The plains of Vaerion had never seen such a spectacle. From the edge of the arena, banners of a hundred sects snapped in the wind, each a declaration of pride and ambition. Yet, amidst this sea of fluttering silk and polished armor, the eyes of every spectator converged on two figures that had become the heartbeat of the Southern Conclave: Lu Mao, the Slayer of the Black Dragon faction, and the prodigy of the Azure Sky Pavilion, a high-tier 2 sect cultivator whose skill and poise carried the weight of arrogance and expectation.
The sun hung high, casting long shadows over the arena, illuminating the dust and faint golden qi that shimmered above the dueling platform. A hush fell, broken only by the distant calls of heralds and the occasional roar of distant War Blood cultivators warming for the next round.
Lu Mao's hand rested lightly on the Moonveil dagger, its edge glinting with a soft silver light, the aura of his War Blood realm coiling around him like a living storm. Beside him, Li Xian's presence was a steady anchor, her eyes glimmering with anticipation and the calm of someone who had already walked through the storms of battle countless times.
"This is it," she said quietly, her gaze flicking toward the Azure Sky Pavilion prodigy. "You've fought well to get here. But remember, restraint isn't weakness. Strategy is the blade you haven't drawn yet."
Lu Mao smirked faintly, eyes narrowing. "Strategy is a luxury. But today, it's going to be a necessity. He's strong, but strength alone won't win this fight."
Across the arena, the Azure Sky Pavilion prodigy stepped forward, his aura radiating confidence. Every movement exuded a trained precision, his qi a calm, rippling ocean of destructive potential. "So the stories are true," he said, voice loud enough for spectators to hear. "The low-tier sect Slayer… you've made quite the name for yourself." His lips twisted into a sharp grin. "But names don't win battles. Let's see if you can survive mine."
Lu Mao's inner monologue tightened, analyzing the opponent. Martial King stage, War Blood realm… strength is raw, but predictable. He relies on overwhelming force, not trickery. Timing, qi manipulation, and deceptive openings—that's where I'll strike.
The moment the signal was given, the arena seemed to shrink, the world narrowing to the field between the two combatants. Lu Mao's phantom doubles shimmered instantly, splitting his presence into three simultaneous forms. The Azure Sky Pavilion cultivator's eyes flicked, but the speed and precision of Lu Mao's movements forced him into a reactive stance immediately.
A torrent of qi erupted from Lu Mao's body, spiraling in golden-black streaks as he executed the first strike: a Silver Eclipse arc from the Moonveil dagger. The crescent-shaped blade of qi sliced through the air, narrowly missing the prodigy's shoulder. In that same heartbeat, Lu Mao's Wind Fist technique struck, sending a shockwave through the arena that rattled spectators and forced nearby sects to brace against the tremor.
The Azure Sky Pavilion prodigy countered instantly, qi surging into a defensive array that split the Moonveil's strike into multiple sparks. He lunged forward with blinding speed, a combination of brute strength and refined War Blood martial arts. Lu Mao twisted, using Shadow Steps to vanish briefly, only to reappear behind his opponent with a dagger poised for a precise strike.
"Predictable," Lu Mao muttered under his breath, eyes scanning for the faintest shift in his opponent's stance. His phantom doubles mirrored his thoughts, striking from angles that forced the opponent to parry while maintaining balance—a subtle symphony of deception and pressure.
From the stands, Yan Mei, Chen Yuan, Bao Fu, and faction elders watched, breath held. Yan Mei's whip-like blade was sheathed, but her eyes calculated every motion, silently noting Lu Mao's pattern. Chen Yuan muttered, "Even without unleashing full power, he's controlling the battlefield as if it were a chessboard. Every step, every strike—strategic." Bao Fu's jaw tightened. "No wonder Wei Quing warned about him. Slayer indeed."
⸻
The duel escalated. The Azure Sky Pavilion prodigy summoned his treasures—a pair of glowing iron gauntlets embedded with spiritual runes. They crackled with qi as he swung, sending waves of energy toward Lu Mao. The crowd gasped as the Moonveil dagger deflected a strike, but the shockwave still rattled his arms. He gritted his teeth, letting the phantom doubles take the brunt of the attacks. Each double vanished in a flash of qi when struck, returning instantaneously to position.
"Impressive," the opponent hissed, smirking despite the growing unease in his posture. "But you rely too much on tricks. Face me directly!"
