Day 13 – The West Courtyard
The training grounds were unnervingly quiet. For two weeks, this space had been filled with the sounds of cracking wood, thudding bodies, and frantic shouting.
Today, the silence was heavy, broken only by the chirping of cicadas in the late autumn heat.
Huang Yuan paced back and forth near the weapon rack. His boots crunched rhythmically on the gravel, betraying his agitation. He looked like a caged wolf, his muscles twitching with unspent energy.
"We should be drilling," Huang Yuan muttered, glancing at Arthev.
"Why aren't we drilling? The match is tomorrow. I feel... stiff. If I don't punch something, I'm going to explode."
Arthev sat comfortably under the shade of the old oak tree. He held a red apple in one hand and a small paring knife in the other, peeling the skin in a single, unbroken ribbon.
"You are not stiff," Arthev replied without looking up. "You are tapered."
"Tapered?" Jing Ling, who was lying on the grass staring at the clouds, lifted his head. "Is that a fancy word for lazy?"
"Muscle recovery," Arthev explained, slicing a wedge of apple and offering it to the air.
"You have spent thirteen days tearing your muscle fibers and rewiring your nervous system to react to sound rather than sight. If we train today, you will enter the arena with micro-tears in your legs. You will be five percent slower."
Arthev finally looked at Huang Yuan, his lavender eyes calm.
"Against the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon, five percent is the difference between a successful dodge and a hospital visit. Sit down, Student Huang. Eat an apple."
Huang Yuan groaned but grabbed the apple slice. He sat down heavily. "I just... I can't stop thinking about the lightning. It's loud."
"Then do not fight the noise," Arthev said softly. "Visualize it. Close your eyes. Imagine the ozone smell. Imagine the thunder. Accept that it is there, so that when it happens tomorrow, you do not flinch."
-------
Afternoon
Arthev left the team to their visualization exercises and walked toward the deeper part of the academy gardens. He needed a moment to calibrate his own mental state.
He found a stone bench overlooking the koi pond. The water was still.
"You aren't meditating," a cool voice drifted from the pathway behind him.
Arthev didn't turn. He knew that cold, floral scent.
"And you aren't training with your team, Lady Ye," Arthev replied politely.
Ye Lingling walked into view. She wasn't wearing her uniform. She wore a simple dark blue dress that accentuated her pale skin and silver-blue hair. She sat on the opposite end of the bench, maintaining a respectful distance.
"The First Team is confident," Lingling said, her voice devoid of emotion. "Yu Tian-Heng believes this will be a five-minute exhibition match. He is planning to end it with a single Thunder Fury charge."
"Predictable," Arthev noted.
"He doesn't know about you," Lingling said, turning to look at him. "Not really. He thinks you are just a clever tactician with a weird physical mutation."
She paused, her hand unconsciously drifting to her back, where her shoulder blades rested against the fabric.
"And he doesn't know about me."
Arthev's eyes narrowed slightly. "The bone?"
"The Celestial Feather Wings," Lingling whispered. "Since that day in the Star Dou Forest... since you helped me absorb that Variant Phoenix Crane ring... I haven't shown them to anyone. Not even my grandfather."
She looked at Arthev intense gratitude hidden deep in her eyes.
"That external soul bone changed everything. I can fly. I can shield myself. My third skill, Reflective Petal Rain, can drain their vitality. If I used them tomorrow... the Team wouldn't stand a chance."
"You cannot use them," Arthev stated firmly.
"I know," Lingling sighed, looking at the water. "External Soul Bones are treasures that start wars. If the Spirit Hall or the other sects found out a Level 30 healer possessed a flying, evolvable bone... I would be hunted."
"And tomorrow is just a school match," Arthev added. "Do not reveal your ace for a game of tag. Keep the wings folded, Lingling."
"I will," she vowed. Then, she looked at him with renewed determination.
"But I feel... stagnant, Arthev. I have this power, this mobile fortress potential you spoke of, but I don't know how to wield it. I'm just a healer to them."
"Then let's make a deal," Arthev said, a small, genuine smile touching his lips.
"After tomorrow... after I get what I want from the Prince... I will teach you. I will teach you how to be a fortress that flies."
Lingling nodded, a rare flush of excitement coloring her cheeks. "I will hold you to that. Good luck tomorrow, Arthev. Don't break my captain too badly."
"I make no promises," Arthev stood up. "I only promised to survive."
--------
The Night Before – Dormitory C Roof
The moon was full, casting a silver glow over the dormitory tiles. The Second Team had gathered on the roof, huddled in blankets against the autumn chill.
There were no speeches. No grand declarations of war. They just sat together, eating steamed buns Arthev had brought from the kitchen.
Huang Yuan looked at his hands. "My grandfather told me that commoners exist to support nobles. That we are the dirt the foundation is built on."
He looked at Arthev.
"But for the last two weeks... you made us feel like the foundation itself."
"Dirt is useful," Arthev said, taking a bite of his bun. "Dirt suffocates fire. Dirt absorbs water. Dirt buries dragons."
He looked at the seven faces illuminated by the moonlight. Jiang Zhu, Jing Ling, Sun Lian, and the others. They weren't shaking anymore.
"Tomorrow," Arthev said quietly, "do not look at Yu Tian-Heng's face. Do not look at Dugu Yan's eyes."
"Where do we look?" Jiang Zhu asked.
"Look at their feet," Arthev said. "A dragon cannot fly if he has no place to push off from. A snake cannot strike if she is off-balance. Break their footing, and you break their pride."
'Simple. Brutal. Effective,' Matatabi purred in his mind.
'I still say we just eat them,' Shukaku muttered sleepily.
