Chapter 328
Xinyu Liu stood in the challenger's waiting area, watching the large screen mounted on the wall.
Grandmaster Zhou of Mount Hua stood at the centre of the arena, his voice booming across the coliseum and reaching even the stone covered area he was in. The old man's white beard reached down to his stomach, white robes in pristine condition, radiating all the glory standing proud as 1 of 3 Jiuling's Arcanes.
He spoke of unity, of harmony, of the three factions living together in peace for a hundred years. The Martial Alliance wasn't like itself back in the past when grievances and petty debts were settled with steel and blood.
Xinyu had heard the stories from Elder Haoyu. Centuries ago, the sects of Asia were scattered. Divided. They fought amongst themselves over territory, over resources. The cultivation world was chaotic.
Then came the unification.
The Nine Sects and the Five Major Martial Families all formed under one banner, The Jiuling Martial Union. A union that brought stability to the east, that allowed cultivators to focus on what truly mattered: cultivation and destroying rifts through pure strength.
Every time Xinyu heard this speech, his eyes would swell with pride.
He was part of this. Part of something greater than himself. The Wutang Sect had raised him, fed him, trained him. Elder Haoyu had taken him in when his own family encouraged him to leave, to seek greater opportunities than their small village could provide. At that time, he played in the fields with his childhood friends as all of them wished to be the next greatest farmer.
But a Grand Elder Zhang found him in a fortunate encounter.
The Wutang Sect was his home now. Elder Haoyu was his master.
Xinyu would not fail them.
But there was one thing he disliked about his sect. One blemish on an otherwise perfect institution.
Yuxuan Lin.
The name left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Everyone in the sect had taken too much pride in raising that man. Yuxuan this. Yuxuan that. The genius who reached sword intent at the Late-Attuned stage. The prodigy who would bring glory to Wutang. The future of the sect.
Barbaric. That's what Yuxuan truly was. Arrogant. Cruel. He looked down on everyone who wasn't at his level, which meant he looked down on everyone.
But luck was on Xinyu's side.
Yuxuan had been caught. Playing with poisons, of all things. He claimed it was for the sect's benefit, to develop new weapons that would make Wutang stronger. But poisons were the disgusting products of the Tang Family. Sneaky, underhanded, dishonourable tactics that the disgusting family would take to the rift battlefields. Although the Jiuling united all the sects under one banner, there were still some traditions that the more respectable sects refused to tolerate.
Under Wutang law, poisons were forbidden within the sect.
Yuxuan was stripped of his position. Exiled out of Asia, cast to an impossible mission of returning with a better substitute for the Wutang's Soft Qi Empowering pill. The elders had invested too much in him to simply discard him, but they couldn't let his crimes go unpunished either.
The week after the criminal syndicate, Silver Lions, fell, the elders grew noisy, talking about the achievements of Yuxuan.
Xinyu had been tasked with guarding one of the safe houses along Yuxuan's transport route back to China. A boring job. Nothing happened for days. He sat in that cramped room, watching the door, waiting for a man who would never come with the substitute.
But luck was on his side once again.
Yuxuan never arrived.
The elders returned with expressions that told the whole story. Whatever happened during that mission, it hadn't gone according to plan. Yuxuan Lin, the great genius of Wutang, had been killed by someone in an ambush.
And that someone was the feral standing across the arena from him right now.
Gale Hathie.
The name meant nothing to the cultivation world. A nobody who knew not of honour and only fought in ambushes. An Early-Attuned who had apparently only awakened last fall. A child playing at being a warrior.
Xinyu would crush him.
At Late-Attuned, with years of training in the Wutang Soft Flow Form Arts, specifically designed for human versus human combat, this fight was already decided. The feral stood no chance.
This was Xinyu's time to shine, to attain the seat of being a core disciple.
On the screen, the speech shifted. Grandmaster Zhou stepped aside, and an old woman took his place. Archmage Merilda of the United Knights. She wore flowing robes of deep blue and a large wizard hat that covered half of her face, her silver hair pulled back in an elaborate braid. She spoke of justice, of values that must be maintained with an iron fist. A world that must be maintained to fight against the chaos that brews in the shadows.
