.
Merin doesn't let the disciple recover.
The moment his kick lands, he pulls the sword from the man's weakened grip and tosses it aside with contempt.
The disciple gathers his qi in panic, water essence swirling as a sword of liquid forms in his hand. He thrusts.
Merin steps through the strike, jade muscles tightening, his palm glowing faintly. He slams his hand into the disciple's chest. The jade qi ripples out like stone crashing into a pond.
The water sword shatters. The disciple's body lifts off the ground, thrown across the arena.
He crashes outside the ring, unconscious.
Silence hangs for a heartbeat. Then the announcer shouts Merin's name. The crowd erupts—but half with fury, half with reluctant admiration.
The Water Sword Sect disciples stiffen. Only two remain.
Merin doesn't move, standing calm in the centre, jade qi flickering faintly across his arms. His eyes never leave the next opponent.
The second-to-last disciple steps into the ring, his sword dripping with condensed water qi.
He narrows his eyes at Merin. "Don't think you'll sweep through us so easily."
The announcer gives the signal.
The disciple darts forward, his sword dancing with flowing footwork, water waves rippling across the arena floor as if the stage itself had become a lake.
Merin braces, jade qi covering his arms. The sword strikes come fast, like rain pelting stone. Each blow clangs against Merin's jade-hardened forearms, sparks and droplets scattering into the air.
The disciple twists, sending a water dragon bursting from his blade, its maw opening to crash down on Merin.
Merin stomps once, jade qi rippling through the arena floor, disrupting the flow of water qi. The dragon collapses mid-air, bursting into mist.
In the same motion, Merin lunges forward. His fist, wrapped in jade light, smashes into the disciple's ribs.
A sharp crack echoes. The man coughs up blood and is thrown across the ring.
The crowd roars, some in disbelief, others in anger.
Now, only one Water Sword Sect disciple remains.
Would you like this final opponent to be the strongest among their group, someone on par with Wang Zishan—or slightly stronger, forcing Merin to push deeper into his jade body technique?
You said:
Slightly stronger, forcing Merin to push deeper into his ripple technique.
ChatGPT said:
The final Water Sword Sect disciple steps forward.
He looks calm, unshaken by the defeats of his brothers, and his qi surges the moment he draws his blade.
Water gathers behind him, condensing into a vast wave that hangs in the air, shimmering with deadly pressure.
The crowd hushes—this one is stronger, his cultivation deeper, his sword sharper.
Merin narrows his eyes. He feels the pressure pressing down on his chest, heavier than the others, and knows he cannot win with surface-level jade reinforcement alone.
The announcer drops his hand. "Begin!"
The disciple slashes down. The suspended wave crashes forward, a wall of water and qi rushing to drown Merin.
Merin stomps, jade ripples spreading across the stage, but this time the water doesn't collapse—it bends, twisting around the ripples like a river flowing around stone.
The man's sword thrust pierces through the mist, aiming straight for Merin's chest.
Merin shifts his stance, his muscles tightening. Jade qi floods deeper, not only into his skin and muscles but sinking into his bones, expanding the ripple outward.
The air trembles as his ripple technique grows sharper, the vibration spreading like concentric circles through the stage.
The sword strike slows for a moment as if pushing against invisible resistance.
Merin seizes that instant—his jade-wrapped palm slams forward, clashing with the blade. A loud crack splits the air as ripple and water qi collide, exploding in a shockwave that makes the arena tremble.
The crowd gasps as both fighters stagger back, neither gaining the clear advantage.
Merin steadies his breath. He knows he must push his ripple deeper still—or he will lose here.
The Water Sword Sect disciple steadies his stance, water qi boiling around him like a storm-tide.
He points his sword forward, and another wave forms overhead, this one larger, sharper, carrying the intent to crush everything beneath it.
Merin exhales slowly. His jade qi pulses inside him, each breath making his veins glow faintly. But the pressure of the wave presses down harder, forcing his knees to bend.
The opponent smirks. "End here."
The wave crashes.
Merin stomps hard—jade ripples burst outward, but the water qi doesn't break. It presses through, drowning the ripples.
The crowd roars. The innkeeper's voice rises above them: "Water Sword Sect victory is near!"
Merin's body shakes. His jade qi strains, the ripple trembling on the verge of collapse. For a moment, defeat seems certain.
Then deep within his muscles, something shifts.
The second stage of the Jade Spiritual Body technique—Jade Muscle—responds to the pressure. The qi that had been slowly nourishing his fibres suddenly bursts to life.
Pain sears through him as jade hardens within his arms and legs, locking his stance. But at the same time, his ripple grows sharper, heavier, sinking into the bones.
The collapsing ripple surges back, expanding violently.
The crashing wave splits down the middle, sheared apart by the unseen vibration.
Gasps echo through the arena.
Merin roars, jade qi covering his fist completely as if turning his arm into carved jade. He drives it forward.
The ripple bursts outward like an earthquake, tearing apart the water qi. His fist collides with the disciple's chest, shattering the man's defensive qi and blasting him across the ring.
Silence falls.
The last Water Sword Sect disciple lies unconscious, blood dripping from his lips.
Merin stands in the centre, jade qi faintly glowing across his body, his muscles aching with the pain of forcefully stepping into Jade Muscle during battle.
Then the crowd erupts, half in outrage, half in shock.
The announcer's voice cracks as he shouts: "Victory—Lanshan Sect!"
The woman from the Water Sword Sect steps forward, her robe fluttering slightly, eyes wide with disbelief.
She stops in front of Merin, holding out her hand, the blue glow of the Water Spirit Pearl pulsing softly in her palm.
"Take it," she says, her voice steady but tinged with awe.
Merin steps closer, jade qi still shimmering faintly across his body, and accepts the pearl.
The crowd falls into a stunned silence, then erupts into chaotic shouts, some cheering, some grumbling.
Merin tucks the Water Spirit Pearl safely into his robes, his expression unreadable, shoulders tense from the battle.
The woman bows lightly before retreating, leaving the arena filled with echoes of the fight.
Merin glances at his fellow disciples, all nodding, then turns his gaze inward, already thinking of the next stage of cultivation.