"Desert Fury!"
Lan An's calm voice sent shivers through Bai Lie and his allies.
His displayed might had already surpassed all expectations, yet many believed he'd exhausted his arsenal, trapped with no escape.
But his sly grin proved otherwise—a devastating trump card awaited.
"Retreat!" Bai Yang roared, transforming into a sandstorm to flee.
Too late.
Lan An crouched, palms pressing the arena floor, countless swirling vortices forming beneath his hands.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The arena quaked violently. His Spirit Earth Cauldron spun frantically. Before Yu Chen's bulging eyes, the desert erupted, a colossal vortex of sand forming—a meat grinder aiming to drag them to its heart.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
Sand surged, earth energy converging, the vortex's spin intensifying, expanding to engulf the kilometer-wide arena. With Lan An as its center, it sucked the ten prodigies inward like a dragon devouring water.
"What's he doing?" Spectators leaped up, horrified.
The sudden, incomprehensible, terrifying technique stunned them.
"It's over!" The Earth Fusion Array collapsed, its four members unable to resist Desert Fury's pull, all five dragged inward.
"How is this possible?" Da Ling bellowed, anchoring her limbs in the sand, her Great Earth True Body's weight an advantage.
But her face paled. The entire arena was a vortex—escape meant leaving the stage, an inevitable defeat.
Qi Ming's Adhesive Quicksand clung to the ground, but Desert Fury nearly dissolved it, forcing him to abandon the state in terror, sucked back instantly.
Yu Chen dissolved into Black Sand to escape, but every grain was pulled back, none spared.
Bai Lie and Bai Yang's sandstorms, mighty as they were, were mere children before Desert Fury, dragged to the center.
The ten, tangled like a ball, spun chaotically, absurd yet grim.
But something was wrong.
Despite Desert Fury's relentless spin, they felt only dizziness and loss of control—no major harm. The sand grains merely numbed their skin, leaving no wounds.
In the void, the elders whispered.
"This technique looks formidable, with terrifying area-of-effect power, but Wen Lang's Early Spirit Transformation can't unleash its full might," one said.
"Indeed, he can only pull them to the center, not turn Desert Fury into a true meat grinder," the White Sand Emperor noted, his eyes gleaming with greed.
In his Body Unity hands, Desert Fury could turn ten thousand li into a shredder, obliterating all within.
"It's at least High Spirit-Grade," the Second Elder breathed, licking his lips. As the imperial library's guardian, he coveted such techniques.
With Desert Fury, the empire would soar.
Spectators, some knowledgeable, murmured, "Isn't it odd? Wen Lang can't fully unleash Desert Fury. Why use it, draining his energy?"
"He's desperate, acting recklessly!" one crowed.
"Right, it buys time while Desert Fury runs," another agreed, many nodding.
They believed Wen Lang was spent, his Early Spirit Transformation too weak to shift the tide, even with Desert Fury.
"Fools!" Nangong Yuan snorted. Her husband's actions were calculated—she awaited his brilliance.
"Brother!" Bai Lian Hua muttered, refusing to believe he'd act rashly.
In the arena, Desert Fury's spin showed no sign of slowing. The ten, unable to break free, gave up struggling, lying within, unconcerned.
Lan An hovered above, untouched by the vortex.
His face paled. As speculated, Desert Fury, a Peak Spirit-Grade technique, demanded immense earth energy. His Spirit Earth Cauldron's recovery couldn't keep up.
Against one foe, he could shrink Desert Fury's range, amplifying its power to shred them. But against ten, he couldn't maximize its lethality, only its pull.
His earth energy drained, the cauldron spinning frantically, yet insufficient.
Lan An's face grew whiter.
"Struggling to death? When your energy runs dry, so does your life!" Bai Lie sneered from the vortex.
"Brother Wen Lang, surrender. Why persist?" Da Ling sighed.
"Don't you dare surrender! I'm not done fighting!" Yu Chen scoffed, fearing a missed chance to kill.
Lan An frowned, retorting, "What're you trapped rats squeaking about?"
"You…" The ten fumed, his arrogance galling despite his predicament.
Closing his eyes, Lan An knew this move was risky, with consequences to mend later. But it was his only path to complete the Tyrant's Bearing quest.
Buzz! Buzz!
His Heavy Sword sensed his resolve, vibrating fiercely, humming with fervor.
