Yao Xuan + Gu Yue vs. Wu Changkong
A sharp, metallic screech filled the training room as nine-colored dragon claws met solidified glacial might. The air itself seemed to fracture, a visible shockwave of conflicting energies—primal chaos and absolute zero—rippling out to hammer against the reinforced soul-guide barriers. The walls groaned in protest.
On the platform, the contest of force was visceral. Wu Changkong's feet slid back a precise inch, etching twin lines into the floor. The Heavenly Frost Sword in his grasp vibrated violently, its crystalline structure singing a high-pitched whine of stress. The arm holding it was ramrod straight, tendons standing out like steel cables. A flush of exertion colored his neck, but his eyes were cold, analytical chips of ice, recalibrating his assessment of Yao Xuan's raw power in real time.
Yao Xuan landed in a crouch, the impact shuddering through his enhanced frame. He glanced at his right hand. The majestic Ancestral Dragon Claw, which could shred common spirit-forged metal, now bore a deep, clean gash, frost already spider-webbing from the wound. A dull, deep ache pulsed up his arm, a testament to the terrifying focus and penetration of Wu Changkong's strike. His internal organs felt momentarily rearranged by the concussive force.
'He's not just stronger; every ounce of his power is sharpened to a single, devastating point. This is the difference decades of combat forge.'
There was no time to dwell. The pale blue Frost Mist still swirled, clinging and numbing. But Yao Xuan wasn't fighting alone.
A wave of heat, dry and gentle as a desert breeze, washed over his back. The clinging frost on his armor sizzled away into vapor. Gu Yue had not been idle. While Yao Xuan engaged head-on, she had been weaving. Her first purple soul ring glowed softly as she manipulated the very elements of the mist itself, pulling moisture and cold away from Yao Xuan's sphere and gathering it harmlessly to her side. Her eyes were narrowed, not on Wu Changkong's visible form, but on the subtle distortions in the mist, the almost imperceptible flow of energy that betrayed his true position and intent. She was the strategist, the controller, reshaping the battlefield.
Wu Changkong's gaze flickered to her for a millisecond. A faint, almost imperceptible nod. She was learning. Fast.
"Don't let him reset!" Yao Xuan's voice was a low growl, not a shout, but Gu Yue heard it perfectly. It was less a command and more a shared thought.
He pushed off again, but this time not directly at Wu Changkong. He feinted left, his claw sweeping in a wide, blinding arc that tore through the mist, creating a temporary vacuum. It was a distraction, a curtain of chaotic motion.
Gu Yue moved simultaneously. Her left hand rose, and the gathered moisture and frost she had collected flash-froze into a barrage of a hundred needle-like icicles. But they didn't aim for Wu Changkong's last location. They shot toward the empty space behind him, anticipating a tactical retreat. Her right hand sketched a circle in the air, and the ground at Wu Changkong's feet—already chilled by his own mist—suddenly erupted in grasping vines of hardened earth, laced with razor-sharp filaments of metal she pulled from the room's subframe.
It was a seamless, unspoken pincer. Yao Xuan, the unstoppable force and dazzling distraction. Gu Yue, the omniscient controller laying traps with chilling precision.
Wu Changkong's eyes finally showed a spark of genuine surprise, then fierce approval. He didn't retreat. Instead, he exploded upward, his third soul ring flashing once more. "Heavenly Frost, Ring Expansion!"
The Heavenly Frost Sword wasn't swung. He planted its point into the floor. A ring of pure, blue-white energy exploded outward from the impact, a perfect circle of absolute cold that shattered Gu Yue's earthen-metal vines and vaporized her ice needles before they could connect. The wave of force and cold hit Yao Xuan's charge head-on, slowing him, layering his scales with instant, brittle rime.
But the move had cost Wu Changkong. Maintaining such a large-area skill at a suppressed soul power level left him momentarily static, the sword anchored.
It was the opening they needed.
Yao Xuan, fighting through the numbing wave, didn't use a soul skill. He used his bloodline. Space around him twisted.
At the exact same moment, Gu Yue didn't attack Wu Changkong. She attacked the environment. Her second purple soul ring glowed brilliantly. The air around Wu Changkong's left side superheated violently, while the air on his right plunged into a deep freeze more intense than his own. The violent, sudden thermodynamic shock created a screaming vortex of wind, pulling at his balance and focus for a critical half-second.
Yao Xuan struck. Not with the Sky-Splitting Strike, but with a simpler, focused hammer-blow of pure Ancestral Dragon power channeled through his un-injured left claw. It was fast, brutal, and perfectly timed.
Wu Changkong's reaction was a masterpiece of minimalism. He couldn't block fully. He let go of the anchored Heavenly Frost Sword, allowing his body to be pulled by Gu Yue's wind vortex just enough to turn the full-force impact into a glancing blow. His left arm came up in a guard, coated in a last-moment shield of condensed frost.
CRACK.
The sound of the frost shield disintegrating was like a mountain glacier calving. The force of the blow, even glancing, sent Wu Changkong skidding back ten feet, his boots leaving deep grooves in the floor. He came to a stop, upright, but the sleeve of his teacher's uniform on his guarding arm was shredded, and a faint, red mark was already forming on his forearm.
The Heavenly Frost Sword dissolved into motes of blue light. The Frost Mist evaporated.
Silence, save for the heavy breathing of Yao Xuan and the soft, controlled exhale from Gu Yue.
Wu Changkong looked at his arm, then at the two students standing together, one breathing heavily but poised for the next move, the other calm but with a faint, triumphant gleam in her violet eyes. He had forced them to use coordination, tactics, and a deep, intuitive understanding of each other's abilities that went far beyond simple practice.
A slow, rare smile touched his lips. It was a sharp, proud thing.
"Good," he said, the single word carrying immense weight. "You didn't just try to overpower me. You fought as a single unit. That is the foundation of something greater." His gaze settled on Yao Xuan's gashed claw and Gu Yue's slightly pale face from the immense elemental focus. "Your power has grown. But more importantly, your synergy has. Dismissed. Tend to your injuries. The real test is in two months."
He turned and walked out, leaving the three observers—Tang Wulin, Xie Xie, and Xu Xiaoyan—staring with open mouths.
Xu Xiaoyan finally found her voice, a whisper of awe. "They… they actually pushed Teacher Wu back."
Xie Xie let out a low whistle, his competitive fire burning with a new, more complex fuel. "It wasn't just power. It was like they were sharing one mind."
On the platform, Yao Xuan let the Ancestral Dragon transformations recede, wincing as the gash on his hand returned to a deep, bruising cut on his knuckles. He turned to Gu Yue.
Without a word, she was already there. Her hand hovered over his injured fist. A gentle, silver-blue light—not the fierce heat of fire or the bite of ice, but a soft, healing radiance reminiscent of starlight on snow—emanated from her palm. The pain dulled instantly, the bleeding stopped, and the flesh began to knit at a visible, accelerated rate. It was a delicate, precise application of her power, one she seldom showed.
Her eyes met his, the strategic analysis gone, replaced by pure, warm concern. "You let the strike through your guard. Your right claw was already damaged. Reckless."
"It was the fastest path to creating the opening," he replied softly, his fingers flexing under her healing light. "I knew you'd cover the consequences."
A faint, almost shy smile touched Gu Yue's lips—a Na'er smile, brief and bright. "Sentimentality," she murmured, but the word had lost all its sting. It was now their private joke, their affirmation.
She finished her healing, the light fading. The cut was now a faint pink line. Her hand lingered for a second longer before she withdrew it, the unspoken bond between them stronger for the battle fought and won, together.