The loud voice reverberated throughout the upper floor hall, immediately muting the once-noisy crowd. The names of these two fighters were formidable in their own right; one occupied the prominent position as the third commanding general of the Gu Clan’s Heiyan forces—Yang Hao—who previously served as the champion of the ancient Pill Competition. They were figures of distinction within their younger generation. To witness firsthand the spectacle of such titanic talents clashing was a rare delight that lit sparks of interest in the observers’ eyes. Gazes swept across the hall, desperately hunting for the participants involved.
“What happened?” Xiaoyixian and others paused, caught momentarily off-guard by the sudden challenge cast. Their experienced eyes soon discerned the reason behind Xiao Yan’s brooding silence. “Unpleasant indeed. Such methods truly do reek of underhandedness!” Naturally, Yang Hao’s ploy aimed at cornering Xiao Yan by creating a public spectacle, forcing a duel in open defiance rather than giving Xiao Yan the chance to decline. Failure by Xiao’s side could easily serve as ammunition wielded to discredit him among the Gu Clan—a blow that might also tarnish Tianshan Juzhen’s standing.
With composed focus, Xiao Yan took a measured sigh before setting down his cup with elegant grace. With a quiet determination, he spoke: “Very well—I do despise endlessly tolerating disturbances. If there exists an opportunity to make a public example of a misguided challenger within Gu Realm, that outcome may prove satisfying. If someone offers himself for that purpose—a chicken—then I’ll willingly accept.”
At this moment, Xiao Yan swiveled sharply, directing his cold sight toward the figure perched above the hall—attired in pale blue robes and wearing an unconcerned smirk.
“It seems this one is sharper with its senses,” mused Yang Hao as their sights met, utterly unthreatened; possessing strength at the threshold of Dou Zun Level Five, his confidence brimmed given his undefeated streak against even peers of Xiao Yan’s standing.
“Brother Yang Hao, think about the elders’ disapproval,” warned the fifth commander warily.
“Merely a friendly exhibition—an act typical of our war-esteemed customs.” Yang Hao retorted easily, adding with calculated malice, “Relax—unless Xiao Yan proves obstinate.”
Before the fifth commander could counter, Yang Hao moved—dissolving the space with a blink into a flash across their platform, smiling toward Xiao Yan while extending the challenge: “Esteemed Master Xiao Yan, at long last—I await your kind demonstration.”
In that second, the hall fell into stunned reverence—the focus shifting collectively toward the solitary figure near the balcony window.
“The famed Champion of Pill Assembly who bested every expert?” Murmured astonishment flowed throughout:
“Youthful he might be, to already stand amongst Eighth Tier Alchemical Sovereign? Unbelievable!”
“The legendary mentor was the famed master, Gu Hai. He’s risen further from the Dust Pill Ancestor—now even Semi Saint. Truly formidable.”
“No wonder Gu Hai’s judgment rings brilliant—for his protégé outpaces Han Feng a hundredfold.”
Xiao Yan’s exterior preserved its tranquile poise amidst the whispers—his line of vision now locking on Yang Hao—shadowed by cruel charm—a slow rise followed with his solemn words echoing back: “If the third commander persists…” Xiao Yan stepped into Yang Hao’s arena. He left behind distorted traces until his form settled before Yang Hao—a move that spoke of silent acceptance.
Xiao Yan nodded at warnings cast from behind—small concern existed among the Little Healer Immortal’s faction. Despite Yang Hao’s lofty cultivation stage of Dou Zun Level Five, Xiao Yan’s strength ensured their faith—his might far surpassed danger.
“How noble,” Yang Hao purred with a grin that did nothing to conceal his malice. As Yang raised his inviting gesture beneath lowered lashes—hidden behind fleeting smiles, a predatory gleam flickered within.
A few feet forward—a surge erupted from Yang’s stance like storm-driven gusts. A crushing Dou气 pressure swept the chamber—shook its inhabitants.
“Let’s observe today if mere laurels justify your status, Champion.” Charging forth with a guttural cry—his elongated fingers, hardened through fierce arts shaped swirling arcs into brutal claw blows—lightning swift strikes rained upon Xiao Yan with a net’s inevitability. Tearing streaks marred space where contact passed—one black gash upon another.
Meeting each strike’s arrival unflinching, a subtle dance shifted Xiao Yan’s stance beneath each claw sweep, avoiding each lashing arc effortlessly across a narrow perimeter of three steps.