Lu Mao's reply was a faint smirk. Direct doesn't always win. Timing, misdirection, patience. His eyes flicked to the faint trail of qi lingering behind the Azure Sky Pavilion cultivator's movements. He noted the subtle lag in his energy recovery after each strike, the slight imbalance in his stance—minor, but exploitable.
With a sudden, fluid motion, Lu Mao unleashed a combination. One Moonveil dagger struck in a spinning crescent, the phantom doubles flanking the opponent. Qi spiraled like coiled lightning, forcing the Azure Sky Pavilion cultivator to leap backward, narrowly avoiding a devastating strike to his ribs. Lu Mao pressed forward, every movement precise yet flowing, a storm barely contained, an artwork of death and control.
The arena floor cracked where the residual qi from his strikes met the earth. Spectators murmured, sensing the incredible skill on display, whispers spreading rapidly: The Slayer… the Black Dragon's War Blood… unmatched in cunning and speed.
⸻
Meanwhile, Yan Mei's duel in the Spirit Accession bracket had escalated to the semi-finals. Her opponent, a disciplined fighter from the Dawn Lotus Sect, lunged with high-speed light-based martial arts, each movement precise and elegant. Yan Mei's whip coiled in her hand, reflecting her thoughts—calm, patient, and ever calculating. She parried, struck, and countered with controlled precision, her Krait's Whisper techniques turning the whip into an extension of her consciousness.
"Serpent Tongue!" she whispered, flicking the whip to slice across her opponent's arm. Not to kill, just enough to unbalance and control. The Dawn Lotus cultivator staggered slightly, giving her an opening to execute Coil-Lock, wrapping the whip around his leg to trip him without inflicting mortal harm.
The duel continued, intricate and subtle, each movement a blend of art and lethal efficiency. Her eyes tracked every shift in qi, every micro-expression of intent, allowing her to anticipate strikes and redirect them with phantom precision. The crowd leaned forward in awe as she moved like shadow and steel, graceful but deadly.
By the end of the day, Yan Mei emerged victorious in her semi-final, leaving the crowd buzzing with whispers of her skill and tactical genius. Chen Yuan had secured his place as well, while Bao Fu's absence from the finals left a quiet tension in the air—a reminder that even small failures shaped the future.
⸻
Back in the War Blood quarter-finals, Lu Mao and the Azure Sky Pavilion prodigy exchanged a flurry of strikes. Qi met qi in arcs of golden-black and azure, sparks raining down as the arena trembled. Each strike tested limits, each feint stretched the edge of anticipation.
Lu Mao's internal monologue sharpened. Time to push further. Not reckless… controlled. Let's see how he handles the Slayer's full strategy. He channeled qi into the Moonveil dagger, activating Luminance Edge. The blade glowed with faint blue light, cutting through the illusionary layers of the opponent's energy defenses.
The Azure Sky Pavilion prodigy staggered, surprise flashing in his eyes. He retaliated with a surge of War Blood qi, blasting forward with a spinning Martial King's Strike. Lu Mao's phantom doubles executed simultaneous Wind Fist attacks, staggering the enemy, forcing him into retreat.
Spectators could barely keep pace with the speed, whispering among themselves: He's breaking through techniques, reading every motion… how is this possible?
The duel ended with the prodigy staggering, qi disrupted but still alive—he had narrowly escaped defeat, his pride wounded more than his body. Lu Mao lowered the Moonveil dagger slightly, his expression calm but sharp.
"You fought well," Lu Mao said, voice carrying across the arena. "But the Slayer… learns fast."
The prodigy's glare burned with fury. "This isn't over. Low-tier sect or not, I'll have my revenge."
⸻
By sunset, the final matches for both divisions were announced. Yan Mei would face the final opponent in her Spirit Accession bracket—a challenge that promised to test her patience, precision, and strategic genius. Lu Mao would enter the finals, runner-up behind the high-tier Azure Sky Pavilion prodigy, a tension that had already seeded enmity and rivalry.
The Southern Conclave had become more than a test of skill—it was a battlefield of politics, strategy, and raw power. Every movement, every whisper, every duel carried consequences that would ripple across the continent.
And as the sun dipped below the horizon, Lu Mao's inner thought echoed in the quiet of the Black Dragon quarters: The Slayer has risen, but the war… the war is only beginning.
Across the plains, whispers carried the legend farther: Black Dragon faction… Golden Sparrow… the Slayer… the Lightning Maiden… the new generation has arrived.
The Southern Conclave was alive, and the fates of Xunwei were shifting.