The stunned silence in the arena was profound, broken only by the faint, last traces of Dugu Yan's poison mist dissipating against the stone.
All eyes were locked on the small, defiant cluster of Blue Silver Grass at Tang San's feet.
It was no longer the soft, almost fragile plant they had seen moments before.
Now, its stems were a deep, lustrous blue-black, like polished obsidian, and the leaves seemed tougher, edged with a subtle metallic glint.
Dugu Yan's lunge had halted mid-stride, her confident smirk frozen and then melting into open-mouthed shock.
"Impossible! My Phosphorus Serpent Venom can corrode steel! How can mere grass…?!"
On the spectator stand, Ning Fengzhi leaned forward, his diplomatic calm replaced by keen, analytical interest. Elder Chen Xin's jaw had gone slack.
"Old Sword… are you seeing this?"
Elder Gu Rong, who had been ready to intervene, now stood as still as the monument he resembled, his sharp eyes wide.
"The grass… it evolved," he murmured, the words tasting foreign and unbelievable.
"Under the stimulus of the poison, it adapted its very nature. This boy…he used her attack to temper his own spirit."
Whoa! Ai's voice was a shout of triumph in Mei's mind.
Level Up! Tang San's Blue Silver Grass has evolved into 'Poison-Resistant Blue Silver Grass'! That so cool, maybe it can evolve again when you use your domain.
A lesson from the natural world, Luminous mused, its tone one of deep respect. Blue Silver Grass, when subjected to the harshest winds, does not break; it learns to bend, to root itself deeper. What a profound strategy.
Mei let out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding. Her concern melted into awe.
Down in the arena, Tang San himself had no time to analyze the miraculous change.
The feedback from his spirit was a jumble of new sensations.
A heightened resilience, a dulled response to the poison's corrosive touch, and a strange, hungry vitality.
The adaptation had happened instinctively, driven by his will to survive and his deep, innate connection to his martial soul. The 'how' and 'why' were questions for later. Now, he had a battle to win.
His eyes, which had been pools of concentrated defense, now sharpened with focused intent. The tide was turning.
Dugu Yan, recovering from her shock, was flooded with a fresh wave of furious indignation.
How dare this country bumpkin with a trash spirit defy her?
Her pride, already bruised, could not accept this. "It must be a fluke!" she shrieked, her spirit flaring violently.
"I'll burn that weird grass to ashes! First skill, full power!"
She unleashed a torrent of the green mist, thicker and more concentrated than before, intending to engulf the entire area and overwhelm whatever strange resistance the grass had developed.
But Tang San was already moving. "Second skill, Parasitism Field!"
This time, the Blue Silver Grass that erupted was not the soft blue-silver of before, but the new, resilient blue-black.
It didn't just sprout from the ground.
It seemed to unfurl from it, thicker, stronger, and moving with a purpose that felt almost predatory.
The poison mist washed over it, and the sizzling sound was still there, but it was muted.
The grass darkened further, absorbing the venom, metabolizing it. Instead of withering, the vines seemed to grow more robust, while the green mist slowly disappeared.
"What?!" Dugu Yan gasped, her eyes wide with horror.
Tang San didn't give her a moment to process. This was his opening.
He channeled his spirit power, and the Parasitism Field activated with a new ferocity. The blue-black vines, now immune to the debilitating effects of her poison, shot towards her with startling speed.
They were no longer mere hindrances, they were now her shackles.
Dugu Yan tried to evade, using her Second Skill, but the grass was everywhere.
A thick vine wrapped around her ankle, and she felt a sharp, pulling sensation as it began to drain her spirit power.
She slashed at it with her venomous fingertips, but instead of cleanly severing, her attack only gouged a shallow furrow in the now-tough stem.
The drain intensified.
"Let go of me!" she yelled, panic seeping into her voice.
She unleashed another point-blank blast of venom, but the vines merely drank it in, their color deepening, their constriction tightening.
"This ends now," Tang San stated, his voice calm but carrying across the silent arena. He made a grasping motion with his hand.
The vines responded. They swarmed over Dugu Yan, not just entangling her, but efficiently binding her arms to her sides and wrapping around her legs.
She struggled furiously, her spirit power flaring, but it was like trying to break tempered steel cables.
The more she struggled, the more spirit power the Parasitism Field siphoned away, feeding Tang San and strengthening the grass itself.
Within seconds, she was completely immobilized, trussed up in a cocoon of blue-black grass, able only to glare at him with furious, humiliated tears welling in her eyes.
The fight was over.
The arena was utterly silent for three long heartbeats, then erupted into sound.
"YES! I knew it!" Xiao Wu cheered, jumping up and down, punching the air.
Ning Rongrong let out a gleeful, triumphant laugh, clapping her hands together. "See! I told you! That's the Tang San I know!"
Mei simply smiled, a wave of relief and profound pride washing over her, and shouted, "Way to go, Tang San!"
On the stand, the elders were speechless. Ning Fengzhi's eyes shone with a light that was part amazement, part intense calculation.
"To think… Blue Silver Grass…" he murmured.
Gu Rong slowly uncrossed his arms, a gesture of deep concession. "I was wrong," he said, the words simple and heavy.
"The boy is a once-in-a-generation talent. His spirit might not be trash. His control, his adaptability, and his tactical mind were what made him win."
Elder Chen Xin was beaming. "A fascinating boy! Truly fascinating! To think Rongrong's letters weren't exaggerating after all!"
Down in the arena, Tang San ignored the celebrations. He kept his focus on Dugu Yan, ensuring the bindings were secure but not injurious.
