The Shadowed Chimera
For a heartbeat, time seemed to stutter. Yao Xuan's evasion was not a dodge; it was a negation of the interval between spaces. One moment he was there, in the path of Zhang Yangzi's vengeful strike. The next, he stood a precise meter away, his scaled form settling as if he had simply taken a leisurely step. The air where he'd been twanged with released tension.
A collective, baffled inhale came from the crowd. "Did he… blink?" "No, it was like the ground moved for him." "I didn't even see him move!"
They couldn't. The Ancestral Dragon Shattering Void Step was not a matter of speed, but of affinity. It was his bloodline whispering to the fabric of the world, asking for a shorter path, and space itself acquiescing. To the students, it was magic. To teachers like Long Hengxu, it was a baffling, high-level technique. But to Wu Zhangkong, whose perception was honed by Shrek's rigorous standards, it was a spark of revelation. His icy eyes narrowed a fraction. 'Not just movement… a microscopic spatial translation. Borrowing the laws themselves. His bloodline… what is it?' A sliver of profound respect, and a flicker of something like haunted recognition, passed behind his stoic mask.
Zhang Yangzi stumbled, his claws slicing empty air. The physical whiff was nothing compared to the psychological blow. His perfect ambush had met not resistance, but absence. "How?!" he gasped, the word tearing from him.
"Your shadow hides you," Yao Xuan said, his voice calm, carrying across the suddenly quiet arena. "But it also slows your perception of the light. My turn."
His first spirit ring pulsed. "Ancestral Dragon Sky-Splitting Strike!" Again, his claw became a focus of condensed, nine-colored radiance. He didn't unleash a beam; he simply stepped forward, the strike an extension of his movement, aimed to dismantle Zhang Yangzi's balance and spirit.
Zhang Yangzi, shaken but disciplined, reacted. His body began to blur, seeking to melt back into the safety of his Dark Sky Curtain, to reset the engagement on his terms.
He never got the chance.
From Yao Xuan's flank, Gu Yue acted. Her intervention was a masterpiece of timing and elemental intellect. She had not been a spectator; she had been a strategist, reading the flow of soul power and intent. Her second spirit ring glowed—"Elemental Tide." But this was no brute-force wave. Her eyes, silver-purple depths capturing the interplay of energy, flashed. The halo behind her split, one half a brilliant, purifying white, the other a deep, hungry crimson.
She raised her hands, palms facing each other as if holding an invisible orb. Between them, a sphere of energy coalesced—not pure fire, not pure light, but a seamless, furious marriage of both. A miniature sun, radiating both searing heat and a disinfecting, shadow-banishing brilliance. With a gentle push, she sent it arcing not at Zhang Yangzi, but at the pool of clinging darkness he sought to re-enter.
The sphere connected. There was no explosion, but a violent, silent unmaking. The light pierced the shadow's heart, and the fire fed on its substance. The Dark Sky Curtain, a skill that could baffle Soul Elders, rippled like burning parchment and disintegrated into wisps of harmless, scorched vapor. Zhang Yangzi was violently exposed, his shadowy refuge erased. Worse, the opposing elemental energies clashed with his innate dark attribute, causing a feedback sizzle along his meridians. He gasped, his soul power reserves dipping noticeably.
On the sidelines, Ye Yingluo's professionally aloof mask cracked. "Dual-element fusion… at her age?!" The whisper was sheer disbelief. This wasn't just power; it was a preternatural understanding of elemental laws. Her earlier assessment of Gu Yue as a mere accessory to Yao Xuan evaporated.
Long Hengxu felt a fresh, sharp pang of regret. 'A spatial-stepper and an elemental prodigy… and I left them in Class Five.' His administrative mind was already tallying the lost prestige.
Wu Zhangkong gave a single, slow nod. This was the synergy he drilled into them. Yao Xuan created the decisive moment. Gu Yue annihilated the escape route. No communication was needed.
Exposed and destabilized, Zhang Yangzi had no time to reform his strategy. Yao Xuan's Sky-Splitting Claw was upon him. A flash of grim resignation crossed his face. He channeled his remaining soul power, his second ring flaring—"Eagle Soars Through the Sky"—not to attack, but to brace. He crossed his taloned forearms in a desperate 'X' before his chest.
