The courtyard had been transformed overnight. Where once the trials had taken place, now stood a vast dueling stage, raised high above the ground and reinforced with glowing runes. The platform shimmered faintly with protective arrays, capable of shielding both combatants and spectators from stray attacks.
Crowds gathered at every corner, the air charged with anticipation. Students shifted restlessly, each waiting for their turn or craning their necks to catch sight of those who would fight first. The attendants of the Heavenly Dragon Sect stood in precise formation, their jade staffs gleaming beneath the morning sun.
"Sixteen remain," the lead attendant declared, his voice carrying easily across the grounds. "From these, four shall be chosen to ascend the gates of Heavenly Dragon Sect. Step by step, the path to immortality narrows. Those who falter will have no second chance."
The attendant raised his staff, and the first names were announced.
"Han Youcai versus Liang Fei."
A stir of interest passed through the crowd. Han Youcai — a wiry youth from the Southern Frost Academy — was known for his sharp swordplay and quicker tongue. His opponent, Liang Fei of the Stone Mountain Hall, was built like a fortress, his every step as heavy as thunder.
Li Wei leaned forward slightly as the two mounted the stage. Already, he could see the clash of styles forming in his mind: speed against strength.
The gong sounded.
Han Youcai darted forward, his blade a streak of silver. Liang Fei didn't flinch, raising a stone-colored arm that shimmered with earthen qi. The clash rang out like hammer against anvil. Sparks flew, and the crowd erupted.
It was a fierce exchange, Han's strikes weaving faster and faster while Liang stood unshaken, countering with sweeping blows that shook the platform itself. For a moment, Li Wei thought Han might pierce through — but then a single mistake, a fraction too slow, and Liang's fist caught him across the chest.
Han was thrown back, coughing blood, his sword skidding across the stage.
"Victory — Liang Fei," the attendant announced, voice unmoved.
The crowd roared. Some cheered, others looked on grimly. Li Wei's eyes narrowed. Liang's power was simple but terrifying in its own way. Against such strength, finesse alone would not be enough.
Another pair was called.
"Mei Yun versus Xu Ming."
Li Wei glanced sideways as Mei walked onto the stage. She carried herself with calm composure, though he noticed the faint tension in her fingers. Xu Ming, from the Crimson Flame Academy, sneered openly as his qi flared, a blaze of heat radiating from his body.
The duel began with fire exploding across the stage. Xu Ming pressed forward relentlessly, each strike accompanied by waves of scorching flame. Mei moved lightly, her blade deflecting and weaving, her qi flowing in delicate arcs that seemed almost fragile. Yet each time Xu Ming struck, her movements absorbed and redirected his force, dissolving the flames before they could engulf her.
Li Wei found himself holding his breath. Mei's style was not overwhelming, but graceful, patient — like water carving stone. At last, she found her opening. Her blade traced a line across Xu Ming's shoulder, the controlled strike enough to end the fight without cruelty.
"Victory — Mei Yun."
Relief softened her face as she bowed and left the stage. Li Wei gave her a nod when she passed, though her only response was a small, fleeting smile.
The duels continued. A fiery prodigy from the Western Isles crushed his opponent in moments with a rain of spears made from condensed qi. Another fight ended when a quiet girl from the Jade Spring Academy subdued her foe with a binding technique none had expected her to know.
Each match carved the path narrower. Each victory tightened the atmosphere.
Finally, the attendant raised his staff once more.
"Li Wei."
The sound of his name carried through the courtyard, sharp as a blade drawn from its sheath. Conversations stilled, and dozens of eyes turned toward him.
His pulse steadied. Without hesitation, Li Wei stepped forward.
On the opposite side of the stage, a youth from Ironwind Academy ascended. His lean figure was draped in dark-blue robes, his hair tied back in a sharp knot, and a spear gleamed in his hands. His eyes were cold, focused, without the slightest trace of fear.
"Zhou Liang," someone in the crowd whispered. "Second-ranked in Ironwind's academy trials. His spear work is said to be unmatched among their disciples."
Li Wei drew his blade, the weight of it familiar and steady in his grip. The stage stretched between them, silent but charged.
The attendant struck his staff. "Begin."
Zhou Liang moved first, spear snapping forward like lightning. The tip whistled through the air, a blur aimed straight for Li Wei's chest.
Li Wei twisted aside, the spear grazing past his ribs. Even so, he felt the gust of qi trailing behind it—sharp, cutting, alive.
He struck back instantly, sword flashing in an upward arc. Whirlwind Slash! The crescent of energy shot toward Zhou Liang, only to be met with a sweep of the spear that scattered the technique like broken glass.
The two clashed again, blades of steel and qi ringing in rapid cadence. Zhou Liang's spear thrusts came fast, relentless, each one flowing into the next. His strikes were precise, leaving little room for error, forcing Li Wei onto the defensive.
But Li Wei did not crumble. His footwork danced, his sword parried and deflected, his movements weaving through the storm of spear shadows. Where Zhou Liang pressed with aggression, Li Wei answered with patience, searching for the opening that had yet to come.
Sparks burst as spear met sword, their qi colliding and rippling across the stage.
"Li Wei's keeping up," Mei whispered from the watching crowd, her fists clenched tight.
"More than that," another student muttered. "He's adapting… faster with every exchange."
The momentum shifted. Zhou Liang lunged with a thrust aimed at Li Wei's shoulder, confident, decisive. But Li Wei's blade slid along the spear's shaft in perfect timing, diverting the strike to the side. In that heartbeat of imbalance, Li Wei's sword lashed out.
A shallow line of crimson bloomed across Zhou Liang's sleeve.
The crowd roared.
Zhou Liang's eyes narrowed, cold fury sparking. He spun his spear in a whirling arc, qi surging outward like a storm wind. The stage shuddered beneath the force, dust scattering.
But Li Wei held his ground. His dantian burned steady, qi flowing smooth and strong, sharper than it had ever felt before.
When the spear came crashing down, he stepped into the strike instead of retreating. His blade flared, cutting upward in a decisive counter. Steel met steel with a resounding crack, and the force split apart between them.
Before Zhou Liang could recover, Li Wei moved. His sword flashed three times in succession—quick, precise, unstoppable.
The first slash broke through Zhou Liang's guard.The second tore the spear from his grip, sending it clattering across the stage.The third stopped at Zhou Liang's throat, the cold edge of steel grazing skin.
Silence gripped the courtyard.
Zhou Liang's chest heaved, his eyes wide with shock, then slowly lowered in defeat.
Li Wei stepped back, sheathing his sword in a single smooth motion.
The attendant raised his staff. "Victor: Li Wei."
Applause and murmurs erupted through the crowd. Some spoke of his calm, others of the sharpness of his counterattack. Among the attendants of Heavenly Dragon Sect, a faint flicker of interest passed between their gazes.
Li Wei exhaled, steady, then descended the stage. His body was tense, his breathing deep, but inside, his qi surged like a river breaking free of its banks.