Xinyu didn't listen.
The United Knights were pompous fools who thought their western ways were superior to everyone else's. Their speeches were always too long, always filled with empty platitudes that meant nothing.
In this world, chaos was meant to be stamped out with utter strength. There were no rules or laws that could hold back strength that was unchained by bureaucracy.
Finally, the old hag finished.
Witch Ashen walked to the center of the arena, her dark hair swaying with each step. The screens zoomed in on her face, and Xinyu noticed a crumb on her lip. As expected of Witch Ashen, yet still highly unprofessional.
"The exhibition matches are now beginning," Witch Ashen announced. "These matches serve to showcase the prowess and style of each faction and vagrant guild. They are friendly in nature, but also provide an opportunity to settle grievances through honourable combat."
She held up a small pendant. It glinted under the arena lights, a simple metal disc on a chain with thousands of circuitry like etchings.
"Each challenger will wear one of these pendants, crafted by the Caffeine Transcendent herself. The pendant serves three purposes. First, it will prevent death upon receiving a fatal blow. Second, it will heal any bodily injuries sustained during the match. Third, when the pendant's ether charge is depleted, it will teleport the wearer back to their waiting area."
She lowered the pendant.
"The challenger who is teleported first is pronounced the loser. There are no rewards for these exhibition matches beyond the resolution of conflict and the showcase of skill."
The crowd murmured. Xinyu could feel the anticipation building in the coliseum. His own dantian blared, raring to fight the feral. Thousands of signatures pressed against his awareness, all of them focused on the arena below.
"For our first exhibition match," Witch Ashen continued, "in the south corner, representing the Wutang Sect of the Jiuling..."
Xinyu straightened.
"Xinyu Liu. Inner disciple. Late-Attuned stage. He has participated in over one hundred rift closures, all successful, with zero outbreak incidents. He has mastered the Wutang Soft Flow Form Arts, a style renowned for its defensive techniques and precise counter-attacks."
The doors to the waiting area slid open.
Xinyu walked out into the arena.
The roar of the crowd hit him like a physical force. Thousands of voices, all cheering, all watching him. He raised his hand and waved, a confident smile spreading across his face.
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In the VIP section reserved for the Jiuling delegation, Elder Haoyu watched. The old man's expression was stern, but Xinyu could see the pride in his eyes. The slight nod of approval.
Do not worry, Master, for I will utterly crush this chaotic feral.
Xinyu puffed out his chest even more. The feral stood no chance.
"In the north corner," Witch Ashen continued, "representing... himself, apparently."
There was a pause. Some confused murmuring from the crowd.
"Gale Hathie. Early-Attuned stage. He awakened in the fall of last year and successfully returned from the Red Hollows rift. Beyond that, his record is... a return of 3 out of 3 rifts, 100% rift return rate."
The doors on the opposite side of the arena opened.
A figure emerged.
Xinyu observed his opponent carefully.
The boy was shorter than he expected. Lean. His clothes were casual. He wore a simple gray jacket, black pants, a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. He looked like a street rat, not a warrior.
And he was flinching. Nonetheless, it was expected from being raised in the Path's pigsty of a continent.
Every time the crowd cheered, Gale's shoulders would hunch. His hands kept twitching toward his ears, like the noise was physically painful. His whole body was shaking, visible even from across the arena.
Pathetic.
Xinyu glanced toward the Ann family's private viewing area. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a clear view of the occupants inside. The heiress, Rachel Ann, if he remembered correctly, was pressed against the glass. Her expression was tense. It was obvious she was tense and nervous while the other more beautiful blonde woman by her side tried to calm her down.
As expected.
She knew her little pet project was about to be humiliated in front of the entire summit.
This feral in front of Xinyu was just another weakling masquerading as his own false strength. The Path always had their delusions. They thought anyone could become strong with technology and science, regardless of talent or bloodline.
How utterly foolish.
True strength came from discipline and centuries of tradition accumulated from knowledge passed down from their ancestors.
This boy had none of that. He even represented himself, whatever that meant.
Witch Ashen walked to the centre of the arena, positioning herself between the two challengers.
