Chapter 9: The Seeds of Jealousy and a New Rival
The silence in the grand arena was shattered by a single, booming laugh from Emperor Xuan. He rose from his throne, his powerful gaze fixed on Ling Tian. "Remarkable! A simple touch, and an entire spiritual boulder is gone! This is not mere cultivation; this is an understanding of the Dao itself! The first round is over. Ling Tian advances!"
The declaration, however, was met with a chorus of angry protests. A young man from the Azure Sky Sect, his face a mask of furious indignation, stepped forward. His name was Long Wei, a prodigy in his own right, known for his fiery temper and explosive martial arts.
"Your Majesty, this is unfair!" Long Wei shouted, his voice echoing through the arena. "He did not use a technique or a powerful strike! He simply touched it! This is trickery, not skill!"
Emperor Xuan's expression hardened. "Silence! The results are clear. The rules state that the boulder must be broken. Ling Tian did not just break it; he disintegrated it. If you believe it is 'trickery,' then you are welcome to prove your own strength in the next round."
Long Wei, his face red with a mixture of anger and humiliation, shot a venomous glare at Ling Tian before retreating. He had been a favorite to win the tournament, and now, his thunder had been stolen by an unknown.
The second phase of the tournament began, a series of one-on-one duels in which the remaining competitors would face each other in a series of challenges. Ling Tian's path was like a hot knife through butter. He was an unstoppable force, not with brute strength, but with an unparalleled understanding of spiritual energy. His opponents, who relied on flashy techniques and powerful strikes, found their attacks rendered useless.
In one duel, a cultivator from the Black Dragon Guild unleashed a torrent of dark spiritual energy, a wave of corrupting power meant to overwhelm his opponent. Ling Tian, however, simply raised a hand, and with a gesture, he manipulated the spiritual energy of the arena itself, creating a small, swirling vortex that swallowed the dark energy whole, neutralizing it instantly.
In another duel, a young woman from a powerful royal clan launched a series of spiritual projectiles, each one a glowing, razor-sharp needle. Ling Tian did not dodge or block. He simply took a single, silent step with the Celestial Serpent Step, and as the needles passed through the space where he had just been, they all veered off course, harmlessly shattering against the arena wall. His movements were not just fast; they were a profound manipulation of space and time.
His every victory was not just a win; it was a masterclass in cultivation. The crowd, initially skeptical, was now enthralled. The name Ling Tian was no longer whispered; it was cheered. The Emperor watched with an increasingly pleased expression, and Princess Mei Ling's jade eyes followed his every move with a fierce, possessive intensity.
As Ling Tian's reputation grew, so did the seeds of jealousy and resentment. The disciples of the great sects, who had trained for decades to achieve their power, felt their positions threatened by this upstart from a forgotten clan. Long Wei, in particular, watched from the sidelines, his hatred for Ling Tian growing with every effortless victory. He saw not a master of the Dao, but a charlatan who had somehow stumbled upon a forbidden art.
In the midst of his victories, Ling Tian's attention was always drawn back to Lin Yue. She would be in the stands, her face a beacon of pride and love. After each duel, he would find her and take her hand, her presence a silent reminder of why he was fighting. It was in these moments that he noticed a new, familiar presence in the crowd. It was Princess Mei Ling, who would watch them with an unreadable expression, a strange mix of admiration and longing in her eyes. The seeds of a new kind of rivalry—one born not of combat but of affection—had been sown.
The tournament was now down to its final two competitors: Long Wei, who had fought his way to the top with brute force and explosive power, and Ling Tian, the quiet master of the Dao. The final duel was set to be a clash of two opposing forces—the unrefined power of a proud sect and the profound, silent mastery of a destined emperor. The stage was set for a confrontation that would not only determine the winner of the tournament but would also cement Ling Tian's place as a true legend in the Eastern Realm.