Utarn was enveloped in complete silence, all eyes fixed on the two figures on the high platform. Under the burning gazes of the crowd, Liu Qing was the first to move. Slowly rising to his feet amidst Liu Fei’s adoring stare, he strode to the edge of the arena and then leapt down with a decisive bound. Feet landing heavily on the stage, he lifted his face and gazed directly at Xun Yan’s place, the fervor unmistakable in his eyes. Amongst the competitors in the Elites’ Tournament, his toughest rival undoubtedly was Lin Xiu Ya, while others posed no particular threat. Yet in these past days, Xun Yan had indeed displayed formidable might, compelling Liu Qing to elevate his attention and concern accordingly. It would be a pleasure to face this dark horse before battling Lin Xiu Ya— much like a sumptuous appetizer to a rich meal.
With Liu Qing’s departure for the stage, a sea of eyes turned toward Xun Yan. People everywhere desired to learn— could this unexpected dark champion this year stand steady before a seasoned expert such as Liu Qing, and keep winning without halt? Wu Hao and several others slightly shook their heads with mixed emotions before turning to look expectantly at his quiet form nearby. As the entire gaze focused its glare, Xun Yan did not change expression. The prospect of fighting Liu Qing caused him no fear. Standing slowly, he ambled toward the high platform’s outer rim.
“Stay strong, brother Xun!” came the gentle and tender voice from the back—Shun Er offering her support. Without looking back, Xun Yan merely lifted a hand behind him, flicking one finger. A soft glimmer of argent light shimmered across his toes, and with one leap of the feet and a shimmering movement through air, he had already reached the expanse below. Landing lightly on the flat stage, he tilted up his face toward the front, their respective eyes instantly locking—a moment thick with indescribable meaning shared between their gazes.
Although Yellow Ember (Huang Yan) had usually been trying his utmost to bypass clashing with elites like Liu Qing and Lin Xiu Ya directly, it was because entering the rankings remained imperative. The endeavor with the Soul-Draining Cold Ember Flame (Yuantuo Core Heat) meant too much—thus he must be completely ready. Yet today—with an encounter no longer escapable—he sensed genuine rising zeal within his spirit. Though Xun Yan didn’t carry the thirst for battle and madness to the extent Wu Hao and others might, a clash with true strength would set his blood aflame.
“If this combat proves unavoidable now,” murmured Xun Yan inwardly with a deep breath, “I’ll embrace it with all I’ve got!”
His gaze locked steady as Liu Qing’s suddenly voiced in low, deliberate tones, edged with an unmistakable sense of mightiness and dominance, “Only hope your strength doesn’t disappoint me.”
“I’ll offer up my very best then,” answered Xun Yan, smiling. His fingers closed steadily upon the massive dark blade at his back and yanked hard forward. Tilting downward as it sliced air with a shriek of forceful pressure swirling, it carved down in front of them. Liu Qing glanced once at the massive weapon and his eyes betrayed momentary surprise—in prior battles with Pai Cheng, Liu knew something peculiar clung to that giant blade, capable of unusual might, confirmed upon feeling the pressure from that very wind cutting into space. His left hand grasped a long gun blacker than night—an object bearing equal gravitas.
“No insult intended… my Black Heaven Gun is saved only to prove a contender deserving of it. Hopefully, later… I shall see your worth.” Flicked his sharp palms fiercely, releasing invisible gales which tore grooved pits upon impact on the soil as Liu Qing eyed Xun Yan with calm intent in his eyes.
Smiling briefly himself, Xun Yan declined reply. To one like Liu Qing, the weight of true recognition would be met solely by true strength. Elsewise—never earned. For this, had Xun Yan’s prior exhibitions ended with weaker showing—he suspected Liu Qing might not even speak a line, instead ignoring outright.
In those moments where the duelists exchanged these first exchanges, whispers echoed to the stands encircling the venue’s fringes—a quiet hushed reverence replacing the arrogance Liu’s speech might suggest under others’ words. Truly, they mused—this was mighty gun lord Liu Qing and such domineering force rarely found within the Inner Academy. Power breeds respect—and Liu Qing carried this, allowing his words to echo without insult in a different tone than otherwise expected.
Gazing down at him from atop, Liu Fei beheld lovingly her beloved form standing so imposing below, drawn into his overwhelming vigor and fierce charisma.