"Are both sides ready?"
"I am ready!" Xinyu shouted. But there was no response from the other side. The feral didn't answer. His hands were pressed against his ears now. He looked like a child trying to block out a thunderstorm.
Witch Ashen walked across the arena toward Gale as her heels clicked against the stone floor, somehow louder than the cheers of the crowd.
She leaned in close and whispered something in his ear. Her hand patted his back gently, like she was comforting a frightened animal.
Xinyu scowled.
What kind of man needed comfort from a witch before a fight? What kind of warrior couldn't even handle the noise of a crowd? This was disgraceful. An insult to the very concept of combat.
Or maybe Witch Ashen gave him a buff? No. That couldn't be possible. There were 3 Arcanes watching this fight, one from each faction. The Path never did do any of their speeches, in return, they had to organize the summit every year.
Whatever the witch said seemed to work. Gale's hands lowered from his ears, nodding once.
Witch Ashen walked back to the centre of the arena.
"Challengers," she announced. "Get ready."
Xinyu drew his sword. The blade sang as it left the sheath, Qi flowing along its edge in a faint shimmer. He was so close to Sword Intent. Just a couple or several more fights, and he'd be able to attain it.
Settling into the opening stance of the Soft Flow Form, his weight balanced, and his breathing shallowed into a steady harmony with the breeze.
Across the arena, the feral just stood there. He didn't draw his weapon, nor did he take any stance. He just stood there like he didn't know what was about to happen.
The crowd fell silent. Everyone held their breaths. Witch Ashen raised her hand.
"On your mark..."
Xinyu's muscles tensed.
"Three..."
His Qi surged through his meridians, readying himself to launch.
"Two..."
"One..."
Xinyu smiled.
"FIGHT!"
The feral moved first.
Xinyu barely registered the motion before a dark blade was already swinging toward his chest. Faster than an Early-Attuned should be capable of. The weapon was crude, the strike unrefined, but the raw speed was undeniable.
No matter. Speed meant nothing against proper technique.
Xinyu activated the Taichi Bubble.
Qi expanded outward from his core, forming an invisible sphere around his body and marking the floor with a yin-yang symbol. Before the feral even reached the bubble, his body, along with his crude strike, moved like water flowing around a stone.
The feral's momentum carried him past Xinyu, his balance disrupted by the redirection. A slam of his palm outward released the stored energy of the bubble, launching the feral backwards.
The crowd roared, but both challengers had already forgotten they were being watched.
Xinyu surged forward in a low lunge, blade extended towards the feral's neck as he flew through the air. But the feral's weapon changed.
A sword turned into a staff. The feral slapped the staff against the ground. His trajectory redirected mid air. Xinyu's stab missed the kill.
The weapon changed again. Mid swing at xinyu, the weapon turned into a sledgehammer downwards at him.
Xinyu raised his hands, palms open, and guided the hammer's bluntness softly away from his body. A smirk formed on his lips. The hammer was heavy, yet the softness was exactly what countered the weight. At the same time, his elbow shot toward the feral's exposed neck.
The feral's bare hand caught it, stopping the strike dead. A shockwave spread out between them that echoed in the already noisy arena.
Xinyu dashed backward, putting distance between them. It was undeniable that the feral had immense brute strength. But he lacked any kind of finesse or style. His attacks were crude, his movements held no meaning. It was as if he was fighting a beast and not a human.
The feral chased.
He closed the distance in seconds, weapon shifting back into a spear as he thrust forward.
Taichi Bubble, Form Three. This bubble created a gravity well by creating extreme low pressure and high pressure wind formations around Xinyu.
While the feral was caught in the gravitational redirect, Xinyu coated his blade in hazy Qi that strengthened his blade and made it lighter. He thrust at the feral's exposed flank.
The feral twisted. His body moved in a way that should've been impossible with the gravity against him. The stab missed completely. At the same time, a fist came at Xinyu's face.
Palm raised. Fist impacted his soft flesh. The moment contact was made, he converted the palm into a wrist hold, using the feral's own momentum to throw him.
