The roar of the crowd had not yet faded from Gao Ming's victory when Lian was alone in the dark passageway to the arena. The sounds of revelry filtered through the stone walls—shouts, chants, the announcers screaming out Gao Ming's name—but he heard none of it distinctly. It was distant, muted, to him. His own thoughts were more resonant than the noise outside.
So this is it… Yan Luo.
He swallowed, running a hand over his face. Gao Ming and Bai Xuan's fight played itself over and over in his head, every blow, every counter, every ounce of power they had displayed. That was the level of competition the semifinals demanded. Gao Ming had punched through stone. Bai Xuan had bent the air itself to her will.
And now he'd have to face the defending champion.
Lian's fists clenched, his palms already damp. No matter how many times he ran the tournament data through his mind, Yan Luo was an enigma. His Qi wasn't even shadows—it moved in ways that defied reason, transforming intangible darkness into physical weapons. But how? Lian hadn't been able to discern.
I don't even know what I'm fighting… and yet I have to beat him.
His stomach tightened, but before fear could overcome him, there were footsteps in the hallway.
"Lian!"
He raised his head. The voices weren't hostile—they were welcoming.
His classmates.
Chen went first, hands in his pockets, that same half-smirk on his face. Xia followed behind him, arms crossed, though her piercing stare betrayed worry. Shen Qiu was also there, more restrained than usual, eyes calculating as always. The rest of Class 1-C trailed behind them—Jun, Min, and the others, faces hollowed by days of training and battles, but now determined.
None of them had Rui with them, of course. Rui hadn't shown himself since his loss.
Chen spoke first, giving Lian a once-over. "You look like you're walking to your execution."
"Chen," Xia snapped, glaring at him. "Not the time."
Chen raised his hands in fake defense, then leaned in closer. "I'm being serious, though. Don't let that face fool you, Lian. You've come this far already. Semifinals first year? That's not luck. That's you."
Lian's mouth opened, but no sound came out.
Xia exhaled, her voice somewhat softer now. "You fought Rui. You beat Rui. No matter what happens out there, remember that. You're stronger than you think."
Min grinned, pumping his fist. "Yeah! And if anyone can beat that creepy Yan Luo, it's you."
Jun nodded eagerly. "We'll all be cheering for you. So don't even think about losing!"
Even Shen Qiu stepped forward, his voice calm but deliberate. "Yan Luo isn't invincible. He bleeds like everyone else. Don't forget that."
The words, the looks, the energy—they sank into Lian's chest. He hadn't realized how much he needed this. He'd been walking to the arena beneath the weight of fear, but now, looking at their faces, he felt something else.
Confidence.
He squared his shoulders and nodded once, sharply. "Thanks. I'll do everything I can."
Chen smiled, pounding his shoulder. "That's the Lian I know. Now go prove to that shadow freak what you're made of."
The group moved aside, clearing the path to the arena entrance. Lian moved forward, his nerves still present but more at ease now, his heart racing in rhythm with the echo of his classmates' voices behind him.
The arena came alive with renewed energy as the announcers' voices boomed through the loudspeakers.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the second semifinal match of this year's Tianxia Academy Tournament!"
"Representing Class 1-C, a first-year who has shocked the academy with his relentless brutality—please give a warm welcome to Lian!"
The gates creaked open, and Lian stepped into the blinding light. The crowd's roar hit him like a tidal wave, thousands of voices screaming his name, his legend. For a moment, he almost forgot about the fear.
Almost.
At the opposite end of the arena, a gate opened.
"And his opponent… the current champion! Pride of the third years! Master of shadows himself—Yan Luo!"
The noise in the stadium shifted in that moment, bursting into chants of Yan Luo's name. The third-year stepped into the arena at a slow, deliberate pace, every step measured, intentional. His black uniform seemed to bleed at the seams, as if the shadows themselves clung to him. His piercing gaze raked the crowd once before locking onto Lian.
He smiled.
Not a friendly smile. Not a sadistic one, either. Something in between—like a man amused at the thought of a new challenge.
The referee holds up his hand, waiting for silence.
Lian stood up straight, brushing aside the jitters still whispering in his mind. He thought of Rui, the way he had faced him down with that very firm determination. He forced himself to bear that expression now—tight, unyielding.
Across from him, Yan Luo tilted his head, as if intrigued by the shift.
The referee's arm dropped.
"Begin!"
Lian did not hesitate. His hands snapped out, lines of webbing bursting across the ring in rapid succession. Hardened threads lashed toward Yan Luo, aiming to limit his mobility before he could summon his shadows.
Yan Luo didn't move. He didn't even raise his hands. He just sneered, the corners of his mouth rising slightly as the first threads shot towards him.
The spectators leaned forward in their seats.
The fight had begun.