“Hmph, watch closely now!” she suddenly whispered, casting a smiting whisper at her companion Yao Sheng, whose face remained pale, “Observe how my cousin brings this challenger to submission.”
“He’s a certainty to win,” coldly retorted Yao Sheng’s eyes narrowing, fixing upon the figure of Xun Yan below who represented an earlier personal humiliation so difficult to bear.
After he had been bested by this so-called “worming upstart incapable of rising,” the bitterness of defeat clung heavily. One possessing no noble character such as himself found it hard to do otherwise: he assigned all fault to Xun Yan alone. That is… if he considered one merely capable of slaying worms the victor of such creatures, how capable, really, did *he* appear, by losing to one such “worming” enemy himself?
The remark ignited the flame of triumph upon Liu Fei’s cheeks, her charming eyes sweeping subtly across the distant pavilion’s occupied figure of blue-clothed elegance—teeth lightly nibbling her lower lip. To other women, she bore no fault—her looks perfect—too perfect. Such flawlessness fed bitterness inside Liu Fei, fueling a resentment deeper still. Indeed—the woman’s envious heart knew no bounds.
In that moment, amidst quiet murmurings along the high pavilions, the judging area was illuminated as Su Qian waved gently and instantly silenced most of the background noises. Fixing eyes calmly on the two combatants below, even a figure his strength could hardly suppress the rising expectation forming in himself… The gap between the dueling forms appeared obvious. Still, this would not predict the outcome— others viewed Liu Qing’s probability highest, but from a life of battle’s wisdom—the odds of victory rested possibly more equally than expected. In watching with such experience…even he saw no decisive champion between both.
“As competitors assume positions—now hear my pronouncement,” Su Qian’s quiet declaration pierced through the thick expectation pressing down from countless waiting gazes, “the contest over the final spot for top ten standings shall now proceed!!”
The moment Su’s declaration pierced the arena—waves rippling tension filled every chest, scorching glares affixing tightly upon their silhouettes upon the sands.
A mighty aura, like a sudden storm of thunder, exploded violently around Liu Qing the moment Su’s words ended—a suffocating, dominating essence so potent spectators sitting far away found breathing hard to do without gasping.
Goldenish flame surged from across his arms in surges—the gigantic fists growing in size ever so slightly more, a crackling akin to trampled bones breaking echoed out as the curved phalanges bent. One slashing arc of those talon-like fingers across open air created thin vacuum lines in passing, before dissipating.
Though none stood directly before it, Liu Qing’s display left many spectators feeling a powerful and invisible suppression from afar—some even finding admiration for how composed Xun Yen remained on his spot unaffected amidst all of this overwhelming force.
Xun Yan quickly formed seals with his hands. Suddenly—a flash—a green ember ignited outwardly all around him. The sudden rise in heat interrupted some of Liu Qing’s encroaching pressure.
“The Tri-Ankh Fire Transformation Technique: Blue Lotus Awakening!,” the internal voice of Xun Yan cried as the green flames were inhaled deep into his body. Alongside this fiery surge, his power swelled higher—while still no peer to his foe, it brought him close to even footing instead of leaving him completely inferior.
The technique unleashed before even clashing signified Xun Yan’s true assessment of his threat—but he also fully understood: without enhancement via this method he would fall at once. After all, Liu Qing, on the verge of stepping over into Dou Wang level—outran a typical Dou Ling by far.
He let loose a slow exhale, filled with surging vigor coursing inside like torrents through valleys. With a single vibration of an elbow, metalic sound cracked sharply from his sleeves. The massive black blade once more aimed steadily ahead and green ember spiraled all around it. An invisible infernal blaze dried patches of the soil, radiating a blistering heat.
He slowly looked up—the opposing aura of Liu Qing also now visible upon him—when suddenly, he shouted sharply amidst low, thunderous sounds. With this cry—a blurred image with black dragging its wake—a black-robed figure carrying an unyielding ferocity and massive black slab leapt forward amidst innumerable expectant gazes toward his still standing rival.
A mismatched fight—and yet he opened first, which made spectators silently nod to his braverous choice alone.
It seemed merely instants for the thirty or so paces between them to bridge fully as the two clashed headlong together. Their gazes locked, breath caught briefly—before explosive battle spirit finally detonated around them fully amidst the arena’s roaring commencement!
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