When the last strand of verdant flame receded into Xiao Yan’s body, the wild surge of his rising energy finally ceased. No glimmer of斗气 emanated from Xiao Yan’s body, yet an invisible force radiated outward from him like ripples in water. This overwhelming pressure dwarfed even the雷神降临, the mighty ability displayed by Hong Chen moments ago. Whereas Hong Chen might have stood merely at the peak of a nine-star Battle Emperor, Xiao Yan now stood right at the threshold of true Battle Emperor supremacy—barely a stone’s throw from the legendary Battle Sect境地!
“What an extraordinarily potent secret technique. Even the雷神降临 of the Wind-Light Pavilion pales in comparison,” remarked Han Chi from the Han family’s section of observers, his gaze locked upon an opponent whose aura now neared parity with his own. Smirking, he chuckled aloud. “Truly, our Snow has summoned an awesome guardian for our Han family.”
“Back in the inner academy, Xiao Yan was only an ordinary great斗师. But already, he had audacity enough to engage in battle with Battle Emperor experts,” chimed in Han Yue beside him. Her lips curved in a delighted smile, though her eyes betrayed deep emotion from the outcome that so crucially decided her fate. She added, “Years have passed, and now I suppose his power is beyond my imagination. Though Hong Chen bears a talent, standing shoulder to shoulder with Xiao Yan seems now merely a dream unfulfilled.”
As murmurs fluttered, Han Xue gazed intensely as well at that solitary young figure within the arena’s circle. His threadbare robes—an ordinary garment to the naked eye—somehow radiated an indomitable vigor. It was as if beneath the modest sheath lay an unmatched blade, concealed though brimming with piercing aura.
And, thus, the youth became the beacon of Tian Rock Stage—a singularly stunning radiance above all others, even amidst masters gathered from every direction.
Feeling the surging energy flowing unchecked in his veins, Xiao Yan released a deep breath, a rare moment of reflection amidst rising adrenaline. The secret technique had flung his power to the precipice of Battle Emperor perfection—an edge of immense pressure beneath an imperceptible veil.
Was it truly… the threshold of breaking into a Battle Sect?
Such a barrier—seemingly non-existent—repelled even his titanic flow of strength. Though Xiao Yan had surged past Battle Emperor levels for an incomputable period previously, this chasm loomed wide between him and that elusive final passage.
How many martial artisans had devoted entire lifespans without achieving its crossing?
And now for him, standing at merely a hand-span beyond—yet leagues remained from its final leap.
A brief silence settled in the maelstrom of thoughts. “Had I yet possessed the final stages of Heavenly Flame Triple Mutations, paired with my dị火… might such a path be attainable?”
Xiao Yan considered this notion with growing interest—an ember sparking in his mind with new potential. With a determined flicker lighting within, the thought remained: perhaps, the theory bore fruit when planted against such a threshold, and thus the idea deserved exploration later when the timing better permitted.
The thoughts were set aside as keen eyes refocused upon his formidable target—his foe wearing increasing discomfort. Taking up his great cleaver with a resounding thud, each careful tread propelled Xiao Yan forward with terrifying rapidity until he had already traversed dozens of Zhang in mere breath.
Opponents in motion—opposing wills locked in mortal competition.
As his step rang through the stage like the drumbeat foretelling combat’s return anew, Hong Chen barely stifled his growing apprehension. Lightning danced around his lower limbs as a surge burst to his aid: a silver pulse racing toward the defensive. As the distance blurred with the flick of motion unrelenting—a single breath later, the massive blade was already above his head.
“Crash!”
The blade found home, its weight pressing through flesh like a blade cleaving fog—as if never met a solid obstacle, for no blood splashed.
But even with its force expended in that blow, a whisper passed through Xiao Yan’s perception. Hong Chen’s foot danced, a flash of movement revealing an ancient defensive—his famed “Thirty-Thousand Thunder Surge”?
With silent contempt threading within Xiao Yan’s thought, another strange movement shifted him sideways—seven steps in the blink of an eye—to position his weapon like a spear, driving it with precision into a spot seemingly empty. Then the sound of metal meeting iron rang out as two combatants reengaged. A blow that should not have landed struck the opponent’s body mid-step, jarring force through him. A second impact rattled bones even as his body slid backward, scuffing ground beneath boots that halted—reluctantly perhaps—only after dragging several feet. The audience watched stunned—a new layer to the confrontation revealing itself before they fully grasped the opening exchange between these titans.
But how?
How did that boy sense an otherwise undetectable motion so accurately again?
Hong Chen’s expression darkened while he gripped his Thunder Hammer. His hand trembled slightly while nerves from his struck limb screamed numbly of lingering impact. And yet—the secret technique remained unfinished.
A second strike followed swift upon the prior.
The dark-eyed sword swung again.
Each thunderous step carved distance like an artist slicing through marble: ten meters vanished in each bound Xiao Yan executed across a field turned battlefield, chasing relentlessly after his staggering prey. Twisting motion followed; energy flared outward like the crashing waves in a tidal sea storm—each pulse of movement cascading into a tempest that battered at his beleagured opponent once yet again as a flurry burst to unrelenting strikes unfurled in torrents of martial force upon those watching.
Yet beneath such a maelstrom, could anyone hope to maintain the initiative indefinitely?
The fight shifted as Hong Chen—once a peerless figure—was pressed into corners he could scarce escape amidst a maelstrom of unrelenting pressure now.
