The instant five dazzling spirit rings bloomed under Lu Yuan's feet, the entire arena froze.
One… two… three… four… five.
The youngest students rubbed their eyes, convinced they had seen wrong. The elders in the stands shot to their feet. Even the veterans of the academies felt chills roll down their spines.
A twelve-year-old Soul King.
It was unheard of.
Feng Xiaotian's scalp prickled, every hair standing on end as if lightning had struck him. His lips twitched, and his handsome face contorted miserably.
Yu Tianheng had told him before—warned him—that Lu Yuan was already at the level of Soul King. But Feng Xiaotian had laughed it off. Surely Tianheng had been exaggerating, trying to intimidate him. How could anyone believe such nonsense?
But now the truth shone there under Lu Yuan's feet, impossible to deny.
"What kind of monster is this? A twelve-year-old Soul King? This is ridiculous! No, no—this is just… this is a fart!" Feng Xiaotian wailed inside his mind, his expression stiff as stone.
On the sidelines, whispers and jeers broke through the arena like wildfire.
"Hahaha! Look at Feng Xiaotian's face—it's uglier than a rotten peach!"
"Didn't he always brag how amazing he was? Let's see him pull that nonsense today!"
"He's done for! Lu Yuan's going to beat the arrogance out of him!"
The stands erupted in laughter. The other academies who had been wary of Feng Xiaotian now openly mocked him. Against anyone else, his Soul Sect strength was daunting. Against this monster? He was nothing but cannon fodder.
"Brother Lu Yuan, calm down! The referee hasn't even started the match yet!" Ning Rongrong and Meng Yiran both grabbed his arms desperately, their voices frantic.
But Lu Yuan's gaze had already locked onto Feng Xiaotian—sharp, amused, and predatory.
"Captain," one of Feng Xiaotian's teammates muttered nervously, "what tactic should we use?"
Feng Xiaotian's lips quivered. "Tactics? What tactics? Forget it—just fight however you want! Against that monster, no strategy matters!"
Inwardly, he prayed. Please, let this not be too humiliating. Please don't let Emperor Xue Ye witness him being flattened like a bug.
The referee's arm raised. His voice carried through the silent arena.
"Match start!"
The instant the words fell, Lu Yuan shot forward.
In his eyes, these opponents weren't fighters. They weren't rivals, or even obstacles. They were simply jars of fine wine waiting to be drunk, smashed, and emptied.
Whoosh! Whoosh!
With a flurry of wind, Feng Xiaotian and his four closest teammates launched themselves into the air, fluttering high above the field with their Winged Martial Souls. They soared fifty meters up in the blink of an eye, safe out of reach.
Or so they thought.
The remaining two Kamikaze Academy members were left behind on the ground, their faces pale.
"Wait! Are they just… leaving us here?!"
"At least fight with us, damn it!"
Before they could complain further, Lu Yuan blurred before them. His foot whipped out, a simple kick, yet heavier than thunder. With a crash, both young men flew backward like broken dolls, slamming out of bounds before they even understood what happened.
The crowd roared in disbelief.
Lu Yuan tilted his head toward the sky, glaring up at the five fools circling overhead like frightened pigeons.
"You brats up there! Get down here and fight me properly!"
Not a single one moved. Feng Xiaotian's crew had clearly witnessed what happened on the ground. Their expressions were pale as chalk.
"Go down? What, are you insane?" they muttered from above.
Lu Yuan growled, irritation rising. "Yufeng! Pull those bastards down right now!"
Yu Feng, hovering carefully at Lu Yuan's side, froze midair. "???"
His thoughts screamed: Brother Lu Yuan, are you insane? Do you think I can just drag five Soul Masters out of the sky like you? If I fly in there, I'll get beaten to pulp!
When he didn't move, Lu Yuan's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What? You trying to steal my wine?!"
The stands fell silent. Wine? Everything came back to wine for him.
"No way!" Lu Yuan snarled—and then his third spirit ring lit up.
