Junior Group Forging Champion to Face Ye Xinglan
The forging competition hall was a cathedral of industry, echoing with the rhythmic clang-clang-clang of a hundred hammers meeting metal. The air shimmered with heat and concentration. Yao Xuan stood at his assigned forge, the glow of the refined gold casting sharp shadows across his focused face. Beside him, Tang Wulin worked with a ferocious, hungry intensity, and Mu Xi moved with the graceful precision of a seasoned artisan.
Yao Xuan's hammer fell in a steady, metronomic cadence. Each strike was not an explosion of force, but a transmission of intent. He felt the metal's spirit—the latent potential within the coarse blue-coated copper—and guided it, rather than brutalized it. He was following Mu Chen's directive to the letter: show excellence, not monstrosity. His soul power, layered with the barest whisper of Ancestral Dragon vitality, seeped into the material with each impact, purifying, aligning, perfecting. He finished not first, but comfortably within the top tier, presenting a block of Thousand Refined Grade 4 refined gold that shone with a subdued, inner light. It was work that would earn nods of approval from masters, not gasps of disbelief.
Tang Wulin and Mu Xi achieved similar Grade 4 results. When the rankings were announced, their youth—their mere ten and sixteen years—sent a palpable ripple of astonishment through the watching elders and judges. Whispers of "Mu Chen's disciples" and "record-breaking" flitted through the hall. Yao Xuan felt the weight of covetous and calculating gazes, but they slid off him like water. His focus was elsewhere.
The points were welcome, but the true reward was the confirmation that control and subtlety were powers in themselves.
The following days were a blur of structured violence. The individual elimination rounds saw Yao Xuan and Gu Yue moving through their opponents with an eerie, tranquil efficiency. Yao Xuan's victories were quick, decisive, and minimally revealing—a push of force here, a feint followed by a restrained tap there. Gu Yue was a phantom; opponents often found themselves immobilized or mentally dazed by her profound spiritual pressure before they could complete a single soul skill.
Xie Xie fought with flashy desperation but met his match against two seasoned Soul Masters, his losses teaching harsh lessons about overextension. Tang Wulin's path was more fraught. He won his first two bouts through grit and clever use of Blue Silver Grass, but his third match was orchestrated calamity.
As Tang Wulin stepped onto the platform, he found not his scheduled opponent, but Ye Xinglan. She stood waiting, her arms crossed, a glacier of golden-haired disdain. She had used her influence to force the match-up.
The fight was brief and brutal. Tang Wulin was tenacious, his Blue Silver Grass whipping out with surprising speed. But Ye Xinglan was a tempest of sharp, controlled motion. Her sword, a manifestation of her Starstorm Sword spirit, was a blur of silvery light. She didn't just cut through the vines; she disassembled his defense, her movements a lecture in superior speed, power, and technique. A final, flat-handed strike of sword-hilt to his chest sent him stumbling out of the ring, bruised and gasping, more humiliated than seriously hurt.
Yao Xuan was at his side in an instant, helping him up. He said nothing to Tang Wulin, but his gaze lifted to meet Ye Xinglan's across the arena. Her eyes challenged him, a silent you're next.
He didn't shout. He simply held her gaze and spoke, his voice cool and clear, carrying over the murmuring crowd. "A Shrek prodigy, reduced to bullying her way into matches with juniors for petty revenge. How… predictable."
Ye Xinglan's composure cracked for a second, a flash of raw fury in her azure eyes. "Petty? You defend this… this incompetent, and you dare call me petty? Fine. I'll save a special lesson for you in the main bracket. Pray you don't crumple as easily as your friend."
"I look forward to it," Yao Xuan replied, turning away to focus on Tang Wulin, his dismissal more infuriating than any shout.
Internally, he was pleased. The hook was set. Defeating a fated heroine like Ye Xinglan would yield a significant bounty of Golden Evolution Points, a worthy prize for navigating her ire.
The team elimination rounds concluded with Class Zero's perfect record intact, their synergy growing with each match. Wu Changkong, for the main bracket, reinstated the core trio: Yao Xuan, Gu Yue, Xie Xie. Their first match in the round of sixteen was another swift victory, a coordinated takedown that began with Gu Yue's spatial lock, continued with Xie Xie's harassing shadows, and ended with Yao Xuan's decisive, non-lethal strike. Whispers of "dark horse" and "Donghai's secret weapons" began to circulate in earnest.
Then came the afternoon of the individual round of thirty-two. The draw appeared on the giant screens.
Match 7: Yao Xuan (Donghai Academy) vs. Ye Xinglan (Shrek Academy - Guest Participant)
A buzz of anticipation electrified the stadium. The narrative was too perfect: the local rising star against the visiting princess of the legendary academy, a grudge match born from a squabble among juniors.
Yao Xuan sat in the preparation chamber, methodically checking the wrappings on his hands. Gu Yue stood nearby, a silent statue of silver and amethyst.
"Her sword spirit is pure, focused. It seeks a single point of breakthrough," Gu Yue stated, her voice analytical. "Her footwork is precise to the millimeter. She leaves no openings through carelessness."
"She relies on overwhelming superiority," Yao Xuan mused, flexing his fingers. "Against Tang Wulin, it worked. Against an unknown, she'll likely try to end it quickly with the same overwhelming force. To make a statement."
Gu Yue nodded. "A blunt instrument, however sharp. Your chaos can blunt it. Your dragon can break it." There was no doubt in her tone, only cold assessment.
He looked up at her and smiled, a small, warm thing in the sterile room. "I'll be careful."
She reached out, not touching him, but her hand hovered near his arm for a moment. A current of silent support passed between them. "Do not simply win," she said, her voice dropping. "Show her the gap she does not yet understand exists."
Her words weren't about cruelty; they were strategy. They were about establishing a psychological edge that could pay dividends far beyond this single match.
The host's booming voice echoed, introducing Ye Xinglan first, painting her as the brilliant, untouchable scion of Shrek. She ascended the steps to the broad combat stage, the lights making her golden hair shine like a crown. She stood poised, her gaze already locked on the entrance tunnel, cold and imperious.
"And his opponent! The dark horse from the coast, the young dragon of Donghai Academy—Yao Xuan!"
Yao Xuan rose. He did not sprint, nor did he swagger. He walked. A calm, measured pace that carried him out of the shadows of the tunnel and into the roaring ocean of sound and light. His eyes found Ye Xinglan's across the hundred meters of polished floor. His face was a placid lake, reflecting nothing but quiet readiness. The frantic energy of the crowd, the weight of the occasion, the icy threat of his opponent—none of it touched the core of stillness he carried within.
The referee stood between them, listing the rules. Yao Xuan barely heard them. His world had narrowed to the girl with the sword-spirit and the storm in her eyes. The forge had tested his control. The team battles had tested his coordination. This—this would test the mettle of the Ancestral Dragon's heir against a true child of destiny.
The referee's arm swept down.
"Begin!"