Lan An muttered, "It's all on you."
Buzz! Buzz!
The sword thrummed excitedly, eager for what was to come.
Taking a deep breath, Lan An gripped the hilt with both hands, closing his eyes again.
"What's he planning?" a spectator asked.
"Earth Splitter?" another guessed.
"If he uses Earth Splitter, Desert Fury will collapse."
"Earth Splitter's strong, but it'd take out two or three at most."
"If he downs three, only eight remain, including Wen Lang—he'd advance!" one exclaimed.
"Brilliant! He's found a way out!" The crowd clapped, admiring his wit.
"He's betting Earth Splitter can take out two or three," they mused, growing tense, awaiting the outcome.
If he felled three, he'd advance gloriously. If two, the remaining eight would crush him, leading to defeat or death.
Gulp… Bai Lie's group swallowed hard, trapped by Desert Fury, unsure who'd face Earth Splitter.
But they were wrong.
Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!
The Heavy Sword thrummed with exhilaration. Lan An's hair billowed, chanting as he raised the blade—not overhead as before, but drawn back, poised to throw.
Facing Desert Fury's center, his eyes snapped open.
Earth energy surged, veins bulging, blood roaring, muscles straining to their limit.
This strike burned all he had left. He roared, "Third Form—Sky Rupture!"
No flourish, no elegance—just raw, brutal power.
Wen Lang hurled the Heavy Sword with all his might.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The sky seemed to split, Desert Fury's vortex shattering.
A peerless sword aura, vast and terrifying, blasted toward the ten.
Splatter! Splatter! Splatter!
Lan An's arms burst, bones exposed, the Heavy Sword clattering to the arena, blood staining the sand red.
Huff! Huff! Huff!
Kneeling on one leg, eyes blazing like stars, Lan An watched his miracle unfold.
"Impossible!" someone roared in disbelief.
Spectators leaped up, jaws dropped.
Ten figures—not one more, not one less—were hurled skyward, flung beyond the arena, coughing blood.
Crack!
Da Ling's Great Earth True Body shattered, her battered body bruised purple, crashing out of bounds. Yet her pained eyes held boundless admiration. "Wen Lang," she etched in her heart.
Some fainted, some vomited blood, others wailed in defiance.
None died.
But the shock wasn't their survival—it was their defeat, disqualification, ejection from the arena.
In the Earth Battle Grand Assembly's history, such a miracle stunned all, shaking their souls.
Its architect was the lone, weary figure kneeling in exhaustion.
"Wen Lang!"
A fervent cry sparked a tidal wave, the crowd roaring, "Wen Lang! Wen Lang! Wen Lang!"
Worship, admiration, envy—their chants shook White Emperor City, heaven and earth trembling.
This youth had forged a miracle, and they were fortunate witnesses.
This would be etched in Yellow Sand Continent's annals, perhaps all of Viet Dragon Star.
"Husband…" Nangong Yuan, heedless of the cheers, flashed to the arena, cradling Lan An.
Seeing his ruined arms, her heart felt pierced by a thousand swords, pain choking her. She wished to take his wounds.
"Silly, your husband won. Why cry?" Lan An teased, wanting to wipe her tears but unable, mumbling instead.
"We'll dual cultivate with Dragon Fairy Sacred Scripture to heal you!" Nangong Yuan urged.
"Cough, not so fast—people will laugh!" Lan An grinned, inwardly relieved.
The backlash of Heavy Fire Sword Art's Third Form, Sky Rupture, was lighter than expected, likely due to his recent body cultivation breakthrough.
Per Zhong Wu Ming's notes, Sky Rupture required Void Refinement, leaving the user bedridden. Lan An's gamble had paid off.
Seeing their affection, countless women envied, Wen Lang now their dream lover.
Nearby, Bai Lian Hua bit her lip, halting her approach, a pang of loss in her heart.
"What now?" In the void, the White Sand Emperor's face darkened.
The elders were silent, their Body Unity composure shaken, unsure how to proceed.
Wen Lang had ousted all ten. How to select eight?
"Great Elder, your thoughts?" the emperor asked, respecting his authority.
Stroking his beard, the Great Elder replied firmly, "Wen Lang's miracle earns him the championship. The ten advance to the single-combat round to select two more for the Scenic Land."
His words froze the air.