The arena was silent, the anticipation thick in the air. For a few seconds, neither Yan Ling nor Liu Yun moved, their gazes locked in an unspoken challenge. Then, in the blink of an eye, Liu Yun made his move. His hands shot out, gathering a fierce yellow aura that crackled and swirled around him like a storm. A deep, focused energy rippled through his body, and in the next instant, his figure blurred as he surged forward with terrifying speed. His movements were like a predator closing in on its prey, intent on landing a devastating blow.
But as fast as Liu Yun was, his speed was not nearly fast enough.
Yan Ling stood still, her expression cold and unmoving, like a serene mountain amidst the chaos. She didn't even flinch as Liu Yun came at her, her eyes calm, her body perfectly still. Then, just as he was about to strike, her figure flickered. It was like she had not moved at all, but somehow, Liu Yun's attack had missed—so easily it seemed almost comical.
Liu Yun's fist slammed into the empty space where Yan Ling had stood a moment ago. He froze, his eyes wide with surprise. "What...?" He muttered under his breath, confusion flickering in his gaze. It felt as if she had anticipated his every move before he even made it. He gritted his teeth, frustration mounting, but there was no time to waste. He surged forward again, this time with more force. Qi erupted from his body like an unstoppable tide, infusing his fist with power as he relentlessly attacked.
"Tsk." Yan Ling sighed, a sound so soft it was almost imperceptible. Yet it was enough to show how little she cared for Liu Yun's barrage of attacks. With the slightest movement, she dodged again. Each of his attacks, no matter how fierce, was nothing more than a distant breeze to her.
Liu Yun's movements were becoming frantic. He unleashed one strike after another, but it was as if Yan Ling had already seen the future. Every time his fist came within an inch of her, she was already gone—her movements flowing like a gentle river, unhurried and elegant. She seemed to glide effortlessly, as if each step was part of a larger dance, each movement a breath of wind.
Frustration began to cloud Liu Yun's face. His attacks, which were fast and powerful to most, were simply too slow for her. The gap in their skill was becoming painfully obvious.
"Junior Yan Ling," Liu Yun grunted through clenched teeth, "Are you just going to dodge like this?" His voice was laced with annoyance, but Yan Ling didn't even flinch. She simply tilted her head, her cold expression unwavering. Her eyes met his for a brief moment, and then, with a quiet exhale, she made her move.
With an elegant sweep of her hand, she summoned her first skill: Wind Blade.
A light green blade of pure wind appeared, shimmering with an ethereal glow. It was no ordinary blade, but a middle-grade skill infused with her Qi, shaped by her mastery of the Wind Attribute. The air around her seemed to hum with energy as the blade whistled toward Liu Yun with remarkable speed.
Liu Yun's eyes widened. He didn't expect such a swift and clean strike. "So she's finally attacking..." He thought, but it was too late. The Wind Blade was already upon him.
Before he could react, the blade cut through the air, its speed too great for him to track. With a sharp whoosh, it sliced across his chest, and the force of the blow sent him flying backward. The crowd gasped in unison, their eyes wide with astonishment as Liu Yun's figure was sent crashing into the arena floor, leaving a trail of dust in his wake.
Liu Yun lay there for a moment, stunned. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, his chest heaving as he struggled to get back on his feet. The blade had not only cut through his Qi defenses, but the force had knocked the wind out of him as well. He wiped the blood from his lips, his eyes narrowing in both pain and determination.
"Tsk," he muttered, glaring at Yan Ling, who was standing serenely in the center of the arena, not even breaking a sweat. "Now it's time for me to get serious."
The tension in the air shifted. Liu Yun's aura intensified, swirling around him like a storm ready to burst. His eyes gleamed with renewed resolve, and he cracked his knuckles, preparing for the next round. His expression was no longer playful or cocky—it was focused and deadly serious. "You think you can dodge forever, Yan Ling?" he snarled. "Let's see if you can keep up with me now."
But Yan Ling remained still, unfazed by his words. Her gaze was cold, her expression calm. The wind whispered around her, as if it, too, was waiting for the battle to reach its next crescendo. She wasn't worried; she had just begun.
The atmosphere grew tense as Liu Yun unleashed his full power, a golden aura erupting around him like a blazing inferno. His domineering presence spread throughout the arena, making the air heavy with pressure. The disciples watching from the stands gasped, many taking involuntary steps back, their faces pale from the oppressive energy. Even the elders, seated high above, leaned forward with solemn expressions.
Liu Yun extended his hands outward, his voice booming as he called forth his next technique. "Shattered Swords!" he roared, his voice carrying a weight of finality.
Golden swords began materializing around him, each one glowing with spiritual energy. One by one, the swords multiplied until they filled the sky above the arena, casting dazzling reflections of light that danced ominously on the ground below. The sheer number of swords was overwhelming, each radiating a sharp, menacing aura. The audience murmured in awe, many whispering that this was one of the strongest techniques in the Liu clan's arsenal.
