As the arena buzzed with anticipation for the next match, Xianwu's gaze was fixed on Lin Mei, a disciple whose future he knew to hold great significance. In his previous life, Lin Mei had ascended to become the Sect Leader of the Asura Cloud Sect, a position that marked her as a person of considerable power and influence. Although Xianwu had already founded his own sect by then, making their paths seldom cross, he remembered her rise to prominence well.
The match commenced with Lin Mei launching a swift offensive, her movements quick and precise. Liang Wei, however, met her attacks with a smug arrogance, easily deflecting each strike with a grace that belied his overconfidence.
"Is that all you've got?" Liang Wei taunted, dodging a particularly aggressive jab. "I was expecting more from someone of your reputation."
Lin Mei, undeterred by his mockery, remained silent, her focus undivided as she intensified her assault, each attack sharper and more forceful than the last.
Yet, Liang Wei's counter was brutal—a vicious strike that connected with Lin Mei's face, causing her to stagger back, blood streaming from her nose. The crowd gasped, the violence of the blow a stark departure from the controlled exchanges they were accustomed to.
Lin Mei, wiping the blood from her face, began to channel her energy, preparing a technique that few had seen outside of the sect's most elite circles. "Is that the Light Piercing Technique?" an awed spectator whispered, recognizing the intricate pattern of energy coalescing around her.
Liang Wei scoffed, watching her preparation with a disdainful amusement. "A fancy light show won't save you," he sneered, his posture relaxed, though internally he was forced to acknowledge the threat, preparing to defend seriously for the first time in the match.
As Lin Mei unleashed her technique, a radiant beam of energy surged towards Liang Wei, who narrowly avoided being struck directly, the force of the attack pushing him to the edge of the ring. In response, Liang Wei resorted to a technique unknown to Xianwu, a pulsing wave of dark energy that he surreptitiously summoned.
Xianwu's eyes narrowed as he observed the exchange. How does he know that technique? he thought, perplexed. His knowledge as the Immortal Emperor was vast, yet this technique was unfamiliar, a deviation from the history he remembered.
The dark energy collided with Lin Mei, the impact hurling her out of the ring. She landed with a sickening thud, motionless. Immediate concern washed over the crowd as several disciples rushed to her side, but it was quickly apparent that Lin Mei was beyond aid.
Elder Huang Zheng's fury was palpable as he confronted Liang Wei. "This goes beyond competition. You've taken a life," he thundered, ready to disqualify Liang Wei on the spot.
However, Liang Qiu intervened, his voice carrying across the arena. "Accidents happen in martial contests. It was never Liang Wei's intention to kill. How could he have anticipated her weakness?"
The crowd's murmurs of discontent grew louder, their anger directed at the Liang brothers' callousness. Xianwu stood, stunned by the turn of events. Is this not the past I remember? he questioned internally, grappling with the realization that the course of history might have shifted.
Beside him, Feng Mo and Jianyu expressed their disgust. "Those brothers are a stain on the sect's honor," Jianyu said bitterly.
Feng Mo nodded in agreement. "They've taken competition too far. There's no honor in what happened here today."
Xianwu remained silent, his thoughts a whirlwind. The unexpected knowledge of an unknown technique by Liang Wei, the tragic turn of a match that should have been non-lethal, all pointed to a disconcerting possibility: the timeline he knew had somehow altered.
As discussions about Lin Mei's fate and the implications of Liang Wei's actions continued around him, Xianwu realized that navigating this new reality would require not just his martial prowess, but also a deep understanding of the shifts in the fabric of history he thought he knew. The path forward was uncertain, fraught with unseen dangers and moral quandaries, but Xianwu knew that confronting these challenges was the only way to uncover the truth of this altered past and its implications for his future.
After a somber consultation among the elders, a decision regarding Liang Wei's fate was reached. Standing before the gathered crowd, Elder Huang Zheng, with a stern expression that mirrored the gravity of the situation, announced the verdict.
"Liang Wei will face punishment for his actions. He is to spend three months in Solitude's Peak, in contemplation of the grave consequences of his recklessness," Elder Huang declared, referring to the solitary tower near the sect's grounds where disciples served their sentences in complete isolation. "However, he will be allowed to continue in the tournament."
The crowd murmured, a mix of satisfaction and unease rippling through the onlookers. The decision was a compromise, one that would allow justice to be served while still acknowledging Liang Wei's potential as a disciple.
As the tension from the ruling began to ebb, the focus shifted to the final match of the first stage: Feng Mo versus one of Liang Wei's remaining followers, whom Elder Huang named as Zhou Kang. Zhou Kang, a powerfully built fighter with broad shoulders and muscular arms, stood opposite Feng Mo, his sharp eyes reflecting his determination and ambition. His short hair was combed back in a disciplined style that mirrored his focused demeanor. The air was heavy with anticipation, the previous events casting a long shadow over the upcoming duel.
Before the match could commence, a young woman, her eyes red from tears, approached Xianwu. She was a close friend of Lin Mei, her grief palpable. "If you face Liang Wei in the final, please... avenge Lin," she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper.
Xianwu met her gaze, the resolve in his eyes unshakeable. "Liang Wei will answer for what he's done. I promise you," he assured her, his voice a quiet vow that carried the weight of his conviction.
With the promise made, the gong sounded, marking the beginning of Feng Mo's battle against Zhou Kang. The two combatants faced each other, swords drawn, the tension between them crackling like a charged storm.
Zhou Kang wasted no time, launching a flurry of attacks that Feng Mo barely managed to parry. Zhou Kang's technique was aggressive, his strikes aimed with lethal intent, pushing Feng Mo back step by step.
Zhou Kang, confident in his apparent upper hand, sneered, "Is this all the famed friends of Xianwu can muster? Pathetic."
But Feng Mo, fueled by the spirit of his fallen sect sister and the injustice that permeated the tournament, found a deeper well of strength within him. "This is for Lin," he whispered under his breath, his resolve hardening.
As the duel progressed, Feng Mo began to adapt to Zhou Kang's rhythm, his responses growing sharper, more anticipatory. With each exchange, Feng Mo's confidence grew, and the tide of the battle started to turn.
In a decisive moment, Feng Mo feinted, leading Zhou Kang into an overextended strike. Seizing the opening, Feng Mo executed a quick, precise maneuver and his blade struck Zhou Kang's wrist with a clean slash, severing it from his body.
Zhou Kang's hand, still clutching the sword, fell to the ground, the sudden loss of his hand leaving him vulnerable. Feng Mo paused, his blade at Zhou Kang's throat, the outcome of the fight undeniable.
"I surrender," Zhou Kang admitted through gritted teeth, the defeat clearly visible in his posture.
Elder Huang Zheng, overseeing the match, declared Feng Mo the victor. The crowd erupted into cheers, their spirits lifted by the display of skill and perseverance.
As Feng Mo exited the ring, Jianyu and Xianwu were there to greet him, their expressions a mix of relief and pride. "You did it, Feng," Jianyu said, clapping him on the back.