As the tournament progressed, the six stages became distinct theaters of martial prowess, each with its own rising stars. While Lei Man's match had been a display of untouchable evasion, the crowd's attention was once again captured by the sheer dominance being exhibited on Stage One.
Chu Qinqing of the Azure River Clan ascended the steps for her second-round match, her expression as calm and placid as a deep lake. Her opponent was a tall, muscular youth from a family famous for their smithing and their powerful fire-based techniques. His name was Huo Yan, and he was a powerhouse at the peak of the second level of Qi Gathering, his energy a stark, fiery red that radiated an intense, shimmering heat.
The contrast was absolute: a raging inferno against a tranquil sea.
"Begin!" the referee called.
Huo Yan wasted no time. With a roar, he slammed his fists together, igniting his Qi. He became a living torch, his hands and forearms wreathed in roaring, orange-red flames. "Taste my Raging Furnace Fist!" he bellowed, charging forward.
He was a hurricane of heat and concussive force, his punches not just striking, but exploding on impact, sending waves of scorching heat across the stage. The air itself seemed to ripple around his fists.
Chu Qinqing, as before, did not retreat. She simply raised her hands, a gesture of serene acceptance. "Azure Sea Diverts the River," she intoned, her voice a cool balm against the oppressive heat.
A vortex of deep blue, water-aspected Qi swirled into existence around her. It was not the same gentle, flowing shield she had used against Li Bai's physical attacks. This one was denser, colder, and it shimmered with an inner, chilling light.
Huo Yan's flaming fists crashed into the watery barrier. The result was a massive, violent explosion of steam that momentarily obscured both fighters from view. The sound was not of impact, but of a thousand blacksmith's forges being quenched at once, a deafening, hissing roar.
The crowd gasped, leaning forward in anticipation. When the steam cleared, the result was stunning.
Huo Yan stood panting, his flames visibly diminished, his fists smoking with vapor. Chu Qinqing stood in the exact same spot, her robes untouched, her expression unchanged. Her water vortex still swirled, slightly smaller, perhaps, but completely intact. She hadn't just blocked his attack; her technique had actively consumed and neutralized his fire energy, turning his raging inferno into harmless steam.
"My turn," she said, her voice carrying easily through the stunned silence.
She didn't lash out with tendrils this time. She simply collapsed the vortex inwards. All the swirling water and absorbed heat compressed into a single, shimmering blue orb of water in her palm, no bigger than a melon. It was perfectly clear, but inside it, a tiny, furious red ember—the last remnant of Huo Yan's stolen fire energy—was trapped, struggling against its watery prison.
"Return to sender," she whispered.
With a gentle push, she sent the orb flying. It didn't move with incredible speed, but it seemed to lock onto Huo Yan, giving him nowhere to run.
Desperate, he roared and unleashed another Raging Furnace Fist, aiming to punch the orb out of the sky.
It was a fatal mistake. The moment his fist, wreathed in its weakened flames, made contact with the water orb, the tiny red ember inside the orb detonated. The trapped fire energy, combined with the immense pressure of the water, created a devastating internal explosion.
BOOM!
The orb erupted, not just in a wave of water, but in a concussive blast of superheated steam and chaotic energy. Huo Yan was engulfed. He was thrown backwards, his clothes shredded, his body covered in angry red burns from the scalding vapor. He crashed to the stone stage near the edge, his Qi completely shattered, groaning in pain and unable to rise.
The referee's hand shot up. "Winner, Chu Qinqing!"
A wave of awe washed over the plaza. She had not only defended against a powerful fire attack, she had absorbed it, trapped it, and used it as the core of her own devastating counter-attack. It was a level of Qi control and strategic genius that was simply breathtaking.
Lei Man watched from the crowd, his calm expression hardening into one of intense focus. The Flowing Butterfly Art was based on evasion and finding the perfect moment to strike a fatal weakness. Chu Qinqing's art didn't seem to have any weaknesses. She turned her opponent's own strength into her weapon. How, he wondered, could a butterfly possibly sting the sea?