Arthev stood up. "Sleep now. Tomorrow, we go to work."
------
Day 14 – The Great Spirit Arena
The Heaven Dou Imperial Academy Arena was filled to capacity.
It wasn't often that the Royal First Team fought publicly. They were the crown jewels of the Empire, usually reserved for closed-door training or continental tournaments.
The fact that Captain Yu Tian-Heng had requested a public match against the trash Second Team was the talk of the semester.
Nobles in fine silks fanned themselves in the stands. Students from other grades crowded the railings.
In the VIP box, the three members of the Board of Education sat with grave expressions. Meng Shen-Ji, the Soul Contra, stroked his beard.
"Ten minutes," Meng Shen-Ji mused. "That is the condition. If the Second Team lasts ten minutes, they win."
"Impossible," the second elder scoffed. "Yu Tian-Heng is Level 39. Dugu Yan is Level 38. Their synergy is flawless. The Second Team will be swept in under sixty seconds."
Meng Shen-Ji didn't reply. He was watching the entrance tunnel of the challengers. He remembered the boy who had withstood his spirit pressure without blinking.
"Perhaps," Meng Shen-Ji whispered. "But I hear the transfer student has been teaching them... village games."
The Tunnel.
The roar of the crowd was muffled by the stone walls of the waiting tunnel.
The Second Team stood in a line. They looked pale. Huang Yuan was bouncing on the balls of his feet. Jiang Zhu was gripping her staff so hard her knuckles were white.
Arthev stood at the front. He adjusted his black cloth mask. He wasn't wearing armor. Just the standard uniform, crisp and clean.
"Listen to me," Arthev said softly. The team froze, looking at him.
"For years, you have been told you are the Second Team. The reserves. The shadows to their light."
Arthev turned to face them. His dark eyes were crinkled in that polite, calm smile.
"Shadows are hard to catch," he said.
"Shadows do not bleed. Shadows shift when you try to stomp on them."
He held up a hand.
"Do not try to be heroes today. Be annoying. Be slippery. Be shadows."
"Shadows," Huang Yuan repeated, taking a deep breath. The panic in his eyes receded, replaced by a focused, predatory glint.
"We can do that."
"Entrance!" the announcer's voice boomed from the arena. "Challenging the throne! The Imperial Second Team!"
"Let's go," Arthev said.
They walked out into the blinding light.
Boos and polite applause greeted them. They looked small on the massive stone stage.
"Try not to die too fast!" someone shouted.
"Don't scratch the Captain's armor!"
Arthev ignored it all. He walked to the center of the massive stone stage and stood there, relaxed. Behind him, his team fanned out into the strange formation Arthev had taught them, the "Scattering Roach." It looked disorganized to the untrained eye, but it was actually a web of escape routes.
Then, the other side of the arena exploded with fireworks.
"And now! The Invincible! The Imperial Royal Team!"
The crowd screamed. Yu Tian-Heng walked out, looking like a god of thunder. Dugu Yan slithered beside him with lethal grace.
The Graphite Brothers walked like moving mountains. And at the back, Ye Lingling walked silently, her eyes locking briefly with Arthev's.
The two teams met in the center.
"You actually showed up," Yu Tian-Heng said, his voice deep and vibrating with power. Electricity arced off his shoulder pads.
"I thought you might run away before the match started."
"We prefer to run away during the match, Captain," Arthev replied with a polite bow.
The crowd laughed nervously. Was he mocking himself?
"Ten minutes," Yu Tian-Heng said, holding up ten fingers. "That is the charity I have given you. But looking at you... I doubt you'll need the timer."
"Generosity is a virtue of kings," Arthev said smoothly. "We humbly accept the challenge."
Dugu Yan stepped forward, her voice low and dangerous. "Drop the act, Arthev. I watched your drills. Blindfolds? Spinning sticks? Do you think those circus tricks will stop my venom?"
"Venom is potent," Arthev admitted. "But it requires a target to inhale it."
"Enough talk," the referee shouted, stepping between them. He raised his hand.
"Both sides! Summon your Spirits!"
BOOM.
The air pressure dropped instantly.
"Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon!" Yu Tian-Heng roared. A lightning bolt struck him. His arm transformed into a dragon claw.
Yellow, Yellow, Purple.
"Jade Phosphor Serpent!" Dugu Yan hissed. Green mist coiled around her.
Yellow, Yellow, Purple.
The Graphite Brothers slammed their shields. Yellow, Yellow, Purple.
The crowd went wild. It was a perfect formation of optimal rings.
Then, all eyes turned to the Second Team.
Huang Yuan howled. Yellow, Yellow, Purple.
Jing Ling shrieked. Yellow, Yellow, Purple.
They had standard rings. Nothing special.
Then, Arthev stepped forward.
He didn't shout. He didn't roar. He simply exhaled.
A phantom image of a twisted, ancient tree flickered behind him, dark, gnarled, and radiating a terrifyingly dense aura.
Three rings rose from his feet.
The first ring was Purple.
The second ring was Purple.
The crowd gasped. A thousand-year first ring? That was theoretically impossible.
But then the third ring rose.
It was pitch black.
Purple. Purple. Black.
The entire arena went silent. The cheering stopped. The jeering stopped. Even Yu Tian-Heng's lightning seemed to pause.
A ten-thousand-year third ring? On a Soul Elder?
In the VIP box, the tea cup in Xue Qinghe's hand cracked.
Arthev stood amidst the swirling dark energy, his dark eyes calm and crinkled in a polite smile. He raised his right hand and snapped his fingers.
Click.
"Shall we begin?"
To be continued.....