The crowd held their breath, staring in stunned silence at the scene before them. Han Qingshan's body lay amidst the rubble, unmoving. Wu Tianjue stood at the center of the arena, his back straight, his gaze indifferent as though the match was already over.
"You're done," he had said, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
With a casual flick of his wrist, he turned and began to walk away.
But then, a sound.
A faint rustling.
Wu Tianjue paused mid-step, his sharp ears catching the faint shift of debris. Slowly, he turned his head, his expression as calm as ever.
From the shattered ruins, Han Qingshan stirred. Blood dripped from the corner of his lips, his robes tattered, his aura weakened. Yet, his eyes were different now, no longer calm and composed. They burned with an unsettling crimson light, filled with raw determination and something far darker.
"You think it's over?" Han Qingshan's voice was hoarse but resolute, each word echoing across the arena. He staggered to his feet, gripping his spear tightly.
The crowd erupted into murmurs.
"He's still standing?"
"That blow should've ended it!"
"Han Qingshan… he's not giving up!"
Wu Tianjue turned fully to face him, his gaze cool but laced with faint curiosity. "You can still stand. Impressive."
Han Qingshan wiped the blood from his mouth, his grip on the spear tightening until his knuckles turned white. "This isn't over," he said. His spiritual energy surged, stronger and darker than before, creating a storm of wind and power that shook the entire arena.
"This is his true strength," someone in the crowd whispered, their voice trembling.
The elder overseeing the match frowned, his expression grave. "That technique… he wouldn't dare…"
Han Qingshan raised his spear high, the air around him distorting under the sheer pressure of his energy. Black and red flames began to coil around the weapon, twisting and writhing like demonic serpents. The temperature in the arena dropped, and a suffocating aura enveloped the space.
"This is the Heavenly Demonic Spear," someone gasped. "His ultimate technique! It's said to draw power directly from his soul, but it comes at a great cost!"
Wu Tianjue's eyes narrowed slightly as he observed the transformation. "A double-edged sword," he muttered to himself. "Interesting."
Han Qingshan's voice boomed across the arena, filled with unyielding determination. "I may fall here today, but I will fall on my own terms! This is my path, my conviction!"
The flames around his spear exploded outward, forming the shadowy image of a colossal demon, its fiery eyes glaring down at Wu Tianjue. The ground beneath Qingshan cracked and splintered under the force of his energy.
"I'll show you the true strength of a Nascent Soul cultivator!" Han Qingshan roared, his voice shaking the arena.
Wu Tianjue remained unshaken, though a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Good. Show me everything you have," he said, his tone filled with casual amusement.
For the first time in the match, Wu Tianjue raised his hand to his head. With a swift, deliberate motion, he pulled a small needle from his hair, its sleek black surface glinting faintly in the light.
The crowd stared in confusion.
"A needle? What does he intend to do with that?"
Wu Tianjue didn't respond to the murmurs. He held the needle between his fingers, his spiritual energy surging ever so slightly. In an instant, the needle expanded, stretching and transforming into a black sword. The blade was simple yet imposing, its edge sharp enough to cut the air itself.
The aura around Wu Tianjue changed. Gone was the air of casual indifference. In its place was something far more menacing, as though an ancient predator had awakened.
The elder's eyes widened. "That weapon… it's not ordinary."
Han Qingshan hesitated for a fraction of a second, his instincts screaming at him to retreat. But his resolve held firm. "No matter what weapon you wield, I'll crush you!" he shouted, launching himself forward with blinding speed.
The colossal demon image behind him mirrored his movements, its fiery claws reaching out toward Wu Tianjue with devastating force.
Wu Tianjue stood his ground, his black sword resting loosely in his hand. As the attack neared, he finally moved.
With a single step, he vanished from sight.
The demon's claw slammed into the ground where he had stood, shattering the earth and sending shockwaves rippling through the arena. But Wu Tianjue had already reappeared above Han Qingshan, his sword descending in a swift, merciless arc.
Han Qingshan barely managed to block, his spear clashing against the black blade with a deafening clang. Sparks flew, and the force of the collision sent both fighters skidding back.
"You're better than I thought," Wu Tianjue said, his tone devoid of mockery. "But it won't be enough."
Han Qingshan growled, his spiritual energy surging even higher. "We'll see about that!"
The battle raged on, the two figures clashing again and again. Each strike shook the arena, each movement faster than the eye could follow.
The crowd watched in stunned silence, unable to tear their eyes away. This was a battle unlike anything they had ever seen.
As the dust settled from another clash, Han Qingshan's breathing grew heavier. The strain of his technique was beginning to show, but his resolve burned brighter than ever.
Wu Tianjue, on the other hand, seemed untouched, his movements as precise and effortless as they were at the start.
"You've given me a decent warm-up," Wu Tianjue said, his smirk returning. "But I'm done playing."
With those words, he raised his black sword high, its aura darkening as a surge of power gathered around him.
The crowd held their breath, the anticipation unbearable.
Han Qingshan tightened his grip on his spear, the flames around it flaring up once more. "Come, then!" he shouted, his voice filled with unyielding defiance.
The two fighters charged at each other one last time, their weapons colliding in a burst of light and energy that blinded the entire arena.