The poison-laced vines coiled and burned through the web, melting it quickly. But Tang San was already in motion, sliding across the stone arena with fluid precision.
He dashed around Mu Qing's flank—fast, but never reckless.
"She's more dangerous than she looks," he thought. "I can't let her dictate the flow."
"He's testing my range," Mu Qing observed calmly, eyes narrowing.
She let him circle—until her third ring pulsed again.
"Heaven's Bane Bloom!"
The ground cracked beneath her as violet toxin bulbs burst outward in a wide spiral. Each one pulsed with thick, dangerous miasma, spreading like a carpet of death.
The crowd gasped in unison.
"She's sealing off the arena…"
But Tang San's eyes never lost focus.
"Second Spirit Skill: Parasite!"
Instead of attacking directly, his Blue Silver Grass slithered silently into the ground, intertwining with the roots of Mu Qing's spreading vines. A subtle shimmer rippled beneath the surface—
Snap!
Suddenly, grass erupted around Mu Qing's feet and ankles, coiling with precision and catching her just before she could widen the spread.
Her vines reacted instinctively, lashing to free her, but they tangled with the parasite vines as well.
"He's using my own domain against me," Mu Qing noted, almost impressed.
Tang San moved in.
His Blue Silver Grass extended forward, looping around Mu Qing's waist and arms in a flurry of attacks—each one aimed to bind without lethal force. He was targeting pressure points, precise and swift, not relying on brute power but technique.
Mu Qing's vines intercepted—but this time, they weren't fast enough to block every strand.
Two wrapped her left wrist. One coiled around her ankle. Another around her waist.
She gritted her teeth—and suddenly, her third ring flared again.
"Venomous Reversal Root!"
Spiked thorns erupted upward from the stage around her—Mu Qing's trap. They pierced the ground like spears and surged toward the source of Tang San's Blue Silver Grass.
CRACK!
His vines recoiled instantly, sliced apart by the reverse flow of toxic backlash.
Tang San jumped back, narrowly avoiding the spreading venom roots. He landed smoothly but staggered slightly. Sweat lined his brow.
"She's burning through my Spirit Power," he muttered under his breath. "Every exchange drains more than the last."
He steadied himself and raised his hands again, preparing another attack—but his breathing had grown heavier.
Mu Qing stood calmly at the center of the chaos, poison mist around her beginning to darken, almost black.
"You've lasted longer than I expected," she said, her tone light—but her fingers were trembling now.
Tang San's eyes narrowed. "I didn't want to use this…"
A faint golden aura began to glow around his chest.
Dai Mubai, watching from the bench, sat up straighter. "He's about to—"
Suddenly, Yu Xiaogang stood and shouted from the Shrek section.
"Tang San! Stop!"
The golden light around Tang San's chest flickered—and halted.
Everyone turned.
Yu Xiaogang's voice rang out across the field. "There's no need to go further. This match… we concede."
A ripple of murmurs spread through the audience.
Tang San's fists clenched—but slowly, he exhaled.
"…Understood."
He lowered his hands and turned away from Mu Qing, disappointment flickering in his eyes.
Max raised a brow. "He was close to using it."
Lan Xue nodded. "His second Martial Spirit. But his teacher didn't want to expose it here."
Mu Qing exhaled deeply, wiping sweat from her brow as she made her way back toward the Barak side.
"Another minute," she muttered, "and I might've collapsed."
"Winner: Mu Qing! Barak Academy claims its fifth victory!"
The arena exploded with cheers and stunned disbelief.
Shrek Academy—pushed to the edge.
Mu Qing had walked off the stage victorious, and Tang San stood on the sidelines, jaw tight, hands still trembling from the clash. The venom hadn't broken his body—but the pressure had nearly pushed him to reveal his deepest secret.
On the Shrek side, Flender exhaled heavily.
"This isn't worth it anymore," he said grimly. "Let's just admit defeat."
Yu Xiaogang stood beside him, arms folded behind his back. His fists clenched, knuckles pale, but… in the end, he nodded.
"…They've already made their point."
Flender stepped forward.
"Referee—we forfeit. Shrek Academy concedes the match."
A heavy silence swept the arena for half a breath—then erupted into a mix of gasps, whispers, and outright cheers.
"Barak Academy wins the match!" the referee called, raising his voice to be heard over the growing noise.
The crowd erupted. Some cheered Barak's overwhelming performance. Others jeered at Shrek for stepping down.
"They backed off!"
"After all that fame? What happened to Shrek's pride?!"
"They couldn't handle those three monsters!"
Back in the stands, even some noble spectators stood in surprise.
"That boy leading Barak… Max, was it? Who is he?"
Yu Xiaogang said nothing, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed his frustration.
Tang San lowered his head slightly. Though he didn't speak, the defeat weighed heavily on him.
Back on Barak's side, Max remained calm. He hadn't even needed to step onto the stage.
Mu Qing slumped onto the bench with a satisfied sigh, brushing back her hair. "Guess we didn't need to finish the set."
"How boring," Max mumbled, shaking his head lightly as he turned to leave the stage, the others falling into step beside him.
The cheers still echoed behind them, but Max didn't care. Victory without challenge… wasn't victory at all.
Just outside the waiting hall, the Dean of Barak Academy stood waiting, dressed in formal robes and flanked by a few instructors.
"Excellent work," the Dean said, stepping forward with an approving nod. "You brought us prestige we never expected. If you're willing, could you stay with us until the end of the tournament? Should we win, I promise generous rewards in return for your efforts."
Max paused, standing just outside the corridor that led away from the arena. His hands folded behind his back, and his expression—calm, unreadable—held the faintest edge of disappointment.
"I can't stay," he said quietly. "Everyone here is too weak to even pose a challenge to me."
The Dean of Barak Academy looked at him for a long moment, then gave a slow, understanding nod. "…A pity. But you're right. I doubt there's anyone in this tournament who could truly match you."
***
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