The tournament moved at a relentless pace. As the sun began its descent, casting long shadows across the six arenas, the announcer's voice once again called Lei Man's number for his second-round match on Stage Three.
His opponent this time was a tall, lanky youth named Kaelen, a first-level Qi Gathering cultivator who had won his first match through a combination of luck and the exhaustion of his opponent. He clutched a long, thin wooden staff, and his Qi was a faint, grassy green, indicating a wood-affinity. He looked at Lei Man with an expression of deep, nervous concentration. He had clearly watched Lei Man's first fight and knew he was facing a superior opponent.
"Begin!" the referee commanded.
Kaelen immediately sprang into action. He did not charge. Instead, he slammed the butt of his staff onto the stone stage and poured his Qi into it. "Verdant Prison!" he yelled.
The stage around Lei Man erupted. Thick, green vines, pulsing with wood-aspected Qi, shot up from the stone, growing at a supernatural rate. They twisted and writhed, aiming to entangle Lei Man's legs and arms, to trap him in a cage of living wood. It was a clever opening move, a technique designed to control the battlefield and immobilize a faster, more skilled opponent.
The crowd murmured in appreciation. It was a solid strategy.
For Lei Man, it was a minor inconvenience.
He didn't try to dodge or break the vines. As the first tendrils snaked around his ankles, he simply took a single, calm step forward. The vines, expecting to find purchase, instead found nothing. He took another step, then another, his feet always moving to the exact spot where the vines were not.
It was a mesmerizing, almost comical sight. A forest of grasping, thorny vines was erupting all around him, a verdant, chaotic prison trying to form, but Lei Man simply walked through it as if taking a leisurely stroll in a garden. His Flowing Butterfly Art was not just for combat; it was an art of pure, untroubled motion.
Kaelen stared, his jaw slack, his face paling as he poured more and more of his precious Qi into the technique, only to see his opponent walk through it unharmed.
Realizing his trap was useless, Kaelen switched tactics. With a desperate yell, he pointed his staff at Lei Man. "Thorn Volley!"
The tips of the grasping vines all around Lei Man suddenly hardened, and a hail of sharp, Qi-infused wooden thorns shot towards him from all directions. It was a 360-degree attack, impossible to dodge.
It was impossible to dodge, but not impossible to avoid.
Lei Man didn't move from his spot. As the volley of thorns closed in, his body became a blur. He executed a series of short, sharp, fluttering hand strikes. His hands, wreathed in his deep blue Qi, moved with the speed of a hummingbird's wings, striking not the thorns themselves, but the air just in front of them.
Each tiny, precise impact created a miniature vortex of air, a buffer of pure force. The thorns, which were not particularly powerful, were deflected, spinning harmlessly past his body and clattering to the stone floor. It was a display of Qi control so fine and so outrageously efficient that it left the crowd breathless. He hadn't just survived the attack; he had dismantled it with a contemptuous ease.
Kaelen was now panting, his Qi reserves almost completely depleted. He had thrown his two strongest techniques at his opponent, and neither had so much as touched the hem of his robe.
Lei Man lowered his hands, his expression unchanged. He had weathered the storm. Now, it was his turn.
He took a single step forward, and it was as if he had teleported. He crossed the twenty feet between them in an instant, appearing directly in front of the stunned Kaelen.
He didn't use a flashy technique. He didn't even use the Butterfly's Sting. He simply tapped Kaelen on the chest with his index finger. A small, controlled pulse of his second-level Qi was all it took.
Kaelen's eyes rolled back, and he crumpled to the ground, his Qi shattered, unconscious before his staff even hit the floor.
"Winner, Lei Man!" the referee called, his voice now tinged with a note of genuine awe.
