The Call
The drums boomed, shaking the stone terraces.
"Next match—Shen Lian versus Bao Zhi!"
The crowd erupted. Bao Zhi's name alone stirred unease. He was late Coiling Serpent Stage, infamous for his brutal mastery of the Thousand Venom Scales—a technique that hardened his flesh into living armor of venom qi, scales glimmering like black steel.
He stepped onto the platform, shirtless, his massive frame glistening with faint green light. His eyes were small, his grin wide. "The cripple again? You'll crumble under me like rot under a boot."
The crowd laughed, cheering for Bao Zhi.
Shen Lian walked forward in silence, his robe torn from earlier battles, blood dried along his sleeve. His gray eyes were calm, but inside his chest, the lotus pulsed, petals whispering eagerly.
Stronger prey. Yes. Drink him.
⸻
The First Clash
"Begin!"
Bao Zhi charged with a roar, his body cloaked in the shimmering scales of Molting Scale Guard. Shen Lian stepped aside, palm striking his ribs.
The sound rang like iron on iron. Bao Zhi barely flinched. His counter-strike slammed into Shen Lian's shoulder, venom qi blasting through muscle and bone.
Shen Lian staggered back, blood dripping from his lip.
The crowd roared approval. "Crush him, Bao Zhi!"
Bao Zhi laughed. "You're brittle. Nothing but bone and shadow."
He struck again, fists hammering down like a rain of venom. Shen Lian dodged, twisted, but each blow scraped past him, burning his flesh, rattling his frame.
⸻
The Lotus Stirs
Inside his chest, the lotus shuddered, petals unfurling. The voices rose.
You can't pierce him. He's stronger. Faster. Let us strike for you.
Shen Lian's hand trembled. He could feel the tendrils itching beneath his skin, desperate to burst free, to wrap Bao Zhi and drink.
"No," he hissed under his breath.
But Bao Zhi's fist crashed into his ribs, lifting him off his feet, slamming him to the stone. The platform cracked under the impact.
The crowd erupted in cheers.
Blood spilled from Shen Lian's mouth. His vision blurred.
Let us fight, the petals whispered. Or you die here.
⸻
Rising Fang
Bao Zhi loomed over him, scales glittering, venom qi swirling like armor. "This is your end, cripple. I'll splatter you across the stones."
He raised his fist for the finishing blow.
But Shen Lian rolled aside at the last instant, springing to his feet. His veins bulged black, his qi flaring wildly.
He struck with a hybrid art—Lu Chen's Venom Palm twisted with Zhao Kun's constriction. His palm landed square on Bao Zhi's chest.
The scales rippled, resisting. But a crack spread through them, faint but real.
The crowd gasped.
Shen Lian's eyes glinted faintly. "Not unbreakable, after all."
Bao Zhi snarled, enraged.
⸻
The Grinding Duel
They clashed again and again.
Bao Zhi's fists hammered down, each blow like a falling boulder, venom scales hissing. Shen Lian slipped through gaps, striking with serpentine precision, each palm probing for weaknesses, each strike guided by the wolf's predatory instinct within him.
But Bao Zhi's armor held. Each crack Shen Lian carved closed quickly, qi knitting the scales back together.
Shen Lian's chest heaved, blood dripping steadily. His strikes slowed. His bones ached.
The lotus pulsed harder, the petals roaring.
You cannot win like this. Break him. Drink him. Let us bloom.
Shen Lian's hand twitched. His shadow writhed faintly, petals flickering behind him.
⸻
Suspense at the Edge
Bao Zhi saw it. His grin widened. "Yes. Show them. Show them the demon you are."
He slammed his fists together, venom qi erupting, scales glowing brighter. His voice boomed across the arena. "Die, cripple!"
He lunged.
Shen Lian staggered back, bloodied, his vision fracturing. The lotus voices screamed louder than the crowd.
Now. Or be broken.
His hand rose, tendrils writhing just beneath his skin.
The crowd gasped, leaning forward, desperate. Elders stiffened, eyes sharp. Mo Xuan smiled faintly. Hei Zong's jaw clenched.
For one suspended heartbeat, no one knew—
Would Shen Lian break Bao Zhi?
Or would the lotus break Shen Lian?