The Tempering
The world narrowed to the space between their clashing claws. Nine-colored brilliance met abyssal black-gold in a shockwave that shuddered through the reinforced arena floor. Yao Xuan's teeth clenched as the impact traveled up his arm—a clean, monumental force that spoke of perfect, condensed power. He was driven back, his boots skidding with a screech against the stone, his blood energy churning in response.
Across from him, Di Tian absorbed the recoil with the immovable stability of a continental plate. Not a muscle in his controlled, humanoid form twitched. Yet, within his ancient golden eyes, a spark of profound approval ignited.
'The force is comparable to a peak Soul King. The bloodline suppression is tangible—a 20% dampener on my speed and power at this suppressed level. And he is what, twelve? Truly, the Dragon God's essence.' The memory of past human prodigies, even the one who had bested him millennia ago, paled in this moment. This was different. This was inheritance.
But a warrior's eye saw more than power. He saw the slight over-extension in Yao Xuan's follow-through, the microscopic hesitation as he switched between soul skill enhancement and raw physical assault, the way he relied on his monstrous vitality to brace rather than truly dissipate the force of a blow. The foundation was diamond, but the cut could be sharper.
"Again!" Yao Xuan's voice was a mix of exhilaration and focus. He didn't wait, becoming a blur of nine-colored motion. The Ancestral Dragon Sky-Splitting Strike came not as a single mighty blow, but in a flurry of precise, armor-seeking jabs, testing Di Tian's defense from multiple angles.
"Good!" Di Tian's response was a lesson in economy. His black-gold claws moved in short, devastating arcs, never more than necessary. He parried, deflected, and occasionally, with piston-like precision, delivered a counter-strike that thumped against Yao Xuan's scaled guard. Each successful block from Yao Xuan was met with a nod; each small opening Di Tian exploited was a silent note for later.
The arena became a storm of light and shadow. The clang of dragon scale on dragon scale was a rapid, percussive rhythm. Yao Xuan pushed his transformed body to its limits, the dual claw transformations humming with power, his blood energy circulation a roaring river within him. He incorporated the Ancestral Dragon Shattering Void Step in micro-bursts—not to flee, but to create fleeting angles, to make his attacks come from unexpectedly shifted spaces.
Di Tian weathered it all, a dark monolith. He began to press, his movements gaining a subtle, relentless cadence. He wasn't just defending; he was shaping the battle, herding Yao Xuan's explosive energy into patterns, forcing him to spend more soul power to maintain his defensive footing. It was a quiet, masterful demonstration of battlefield control.
After nearly a hundred exchanges, Yao Xuan disengaged, leaping back with a final shower of sparks from a deflected claw. He landed, breathing deeply, his brilliant scales shimmering with exertion. The immense pool of his soul power, so vast for his rank, was finally nearing its bottom. The thrilling fatigue was a testament to the fight's intensity.
"Uncle Di," he said, his voice respect-filled but steady. "My soul power is exhausted. I would welcome your critique." As he spoke, the glorious transformations receded. Scales faded, claws retracted, the brilliant aura dimming to leave a sweat-dampened but keenly attentive young man.
The system's message was a welcome chime, but his focus was entirely on the Beast God before him.
"Well fought, Young Master," Di Tian said, his own dark-gold aura dissolving. He gestured to Bi Ji. "Sister, if you would."
"Of course." Bi Ji stepped forward, her expression serene. With a graceful motion, emerald-green light, dense with the essence of life itself, blossomed from her. It didn't just wash over Yao Xuan; it seeped into him. He felt the minor aches from blocked blows vanish, the depletion in his dantian reverse as if filling from a divine spring, and even the mental fatigue of hyper-vigilance smooth away. In seconds, he was restored to peak condition, body and spirit.
"Thank you, Aunt Bi," Yao Xuan said, bowing slightly. The efficiency and power of her healing were humbling.
She smiled gently. "It is my purpose and pleasure, Young Master."
Yao Xuan then turned fully to Di Tian, his eyes alight with the thirst for improvement. "Your guidance, Uncle Di?"
Di Tian clasped his hands behind his back, adopting the stance of a master instructor. "Your command of soul power and the activation of your soul skills is exceptional. Your human teacher has drilled you well in the mechanics of energy." He paused, his gaze turning analytical. "However, your control over your blood energy and its integration with your physical form… it is powerful, but instinctual. You use it like a club—a mighty club, but a club nonetheless. You brace with it, you fuel transformations with it, but you do not weave it. You do not use its ebb and flow to enhance your efficiency, to make every movement twice as effective with half the cost."
He pointed a finger at Yao Xuan's core. "Your bloodline is a ocean. You are drawing from the surface with a bucket. I can teach you to channel its currents, to become the conduit through which the tide itself moves. Your body is a divine weapon, but you are swinging it by the blade. I can show you how to hold the hilt."
The assessment was piercingly accurate. Wu Changkong was a master of soul power and weaponized intent, but blood energy on this level was outside his purview. Yao Xuan's progress had come from system-enhanced comprehension and brutal trial-by-fire in simulation. It was potent, but lacked the refined, systematic artistry of an ancient being whose very life was blood and qi.
A fierce, grateful smile spread across Yao Xuan's face. "That is precisely what I feel is lacking. I would be deeply honored to learn, Uncle Di."
From the sidelines, Gu Yue watched, her silver eyes soft. She saw not just the student eager to learn, but the future sovereign willingly being tempered. She saw Di Tian, the proud Beast God, offering his millennia of wisdom with genuine devotion. The scene filled her with a profound sense of rightness. This was how it should be. This was the foundation being laid—not just of a warrior, but of a king who understood his own strength down to the last vibrating particle of his divine blood.
The path ahead was clear. The feast of power had been served. Now began the meticulous, sacred work of learning how to truly wield it.