The First Clash of Dragons
The air in the training ground crystallized with tension. At its center, two forces of draconic will converged—one a brilliant, burgeoning nine-colored star, the other a deep, abyssal black-gold comet.
Yao Xuan's mind was a map of calculated vectors. 'He's suppressed to mid Soul Elder stats, but his combat experience is measured in millennia. The first exchange is for data.' His Ancestral Dragon Sky-Splitting Strike focused its terrifying armor-piercing property into a needlepoint at the tip of his claw, aiming not for Di Tian's core, but for the joint of his oncoming wrist—a test of precision and reaction.
Di Tian's golden eyes, even in this humanoid form, held the patience of bedrock. He saw the feint within the strike. Instead of meeting it directly, his black-gold claw subtly rotated at the last microsecond, the dark energy around it swirling to deflect rather than collide. He aimed to brush Yao Xuan's strike aside and deliver a punishing counter to his exposed side.
SHIIING—CRACK!
The sound was not a blunt impact, but a high-pitched shriek of dragon scale scraping against dragon scale, followed by a sharp crack of compressed air. Yao Xuan's claw, deflected, tore five gleaming furrows in the reinforced floor. Di Tian's counter-claw, however, met not flesh, but a sudden, shimmering barrier of spatial distortion.
Ancestral Dragon Shattering Void Step—not for movement, but for micro-evasion. Yao Xuan had twisted the spatial energy around his torso a bare inch, just enough to make Di Tian's claw slide past with a dissipating snarl of dark energy.
Both figures recoiled from the center, sliding back on the smooth stone, leaving faint trails of light and dark energy.
A flicker of genuine surprise, then profound approval, lit Di Tian's eyes. "Excellent control. You read the deflection and adapted your defense not with muscle, but with space. This is the way of higher combat."
Yao Xuan steadied his breathing, his blood energy humming from the rapid expenditure. The 20% bloodline suppression he exerted on Di Tian was palpable; he could feel the elder's movements carried a slight, unnatural resistance, as if pushing through deep water. But Di Tian's technique was so refined it nearly compensated entirely.
"Again, Young Master," Di Tian intoned, not as a command, but as an invitation. "Show me the synergy of your dual transformations. Do not hold back."
Nodding, Yao Xuan surged forward. This time, he didn't lead with a soul skill. He relied on the monstrous physical power granted by his Intermediate Ancestral Dragon Body and the doubled enhancement of both Left and Right Claw Dragon Transformations. He became a whirlwind of nine-colored motion, a series of jabs, sweeps, and grapples that tested the limits of his refined strength.
Di Tian met him blow for blow. His movements were economical, devoid of flash, every block and parry using the minimum necessary force, every counterstrike aimed at the slight imbalances in Yao Xuan's footwork or the predictable recovery arc of his swings. It was like fighting a mountain that had learned to box. Yao Xuan's powerful strikes were absorbed, diverted, or answered with precise, stinging taps that, had Di Tian not pulled his power, would have broken bones.
'He's teaching through pain,' Yao Xuan realized, gritting his teeth as a black-gold knuckle glanced off his scaled ribs, sending a spike of sharp, instructive agony through him. 'Every "hit" is a lesson.'
He adapted. He began to vary his rhythm, feinting with his right claw while readying a spatial step with his left. He used the sheer, overwhelming force of his Sky-Splitting Strike not as a finisher, but as a territorial tool, forcing Di Tian to momentarily commit to a defense, then capitalizing with swift, close-range grabs.
For ten minutes, the training ground echoed with the sounds of their clash—the clang of scale on scale, the grunt of effort, the hiss of displaced air. Sweat gleamed on Yao Xuan's brow, his soul power depleting steadily. Di Tian remained an implacable, calm figure, but a fierce pride was growing in his gaze.
Finally, Di Tian disengaged with a graceful backstep. "Enough. Your foundation is solid, Young Master. Your power is formidable. But you think in lines and explosions. A true dragon," he said, lifting his own claw, where dark energy coalesced not into a blade, but into a swirling, unpredictable vortex, "understands the storm. It is not a single strike, but the relentless, encompassing pressure. You have the might. Now, you must learn the presence."
He gestured to Gu Yue, who had been watching with rapt attention, her analytical mind cataloging every move. "This is where your partner will be essential. Her control can create the storm. Your power is the lightning within it. Together, you will learn to dominate not just the point of attack, but the entire battlefield."
Yao Xuan, panting slightly, bowed his head in acknowledgment. The lesson was clear. He had been fighting as a supremely powerful individual. Di Tian was preparing him to fight as a sovereign.
"Now," Di Tian said, his stern expression softening a fraction. "Let Bi Ji restore you. Then, you and Gu Yue will face me together. Let us see how the lightning and the storm begin to dance."
Bi Ji stepped forward, her gentle hands glowing with emerald light. A wave of soothing, profound healing energy washed over Yao Xuan, mending minor bruises, replenishing his stamina, and clearing his mind. At the same time, Gu Yue walked to his side, her silver eyes meeting his.
"You were amazing," she whispered, her voice for him alone, layered with Gu Yue's admiration and Na'er's unwavering belief.
"I have a long way to go," he replied, but he smiled, feeling her confidence like a tangible force. "Ready to show him our storm?"
She nodded, a determined glint in her eye. The individual test was over. The true training—the forging of a bond that could one day challenge gods—was about to begin.