The proctor, now more composed but still rattled from his encounter with Xuan Jing's power, quickly proceeded with the rest of the test. It was all routine from that point forward—students taking turns to demonstrate their skills, but each display seemed dull in comparison to the eerie darkness that had just unfolded. Azure Crest's candidates tried to regain their bravado, showcasing their best techniques, but each display fell flat against the lingering weight of Xuan Jing's presence. They were skilled, yes, but they lacked the spine-chilling edge that made the air crackle with tension.
To call them anything more than children or mere apprentices would be generous. The proctor himself grew impatient, occasionally muttering under his breath about how uninspired it all felt. "This is what they send?" he grumbled, shaking his head as one Azure Crest student, drenched in sweat, struggled to keep a basic water formation stable. "Infants, the lot of them."
Meanwhile, Xuan Jing had found his way to the back of the arena, reclining against the snow pillar he had conjured earlier. The cold didn't bother him; in fact, he found a strange comfort in the icy surface pressing against his back. He closed his eyes, the distant murmur of the ongoing tests lulling him into a light nap. He let the whispers of the Eclipsed Essence fade into the background, as if silencing the cacophony of restless spirits that pulsed within his mind. The world could continue with its mediocrity—Xuan Jing had made his point.
The first round finally drew to a close, and the proctor called for a break, releasing the tension that had hung over the arena like a storm cloud. Students scattered to regroup, some casting wary glances in Xuan Jing's direction, while others whispered amongst themselves. But Xuan Jing remained undisturbed, his breath slow and steady, lost in a dark, dreamless rest.
Meanwhile, behind closed doors in the grand meeting room of the Crimson Spire Academy, the real drama began to unfold.
The meeting room was lavish, with mahogany tables and velvet-upholstered chairs, all meant to exude prestige. The walls were adorned with tapestries bearing the sigil of the academy—a crimson spire wreathed in flames, reaching toward the sky. It was here that the proctor, the instructors, and the headmasters of both schools gathered to discuss the events of the first round.
Headmaster Qiān Xiǎo (钱小) of the Crimson Spire, a woman of striking beauty and a reputation for her keen intellect, took her seat at the head of the table with a self-satisfied smirk on her red-painted lips. Her long black hair was styled in an intricate braid that draped over one shoulder, and her eyes gleamed with a dangerous sharpness. She wore a fitted crimson and gold robe that hugged her figure, a symbol of her authority and a reflection of her school's colors. Qiān Xiǎo was known for her love of wealth—though she'd prefer the term "appreciation for valuable resources." She thrived on the prestige and clout that her academy brought her, and today, she was positively reveling in it.
Across the table, the headmaster of Azure Crest sat with a cold, calculating expression. Róng Míngxiù (荣明秀), a woman with a slender build and a face that had aged gracefully, bore an air of icy refinement. Her silver hair was pinned up into an elegant bun, her blue robes embroidered with frost-like patterns glimmering in the low light. She was known for her obsession with status and recognition—fame being her true currency. Róng Míngxiù despised being outshone, and today, her features were taut with the frustration of seeing Azure Crest's reputation overshadowed by a boy barely past his adolescence.
The proctor began to recount the details of the first round, but he barely got through his summary before Qiān Xiǎo leaned forward, her lips curling into a smile that dripped with smug satisfaction. "Quite the performance, wouldn't you say?" she drawled, her voice smooth and saccharine. "Xuan Jing is a testament to the quality of students we cultivate here at Crimson Spire. He's the top student, you know. Naturally, we had no doubts he'd be the best choice for a representative today."
Róng Míngxiù's jaw tightened, her pale fingers tapping rhythmically on the table. "Top student, perhaps, but the methods he employs... Questionable, don't you think?" she replied coolly, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. "What sort of institution encourages such... reckless displays of power? It's a wonder that your academy isn't besieged by complaints from the local townsfolk."
Qiān Xiǎo's smile didn't falter. If anything, it widened, a flash of amusement in her eyes as she took in the restrained fury in her rival's tone. "Reckless, you say?" she mused, her voice softening as if she were speaking to a particularly slow child. "On the contrary, Headmaster Róng. It's called strength. The kind of strength that strikes fear into the hearts of our enemies. The kind that cannot be replicated by pretty tricks and flowery techniques."
Róng Míngxiù's nostrils flared, and she pushed herself to her feet, her chair scraping against the polished floor. She squared her shoulders, the frost in her gaze burning with a barely-contained fury. "Strength without control is nothing more than chaos, Qiān Xiǎo. It is a danger to those around it—a danger to society itself! Is that the lesson you're teaching your students at Crimson Spire? To become weapons that threaten even their own allies?"
Qiān Xiǎo stood as well, the two women now facing each other across the table like predators sizing each other up. She crossed her arms, leaning slightly forward as if daring Róng Míngxiù to come closer. "Oh, I'm sorry," she purred, a mocking tilt to her head. "Are you suggesting that your Azure Crest students, who cowered like frightened children before Xuan Jing, would have done any better? I think we all saw how your top candidates froze—literally—under the pressure."
The instructors from both schools shifted uncomfortably in their seats, glancing between the two headmasters as if unsure whether to intervene or let them hash it out. The proctor kept his gaze on the table, choosing to remain silent, knowing that to step into this verbal duel would only end poorly.
Róng Míngxiù's lips pressed into a thin line, her hand tightening on the back of her chair. "Our students may lack the... crudeness of your Xuan Jing, but they possess the refinement and discipline that your academy clearly fails to instill. Do not mistake brutality for superiority, Qiān Xiǎo. The mark of a true cultivator lies in their ability to wield power without succumbing to it."
Qiān Xiǎo laughed, a low, rich sound that echoed through the room. "Refinement and discipline?" she repeated, her voice laced with mockery. "I think you meant to say 'mediocrity.' Perhaps that's why your Azure Crest hasn't produced a single cultivator of true renown in the past decade. But don't worry, Róng Míngxiù—when our students become legends, I'm sure they'll speak kindly of your... contributions."
Róng Míngxiù's eyes blazed, and she took a step closer, her voice dropping to a hiss. "Mark my words, Qiān Xiǎo. This arrogance will be the downfall of Crimson Spire. When Xuan Jing's darkness spirals out of control, it will be your reputation that is crushed beneath the weight of his sins."
Qiān Xiǎo's smile turned sharp, a challenge glinting in her gaze as she stepped forward to meet Róng Míngxiù head-on. "And when that day comes," she murmured, her voice so quiet that it forced Róng Míngxiù to lean closer to hear, "I'll make sure you're the first to know. But until then, I suggest you enjoy the show. After all, you're in the presence of greatness."
The tension between the two headmasters crackled like lightning, their glares locked in a silent battle of wills. The instructors held their breath, waiting for someone to make the next move, but neither woman was willing to give an inch.
A knock sounded at the door, breaking the standoff, and a young assistant timidly poked his head in. "Um, Headmasters... The break is nearly over. The next round will begin shortly," he stammered, glancing between the two women with wide eyes.
Qiān Xiǎo turned first, smoothing out her robes and flashing Róng Míngxiù one last smirk before addressing the assistant. "Very well. We wouldn't want to keep the audience waiting, would we?"
Róng Míngxiù straightened her posture, her expression cooling back into a mask of icy composure. "Indeed," she replied, though her voice remained tight with suppressed anger. "Let's see if Crimson Spire's star can maintain his brilliance... or if he burns out too soon."