The Elder voiced across the arena.
"Ranked Fourth, Duan Hongwei of Sentinel Shield Peak, challenges Ranked Ninth, Duan Liangyu of Tempest Fist Peak!"
The two disciples stepped forward, saluting before the dueling formation rose.
The fight was swift, almost anticlimactic. Duan Liangyu's tempestuous fists struck like stormwinds, a flurry of gusts and hammering blows that shook the stage tiles. Yet every strike he threw was absorbed against Hongwei's impregnable defense. His shield aura was unyielding to every assault. The harder Liangyu pressed, the more futile his efforts became, until at last his Qi faltered, his fists slowing against the immovable wall before him. Duan Hongwei stepped forward once, twice. Now his presence alone was suffocating. The battle of attrition finally came to an end when a heavy palm struck Duan Liangyu. He was sent sprawling to the ground outside the designated area.
It ended faster than the first match. The Elder's voice declared Hongwei's victory, though murmurs of disappointment rippled through the crowd at such a one-sided affair.
Next came a clash of contrasts.
"Ranked Third, Duan Yunfei of Nightshade Peak, challenges Ranked Sixth, Duan Shuyun of Mystic Cauldron Peak!"
An assassin against an alchemist. Many whispered that the outcome was already decided.
Duan Yunfei's form flickered like a shadow, vanishing and reappearing within breaths. His daggers gleamed with cold promise, each feint faster than the mortal eye could follow. Arthur strained to catch even the afterimage of his movements.
Yet Duan Shuyun did not counter, nor raise her cauldron, nor defend in panic. She simply waited.
Then it came — a strike so sudden that Arthur himself barely glimpsed the silhouette. But Yunfei did not complete it. His instincts screamed, and he slid past her in a blur.
Arthur's lips curled almost involuntarily.
A poison field. No wonder an alchemist could rise so high in rank.
It was his first time witnessing an Alchemist use poison, only if he didn't count himself.
Duan Yunfei's eyes narrowed; he had to maneuver out of nowhere in an instant. He carried the momentum, daggers vanished into his sleeves, and in their place came a rain of throwing blades, darts, and hidden weapons, each wreathed in killing intent. Against a martial artist, such a barrage would be wasted. But against Shuyun, whose path lay in concoctions, not movement, it was deadly. Her robe was soon torn in several places. Poison mist scattered, but it was not hers. As her defenses crumbled under the relentless storm, she found herself in a very disadvantageous position.
The duel ended with resignation. Duan Yunfei's shadow pressed against Duan Shuyun's throat; his weapon gleamed faintly.
"I declare Duan Yunfei. To be victorious."
A round of applause came from all the spectators.
The air grew heavier. The crowd eagerly waited for the match of the top contenders, the second-ranked cultivator who was aiming for the throne.
"Ranked Second, Duan Qingyao of Crimson Flame Peak, challenges Ranked Ninth, Duan Zi Xuan of Heaven's Gaze Peak!"
Gasps rose from the audience. To choose so far down the ranks — was this mockery, or shameless bullying? Among the strong, to fight beneath oneself was already frowned upon. For a second rank to pick a ninth was audacious to the point of insult.
On the stage, Duan Qingyao and Duan Zi Xuan Greedted
"Begin"
In an instant, Duan Qingyao's flames danced bright, her robe flaring like a living inferno.
Scarlet Blaze Aura
She taunted Zi Xuan openly, "Has the great sage deduced his loss?"
Her sharp words were followed by a series of strikes imbued with elemental fire.
Ashen Nirvana Art, Fist Form
Zi Xuan, however, merely dodged. His movements were hair-breadth precise.
To the crowd, it looked like the struggle of a weakling, a Sage cultivator barely managing to hold on against the tempest of fire. To Arthur, it was something else entirely. His eyes narrowed, his breath stilled. This was no incompetence. His uncle was waiting.
And then it came. Duan Qingyao roared with confidence. She didn't want to delay her victory, and she hurried her flames to converge into a final strike, her aura soaring like a crimson phoenix.
Ashen Nirvana Art, Blazing Torrent
The crowd was not interested in a lion chasing a rabbit, but Arthur knew otherwise. He had willed qi into his eyes from the start, pushing his senses to the zenith. He knew he could not see "the moment" very clearly with his Half-Step amber radiance realm, but he didn't want to miss it—the instant when everything shifted.
Zi Xuan's body swayed. In the same breath, his hand lashed forward. Not to deflect. But to counter. Straight for her throat.
The stage erupted in a burst of light and dust. Cries erupted from the stands.
"Over already…?"
"I — I blinked, and it was done."
"What happened? I saw nothing!"
"Senior Zi Xuan? Did he even touch her?"
"What a waste."
All assumed Duan Qingyao had struck the finishing blow.
But Arthur's gaze shifted. He caught the pale faces of a few elders, the rigid postures of certain experts in the crowd, and the stricken look on her mother's face. They had seen what the rest could not.
