The air in the arena had grown cold, and the excitement that buzzed moments ago had turned into a heavy, anxious silence. Everyone in Crimson Spire held their breath, knowing what was about to happen. When the proctor's voice rang out, announcing the representative of Crimson Spire Academy, every student tensed in anticipation. Jian Li, who had already taken a step forward with a confident grin, felt his pride falter when the proctor's next words cut through the air.
"Xuan Jing," the proctor declared.
Jian Li's face twisted with disbelief, his smile freezing into a grimace. He tried to mask his frustration, but the sneers of a few Azure Crest students stung like icy wind against his pride. He turned to glare at Xuan Jing, but the boy had already started walking forward, paying no attention to the tension bubbling around him. The other students of Crimson Spire fell silent, eyes widening as they watched him pass, each one keenly aware of what had happened to Feng Hao not long ago.
Xuan Jing's steps were unhurried, almost languid, as if he had all the time in the world. His teal robes fluttered in the chilly wind, and his long, loose hair swayed like the shadows that clung to him. He stopped in the center of the arena, standing amidst the snow-covered ground, a stark figure against the frosty backdrop. He didn't bother to acknowledge the proctor's presence, his gaze shifting instead to the Azure Crest delegation. Mei Xue's serene expression faltered ever so slightly, and even Feng Kai, who had been swaggering moments ago, took a small step back unconsciously.
The proctor, visibly irked by Xuan Jing's apparent disregard, began to speak, trying to maintain authority. "Your task is to—"
"No need," Xuan Jing cut him off with a tone so flat, so disinterested, that it seemed to steal the proctor's breath away. He didn't even look at the old man, as if his words were beneath his notice. The audacity of it sent a ripple through the crowd, and murmurs rose among the students and instructors alike. The proctor's face turned red with anger, but he said nothing more. He didn't dare.
Xuan Jing took a deep breath, and a cold smile tugged at the corner of his lips—one that didn't reach his eyes. The air around him darkened, as if the very light in the arena was being drawn into a vortex centered around him. He stretched out a hand, and from his palm, a thick, shadowy mist began to seep into the air, spreading outward like a living fog. The temperature dropped sharply, the snow beneath his feet freezing into solid ice with a sickening crackle.
This was his Eclipsed Essence.
The mist flowed from his body, forming a roiling cloud that twisted and writhed, an ethereal darkness that seemed to consume everything around it. Within its depths, faint, ghostly faces flickered—twisted expressions of agony, mouths open in silent screams, limbs stretching as if clawing for escape. Lights pulsed within the mist, shifting from deep purples to cold blues, to brief flashes of angry red. It moved with a sentience that was both eerie and unnatural, as if it were aware of the world around it and sought to make its mark.
A wave of dread swept through the audience, and the murmur of the crowd died out entirely. Even the instructors from Azure Crest, who had been whispering amongst themselves, fell silent, their faces pale. The proctor's mouth opened, but no sound came out. His knees buckled slightly, and he took a step back, his confidence crumbling in the presence of the suffocating darkness that Xuan Jing wielded.
"W-What... What is that...?" one of the Azure Crest students whispered, voice trembling. Mei Xue's calm façade shattered as she took an involuntary step back, her hands clenching at her sides. Her ice-elemental abilities, once so confident, seemed like mere child's play before the roiling mass of Eclipsed Essence that now dominated the arena.
Xuan Jing moved his hand, and the mist followed his command, spiraling upwards into a towering pillar that reached toward the sky. Its shadow cast a darkness over the entire arena, blocking out the morning sun. The mist twisted and split, forming shadowy figures that danced and moved with erratic, unnatural grace—figures that vaguely resembled the fragmented spirits trapped within. They hovered around him like a dark halo, their wails faint but chilling.
The ground beneath the arena began to crack, spiderweb fissures forming as the unstable nature of the essence took its toll. The air buzzed with spiritual energy that made it hard to breathe, as if the shadows were pulling the life force out of everything around them. Students clutched their chests, struggling to stay on their feet. Even the instructors, seasoned cultivators, looked stricken, their faces drawn with fear.
A tremor rippled through the nearby town, the villagers looking up from their morning routines as the sky darkened unnaturally, the shadows stretching far beyond their usual reach. They whispered amongst themselves, crossing their fingers or clutching charms for protection, remembering tales of vengeful spirits and cursed lands.
The proctor, who had been trying to regain his composure, felt his heart seize in his chest. "Enough!" he managed to choke out, but his voice was thin and weak, barely audible over the crackling energy. "Xuan Jing, cease this—"
But Xuan Jing only tilted his head slightly, that same mocking smile on his lips. He let the shadows ripple and surge, allowing the unstable energy to swell until the very air around him shimmered with distortion. A surge of raw power radiated outward, sending a wave of spiritual backlash that knocked the proctor off his feet, slamming him into the snow-covered ground. He coughed, clutching at his chest as he tried to catch his breath, eyes wide with terror.
The Azure Crest instructors, who had been standing at the edge of the arena, staggered backward, their faces pale with a mix of horror and disbelief. One of them—a tall woman with icy-blue robes—tried to summon a protective barrier of frost, but the moment her spiritual energy clashed with the Eclipsed Essence, the barrier shattered like glass, fragments dissipating into the mist. She fell to one knee, gasping, as the backlash tore through her defenses.
"This... this is madness," she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. "He's... he's a monster."
Xuan Jing's laughter was soft, almost a whisper, but it carried through the silence that had fallen over the arena. He pulled back his hand, letting the shadows retract slowly, as if savoring the terror that clung to the air. The mist coiled around him once more, retreating back into his body like a living thing returning to its master. The temperature began to rise again, and the snow melted slightly beneath his feet, leaving the ground damp with thawed moisture.
He cast a glance at the proctor, still struggling to rise, and then at the Azure Crest students, who could barely meet his eyes now. "Tell me," he began, his voice calm and even, but carrying a weight that seemed to press down on them all, "is there anything else you'd like to test? Or have I proven my worth?"
The proctor looked at him with wide, fearful eyes, unable to speak. The arrogance and authority he had displayed earlier seemed like a distant memory, crushed beneath the weight of what he had just witnessed. The Azure Crest instructors, too, remained silent, their faces drained of color. No one dared challenge him further, and even the once-proud Mei Xue kept her gaze fixed on the ground, her confidence shattered like ice under a heavy blow.
Xuan Jing turned, his back to them all, and began to walk away, his steps slow and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world. The shadows that clung to him melted away, leaving only the faint chill in the air and the marks of his presence—the scars in the ground, the frozen patches of snow, and the fear that lingered long after he had left.
It was a fear that would not soon be forgotten.