The morning sun was sharp as a blade, slicing through the veils of mist that clung to the dueling grounds. All the remaining contestants stood in a row at the arena's edge, their gazes shifting between curiosity and dread.
The host's voice carried across the crowd:
"Next duel Ling Xuanye of Qingling Sect… versus Qin Zhen of Void Trace Sect!"
The name alone stirred a wave of murmurs. Qin Zhen the prodigy of the Windswept Isles, nephew to Void Elder Lin Qi, a cultivator already at the Late Essence Integration Stage. His reputation was a wall of victories and shattered pride.
An Entrance Like No Other
A low hum swept the arena as Qin Zhen approached, not walking, but floating inches above the stone floor. His robes of midnight and pale silver trailed behind like banners in an unseen gale. Each step or rather, each effortless glide was a show of the Wind Dao's mastery.
"I will crush Qingling's 'Young Master' today," Qin Zhen's voice was soft, yet it carried easily, as if borne by the wind to every ear in the stadium. "So your sect remembers its place beneath us."
Xuanye met his gaze without a word, stepping forward with calm, unhurried strides. The black-and-navy robes around him whispered faintly, not from wind, but from the tension that clung to the air.
The Duel Begins
The referee raised his hand.
"Begin!"
Qin Zhen's lips curved. He lifted one hand and flicked his sleeve instantly, the wind howled to life. Invisible pressure swept across the dueling ground, and Xuanye felt his bones protest under the crushing spiritual weight.
Inside his Sea of Conscience, the Emperor's voice resonated, deep and unwavering:
"Steady your core. His Spirit Pressure is strong, but it's not absolute. Flow around it. Don't push against it."
Storm's First Strike
Qin Zhen extended two fingers and twisted them in the air."Gale Rend."
Blades of wind materialized in an instant, scything toward Xuanye from every direction. They were so sharp that they cut into the arena's reinforced barrier with a shriek.
Xuanye's blade was in his hand before the first wind-blade reached him. Steel met air with a flare of sparks he pivoted, cutting through three strikes, twisting aside from the fourth, and letting the fifth pass a hair's breadth from his cheek.
First Forbidden Technique
The Emperor's voice was calm:
"Test him. Ten percent qi. Heaven-Severing Edge."
Xuanye stepped forward, the pressure of Qin Zhen's wind crashing against him like waves against stone. His sword drew an arc slow, deliberate before he cut.
The Heaven-Severing Edge was not loud, but its presence was undeniable. A perfect slash of black steel that seemed to erase the very wind it touched. The strike tore through Qin Zhen's spinning defenses, forcing him to retreat several steps his robes snapping like torn sails.
The crowd gasped. No attribute aura, no explosive qi yet the cut had nearly broken Qin Zhen's defense.
The Wind Grows Violent
Qin Zhen's eyes narrowed.
"Interesting. But if you want to fight me with mere steel, you will drown in the storm."
He clenched his fist, and the air itself became heavy each breath was like swallowing stone. Then, with a sweep of his arm:"Thousand Whispers Illusion!"
The world blurred. Dozens of phantom Qin Zhens appeared, surrounding Xuanye, each moving with the same speed and force. A hurricane roared in the enclosed arena, and wind blades screamed toward him from every direction.
The Emperor's Guidance
"Listen. Not with your ears feel with your soul. The real one is the stillest among the false. He must control the wind from a calm center."
Xuanye closed his eyes for a heartbeat, and when they opened, they locked on the real Qin Zhen. His feet slid across the arena floor no attribute, only sword and the illusory storm parted for him.
Second Forbidden Technique
The Emperor's tone hardened:
"Now. Void-Annihilation Strike. End it."
Xuanye's sword rose. For an instant, the dueling ground seemed to fall into silence no wind, no sound, no breath.
Then he stepped.
The Void-Annihilation Strike detonated outward. A single, devastating cut that tore the gale itself into ribbons. The force smashed into Qin Zhen's guard, shattering his wind barrier, hurling him backward. He hit the far end of the arena hard, the shock visible even in his defiant gaze.
The barrier groaned, light flickering. Dust and sand whirled, then fell.
Victory
The referee's voice cut through the ringing air:
"Winner Ling Xuanye!"
Xuanye stood in the center, his blade lowered, a thin line of blood trailing down his left arm from a glancing cut. Qin Zhen struggled to rise but stayed down, his pride more wounded than his body.
In his mind, the Emperor's voice was almost amused:
"Not bad, hàizi. But that was only a single step on the road. Remember—the blade's true edge is yet unseen."
Xuanye sheathed his sword without looking back, walking toward the Qingling side as the crowd roared, some in awe, others in rage.