The crowd's cheers filled the arena as Ye Chen faced his next opponent: Feng Yu, a top-tier core disciple known for his mastery of the Wind Blade Technique. His reputation for speed and precision was unmatched among the younger generation, and his arrival in the arena was met with roaring applause.
"Ye Chen," Feng Yu called out, his tone calm but carrying a sharp edge, "I've heard of your exploits. You've been impressive, but let's see if your strength holds under true pressure."
Ye Chen didn't respond. His grip on his sword tightened as he stood at the ready. The poison in his system continued to sap his strength, but his will remained unyielding. If his enemies thought they could weaken him into submission, they had underestimated the fire burning within him.
The referee signaled the start of the match. Feng Yu moved first, vanishing from sight in a burst of speed. A moment later, razor-sharp wind blades materialized around Ye Chen, closing in from all directions.
Ye Chen's eyes narrowed. He spun his sword in a defensive arc, his blade humming as it sliced through the air. The wind blades shattered against his defense, their energy dissipating into harmless gusts.
"Not bad," Feng Yu said, reappearing several feet away. "But that was only a warm-up."
Feng Yu charged, his movements so swift they left afterimages. His Wind Blade Technique became a blur of attacks, each strike aimed with pinpoint precision.
Ye Chen met the onslaught head-on, his sword flashing as he parried and countered. Despite the poison dulling his reactions, his battle instincts and years of training carried him through.
As the fight raged on, the crowd watched in awe. Feng Yu's speed was dazzling, but Ye Chen's calm and measured responses were equally impressive. The two fighters seemed evenly matched, their clashing techniques creating a whirlwind of energy.
But those with sharper senses began to notice something unusual.
"Ye Chen's movements… they're slower than before," an elder murmured, his brow furrowed.
"Indeed," another replied. "He's still holding his ground, but it's clear he's not at full strength. Could he be injured?"
In the stands, Lin Yue's heart pounded. She had uncovered the truth about the poison, but she was too late to stop the match. Now, all she could do was watch and hope Ye Chen could endure.
Feng Yu pressed his advantage, sensing Ye Chen's weakening state. With a surge of energy, he unleashed his ultimate technique: Gale Tempest Slash.
The air around the arena turned violent, a tornado of wind blades converging on Ye Chen from all directions. The crowd gasped as the devastating attack threatened to overwhelm him.
Ye Chen planted his feet firmly on the ground, his eyes blazing with determination.
"Not enough," he muttered, his voice steady despite the storm raging around him.
Summoning all his strength, Ye Chen unleashed his sword intent. A radiant energy erupted from his blade, its power cutting through the whirlwind like a beacon of light. The storm dissipated, leaving Feng Yu momentarily stunned.
In that brief opening, Ye Chen struck. He moved with a burst of speed, appearing behind Feng Yu in an instant. His sword stopped just short of Feng Yu's neck, its edge gleaming.
"I concede," Feng Yu said, his voice steady but tinged with respect.
The crowd erupted in cheers, their excitement reaching a fever pitch. Even poisoned, Ye Chen had proven his strength once again, defeating one of the sect's top talents.
In the shadows, however, Wang Zhi and Li Haotian's expressions darkened.
"This is impossible!" Wang Zhi hissed. "The Silent Wraith Powder should've crippled him by now!"
Li Haotian's fists clenched. "It doesn't matter. He can't keep this up. The poison will take its toll eventually."
Back in the preparation area, Ye Chen collapsed onto a bench, his breathing labored. Lin Yue rushed to his side, her expression a mix of relief and worry.
"You did it," she said, her voice trembling. "But you're pushing yourself too hard. The poison—"
"I know," Ye Chen interrupted, his tone calm but firm. "But there's no time to rest. I need to keep fighting."
Lin Yue shook her head. "Not like this. You're strong, but even you have limits. Let me help you. I've found the antidote, but it'll take time to prepare."
"How long?" Ye Chen asked.
"An hour at most," Lin Yue replied.
Ye Chen nodded. "Do it. I'll hold out until then."
As Lin Yue hurried off to prepare the antidote, Ye Chen closed his eyes and focused inward. He circulated his spiritual energy, suppressing the poison's effects as best he could.
"I can't fall here," he thought, his resolve unwavering. "Not when I've come this far."
The next match loomed, and Ye Chen's name was called once again. Despite the pain and exhaustion weighing him down, he stepped into the arena, his sword gleaming in the sunlight.
His next opponent was Liang Chen, a disciple known for his mastery of thunder techniques. Sparks crackled around Liang Chen as he entered the arena, his confidence evident in every step.
"You've been impressive, Ye Chen," Liang Chen said, his tone condescending. "But this is where your streak ends."
Ye Chen raised his sword, his gaze steady. "We'll see."
The storm within him had not subsided—it only grew stronger, ready to unleash its fury.