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Chapter 103 - Spirit Ice Pavilion

The black tortoise roared. Its illusory body was vast, stretching as though it could carry mountains on its tomb-like shell. Golden light surged as the dragon descended, scales flickering with divine brilliance, claws pressing against space itself, resulting in spatial cracks.

Zhou Xiaosi's finger pointed out, calm yet suffused with immeasurable will. Across from him, Liang Mang's finger mirrored the motion, sharp as a blade. Their gazes clashed like thunder within silence.

Boom!

In that instant, the tortoise and the dragon collided. Their forms blurred, one of black, one of gold, teeth sinking, claws rending, shell resisting. Their every clash seemed to drown out in the split of a heartbeat's time.

The earth quaked. The surrounding trembled violently. Trees and mountains crumbled. Rivers evaporated. A low hum, like the wrath of the heavens itself, spread outward.

Black light devoured gold. Gold light pierced black. The radiance alternated in the skies, as though day and night were battling, as though yin and yang themselves had been forced into confrontation.

Again and again, the two giant illusory beasts bit at one another. Their forms blurred hundreds of times within the span of breaths. The sky flashed black, then gold, then black once more. The very world seemed to drown in this repeated exchange.

At last, the dragon and tortoise halted. They hovered a few meters above the ground, their massive forms looming only inches apart. Their gazes locked, one filled with cold majesty, the other with ancient brilliance. Neither retreated, neither submitted.

The world seemed to fall into silence.

The mortals watching through magic screens had held their breath. Even many Nirvana Realm cultivators found their minds trembling, their Dao-hearts unsteady. Even though they couldn't see it due to the speed, they could feel it from the amount of heaven-shattering echoes the two beasts had made.

"So this… this is Quasi-Elysian…" a Nirvana expert muttered, his face pale.

"It's not something we can even look at directly. Just the echoes of their clash nearly tore apart my mind…" another whispered, clutching his chest.

The mortals were worse. Many fell to their knees, faces white. To them, every sound that echoed from the battlefield was like thunder cracking within their very bones. The earth-shaking roars of the dragon and tortoise seemed to rip away their illusions of safety.

Some muttered that cultivation was nothing more than the privilege of heaven's chosen. Others whispered that cultivators were monsters, not human. Yet more looked upward, faces filled with envy and longing, calling cultivators gods.

Inside the battlefield, Zhou Xiaosi smiled faintly, yet it was not a smile. His eyes were calm, like still waters, as if nothing that had just occurred was beyond his expectations.

"Brother Liang," Zhou Xiaosi's voice drifted out, indifferent yet carrying an invisible pressure. "Shall we end this?"

Liang Mang's eyes narrowed. For a long breath, silence stretched between them. Then, he gave a solemn nod.

The tortoise and the dragon shuddered. Their bodies trembled, and in the next instant, both beasts shot forward at once.

This collision was different.

Boom!!!

The skies seemed to scream. The earth groaned. All of the surroundings seemed to cry out in agony.

The clash was instantaneous, too fast for any below the Quasi-Elysian stage to witness. To Nirvana cultivators and mortals, the beasts vanished. The two beasts became invisible, as if they had never existed at all.

Then came the trembling. The space itself tore apart violently. Mountains in the pocket world collapsed without warning. Space distorted further, turning into rivers of fragmented spatial cracks.

The world seemed to drown in smoke and dust.

Mortals screamed in fear. Many cultivators stood frozen. The sound of destruction shook even the bones of those watching from afar.

The collision lasted only the span of a heartbeat. But the aftermath… stretched into devastation.

For countless breaths, the dust did not clear. Cultivators below the Quasi-Elysian stage could only see vast curtains of smoke covering the sky and earth. The sound of collapsing spatial rifts filled their ears.

Finally—minutes later—the haze began to dissipate.

And then they saw it.

Gasps spread instantly. Countless jaws dropped open.

Before them was no longer a battlefield. It was a crater.

It seemed to stretch endlessly, swallowing the horizon. Its size equaled that of a country. Its depth was unimaginable, descending so far that even Nirvana experts could not perceive its end. Only true Elysian cultivators and above could glimpse the bottom. Nearly nine thousand kilometers deep.

Even to speak of such a thing made one's throat dry.

The mortals' eyes widened, pupils trembling. To them, this was no longer a battle. This was an apocalypse.

"Monsters…" one mortal whispered, body trembling.

"No… gods…" another muttered, tears in his eyes.

"They are favored by the heavens itself. Cultivation… cultivation is not for people like us," another said bitterly.

Countless voices rose. Some with despair. Some with worship. Some with envy.

Yet above all, there was silence in their hearts. A silence that came from fear.

The magic screens flickered once more. A figure stood within the devastated battlefield. It was Liang Mang. The two weren't even hurt in the slightest from the devastation.

He cupped his fists. His voice echoed through the pocket world.

"I concede."

The words were calm, yet they struck like thunder.

Mortals cried out in shock. Countless cultivators jolted to their feet.

"What?!"

"He gave up?"

"After that clash, after all of this… he just quits?!"

The uproar was deafening.

But within the pocket world, Zhou Xiaosi only inclined his head. His expression was faint, his eyes calm. He did not press forward, did not taunt. He just accepted.

A long, echoing chime resounded across the pocket world.

Dong!

The sound of the bell signaled the end.

Steward Yan's voice followed, calm yet carrying authority.

"Liang Mang, the leader of the team from the Sun Forging sect has conceded, This match has a clear conclusion."

