Xiao Yan held the jade ring tightly, his eyes fixed on the fading traces of Xiao Chen's energy phantom in the arena. Inside the ring, Yao Lao's spirit flickered to life, his gaze sharp as he meticulously analyzed the residual energy patterns.
"The amount of dou qi Xiao Chen condensed into that phantom is beyond impressive," Yao Lao began thoughtfully, "He managed to form something nearly semi-solid, something so dense it's almost tangible. It's not common even among peak dou shi cultivators to sustain such a massive energy construct for this long."
Xiao Yan frowned slightly, his curiosity piqued. "But that armor… It wasn't part of the initial formation. It only appeared after the phantom took heavy damage. How does that work?"
Yao Lao's expression darkened as he continued. "That's the most unorthodox part. The armor wasn't purely forged from his own internal energy. Instead, it seemed to absorb the malice, the hatred, the very negative emotions directed at him by the crowd and his opponents. It drew those emotions into itself, crystallizing them into a protective shell."
Xiao Yan's eyes sharpened, beginning to understand the deeper implications. "So he's not just using his own strength. He's feeding on the dark energy that surrounds him—the bitterness and loathing people hold toward him?"
"Exactly," Yao Lao said, voice low and heavy. "Emotions like hatred and malice are volatile and destructive forces. Most cultivators who try to harness such energies lose control—they become reckless, unstable, even mad. Such a path is dangerous and rarely sustainable."
Xiao Yan's thoughts drifted to what he had heard about Xiao Chen's childhood—the constant bullying, the silent endurance of abuse. "He was a boy who absorbed every cruelty without breaking, without retaliating. The clan's children bullied him, the elders rejected him, yet he never lost his resolve."
Yao Lao nodded solemnly. "It seems fate has a cruel sense of humor. To give this dark inheritance—a power fueled by malice and hatred—to the boy who was most rejected, most despised by his own world… It's as if the heavens are testing him, or perhaps punishing the world for casting him aside."
Xiao Yan's eyes flickered with a mix of sympathy and urgency. "Do you think it's possible to defeat him now? At this stage of his cultivation?"
Yao Lao's face turned serious. "Not yet. His control over his energy is surprisingly stable, even at this extreme density. That armor, energized by the malice surrounding him, constantly reinforces his defense. As long as he can bear the hatred aimed at him, his power won't falter."
Xiao Yan's jaw tightened. "This means we need to move quickly. Find the next divine flame. Strengthen ourselves beyond what we thought possible. And I'll speak with the clan elders—convince them to extend the interval before the next matches. He's evolving faster than anyone anticipated."
Yao Lao let out a slow breath. "His path is one filled with peril. Drawing power from malice and hatred risks consuming his mind, his soul. But if he can maintain control, if he can endure the darkness within and without… He could become a force unlike any other."
Xiao Yan's voice was firm, resolve hardening in his eyes. "We have no choice but to prepare. The tournament just became far more dangerous."
Yao Lao's tone softened for a moment, a hint of empathy shining through the grave discussion. "Remember, Xiao Yan, Xiao Chen's story isn't just one of hatred and vengeance. There's pain there—a boy who was never given a chance, who only found power by embracing the world's cruelty. Whether that will break him or make him stronger… Only time will tell."
Xiao Yan nodded slowly, the weight of their conversation pressing down on him. "We will watch closely. And when the time comes, we will face him with everything we have."
Yao Lao's gaze lingered on the remnants of the phantom in the arena. "For now, we must be vigilant—and hope that this twisted fate does not spiral beyond all control.