The first strike came like thunder splitting the dawn.
Lu Cheng's blade swept out in a silver arc, his qi surging so violently that the mirror-like floor trembled underfoot. The reflected sky above shattered into ripples, and the disciples in the stands gasped as the sheer pressure of his strike rolled across the arena like a tidal wave.
Tian Lei didn't flinch. His body moved with calm precision, weight shifting at the very last instant. His foot pressed lightly against the jade surface— tap!—and his figure blurred just out of reach. The blade tore past, carving a line of gleaming light across the floor where he had stood.
"Fast!" someone shouted from the crowd.
"But Lu Cheng didn't even use a tenth of his strength yet!" another retorted.
The mirror floor pulsed in response to their clash, projecting illusions of mountains rising and rivers surging around them. Every intent, every ounce of killing will manifested upon the arena's surface.
