Morning sunlight broke through the layers of defensive formations above Qingling Sect's tournament grounds, glinting across the protective barrier that separated the dueling stage from the roaring crowd. The barrier shimmered faintly, sealing away killing intent and residual energy waves, but even so, the air was heavy. Yesterday's duels had left whispers of blood and dread lingering like smoke after a battlefield.
Today, however, the tension was different. This was no longer just the proving of strength. It was a war of reputation, sect against sect, empire against empire.
The referee elder, dressed in white robes embroidered with golden clouds, raised his hand. His voice, steady as thunder, rang through the ground:
"First duel Sea Cloud Kingdom versus Obsidian Bone Sect!"
The first contestants stepped onto the stage. The disciple from Sea Cloud wielded twin water whips, each movement rolling with tide-like momentum. His breathing was steady, spiritual energy flowing in waves around him. His opponent, from Obsidian Bone Sect, stood bare-chested with bone protrusions covering his arms and shoulders like natural armor.
"Begin!"
The water whips lashed out, forming serpentine strikes that tried to coil around the bone-armored youth. But the Obsidian disciple merely roared and smashed forward, each punch breaking the whips apart like fragile threads. The ground cracked with every stomp, and after a few brutal exchanges, he slammed his fist into the Sea Cloud youth's chest. The boy flew out of the arena, coughing blood.
"Winner Obsidian Bone Sect!"
The crowd roared with both cheers and curses.
Then came Qingling's turn.
The elder called, "Shui Lin of Qingling Sect versus disciple of Silken Vein Pavilion!"
Shui Lin stepped forward, robes flowing like ink upon a scroll, carrying his treasured brush. His opponent was a slender girl draped in silken threads, her fingers twitching as threads as thin as hair spun into the air, glinting with metallic sharpness.
Before the duel began, Shui Lin bowed respectfully. "Please."
The referee signaled, and instantly the girl's threads shot forward like snakes. They coiled around Shui Lin's brush, his arms, even his ankles. With a flick of her wrist, she tried to bind him completely.
For outsiders, it looked as though Shui Lin had already lost his body immobilized, standing still. But within, his spirit surged. With a sharp breath, he dipped his brush into the void, and water gushed forth like living ink.
"流水落墨 (Flowing Water Inkfall)!"
A giant water lotus bloomed in the air, its petals spiraling outward. The silken threads were severed instantly, splashing apart like mist. The girl gasped, stumbling back. Shui Lin's brush danced again, painting with swift strokes, and from the air materialized great chains of water-script.
The characters bound her like heavenly ropes, lifting her off the ground. She dangled there helplessly, thrashing but unable to break free.
Laughter erupted from the crowd it was a comical yet decisive victory.
"Winner Shui Lin of Qingling Sect!"
The elders from Silken Vein Pavilion scowled, while Qingling disciples cheered wildly.
The next battles proceeded quickly some wins, some losses. But all attention shifted when Xuanye's name was called.
"Ling Xuanye of Qingling Sect versus disciple of Star River Academy!"
Xuanye stepped onto the stage, dressed in his dark robes with golden linings. His silver hair caught the sun, but his aura was carefully restrained, no lightning, no divine pressure. He appeared calm, almost ordinary.
His opponent charged recklessly, relying on brute force and physical strength. Xuanye did not move at first, only watching. At the last moment, his sword flashed one clean arc that disarmed the youth's spear. Another step, another strike, and the boy stumbled out of bounds, gasping in disbelief.
The crowd erupted half mocking, half amazed. Xuanye bowed politely, sheathing his blade.
It was not flashy, not overwhelming yet utterly decisive.
By the end of the day, Qingling tallied mixed results: Shui Lin's clever victory and Xuanye's calm precision lifted spirits, but one of their inner disciples was heavily injured by Tie Yuan's brutal earth-shaking fist. The healers rushed him away, and fury boiled quietly among Qingling's camp.
As the sun sank, Sect Master Lin's gaze lingered on Xuanye, who stood silently among his peers. His son had yet to reveal his true strength, but even with restraint, he carried an aura none could ignore.
The day ended with cheers, groans, and whispered conspiracies but it was only the beginning.