The third day of the point-stage dawned dark, the clouds so heavy they seemed ready to crush the dueling ground. The air was stifling, not with weather but with the tension of cultivators who knew today's matches would determine who had the qualifications to step closer to the finals.
The referee's voice rang out, steady but edged with unease:
"Next duel Shui Lin of Qingling Sect, disciple of the Hall of Flowing Ink, versus Hei Mu of Black Mist Academy."
At that name, murmurs rippled across the crowd like cold wind. Hei Mu the shadow no one could read, the assassin cloaked in endless mist. Rumors claimed he had never once been seen fighting fairly. His victories were silent, sudden, absolute.
Shui Lin stepped forward, brush in hand, robes a calm azure that seemed too pure for the stage he now faced. His expression was calm, but his eyes betrayed nerves. He glanced once at Xuanye in the seats his brother-in-arms and received a nod.
The barrier rose. Hei Mu drifted in, not walking, not flying, but simply appearing with each step, as though distance bent itself for him. His face was hidden under the veil of dark fog that clung to him, leaking out like poison.
When the referee declared, "Begin!" the world seemed to vanish. The mist expanded, swallowing sight and sound.
Shui Lin gripped his brush. "水墨幻境 (Water-Ink Illusion Realm)!" With a sweep, he painted a flowing stream in the air. Water surged, spreading into a mirage of rushing rivers. From outside, the crowd saw nothing but walls of black fog pressing against Shui Lin's fragile currents of water and ink.
Inside, Shui Lin could see shapes shadows darting like blades. He spun, brush flicking, drawing shimmering calligraphy that became seals of defense.
But Hei Mu's voice slithered through the mist, cold and cruel:"Pretty tricks. Let's see how long your illusions protect you."
Suddenly, the fog solidified. Thousands of thin blades of black qi slashed toward Shui Lin, silent and sharp. He countered, sweeping his brush, forming water walls "碧流护屏 (Azure Flowing Shield)!"
For a moment, the two forces clashed ink and water against knives of shadow. But the mist was endless. One blade broke through, grazing his arm. Another pierced his thigh. Blood splattered the ground.
Shui Lin gritted his teeth, refusing to yield. He painted faster, breath ragged. "幻水锁 (Phantom Water Bind)!" Threads of water lashed outward, capturing the shadows but Hei Mu simply walked through them, his body dissolving into mist and reforming behind Shui Lin.
The crowd gasped as Shui Lin coughed blood, a black blade piercing through his side.
"Enough!" shouted Sect Master Lin, half-rising, fury shaking his voice.
But the referee hesitated Hei Mu's strike hadn't killed, not yet.
Inside the fog, Shui Lin staggered, but his eyes burned with defiance. He raised his brush again, weak hands painting in mid-air. The strokes formed a majestic lotus of water, pure and shining.
"清泉净心 (Pure Spring Lotus)!"
The lotus burst with cleansing water, forcing back the mist in radiant waves. For an instant, the crowd saw him bleeding, battered, but standing tall with his brush raised.
Hei Mu's tone turned mocking."Beautiful… but fragile."
Then came his killing move."黑雾蚀魂 (Soul-Eroding Mist)!"
The fog condensed into a spear of blackness, driving straight into Shui Lin's chest. His body convulsed, blood spurting from his lips. With a sickening crack, he was flung across the barrier, smashing into the ground outside the ring.
"Winner Hei Mu of Black Mist Academy!"
The words fell like a hammer.
Healers rushed in, surrounding Shui Lin. Their expressions grew grim. His meridians were fractured, bones shattered, dantian ruptured. He would live but his cultivation would never be the same.
Qingling's seats erupted in chaos. Feng Ruo cried out, Yue Chányīn's face paled with fury, and Su Feilí rose to her feet, qi trembling around her. Xuanye clenched his sword hilt until his knuckles whitened, veins bulging in rage.
Sect Master Lin's gaze was colder than winter steel as he locked eyes with Hei Mu's master. "This… is what you call a duel?"
The Black Mist Master only smiled faintly, as though cruelty were the most natural thing in the world.
Hei Mu faded into the shadows, unscathed, expression unreadable. For him, Shui Lin's broken body was nothing more than another mark in the tally of the strong.
The crowd whispered in horror. Some were thrilled. Others shivered.
And in the hearts of Qingling's disciples, a vow solidified this blood debt would be repaid.