Teacher Wu Loses
A fraction of a second stretched into an eternity within the training room's shattered calm. The recoil from the colossal clash sent both combatants skidding backward, boots and claws scraping furrows into the reinforced floor.
Thud. Thud.
Yao Xuan landed in a controlled crouch, the impact jarring up his legs but absorbed by the resilient lattice of his Ancestral Dragon Body. His chest heaved once, a sharp intake of air. Across from him, Wu Changkong's landing was similarly precise, but the sharp, almost imperceptible tightening around his eyes and the slight delay in his next breath spoke volumes. Holding to the Soul Venerable level, even he had been strained by the raw, primordial force behind Yao Xuan's strike.
It was in that sliver of time, that microscopic window of recovery, that Gu Yue struck.
Her movement was not a blur of speed, but a shift of focus so absolute it changed the room's atmosphere. The purple soul ring behind her blazed. The air around her didn't just grow bright; it became a conduit for purified radiance. A sphere of condensed light and hyper-chilled air—a paradox made solid—shot from her outstretched palm. It didn't arc; it appeared before Wu Changkong's face and detonated.
Not with fire, but with a silent, overwhelming flash of photonic disruption and a wave of disorienting cold.
Wu Changkong's head jerked back. His eyes, trained for decades to track the fastest sword strokes, saw nothing but searing white and fragmented afterimages for a critical quarter-second. Simultaneously, the very frost mist he had spawned, the medium of his control, rebelled. Guided by Gu Yue's superior elemental affinity, it coiled around his ankles, freezing them to the floor with a brittle crunch.
A low, startled grunt escaped Wu Changkong. It was the only sign of his disarray.
It was all Yao Xuan needed. He was already moving, a golden-amber streak tearing through the fading glare. His soul power churned, focusing into his left claw. The Ancestral Dragon Sky-Splitting Strike wasn't a wild swing; it was a precision lance of destructive energy aimed at the center of Wu Changkong's momentarily unbalanced mass.
Even blinded and pinned, Wu Changkong's combat instinct was terrifying. His first soul ring flashed. Frost Mark. Dozens of razor-sharp threads of icy energy, more defensive than offensive, spiraled from his body, weaving into a dense, hexagonal shield of deep blue ice before him. His free hand brought the Heavenly Frost Sword up in a desperate, soul-power-infused parry to meet Yao Xuan's claw.
CRACK-SHATTER!
The Frostmark Shield held for less than a heartbeat before disintegrating into a cloud of diamond-dust ice. Yao Xuan's claw, its force eroded by the shield and the hasty parry, still connected with the flat of the Heavenly Frost Sword.
The sound was a deafening, resonant CLANG that shook the light barriers. Yao Xuan was forced back a step, his claw singing with transferred energy. Wu Changkong, however, was driven down onto one knee, the ice around his ankles shattering from the strain. The sword in his hand flickered, its form growing unstable.
And then the heat arrived.
Gu Yue's second attack wasn't an orb, but a spear—a concentrated beam of fused light and fire elements she had been forging in the seconds of the melee. It screamed through the air, aimed not at Wu Changkong's body, but at the space just behind his guarding knee, the point of maximum structural weakness in his stance.
To block it, to survive it without serious simulated injury, would require a robust soul skill and full mobilization of soul power—far beyond the 39th level he had pledged to use.
Wu Changkong's head was clear now, his vision returned. He saw the spear of annihilation, felt the destabilizing tremor in his martial soul. He had a choice: break his word, or accept a "defeat" in this training bout.
His lips thinned. Then, they curved upward, just at the corners.
Behind him, a deeper surge of aura flickered—the brief, controlled pulse of a Soul King's power. A second, thicker Frostmark Shield crystallized in the path of the light-fire spear.
BOOM.
The shield held, but it vaporized in the process, soaking the tremendous energy. The concussive wave washed over Wu Changkong, ruffling his hair and uniform.
Silence returned, heavy with the scent of ozone and melted ice.
Wu Changkong rose slowly to his feet. The Heavenly Frost Sword vanished into motes of light. He looked at his slightly trembling right hand, then at the two students before him.
"I lost," he stated, his voice calm and clear, carrying to every corner of the silent room. "I exceeded the agreed-upon parameters of soul power. The bout is yours."
The declaration was simple, final, and utterly devoid of bitterness. It was a statement of fact, and a profound form of respect.
The notification was a faint chime in Yao Xuan's mind, secondary to the scene before him. He let his transformations recede, the scales and claws withdrawing. A deep fatigue settled in, but it was eclipsed by a surge of triumph not for himself, but for them.
He turned to find Gu Yue already looking at him. The fierce concentration was gone from her face, replaced by a vivid, luminous satisfaction. Her chin was tilted up just a fraction, and in her brilliant violet eyes was a clear, unspoken message: We did it. Together. It wasn't arrogance; it was a pure, shared joy in their combined efficacy.
Yao Xuan's responding smile was wide and unrestrained. He gave her a small, firm nod. We did.
"Wow! They… they actually won!" Xu Xiaoyan's whisper was a gasp of awe, her hands clasped over her mouth.
"It was the coordination," Xie Xie muttered, his analytical mind racing. "He created the perfect distraction, and she exploited the exact moment… flawless."
"Brother Xuan, Sister Gu Yue, you were amazing!" Tang Wulin's praise was heartfelt, his eyes shining with admiration and renewed determination.
Wu Changkong walked to the center of the platform, his gaze sweeping over all five students. The stern lines of his face were softer now, etched with a palpable pride. "Good. Very good," he said, the words warmer than his icy martial soul. "You did not rely on brute force alone. You fought with intelligence, timing, and, most critically, with unwavering trust in your partner's capabilities. This is the foundation of true strength." His eyes settled on Yao Xuan and Gu Yue. "Remember this feeling. Nurture this synergy. It will be your greatest weapon in the arena two months from now."
He then turned his sharp gaze to Tang Wulin, Xie Xie, and the wide-eyed Xu Xiaoyan. "Do not be mere spectators. Let their example be your lesson. Your turn is next. Prepare yourselves."
The message was clear. The benchmark had been set astronomically high. As Yao Xuan and Gu Yue, hands finding each other naturally in a sweet, unassuming clasp, stepped off the platform, the atmosphere in the training room shifted. Awe solidified into resolve. The first test of the new semester was over, and a new, more demanding chapter of their training was about to begin.