For those perched as spectators, a realization dawned: this battle would not proceed as they might originally forecast.
While Hong Chen may have wielded a mastery of雷霆之力, how could it contend in raw magnitude compared to Xiao Yan, whose very life force surged from layers of ancient秘术叠加? Could any mortal physique match an adversary who had tempered flesh by absorbing both rare alchemy treasures *and* powerful异火元素 that refined his being past human thresholds?
Yet it did seem as though Xiao Yan had not merely the strength—but perception as well. His spirit-guided senses traced foes invisible to normal eyes and tracked the very rhythm through which their motions ebbed and flowed like musical stanzas. Every move predicted in advance, countered before its full expression emerged unmet.
As each new facet to combat emerged and shifted beneath their struggle, those who watched saw the contest tip further—then fully—to one side.
Among the Han family spectators, anticipation brightened.
Opposed them, dark clouds hung as the mood among洪家 plummeted—their unyielding confidence battered by witnessing their once invincible prodigy driven to sheer defense in a battle that no longer obeyed their predicted expectations.
“Ring!”
Metal sang its chorus once yet again. Steel clashed like a war cry echoing through an age-old saga. Then, amid one decisive blow, another shift erupted in the tide of power—one final pivot of dominance in Xiao Yan’s favor.
Ethereally agile as the viper’s coils uncoiling under moonlight, the youth moved—closing suddenly upon his retreating opponent whose breath faltered under an approaching silhouette unseeable until too near. Then, Xiao Yan’s palm lashed forth—a single palm strike, faster than thought. It found purchase solidly against flesh—and that blow carried with itself a torrent of energy that shattered resistance instantly.
A cry of agonized defeat sounded—the very embodiment of force overwhelmed.
“Uk…! Spurt!”
A crimson arch flew across open space—a spray marking the moment where fate shifted anew. As Hong Chen’s body careened backwards through the air he crashed downward—scraping the surface of the arena’s foundation for several paces with each desperate attempt to recover his balance. Finally still… blood stained the marble where once two champions danced.
Shock rippled throughout the spectators—their murmurs rising from disbelief that now their expectations stood overturned completely.
Yet the implications became more shocking still: for in watching this unfolding struggle no one could recall a single moment during this entire fight… wherein洪 Chen even managed to tear Xiao Yan’s humble robe by even a single stitch.
Such was the measure of the victory’s imbalance—the extent to which even Hong Chen was being bested.
A final palm strike pushed the combatant backward.
With calm indifference Xiao Yan gazed upon the fallen opponent now at a remove—a faint whisper drifting forward on the wind that stilled.
“Rise again… if you have strength yet left. One solitary strike is far… *yet*… from the end.”
But amidst the quiet, the downed Hong Chen spat a mouthful of crimson—his visage filled with dark hatred. He wiped at mouth with a bloodied hand rising anew. And from the rising tide blood dripped forth still—to coat his formidable weapon. That ancient artifact pulsed crimson anew, empowered now through some desperate technique fueled with mortal offering as Hong Chen invoked a final ace hidden deep in arsenal unknown.
His breath grew deep.
With a primal roar his body summoned forth an immense surge of雷斗之气—as arcs of crackling lightning shot across surface of his weapon and form entirely.
Energy grew immense… and then greater still.
The gathered洪家族成员 watched—dismay flickering across once proud stances—even amongst the elders.
“This…” murmured a gray-cloaked patriarch solemnly, his voice laced with solemn reverence. “*The skill the North Pavilion’s master imparted personally*? For Xiao Yan to逼迫使 Hong Chen even unto this dire straits indeed demonstrates his rare mastery. He is a rare breed—worthy among peers within any division of the Wind-Gods sect.”
“But… unless,” he faltered, “unless凤小姐… unless that凤小姐 is chosen—may fortune sway toward recovery?”
At the mere mention, the gathered洪 clan members stiffened—an almost imperceptible flicker of recognition igniting amidst the elder’s words.
Meanwhile, within the arena of battle,洪辰’s final blow came—his weapon striking forthward.
“Thunder’s Demise: Final Hammer!”—he howled through vocal strain twisted by desperation, and thus the blow connected.
The entire Tianstone Plateau reverberated with such fury that every spectator shuddered.
Lightning erupted from the impact like wildfire. With an unearthly *crackle*, ten Zang wide surges surged into monstrous creature formed of raw lightning that towered over its challenger—a terrifying雷兽 of pure thunder.
Each leap tore across rock like blades of the heavens descending. The creature moved faster than vision might trace—as it landed anew, a crater marked each leap. The final assault arrived without hesitation, its massive paw striking downwards toward Xiao Yan’s skull in an assault meant for annihilation… space itself distorting before its unrelenting advance.
A hair’s breadth.
A single step away from obliteration.
But Xiao Yan, his body flashing sideways suddenly—reacted in the mere sliverness between heartbeats.
As thunderlight crackled behind a figure now vanished, his silver-lightened feet left him as blurs—dodging destruction through impossible timing.
But then, just after narrowly escaping, the youth’s expression twisted with sudden realization.
A warning.
A trap.
An after-effect of the雷兽’s movement.
“…Dreadfully so.”
Even as he came into realization of impending danger—a voice thundered from the opposition side:
“Thirty-Thousand Thunder Surge!!!”
A single phrase screamed across the battlefield—a pronouncement heralding an unspoken truth that only a seasoned master of雷斗能够 comprehend the depth to which the battle’s stakes climbed still.
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