As the dust continued to fade, spatial rifts tore open. From them emerged Zhou Xiaosi's and Liang Mang's teammates. Each stumbled, coughing blood. Though they had hidden within the rifts, the sheer aftermath of the battle had bypassed their barriers, shaking their organs.

Yet they lived, with some injuries.

They exchanged glances, and faint smirks appeared on their lips. Though their bodies were weakened, their gazes carried understanding. This battle… had been enough.

A milky-white portal slowly formed before them. Its light was calm, filled with soft ripples. It was the exit from the pocket world.

One by one, the participants stepped through.

As Zhou Xiaosi exited, Steward Yan's voice once more spread across the arena.

"Team Fengyue… is the victor of this match!"

Cheers erupted. The supporters of Fengyue howled in joy, their voices thunderous. Countless mortals leapt to their feet, clapping, shouting, some even weeping.

In the elder's chamber, the elder from Fengyue stood up, his beard trembling. His eyes glowed with pride.

"The prince of Fengyue is truly favored by the heavens! Even Shen Yuan cannot compare!"

Other elders stirred. Some nodded in agreement, their expressions complicated. Others scoffed, their eyes filled with disdain.

"Hmph, heavens? Luck is fleeting. We shall see in the days to come."

"What nonsense! Do you not see the heavens themselves acknowledging him?"

"He is but an Early-stage Elysian cultivator, with a copied domain! Do not overestimate."

The chamber erupted into a storm of argument. Elders spoke over one another, words sharp, voices thunderous.

Yet the Fengyue elder sneered coldly.

"Jealous tongues! Zhou Xiaosi stands at a height your sects can only dream of. Even if you spit blood from envy, the heavens' judgment will not change."

The debate grew louder, filled with fury and pride.

Meanwhile, even though the match had ended, the echoes of the tortoise and dragon… still linger in the hearts of others.

As both teams returned to their seating areas, silence rippled through the vast crowd of mortals. Yet beneath that silence lay a single question that gnawed at their minds.

'If this was the power of a Quasi-Elysian, then what of the true Elysian stage?'

The thought itself made their foreheads bead with sweat. Just imagining Zhou Xiaosi unleashing his full strength sent shivers down their spines. Many mortals lowered their gazes, afraid that if such cultivators truly revealed themselves, entire sects might collapse in a few breaths of time.

The slight commotion lasted for a long while, voices rising and falling like waves in a storm. Steward Yan, however, stood with calm dignity. He allowed the uproar to burn itself out, yet his eyes glimmered faintly.

Only when silence returned did his voice resound.

"The next match," he said slowly, his tone composed, though beneath that calmness a trace of excitement stirred, hidden too well for the crowd to notice, "will be between Twin Soul Sect… and Spirit Ice Pavilion."

For a brief instant, the arena was utterly silent.

Then, like a dam breaking, the audience erupted. The cheers surged higher than before, shaking the air itself. Compared to the cheers for Fengyue and the Sun Forging Sect, this was thunder.

The mortals screamed until their throats grew hoarse. Some stomped their feet, others waved their arms, yet all of them released their passion as though unable to restrain it.

The noise stabbed into Liang Mang's ears like steel needles. His teeth gritted together until his jaw trembled. His expression grew sinister, like an old cultivation monster who had just been awakened by the most detestable sound in existence.

Across the arena, Shen Yuan rose slowly to his feet. His movement was calm, deliberate, yet the other disciples of Twin Soul Sect straightened their backs at once. His voice was faint, yet sharp enough to cut through the cacophony.

"Let us go."

In the blink of an eye, the figures of Shen Yuan and his teammates blurred. They appeared beside Steward Yan, their presence pressing outward, stirring ripples in the air.

Almost at the same instant, space on the other side shimmered. Multiple figures appeared, their robes flowing with a chill that spread across the arena, their ears adorned with snowflake shaped earrings.

Spirit Ice Pavilion had arrived.

Every one of their disciples was a woman. The icy aura around them froze the very air, sending chills into the hearts of mortals who watched. A faint frost formed across the arena's floor, spreading outward in delicate patterns of white.

They were known across the world for one trait, the Extreme Cold State. This was their main cultivation method, the Pavilion Master of the Spirit Ice Pavilion is said to have formed a thousand techniques based on yin.

At the center of the group stood a woman.

Her beauty was flawless, the kind that could silence an entire hall. It was a beauty that seemed almost unnatural, like the descent of a celestial fairy. Yet her eyes revealed no warmth. Only a glacial coldness and ruthless indifference.

The crowd erupted once more.

"Fairy Bingxue!" voices cried.

"That is Ma Bingxue! End him!" some shouted, faces flushed with fanatic devotion.

"Freeze Shen Yuan to death!" roared another group, their voices sharp with malice.

Yet others shouted the opposite, calling for Shen Yuan to crush her cold arrogance.

But none of them so much as twitched. To them, these voices were like the chirping of insects, meaningless beneath the vastness of a cultivator's path.

Shen Yuan's gaze lingered on the woman in the middle. The corner of his lips curled, just slightly. So faint was the smirk that none would notice unless they studied him with the utmost care.

The woman's eyes did not move. They were calm, frozen, devoid of ripple.

At last, both teams turned as one. They bowed toward their respective sect leaders, then lowered their bodies further, paying respect to the World Lord himself.

Without another word, they stepped into the black spatial dome.

The cheers seemed to shake the heavens until the dome closed.

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