Admiring Xiao Yan’s fluid evasion, Yang Hao’s confidence dipped only briefly before hardening once more into a grin—summoning a legendary maneuver passed amongst Gu’s martial traditions: the *Longshe Step Art*. Like dragon’s glide or serpent’s coil, the art granted his every motion a ghosting finesse—an evasive edge rivaled Xiao Yan’s signature *Three Mille Thunder Steps*.
“Skystone Qi Claw Technique, let’s test its edge,” cried Yang Hao—claws now charged violently as dark, savage gusts coursed his palm. The air shattered along his trail, screeching sounds tearing through the space.
Awe gripped Xiao Yan’s heart as their dance persisted: *Even this ancient, elite Gu martial art flows from him like water. Yet his folly lies in mistaking soul-depth as a matchless gauge—before souls beyond measure such as mine, these very arts wilt like shadows caught in blazing sunlight.*
As claws surged forward in relentless sequence, Xiao Yan’s robes fluttered with each precise strike—a perfectly timed deflection at claws’ turning from feeble to powerful—an edge so slim, only one gifted by soul-bound insight could discern it—and Xiao Yan surpassed this trial.
The clashing of claw versus strike rang through the air repeatedly in intervals sharp—Yang Hao’s brows knitr further toward consternation with every block evasively met. Dozens of such moments passed. His two-tier *Land Stage Techniques* bore no effect—Xiao Yan’s expression bore serenity still—an exalted calm unfound amidst mortal duels.
“No way this orphan boy can rival this commander by depth—only brute force can!” Roared Yang defiantly, retreating abruptly—a series of precise, ritualistic hand seals formed with breakneck swiftness.
Recognizing these techniques instantly, Xiao Yan’s sight narrowed: the *Royal Seal Methods*—an intricate legacy whose nuances he knew too familiarly from long struggle.
Distracting Yang’s rhythm with an incisive gust flicking against wrists—staggered his incision into seals—a pulse rippling his bloodline as he staggered, stunned further by its accuracy—shifting Xiao Yan into proximity where warmth gathered before erupting forward.
“Unbelievable. He knew the flaw behind *The Royal Seals* so keenly?” Bewildered thoughts spiraled through Yang’s recoiling senses—a punch crashed into his abdomen—sending the once-proud general back a couple stumbling paces under Xiao Yan’s composed counter-strike.
Even the fifth commander—stare unwavering beneath flickering anxieties—observed Xiao Yan with dawning reverence: unphased facing Yang Hao’s arsenal; this was undoubtedly no common disciple Tianshan had recognized earlier.
“Impossible! What sorcery allows such control?” Clutching his bruised pride—Yang Hao barked an incredulous shout—frustration swelling his cheeks red—utter bewilderment gripping him as a man at level Five’s Dou Realm lost so entirely to his peer whose moves still abstained from employing specific martial techniques—a silence that would shatter soon.
“Final Earth Seal!”
Yang roared in fury—his steps blazing faster through mastery—dragon-snake phantoms trailing every leap until swirling Dou energy gathered at his palms, shifting hand seals in rapid precision.
Yet Xiao Yan—the embodiment of tranquil calmness—merely stood as serenity painted shadows amidst his still silhouette. Moments later, he softly closed his eyes.
“You will not escape so easily—success awaits!”
Yang bellowed in cruel glee, his gestures halting with decisive intent; a predatory gleam pierced beneath lowering shadows—only moments from delivering his final assault—when piercing cold pierced his spine from behind.
A thunderous crack split the floor beneath him—heated streams of magma erupted skyward in violent spirals, lashing violently with serpent force directly between his thighs.
The shock struck all silent—before Yang Hao spiraled backward with blood trailing like crimson stream. Crashing into massive stone support overhead, the pillar shattered as he did—and a stunned moment passed across their surroundings where disbelief blanketed any sound.
Then came applause—a resounding crash in the wake.
The silence broke as resounding appreciation filled every inch of the chamber while the youthful victor—still unmoving despite his dominance—offered one polite bow:
“A fair duel. You are bested, Commander.” The taunts followed Xiao Yan in a soft echo that only stoked Yang Hao, bleeding pride into the floor beneath while he choked upon his bitterness.
Fury and humiliation erupted within Yang: how dare one so equal in cultivation fall into failure so utterly?
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