Yet, even as the feral's centre of gravity was disrupted, even as his body was being redirected through the air, a strike came at Xinyu.
The dark blade swept toward his neck.
Impossible! The feral's balance was completely compromised. No human should be able to attack from that position. It was like this creature had no centre of gravity at all.
The same thing had happened with the Form Three redirect. The gravitational pull should have locked him into a predictable trajectory. Instead, the feral had fought against it, moved through it, like the laws of physics simply didn't apply to him.
The blade was inches from Xinyu's neck.
He popped the Taichi Bubble.
The stored wind exploded outward, casting everything within the sphere away. The feral was launched backward again, his body skidding across the stone floor, leaving a trail of sparks.
Xinyu noticed his breathing had gone ragged. Sweat dripped down his forehead. This fight was taking more out of him than it should. It was a disgrace, as the feral should be dead by now.
The feral rose to his feet as if nothing had happened, not even breathing as hard as him. No sweat was on him at all.
"All you have is fancy techniques," the feral said. "It doesn't even do anything to progress the fight. It's like you're trying to play chess when all your opponent wants to do is hit the chessboard."
"Your opinion is irrelevant." Xinyu scowled. "You have not hit me yet. It seems the moves of chess are preventing you from winning the game."
He activated Mirror Qi. The technique coated his blade in a reflective sheen. Any attack that was parried or deflected would now send Qi blades back at the attacker. Based on the feral's fighting method of relentless assault, this was the greatest counter. Let the beast impale itself on its own aggression.
The feral rushed forward.
His weapon changed mid-stride. Hammer. The blunt force came down at Xinyu's shoulder. He deflected it with a circular motion, and a blade of Qi shot toward the feral's chest.
The weapon changed again. A quick slash of a short sword at Xinyu's ribs. He parried, and another Qi blade launched at the feral's arm.
Long sword. Spear. Staff. Sledgehammer again. The attacks came faster and faster, each one deflected and sending a shot of Qi blade back at the feral.
Xinyu could see the blades hitting. He could see them striking the feral's body, slicing through his clothes--
His clothes?
Even though Xinyu was deflecting everything, even though he could see the Qi blades being sent to the body of the feral, there was no damage to his clothes at all. Not even a small tear in the fabric, which meant that there was no damage applied to the pendant.
How?!
The feral kept attacking. Seventeen exchanges. Eighteen. Nineteen. Each one parried, each one reflected, and there still wasn't any sign of damage.
Xinyu was running out of Qi.
He needed to go on the offensive.
River Water Movement. A technique designed to concentrate force on a single point of an opponent's weapon, to shatter it or disarm them.
Xinyu gathered his remaining Qi and targeted the feral's blade.
But he couldn't.
The weapon kept changing. Every time Xinyu focused on a point, the weapon shifted into something else. Sword to spear to hammer to staff. The target never stayed still long enough for the technique to work.
He was running out of options.
One chance.
Xinyu coated his blade in the heaviest hazy Qi he could manage, condensing everything into a single point. The Acupuncture Sword Strike. One shot, one kill with absolute penetration that could kill a defiled entity in one shot.
He launched himself into the air backwards.
From above, he thrust his blade downward, not at the feral directly, but at the air between them. The Qi condensed into a sharp, dense point that shot toward the feral's neck.
The feral didn't block. The point struck his neck dead centre, passing through his throat.
Xinyu saw it penetrate. Saw the technique land exactly where he aimed. So then why wasn't he sent back to the challenger room?!
And then the feral was in his face.
The world folded. One moment there was distance between them. The next, the feral was right there, close enough that Xinyu could see the emptiness in his eyes.
One strike from the feral's sword coated Xinyu's vision in darkness. The pendant activated, and he was gone.
* * *
Gale fell to the arena floor with a thud from his feet. Whoever that stupid disciple was, all he had was stupid fancy dances that looked stupid. It did make him hard to hit, but all he needed to do was keep on going bambambam just like what Kyle and Clyde told him to. And again, the twins' advice worked.
He'll give him credit for making him use One Step, though. Strong, but not strong. Just fancy.
"The winner is... Gale Hathie!" Witch Ashen shouted.