Yan Ling, however, stood still, her gaze steady and unflinching. She didn't react to the swords forming above her, her expression as calm and cold as ever. This lack of response sent a ripple of concern through the crowd.
Elder Guang, unable to contain himself, jumped to his feet. "Be careful, Yan Ling! This is no ordinary move!" he shouted, his face tight with worry. His outburst caused some of the other elders to glance at him, but no one reprimanded him. Even Elder Gong, usually full of witty remarks, wore a serious expression.
Yan Shengtian, however, remained composed, though his clenched fists betrayed his anxiety. "Liu Yun is using his full strength," he muttered under his breath. "But my daughter... she knows what she's doing." Still, the slight furrow in his brow suggested he wasn't entirely at ease.
On the sidelines, Yan Zi watched intently. His fists were clenched tightly, his knuckles white. He could feel the overwhelming pressure from Liu Yun's aura even from a distance. His heart raced as he stared at the countless swords above Yan Ling, his mind swirling with thoughts. "Will she be able to handle this? She hasn't moved yet..." he thought, a bead of sweat forming on his brow.
With a deafening cry, Liu Yun commanded his swords. "Go!"
The golden swords shot forward, streaking through the air like a meteor shower, each one aiming directly at Yan Ling. The sound of the swords cutting through the air was sharp and piercing, and the audience collectively held their breath. The spectacle was both beautiful and terrifying—hundreds of swords converging on a single figure.
"Yan Ling, move!" Elder Guang shouted again, his voice echoing across the arena. Yan Shengtian's lips parted as if he wanted to yell something, but he held himself back, his gaze fixed on his daughter.
But Yan Ling didn't move. She didn't dodge, nor did she flinch. Instead, as the swords approached, a faint, light green energy began to surge around her. The aura was soft at first, like a gentle breeze, but it grew stronger with each passing second. The air around her shimmered with an otherworldly glow, and a sudden gust of wind swept across the arena, carrying the scent of fresh grass and wildflowers.
The disciples gasped in unison, shielding their eyes from the blinding light.
Yan Zi's eyes widened as he felt the shift in energy. "What is this...?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.
The light green aura swirled around Yan Ling, concentrating in her eyes, which now glowed with an intense, vibrant green light. Her presence became overwhelming, her power undeniable.
With a simple motion, she raised her hand. The gesture was almost lazy, as if swatting away a fly. Yet when her palm met the incoming barrage of swords, the result was catastrophic.
A thunderous boom echoed across the arena as her energy collided with Liu Yun's Shattered Swords. The golden weapons shattered instantly, fragments of spiritual energy disintegrating into the air like sparks. A gust of wind erupted from the clash, forcing spectators to shield themselves from the shockwave. Dust and debris swirled around the stage, obscuring the view momentarily.
When the dust settled, Yan Ling was still standing, unharmed and composed. Liu Yun, however, was trembling, his eyes wide with disbelief. "How... how is this possible?" he stammered, clutching his chest as if the very sight of Yan Ling's power had struck him.
Yan Ling exhaled softly, the sound carrying a quiet finality. Her hands moved gracefully, the air around her shifting in response. A powerful vortex began to form, swirling with green energy and carrying the distinct sharpness of her wind attribute.
"Wind Meteorite," she said, her voice calm and cold.
The vortex grew larger, its power resonating through the arena. Then, with a sudden burst of speed, it launched toward Liu Yun. He tried to react, summoning a shield of golden Qi to block the attack, but it was no use. The vortex struck him with the force of a falling star, breaking through his defenses and slamming him into the ground.
The arena fell silent. Liu Yun lay motionless, unconscious, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His body bore signs of severe internal injuries, his golden aura completely dissipated.
The disciples erupted into cheers, their excitement shaking the air. "Yan Ling won! She defeated Liu Yun!" they shouted, their voices filled with awe and admiration.
The elders exchanged looks, their previously tense expressions replaced with smiles.
Elder Guang clapped his hands together. "As expected of Yan Shengtian's daughter!" he said proudly. "What strength, what control! Truly monstrous!"
Elder Gong chuckled, nudging Yan Hong. "Looks like your clan has produced quite the gem, Elder Hong. Too bad she won't be marrying that brat Liu Yun now, huh?"
Yan Shengtian, standing tall, couldn't hide his pride. He crossed his arms, his chest puffed out slightly. "That's my daughter," he said, his voice filled with satisfaction.
Meanwhile, Yan Zi stood quietly, his gaze fixed on Yan Ling. He didn't join in the cheers or celebrations. Instead, he smiled faintly, his thoughts a mix of admiration and bitterness. "She's so strong," he thought to himself. "I guess this is why she avoids me. Who would want to associate with someone like me, a trash who can't even cultivate..."
The arena buzzed with excitement, but Yan Zi's heart remained heavy as he watched his sister bask in the glory of her victory.