As the haze lifted, the truth left the arena stunned.
Duan Qingyao lay unconscious, blood staining her lips, her fiery aura extinguished. Zi Xuan stood above her, calm as still water, as though the battle had never begun. He had not even drawn upon his martial arts.
"You are indeed ruthless, Uncle," Arthur whispered inwardly, a bitter smile tugging at his lips.
The presiding Elder's face drained of color. His sleeve swept out like a storm.
"Crimson Flame Peak elder, attend at once!"
From the spectator stands, a stately woman descended in a flash, gathering Qingyao into her arms. A flick of her wrist summoned a potion vial from her sleeves before she whisked her disciple away.
The arena froze for a heartbeat. Then the silence was shattered.
"What the hell just happened?!"
"Impossible — he stood there like nothing happened!"
"Whoa… what is going on? Isn't he ranked ninth?"
"To defeat her without any technique — how terrifying is he?"
The crowd erupted in a roar and cheers. They didn't even need the Elder's decision about who the victor was. They had just witnessed the rise of a dark horse.
Arthur's mother grew uneasy. Her eyes narrowed.
"He broke through? When?" Her gaze flicked to Arthur, whose expression was serious.
"Don't worry, Tian'er," she murmured. "Nothing will change for us."
But Arthur was not troubled by his uncle's victory; he had expected it. He was the one who gave him such means. What unsettled him was what he had glimpsed in that final instant. In the veil of dust, behind Zi Xuan's decisive strike, a shadow had flickered. Arthur was sure it was neither his uncle nor Duan Qingyao. A silhouette blurred and faint, as though something had interfered.
Arthur's brow knitted. Why? I saw Zi Xuan's blow land. Then what was that shadow?
He exhaled slowly, forcing the thought down. Perhaps it was nothing.
Arthur ignored the lingering thought of interference. There was no time to drift now. It was time for the second and, perhaps, the most important dark horse to emerge.
"Ranked One, Duan Chengdao of Nine-Sword Peak, challenges Ranked Ten, Duan Liang Zheng of Fragrant Herb Peak!"
The announcement rolled across the arena. This time, the crowd did not jeer, nor whisper of cowardice. After Zi Xuan's ruthless upset, no one dared to underestimate. No one mocked the idea of a first-ranked contender choosing the lowest. Instead, the silence itself was heavy, taut with expectation.
Could such an impossible thing happen twice?
Arthur leaned forward, eyes narrowing. He willed qi into his gaze, every thread of perception drawn to the arena.
Can't miss it for a fraction. He thought.
The two men stepped into the formation. They saluted, voices carrying steady respect.
Arthur's mother clasped both hands tightly, her knuckles pale, as though holding her own breath in her chest.
The Elder's sleeve rose, preparing to begin the match.
Arthur caught Duan Chengdao's stance, too taut, too guarded. His aura coiled tightly like a blade drawn but never swung. His body language was defensive.
Arthur frowned.
Why? You are ranked first.
The Elder's voice cracked like a whip.
"Begin!"
And in the same breath, lightning fell.
A roar shook the arena, thunder swallowing every gasp. Arthur's enhanced vision, sharpened by qi, failed him utterly — he saw nothing. Like most spectators, the only thing he saw was arcs of lightning in a dust cloud. Its brilliance was pure and also stagnant at the place where Duan Chengdao stood. It meant that his father was the one who attacked first.
Was this some kind of statement? Arthur thought.
The platform had cracked. Jagged scars were now splitting its surface. Dust boiled up, swirling in thick curtains.
It was twice in a row that the inscription failed to contain the assaults.
When everything cleared, the crowd fell into stunned silence.
Duan Chengdao was on one knee, chest heaving with defeat. His sword lay shattered beside him, qi dissipating like mist after rain. Before him stood Duan Liang Zheng, calm yet solemn, his robes fluttering faintly in the fading sparks of lightning.
Chengdao's lips curled bitterly. He bowed his head.
"I admit defeat… senior brother."
Gasps tore through the silence. The first-ranked genius had yielded.
Arthur could not even grasp when it happened. But thanks to his knowledge of the Immortal Lotus Sutra, he could understand what had happened.
His father used —
Vital Bloom Invocation, Physical Body Realm.
It had heightened all of his senses and abilities using his Wood Qi Mastery. The Immortal grade cultivation was proving to be a heaven-defying cheat.
Liang Zheng extended his hand, not in arrogance, but in quiet dignity. Chengdao clasped it, allowing himself to be lifted to his feet.
The Elder's voice thundered, shaking the hearts of all who heard.
"Victory — Duan Liang Zheng!"
The arena erupted. This was no mere cheer, but a storm, a roar that quaked the very foundations of the sect. First Zi Xuan, and now Liang Zheng — the lowest-ranked had humbled the highest.
Two dark horses had risen in a single tournament.