THUD.
The impact was a deep, resonant percussion. Yao Xuan's controlled force—a mere thirty percent of his potential—was still a landslide. Zhang Yangzi's defensive stance shattered. He was flung backward, skidding across the stone on his back, coming to a rest near the still-dazed Wang Jinxi. His arms throbbed, gone numb to the elbow.
The arena seemed to hold its breath, then erupted. "Two of them?! He took down two Great Soul Masters!" "It wasn't even a contest!" "That girl… she erased his spirit skill like it was nothing!"
Even the teachers exchanged stunned looks. This was beyond a simple upset. This was a dismantling.
In the center of the arena, Xie Xie, locked in his high-speed duel with Wei Xiaofeng, let out a triumphant whoop. "Looks like your teammates need a hand! Or a claw! Or… well, they just need to stay down!"
Wei Xiaofeng's face, already tight with focus, contorted in fury. But a sliver of doubt, a crack in his arrogant facade, had appeared.
"We're not finished."
The voice was hoarse, but firm. Zhang Yangzi pushed himself to his knees, then to his feet. His uniform was torn, his arms hung limply, but his eyes burned with a stubborn, desperate fire. He looked at Wang Jinxi, who was also struggling up, cradling his cracked claw. "For the honor of Class One," Zhang Yangzi said, the words not a shout, but a vow. "We do not kneel here."
Wang Jinxi met his gaze. The pain and fear in his eyes warred with pride, and pride won. He gave a sharp, pained nod. "For Class One."
A ripple of curiosity mixed with respect went through the crowd. What could they possibly have left?
Then, they moved. Zhang Yangzi, with a pained grunt, launched himself not at Yao Xuan, but into the air above Wang Jinxi. It was an awkward, wounded leap, but it carried intent. As he descended, his body began to dissolve into streams of pure, ink-black energy. At the same time, Wang Jinxi roared—a sound of pain and defiance—and his own aura erupted, a dark, bony, necrotic power surging upward.
"Dark Eagle Dragon!"
Their voices merged—an eagle's shriek woven through a dragon's groan. The two streams of darkness, one sleek and agile, the other dense and brutal, did not just combine; they consumed each other in a vortex of terrifying energy.
Zhang Yangzi's form vanished, wholly absorbed. Wang Jinxi's body writhed. Bones audibly cracked and re-knit, muscles bulged and twisted under his skin. His size tripled in seconds, making him a hulking, misshapen giant. From his back, with a sound of tearing fabric and spirit, two vast, bat-like wings of utter blackness burst forth, each feather edged in a sickly gray light. His tailbone elongated, sprouting a segmented, bony tail that whipped against the stone, leaving scratches. Most horrifying, his shattered right claw regenerated, larger than before, each digit a saber of stained bone, and a similar claw grew on his left. His head remained human but was now framed by a jagged, bone-like crest, and his eyes glowed with a dual light—one gold, one dark purple.
The thing that stood where Wang Jinxi had been was a chimera of shadow and bone. It radiated an aura that was no longer that of a Great Soul Master, but something unstable, violent, and steeped in the dissonant harmony of two souls forced into one vessel. The air grew cold and heavy with oppressive malice.
Martial Soul Fusion Skill: Dark Eagle Dragon.
The silence was absolute, broken only by the low, rattling breath of the fused creature. The students stared, a mix of horror and awe on their faces. This was a legend made real—a fusion skill, the pinnacle of teamwork, seen only in senior tournaments or wartime reports.
Yao Xuan's calm finally deepened into intense, analytical focus. The playful testing was over. This was a genuine threat. He shifted his stance subtly, his nine-colored scales gleaming under the sun. Gu Yue drifted closer to his side, not touching, but entering his peripheral space, her hands already alive with flickering elemental energies. Her expression was one of cold, scientific interest in the aberrant creation before them.
The fused abomination lifted its monstrous head, twin-colored eyes fixing on Yao Xuan. A voice that was neither Zhang Yangzi's nor Wang Jinxi's, but a grating amalgam of both, scraped across the arena.
"Now… we fight."