The Dragon's True Claw
The convergence of darkness was not just an attack—it was a vortex. The very light around the Dark Eagle Dragon's beak bent and died, swallowed by the forming sphere of absolute negation. The air grew deathly still and cold, the temperature plummeting as the Dark Demon Flash drew energy from its surroundings. The black pillar that coalesced hummed with a sound that vibrated in the bones rather than the ears, a note of pure entropy.
"Yao Xuan, yield! Once released, we cannot recall it!" The dual voice from the chimera carried not just pride now, but a strain of genuine urgency. They could feel the unstable, ravenous nature of the energy they'd birthed. This was beyond their design.
Yao Xuan stood his ground, the oppressive cold washing over his scaled form. For the first time in the tournament, a flicker of genuine, focused seriousness hardened his features. The playful calculation was gone, replaced by the solemn acknowledgment of a technique that demanded his full respect. "A commendable effort," he said, his voice cutting cleanly through the gathering silence. "Do not hold back. I will meet it."
"Then, witness it!"
The Dark Eagle Dragon shuddered, then released its constraint. The sphere of darkness at its beak lanced forward. It was not a beam of light, but a beam of anti-light—a slender, perfect line of void that erased color and sound in its wake, moving with the terrible inevitability of a falling guillotine blade. The air along its path crystallized with frost before shattering into motes of blackened dust.
"This has gone too far!" Long Hengxu barked, surging to his feet. His Soul King senses screamed in alarm. The energy signature had spiked into low Soul Elder territory—far beyond what a freshman tournament barrier was meant to contain casually, and certainly lethal to any student. He gathered his soul power to intervene.
A hand, cool and unyielding as granite, closed on his wrist. Wu Zhangkong did not look at him; his eyes remained fixed on Yao Xuan. "Wait," he said, the single word layered with absolute certainty. "He has not yet shown his hand."
"Wu Changkong! If he dies—!"
"He will not." The interruption was final. Wu Zhangkong's trust was not blind faith; it was the conclusion drawn from months of observing the depth Yao Xuan never fully plumbed. The delay, however brief, was decisive. The Dark Demon Flash was already halfway across the arena.
A paralyzing tension seized the crowd. Hundreds of students leaned forward or covered their mouths, eyes wide with dread. Even the senior students paled. The attack felt fundamentally wrong, a violation of the spirited competition they knew. All eyes, filled with fear, shock, or morbid fascination, locked onto Yao Xuan's solitary, scaled figure before the tide of obliteration.
'An attack that erodes both matter and spirit… Truly impressive,' Yao Xuan's mind raced, analyzing even now. 'To force this out from a fusion at their level… It seems the world's talents are boundless. Complacency has no place on my path.'
The thought was a spark that ignited the deeper forge within him. He stopped channeling soul power through his spirit rings. Instead, he turned inward, to the wellspring that predated his martial soul—the Ancestral Dragon Bloodline.
"Ancestral Dragon's Right Claw."
He did not shout. He commanded. The first of his Qi and Blood Soul Rings, invisible to the spectators but burning like a sun within his spiritual sea, activated. A torrent of primordial power, nine-colored and singing with the music of creation, surged from his core into his right arm.
The transformation was instantaneous and glorious. His right arm swelled, muscles and bone restructuring under the divine blueprint. Thick, luminous dragon scales, each a masterpiece of interlocking color, sheathed his limb from shoulder to fingertip. His hand expanded, fingers elongating into five, wickedly sharp claws that gleamed with a light that seemed to hold entire nebulae within their edges. Power, raw and ancient, radiated from the limb, causing the air to shimmer with heat haze and warping gravity around it.
As the Right Claw formed, Yao Xuan's aura didn't just rise—it transcended. The nine-colored radiance erupting from him met the encroaching void not as an opposing force, but as a restoring truth. Where the light passed, the unnerving cold shattered, and the corrupted darkness at the edges of the Dark Demon Flash hissed away like mist under a noon sun. His eyes, now glowing with full, radiant nine-colored light, held the calm of cosmic certainty.
To Gu Yue, standing resolute at his flank, the sensation was a thunderclap in her soul. The familiar, sovereign resonance was now undeniable, flooding her senses. 'The Dragon God's authority… made manifest. The probability approaches certainty.' A complex wave of emotions—profound relief, daunting realization, and a sharp, sweet pain—washed over her. The being she was sworn to, the other half of her soul, stood before her, magnificent and… utterly unaware.
A quiet ache bloomed in her chest. He saw her as Gu Yue, the talented human classmate, not as his Silver Dragon Queen. The careful, slightly manipulative game she'd been playing to fulfill Na'er's bet and satisfy her own curiosity now felt like a sacrilege. 'I don't need a wager to love him,' the thought emerged, clean and clear. Her attraction had begun with the mystery of his aura, but it had deepened through watching his strength, his strategic mind, his protective loyalty. What started as a mission was now her heart's truth. To truly walk beside him, to help him remember or rebuild what was lost… that was a purpose worthy of her, worthy of them. There was no more guilt, only a redefined destiny. She would love him freely, for herself, and in doing so, guide her king home.
This internal epiphany, spanning mere heartbeats, was masked by her outwardly calm, watchful expression. Her focus returned to the present danger, elements subtly gathering around her in case his defense needed support.
It did not.
Facing the incoming spear of void, Yao Xuan finally moved. He stepped forward, his transformed right claw drawing back. Soul power from his first ring merged seamlessly with the bloodline power now saturating his arm.
"Ancestral Dragon Sky-Splitting Strike!"
The same soul skill, but now a completely different entity. As the yellow ring flashed, the energy it drew was amplified a hundredfold by the Ancestral Dragon's Right Claw. His entire arm became a blinding shard of concentrated creation. With a ground-shaking stomp that cratered the stone beneath him, he launched himself not away from the Dark Demon Flash, but into it.
He became a living comet of nine-colored light, meeting the line of utter darkness head-on. His right claw swept up in a magnificent, decisive arc—not to block, but to cleave.
The collision was silent.
For a fraction of a second, the two supreme energies contended where they met. Then, the nine-colored light flared. It did not explode outward, but focused into an edge sharper than reality. With a sound like the universe tearing a seam, the Ancestral Dragon Sky-Splitting Strike lived up to its name. It split the Dark Demon Flash down its center.
The void-beam fractured, its cohesive energy destabilized. The darkness didn't vanish; it unraveled, dissipating into harmless, shadowy tendrils that were then burned away by the radiant aftermath of Yao Xuan's claw. The terrifying cold was replaced by a wave of soothing, energizing warmth.
Yao Xuan landed gracefully twenty meters away, his Right Claw still glowing, the scales slowly receding as he released the technique. Before him, the Dark Eagle Dragon wavered, its form flickering violently. The massive expenditure of the failed ultimate technique, combined with the psychic backlash of having its power cleanly severed, was too much. With a final, fading groan, the fusion dissolved in a burst of dark light.
Two separate figures—Zhang Yangzi and Wang Jinxi—tumbled onto the stone, pale, drenched in sweat, and utterly drained of soul power, but unharmed. They stared, breathless and wide-eyed, at the boy who had just split a technique they believed invincible.
The arena was utterly, profoundly silent.
Then, as the last motes of nine-colored light faded from Yao Xuan's form, the silence broke into a roar that shook the very foundations of Donghai Academy.