The morning sun spilled across the Outer Sect city, gilding the rooftops and throwing long shadows into the training grounds. The final competition for the Outer Sect's disciples had arrived, the gauntlet that would decide which teams would ascend to the Inner Sect. It was the stage every disciple had dreamt of, and for Lu Mao and his companions, it was the ultimate test of skill, wits, and endurance.
As the teams gathered in the arena, the air was thick with anticipation. Disciples whispered anxiously, their eyes darting toward rivals and friends alike. This year, the competition had been divided into multiple stages: trials of agility, strength, martial skill, and intellect. Each stage tested not just raw power, but teamwork, strategy, and the ability to read an opponent's mind. Rumors had spread that certain teams had secretly received guidance from Inner Sect mentors—an undercurrent of conspiracy that would make victory even more elusive.
Lu Mao's team—himself, Chen Yuan, Bao Fu, and Yan Mei—stood at the edge of the arena, calm, collected, yet sharp as blades beneath the surface. Chen Yuan's hands flexed, muscles coiling in anticipation. Bao Fu bounced slightly, excitement mingling with nervous energy. Yan Mei, silent as ever, scanned the other teams with a precision that made the air around her seem colder.
"Remember," Lu Mao whispered, his voice low but commanding, "coordination first. Everyone has to act as one. This isn't just about who hits hardest—it's about timing, positioning, and anticipating every move. Watch me, follow me, but also think for yourselves."
Chen Yuan nodded, Bao Fu grinned, and Yan Mei's eyes flickered in acknowledgment. Lu Mao could feel the faint hum of his golden-black vein, the pulse of his inner world quickening in anticipation. His cultivation had deepened, and while the vaults remained closed, he could feel his Qi flowing sharper, faster, his reflexes honed beyond what most could even dream of. With this strength, he knew he could handle multiple adversaries at once.
The first stage began with a sudden gong, echoing through the arena like rolling thunder. The trial was a test of agility and stealth, requiring teams to navigate a complex labyrinth filled with traps, pitfalls, and illusionary guardians. Only by reaching the center would they qualify for the next stage.
From above, the rival team led by Zhang Wei surveyed the maze, their eyes cold, calculating. Though Zhang Wei had recovered from his previous defeat, his confidence was tinged with bitterness and a growing reliance on the mysterious relic his uncle had given him. Even if no one else could sense its influence yet, he knew it made him faster, more precise, and able to suppress the potential of anyone standing near him.
"Stay sharp," Zhang Wei hissed to his team, eyes narrowing. "I don't want to lose to any of these rookies again. And watch that Lu Mao—he's hiding something. I can feel it."
The maze was treacherous. Hidden spikes thrust from the walls, pressure plates triggered dart traps, and magical barriers created illusions that made the halls seem infinite. Lu Mao's team moved as one, Shadow Steps allowing them to slip past the first set of guardians unnoticed. Bao Fu's fingers twitched in preparation, ready to unleash Wind Fist in the narrow corridors if needed. Yan Mei's senses were razor-sharp, her Eyes of the Hawk activated to detect the faintest fluctuation of energy.
As they advanced, they encountered their first rival team—aggressive, reckless, and underestimating them. The clash was instantaneous. Lu Mao used Phantom Double, creating an illusionary clone that darted down one corridor while the real him struck from the opposite side. Bao Fu unleashed a concentrated Wind Fist, sending two attackers sprawling into the traps, their screams muffled by the walls. Chen Yuan moved with precision, blocking incoming strikes while using Shadow Steps to flank. Yan Mei's strikes cut cleanly, incapacitating without unnecessary harm.
From afar, Zhang Wei observed, his expression darkening. His eyes flicked over the maze, noting the speed and coordination of Lu Mao's team. He clenched his fists, feeling the subtle surge of power from the Soul Suppression Shard hidden within his robes. Its influence was imperceptible to most, but he knew it made his reflexes sharper and his opponents' potential slightly dulled when in proximity. A secret weapon he would unveil later, when the stakes were highest.
As the maze stage concluded, Lu Mao's team emerged first, their timing precise, energy flowing in perfect harmony. Chen Yuan's chest heaved with exertion, Bao Fu's grin was wide and unrestrained, and Yan Mei's calm presence radiated quiet confidence. The spectators erupted, whispers of awe spreading like wildfire.
But the rival teams were not deterred. Murmurs of conspiracy began to circulate, accusations of hidden guidance and unfair advantages. Some teams had indeed received secret tips from Inner Sect mentors, and the tensions began to escalate. Zhang Wei muttered, "Next stage, we show them the difference between lucky novices and trained prodigies."
The second stage of the competition was more direct—a combat trial. Teams were placed on platforms suspended over a pool of enchanted water, each platform shrinking as time passed. The goal was simple: incapacitate or push your rivals into the water. The water, however, was imbued with Qi-sapping properties, weakening any who fell in.
Lu Mao's team took strategic positions. Shadow Steps allowed them to reposition at will, Phantom Veil enabled temporary invisibility, and Eyes of the Hawk gave unparalleled perception of the opponents' movement. Bao Fu's Wind Fist became their crowd control, striking with precision without losing balance on the swaying platforms. Chen Yuan's martial strikes complemented Lu Mao's illusions, ensuring no gap remained. Yan Mei, silent and deadly, waited for the perfect moments to exploit openings.
From the rival perspective, other teams panicked as they tried to anticipate the coordinated strikes. One team, overconfident in their brute strength, was immediately split apart by Lu Mao's Phantom Double tactics. A clone would dash forward, baiting attacks, while the real team member struck from behind. The subtlety of these illusions left multiple adversaries scrambling, falling into the Qi-poisoned water below.
Zhang Wei's group advanced next. He suppressed any sense of panic, relying on the Shard's hidden influence. Even though they faced multiple opponents simultaneously, he moved with unnatural precision, landing strikes that disrupted timing and flow. Yet, for all his skill, he could not anticipate Lu Mao's deceptive tactics. Phantom Double created chaos, and Shadow Steps allowed sudden repositioning. Every clash tested both power and mind, with seconds stretching into eternities.
Hours passed in a blur of collisions, dodges, and strategy. Spectators gasped at the acrobatics and coordination, unaware of the subtle rivalries simmering behind the scenes. A few teams began forming temporary alliances, trying to counteract the dominant presence of Lu Mao's team. Yet, with every coordinated strike and deceptive movement, Lu Mao's group maintained a step ahead.
As the final moments of the stage approached, Zhang Wei attempted a direct confrontation, aiming to isolate Lu Mao. But even here, the subtlety of Phantom Double, combined with Lu Mao's sharpened Wind Fist and Eyes of the Hawk, allowed him to dodge and retaliate with precision. A sudden blur, a gust of power, and one of Zhang Wei's lackeys fell into the Qi-poisoned water with a scream muffled by the magical suppression.
The gong sounded, signaling the end of the combat stage. Lu Mao's team had dominated without unnecessary casualties, their teamwork flawless, their control over the environment and martial skills unmatched. Spectators roared, some in admiration, others in jealousy. Zhang Wei's expression darkened; he had survived, but his pride and confidence had been severely bruised.
Yet, the competition was far from over. Rumors whispered that the final stage would not only test martial prowess but intellect, strategy, and the ability to adapt to hidden challenges. Zhang Wei clenched his fists, the Soul Suppression Shard hidden in his hand pulsing faintly, a silent promise of retribution.