Lei Man gave a polite bow and descended the stage. He hadn't just won; he had delivered a lesson. He had allowed his opponent to exhaust himself completely, demonstrating the absolute futility of his efforts before ending the match with a single, dismissive touch. It was a victory that was somehow more dominant and more psychologically crushing than a brutal, one-sided beating would have been. He was not just strong; he was on an entirely different level.
As Lei Man's third-round match approached, the tournament buzzed with the energy of major clashes. On Stage One, the arena that had become the unofficial showcase for the top-tier geniuses, Chu Qinqing ascended the steps for her third battle. Her opponent caused a stir of interest in the crowd.
"Her opponent, from the Whispering Stream Pavilion, Su Yalin!"
Su Yalin was a young woman with a sharp, competitive glint in her eyes. Like Chu Qinqing, she wore blue robes and her Qi was a clear, water-aspected blue. The Whispering Stream Pavilion was a lesser-known, smaller school that also specialized in water arts. Su Yalin was their star pupil, a second-level cultivator who had won her previous matches with a display of fluid, aggressive water techniques.
It was a battle of water against water, a rare and fascinating matchup that would test not just power, but mastery and philosophy.
"Begin!"
Su Yalin seized the initiative instantly. She was clearly eager to prove herself against the famed genius of the Azure River Clan. "Rushing Rapids Strike!" she yelled.
Her hands moved in a series of sharp, cutting motions. The water Qi she gathered was not a gentle stream, but a violent, churning torrent. She launched a series of high-speed, concussive blasts of water at Chu Qinqing, each one hitting with the force of a battering ram. Her style was all about overwhelming the opponent with speed and relentless, direct force.
The crowd watched, intrigued. How would Chu Qinqing's defensive style handle an attack of the same element?
Chu Qinqing's response was as serene as ever. She performed the opening stance of her art, but with a subtle difference. "Azure Sea Diverts the River," she intoned.
The familiar vortex of water swirled into existence around her. But this time, it was calmer, deeper, its currents moving with a slow, inexorable pull. When Su Yalin's rushing rapids slammed into it, a strange thing happened. They didn't splash or dissipate. They were simply... absorbed.
Chu Qinqing's vortex accepted the incoming water Qi, its own volume swelling, its color deepening. It was like a great, deep ocean accepting the flow of a frantic, shallow river. The river's frantic energy was lost in the sea's immense, placid depths.
Su Yalin stared in disbelief, her face paling. She was pouring her Qi into her attacks, and her opponent was not just blocking it; she was taking it, making it her own. Her own power was being used to strengthen her enemy's defense. It was a perfect, soul-crushing counter.
"An impressive current," Chu Qinqing said, her voice calm, without a hint of mockery. It was the simple, factual statement of a master. "But a river cannot fight the sea."
With a gentle, turning motion of her hands, the now-massive vortex around her began to spin faster, not in a defensive swirl, but in a tightening, predatory whirlpool. Su Yalin, who had been pushing her energy forward, suddenly felt a powerful, irresistible pull. Her own connection to her Qi was being hijacked.
"No!" she cried, trying to retreat, but it was too late. The whirlpool's gravitational force latched onto her, dragging her forward, her feet skidding on the stone stage.
Chu Qinqing simply opened her vortex. The moment Su Yalin was pulled inside, the churning water enveloped her, not with violent force, but with a disorienting, irresistible current. She was tumbled and spun, her senses overwhelmed, her control over her own body completely lost.
A moment later, the vortex spat her out, depositing her, soaked and sputtering, at the very edge of the stage, her Qi in complete disarray. She lay there, defeated not by a blow, but by a force she couldn't even begin to comprehend.
"Winner, Chu Qinqing!" the referee declared, his own voice tinged with awe.
Chu Qinqing dispersed her vortex with a wave of her hand and gave a polite, respectful bow to her defeated opponent before descending the stage.
The match had been a profound lesson for everyone watching, especially Lei Man. It wasn't enough to have a powerful technique. True mastery came from a deep, philosophical understanding of one's own art. Su Yalin wielded water like a weapon. Chu Qinqing was the water.