The moment stretched, suspended in the unnatural silence of the courtyard. Han Bao's sneer had frozen on his face, replaced by a slack-jawed shock. He had expected to see fear in Kai's eyes, but what stared back at him was an abyss—cold, ancient, and utterly devoid of human feeling. It was a gaze that didn't see him as a rival, but as an obstacle to be dismantled.
Then, the moment shattered.
The change was not a transition; it was an eruption. The clumsy, yielding posture Kai had maintained vanished as if it were a cloak being thrown aside. In its place was a coiled, predatory stance, low to the ground, every muscle humming with lethal intent. He didn't just stop defending; he attacked with a violence that was shocking in its suddenness.
He exploded forward. The movement was not the elegant, flowing grace Yun Xiu taught. It was raw, brutally efficient, born from a desperate need to survive, not to impress. He closed the distance between them in a single, explosive step, a blur of motion that caught everyone, especially Han Bao, completely off guard.
This was the payoff for his patient analysis. During the feigned defense, Kai had mapped every one of Han Bao's arrogant tells: the slight over-rotation of his hip on a right-handed strike, the momentary lag before he reset his guard, the way his breath hitched in anticipation of a finishing blow. Kai wasn't just attacking; he was striking at a weakness he had spent the last five minutes meticulously identifying.
His first strike was not a grand, Qi-infused spectacle. It was a tight, vicious jab, a spear-hand aimed directly at Han Bao's solar plexus. The power for the blow came from a sudden, concentrated burst of Qi, channeled through his opened meridians. It was a flash of energy that momentarily bridged the gap between his seventh-stage cultivation and Han Bao's ninth, a secret weapon no one knew he possessed.
The impact was shockingly solid. A strangled oof was torn from Han Bao's lungs. His eyes bulged in a mixture of pain and utter disbelief. He had been untouchable, a god in this arena, and now he couldn't breathe.
Before Han Bao could even process the first blow, Kai followed through with the second phase of his calculated assault. He pivoted on his heel, his body dropping low, and delivered a merciless, sweeping kick directly into the side of Han Bao's knee. There was an audible, sickening crack that echoed across the silent courtyard. It wasn't the sound of a breaking bone—crippling was forbidden—but of a joint being brutally hyperextended, of ligaments screaming in protest.
Han Bao stumbled, his leg buckling beneath him. The arrogant swagger was gone, replaced by a limping, panicked scramble to regain his footing. His face, once a mask of contempt, was now a canvas of pain, confusion, and rising terror.
The courtyard erupted. The murmurs of disappointment and satisfaction transformed into a collective gasp of shock, which then fractured into a hundred different reactions. Some disciples leaned forward, their eyes wide with disbelief. Others shouted in excitement, the thrill of an unexpected upset overriding any faction loyalty. A few, particularly those in Han Bao's entourage, looked on in horror, their leader's invincibility shattering before their eyes.
From her vantage point, Yun Xiu went rigid. Her face, which had been etched with concern for her protégé, was now pale with a different kind of dread. The movements she was seeing—the cold efficiency, the brutal precision—were not what she had taught. This was not the Flowing Water Defense. This was a monster wearing her student's face.
Liu Yan's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes fixed on Kai. The suspicion she had harbored was now blooming into certainty. This wasn't the fighting style of a desperate commoner; it was the method of a seasoned killer.
Panic finally consumed Han Bao. All pretense of technique, all the refined forms his father had paid a fortune to teach him, were abandoned. He did what all cornered cultivators do when their skill fails them: he resorted to raw power. With a roar of fury and fear, he unleashed the full might of his ninth-stage Qi. A brilliant golden aura flared around him, pushing outward like a physical force, churning the dust in the arena. He was no longer trying to win a duel; he was trying to annihilate the source of his terror.
He charged, his movements now wild, uncoordinated swings of pure, overwhelming force. Each punch carried enough Qi to shatter stone.
And this was exactly what Kai had been waiting for.
Instead of meeting the storm head-on, Kai adapted. He became the water Yun Xiu had spoken of. But he was not a gentle stream; he was a violent, churning whirlpool. He began to use her defensive techniques offensively.
When Han Bao threw a wild haymaker, Kai didn't block it. He met the punch with an open palm, redirecting the immense force with a subtle twist of his wrist, sending Han Bao stumbling past him. As he passed, Kai delivered a sharp, debilitating elbow strike to his kidney.
When Han Bao tried a sweeping kick, Kai used a low, flowing block to guide the leg upward, throwing Han Bao completely off balance, and followed it with a punishing stomp on his grounded ankle.
The fight became a brutal dance. Han Bao was the storm, all rage and unrestrained power. Kai was the void, all cold calculation and minimalist violence, absorbing the storm's energy and turning it back on itself with interest. Each of Han Bao's furious attacks only created an opening for another of Kai's precise, painful counters.
What truly frightened the disciples watching was not the brutality of the fight, but the expression on Kai's face. It remained a perfect, cold, emotionless mask. There was no anger, no triumph, no exertion. He moved with the detached, mechanical efficiency of a master craftsman disassembling a complex piece of machinery. The lack of passion made the violence seem infinitely more terrifying than any berserker rage ever could. It was inhuman.
Han Bao was bleeding now, a trickle from his nose and a cut on his lip. His expensive robes were torn and covered in dust. His golden Qi was flickering, his stamina exhausted from his uncontrolled outbursts. He was broken.
"I... I yield!" he gasped, spitting out a mouthful of blood as he staggered backward, holding up a trembling hand.
According to the rules, the match was over. Administrator Huang prepared to step in.
Kai did not stop.
He continued his advance for one more, deliberate step. For a fraction of a second, he paused, as if processing the word "yield" as an unfamiliar variable. Then, he delivered one final strike.
It was an open-palmed push to the chest, not infused with killing intent, but loaded with enough force to make a definitive statement.
The blow sent Han Bao crashing backward. He landed in a heap at the edge of the ring, his body limp, his eyes rolling back into his head as unconsciousness claimed him.
Kai stood over him. He didn't gloat. He didn't raise his fist in victory. He simply stood there for a single, long second, a posture of absolute, unquestionable dominance. He was the victor. The other was the vanquished. There was no ambiguity.
The courtyard was utterly, deathly silent. No one cheered. No one spoke. They simply stared, their minds struggling to reconcile the pitiful underdog from minutes ago with the cold, terrifying victor standing before them now.
Administrator Huang finally found his voice, his tone clipped and strained. "The match is concluded. The winner is Kai Chen."
Without a single glance at the crowd, at Yun Xiu, or even at the administrator, Kai turned and walked away. He moved with the same steady, unhurried pace he had used upon entering, as if the last ten minutes of brutal combat were nothing more than a mundane chore he had just completed.
He disappeared through the archway, leaving behind a courtyard filled with a hundred stunned disciples and one broken body.
In the quiet solitude of his mind, as the adrenaline faded and the cold calculation settled back into its resting state, a familiar voice whispered.
"Perfect," Azrakoth stated, the sound dripping with satisfaction. "Fear is more useful than friendship."