He could feel the potent poison still circulating within the grass, now neutralized and harmonized, becoming a part of its new nature.
He released his spirit, and the blue-black grass slowly receded, dissolving into motes of light and returning to him, leaving a stunned and disheveled Dugu Yan kneeling on the ground, breathing heavily.
Elder Gu Rong floated down, landing between them. "The match is over," he announced, his voice echoing in the now-hushed arena.
"The victor is Tang San."
The formal declaration seemed to break the last of Dugu Yan's composure.
She hung her head, her purple hair falling around her face like a curtain, hiding her expression of utter shame and defeat.
To lose was one thing, but to lose so completely and so publicly to someone four years her junior, and with Blue Silver Grass, was a devastating blow to her pride.
Tang San released his skill and, ever the gentleman, walked over to her and offered a hand to help her up. "It was a good match," he said quietly, his tone devoid of gloating.
"Your poison is incredibly potent. It pushed my spirit further than I thought possible."
Dugu Yan flinched at his words, hearing not kindness but condescending pity. She slapped his hand away and scrambled to her feet on her own, not meeting his eyes.
"I don't need your sympathy," she hissed, her voice thick with unshed tears.
Before anyone could say another word, she turned and fled the arena, a blur of purple humiliation.
Ye Lingling, who had been watching the entire match with wide, worried eyes, gave a quick, apologetic bow to the Sect Master and the elders before hurrying after her friend.
The arena fell into an awkward silence as Dugu Yan fled, her retreat as swift and sharp as a serpent's strike.
Ning Rongrong pumped her fist in the air, a triumphant "Ha!" escaping her lips before she could stop it. Xiao Wu grinned, elbowing Tang San playfully in the ribs.
"See? I told you, you could do it! That showed her!"
But Tang San didn't share their jubilation. His gaze was fixed on the empty archway through which Dugu Yan had disappeared.
He still had something to ask her, but it seemed it had to wait.
Mei, ever perceptive, approached him. "Are you alright?" she asked softly, her eyes scanning his face for any sign of strain from the spirit evolution.
He nodded and offered her a small, reassuring smile. "I'm fine. Just...thinking."
On the spectator stand, the elders were deep in conversation. Ning Fengzhi's face was a mask of thoughtful calculation. "Uncle Bone, your thoughts on the boy?"
Bone Douluo chuckled, a low, rumbling sound.
"In all my years, I've never seen a martial spirit evolve in real-time. The strategic implications alone are staggering."
His gaze was no longer merely curious, but deeply impressed.
Meanwhile, in a secluded courtyard away from the main buildings, Dugu Yan stood with her back against a cold marble wall, her fists clenched so tightly her nails bit into her palms.
The hot, bitter tears she had been holding back finally spilled over, tracing paths of humiliation down her cheeks.
The image of herself, bound and helpless by that wretched blue-black grass, played over and over in her mind.
The stunned silence of the crowd, the pity in Ye Lingling's eyes, the calm, infuriatingly composed face of Tang San as he offered her a hand.
It was all a fresh, painful wound on her pride.
She heard soft, hesitant footsteps behind her. "Yan'er…?" Ye Lingling's voice was a gentle whisper.
"Go away, Lingling," Dugu Yan choked out, not turning around.
But Ye Lingling did not go away. She stood there, a silent, supportive presence, until Dugu Yan's ragged breathing slowly evened out.
The storm of anger began to recede, leaving behind the heavy, cold sediment of reality.
She had lost. Not due to a fluke or a trick, but because her opponent was better. Smarter. More adaptable. The truth was a bitter pill to swallow.
After what felt like an eternity, Dugu Yan pushed herself away from the wall, wiping her face roughly with the back of her hand.
Her eyes were red-rimmed, but the storm in them had settled into a grim resolve. "Let's go back," she said, her voice hoarse but firm.
Ye Lingling simply nodded, falling into step beside her.
They returned to the main arena, where the others were still gathered. The conversation died down as they approached. All eyes were on Dugu Yan, waiting for another outburst.
But it didn't come.
She stopped a few paces from Tang San, her gaze fixed on a point somewhere past his shoulder, unable to meet his eyes directly.
She took a deep, shuddering breath, her pride warring with the hard-learned lesson of the day.
"The spar is over," she stated, her voice flat but clear, carrying across the quiet space. "You fought well." The words were stilted, forced out from between clenched teeth, but they were there. An acknowledgment.
Tang San, respecting her fragile composure, answered with equal gravity. "It was a close call. Your poison forced my martial spirit to adapt. I don't fully understand it yet myself."
Dugu Yan gave a single, sharp nod. A strange, hollow feeling settled in her chest. "I see," was all she could manage.
With that, she turned to Ning Fengzhi and the elders, executing a perfect, if slightly stiff, bow.
"Sect Master Ning. Elders. My apologies for the disruption. If you will excuse me, I will return to the academy now."
There was no anger left in her voice, only a heavy, weary acceptance.
Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked away, her posture straight but lacking its earlier haughty flair.
Ye Lingling offered a quick, apologetic curtsy to the elders and a sympathetic glance towards Mei before hurrying after her.
Ning Fengzhi watched her go, then turned his attention back to Tang San, his smile returning, warmer and more genuine now.
"A remarkable display, young Tang San. Truly remarkable." He gestured towards the main hall.
"Now, let us retire somewhere more comfortable. I believe we have much to discuss."
As they were led away, Tang San glanced back one last time at the empty arena. The fight was over, but the echoes of the clashing spirits and the image of Dugu Yan's humbled, resolute face would linger, a poignant reminder that in the world of spirit masters, power was not just about level and spirit, but about the unyielding will to evolve.
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