The team battle arena was a simulated ancient forest, filled with mist and crumbling ruins, a perfect environment for the Shadow Pavilion.
True to form, as the match began, the five Shadow Pavilion disciples melted away like ink in water, vanishing into the mist and shadows, leaving behind only faint afterimages and disorienting whispers.
"Hold the formation," Kael rumbled, his earthy Qi solidifying a small area around them like an immovable rock in a raging river.
Suddenly, several blurred shadows shot from different directions, aiming for the seemingly vulnerable Li and the focused Jian.
The moment the attacks were about to land, Wang Chen moved. His Adaptable Core didn't form a shield. Instead, it instantly split into numerous, nearly transparent filaments of spiritual energy, radiating out from him to form a vast, sensitive web that filled the space around them.
The instant a Shadow Pavilion disciple's attack touched one of these spiritual threads, Wang Chen's Spirit Sense locked onto their true position and trajectory.
"Left flank, two!" Wang Chen called out.
Li's fans snapped forward, releasing not scattered blades of wind, but two highly compressed cyclones that shot precisely towards the indicated locations, forcing the two would-be ambushers to reveal themselves and retreat hastily.
"Front and center, main assault!" Wang Chen warned.
Kael stomped forward, and the spiritual threads in front of him coalesced, forming a wall of sticky, entangling energy with Wang Chen's assistance. The lead Shadow Pavilion disciple slammed into it, his movements instantly slowing. In that single, frozen moment, Jian struck. No one saw her move, only a sliver of cold light flashing. The disciple's protective Qi shattered, and he was swiftly pulled from the arena by a referee—eliminated.
The Shadow Pavilion's strategy was completely dismantled. Their famed stealth and speed were rendered useless against the omniscient sensory network of Wang Chen's Spirit Sense and his Adaptable Core. They were like flies crashing into a spider's web, with the weaver fully aware of their every struggle.
The rest of the match was a foregone conclusion. Under Wang Chen's coordination, Li's harassment, Kael's defense, and Jian's decisive strikes combined seamlessly. They operated like a single, efficient predatory organism, while the Shadow Pavilion disciples were merely trapped prey.
When the referee announced the victory for the Muay Thai Sect, the arena erupted in applause. This time, the crowd wasn't just amazed by Wang Chen's individual ability, but by the near-telepathic synergy of the entire team.
"They aren't a team; they are a single entity!" remarked a knowledgeable cultivator in the stands.
Wang Chen stood on the sand, listening to the cheers, his heart calm. He knew they had successfully proven the validity of their path. Yet, he could also keenly feel several pairs of cold, hostile eyes fixed upon him from the stands—from Zhang Wei, from Liang Jin, and from other geniuses of rival sects who viewed their "unorthodox" methods with deep suspicion and fear.
They had sharpened their blade and shown its edge. Now, they would have to face other blades, equally sharp, and perhaps far heavier. The real challenge was just beginning.