The announcement of the semi-final matchup sent a shockwave through the Secret Tower. In every training hall, every courtyard, and every tea house, only one topic was discussed: The Heretic Team versus the Golden Vein Team. It was more than a match; it was a reckoning. It was tradition versus anomaly, the orthodox versus the profane. Bets were placed, alliances were whispered, and the ideological divide in the tower grew into a chasm. Most still favored the Golden Veins, with their pure Qi arts and prestigious lineage. But the monstrous performance of the boy who could withstand the Gauntlet had planted a seed of doubt in even the most arrogant hearts.
In the opulent quarters of the Golden Vein Hall, the air was thick with fury. Xue Feng stared out his window at the grand arena below, his face a mask of cold resolve.
"You saw how that monster dispatched Leng Yue's team," one of his remaining teammates said, his voice laced with uncharacteristic caution. "His physique is not normal. Our Qi arts..."
Xue Feng turned on him, his eyes blazing with golden light. "His physique is an abomination," he snarled. "He is an impurity, a flaw in the grand design. His strength is an illusion born of filth and pain. We," he gestured to his own chest, "draw our power from the pure, sacred breath of the Heavens. This is not just about winning a tournament. This is about cleansing the honor of the true path. We will prove to everyone that his heretical way is nothing but a dead end."
His strategy was brutally simple and arrogant. He would not play games. He would not be drawn into tactics. He would target Bu He directly, overwhelming him with a storm of pure, destructive Qi. He would break the monster in front of the entire world, and in doing so, break the very idea that any path other than his own could lead to true power.
In Elder Bao's laboratory, the atmosphere was entirely different. A heavy seriousness had replaced the usual chemical chaos. Bu He sat on a stool while Bao performed a diagnostic check, using a series of glowing alchemical needles to read the state of his body.
"It's as I feared," Bao said, his voice grim as he withdrew the needles. "The backlash from the Caldera was severe. Your Blood Core is stable, but it's like a cracked furnace. It holds the fire, but one more major shockwave could shatter it completely. You are not at full strength."
"So what do we do?" Ci Ying asked, her hands clenched. "Forfeit?"
"Never," Bao snapped. His eyes shifted to Jian Ming, who was poring over a collection of scrolls and projection crystals showing recordings of Xue Feng's previous fights.
Jian Ming looked up. "Xue Feng is powerful. Explosively so," he stated. "But he is also a creature of habit and pride. His most powerful techniques, like the 'Golden Lion's Roar,' require a brief moment for his Qi to cycle and recharge. It's a window of perhaps one or two seconds. More importantly, his weakness is his arrogance. He will want to defeat you personally, Bu He. He will want to make a spectacle of it. He will focus all his attention on you."
A slow, mad grin spread across Elder Bao's face. "Precisely. We will not fight his strength. We will fight his pride."
He unrolled a large tactical map of the arena. "This will not be a duel. This is a team battle, and we will use that to our advantage." His finger jabbed at the map. "Bu He," he said, "your job is not to defeat Xue Feng. Your job is to contain him. You are to become an unbreakable wall. You will be the anvil upon which his pride shatters. Absorb his attention, his rage, and his most powerful attacks. You will taunt the lion and trap it in a cage of its own fury."
The rest of the plan fell to the others. "Ci Ying, Lian Hua," Bao continued, "your targets are his teammates. They are skilled, but without their leader, they are a body without a head. Jian Ming will call out their weaknesses. You will dismantle them, systematically, one by one. You will leave the arrogant lion utterly alone."
"Remember," Bao said, his eyes meeting each of theirs in turn. "They trust in the power of the Heavens. We will trust in each other, and in the will forged by pain."
The night before the match, as Bu He was meditating outside his quarters, trying to calm the ever-present hunger in his core, a shadow fell over him. Xue Feng stood there, arms crossed, his golden aura a silent challenge.
"I hope you've recovered, monster," he said, his voice dripping with condescension. "I want you at your full strength when I break you, so there can be no excuses. Tomorrow, I will demonstrate the difference between the pure light of the Heavens and the filthy mud of your path."
Bu He slowly opened his eyes. There was no anger, no fear. Only a calm, unnerving stillness. He rose to his feet.
"You talk of the Heavens," he said, his voice quiet and steady. "I walk on the Earth. Tomorrow, we will see which is more solid."
That quiet confidence infuriated Xue Feng more than any angry retort could have. With a snarl, the Golden Lion turned and disappeared into the night.
The morning of the fight dawned, clear and bright. The arena was packed to capacity, the air crackling with anticipation. As the two teams walked out from opposite ends of the arena and faced each other, the Head Instructor announced the start of the semi-final match.
Bu He looked across the field at the golden, prideful lion. He felt the familiar thrum of his Blood Core. Usta Mo's voice echoed in his memory.
'My anchor is my humanity,' he thought. 'Today, I must fight like a beast... but I must win as a man.'