"Sword Formation!"
A storm of soul power burst forth. Dozens of glowing blades materialized high overhead before plunging from the sky like rain. Their sharp cries split the air, blotting out sunlight.
Feng Xiaotian's team flapped frantically.
"They actually have an anti-air technique!" Feng Xiaotian barked. "Split up! Dodge! Take advantage of this to hit the others! If we bring down even a few, it won't look so bad!"
For a moment, hope flickered in their hearts. They darted between the falling blades, wings straining. Their coordination was solid, and even under such chaotic pressure, they still held form.
But then—
"Polar Sword Formation!"
Lu Yuan's voice rang like steel.
The falling blades suddenly stopped mid-flight.
And then, as if alive, they twisted, turned, and swept upward again, circling like hawks before shooting directly toward Feng Xiaotian's team from behind.
The crowd gasped. Sword energy howled.
"They—! Did those blades just… turn back?!"
"A self-created spirit skill? At twelve years old?!"
On the noble seats, Ning Fengzhi's lips curved in satisfaction. "Not bad. The boy has created his own techniques already. This generation truly has a monster."
In the air, the Kamikaze Academy team panicked.
"Captain! They're attacking from both sides!"
"Shit! It's an upper-and-lower pincer!"
"Captain, what do we do?!"
"Don't panic! Just—ugh!"
Before Feng Xiaotian could even finish, two of his teammates screamed as sword blades pierced their defenses, sending them tumbling out of the sky.
"Damn it!" Feng Xiaotian cursed, his teeth gnashing. "Wolf Storm!"
"Devil Wolf Tornado!"
Wind howled around him. Twin blue wolf shadows manifested, swirling furiously as they shredded incoming blades of energy, forcing them back with sheer brute force. For once, he looked like the genius prodigy he was supposed to be.
But then—suddenly—a hand seized his ankle.
His eyes went wide. "What—? When—?!"
Somehow, Lu Yuan had appeared in the air with him. Like a phantom, like gravity meant nothing. He hadn't even noticed the moment he arrived.
The smile on Lu Yuan's face was sharp and far too cheerful.
"Hey… brat. Let's see if you can run now."
"No, wai—!"
"BOOM!"
In one monstrous motion, Lu Yuan swung his body down, smashing Feng Xiaotian from fifty meters up into the stone floor of the arena. The crash thundered, shaking the stands. Dust exploded outward.
And then again.
"BOOM! BOOM!"
He slammed him into the ground over and over like pounding a rag doll.
Spectators clutched their heads, their faces pale or twisted in awe.
"Feng Xiaotian… is finished."
"He's really going to have his guts beaten out this time!"
"This isn't even a match anymore—it's abuse!"
In the Blazing Academy stand, Huo Wu's throat worked nervously as she swallowed hard. Her brother, Huo Wushuang, tightened his jaw until it trembled.
"Brother… are we really going to fight that monster next?"
Huo Wushuang's mouth felt dry as sand. His eyes stayed locked on the scene of Feng Xiaotian being smashed helplessly into the ground.
"Don't worry, Little Sister," he whispered, forcing a bitter smile. "I… heard this guy never hits girls."
Huo Wu exhaled a long shaky breath. Her hands unclenched. "Then I'm safe."
"…And what about me?!" Huo Wushuang nearly spat blood at her words. "Am I nothing in your eyes? Is my life not a life?!"
But his complaints vanished under his despair. The reality before them was one they could not change.
Somewhere deep in his heart, he cursed whoever dragged Lu Yuan into the Tiandou Cup this year.
"Is this supposed to be a competition?" he muttered bitterly. "No… this is abuse. With a Soul King on the field, what's the point? This is nothing but… a fart!"
The crowd roared louder, the name "Lu Yuan" surging through the arena like a tidal wave.
And across the arena floor, Lu Yuan calmly took another swig of wine, utterly unfazed by the chaos he had caused.
The Cup had only just begun… and already, it seemed hopelessly one-sided.
--
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