Upon the arena, Xiǎo Chén and Fēng Wúmíng faced one another across the stage.
Qi tightened between them,
As though the very air had stretched into an invisible bowstring.
The presiding elder lifted his hand,
About to declare the start of the duel—
—
When suddenly—
A faint yet urgent stir rose from the rear of the spectator stands.
Whispers scattered like sparks:
"Look over there!"
"Who… who just arrived?"
Students craned their necks,
Some even pushing forward for a clearer view.
The disturbance rippled outward,
Shattering the solemn stillness like a stone cast into a silent lake.
—
All eyes turned.
From between the parting crowd,
A woman in deep violet robes stepped forward.
Her expression cold,
Her steps quiet as drifting wind.
Without a word,
She made the crowd open on both sides as if by instinct.
Beside her walked a young girl in azure garments—
Her features clear as dawn's first light,
Bright and pure,
Carrying a gentle, dustless grace between her brows.
The moment the girl lifted her gaze,
It was as though starlight fell into her eyes.
Several students in the front row forgot to breathe.
"…Who is she?"
"Heavens… is she a celestial descended?"
Even Fēng Wúmíng on the stage
Could not help turning his head,
A flicker of dazed surprise crossing his eyes.
—
At the center of the arena,
Xiǎo Chén's gaze followed her unconsciously.
And when that clear, luminous face entered his sight—
A sharp, aching familiarity surged through him,
Like a tide breaking against the heart.
Fragments of memory burst open in his mind—
A shadowed forest,
Blood and steel crossing in chaos,
A warm hand lifting him from the ground…
And a pair of eyes—
Clear as untouched snow.
—
"It's her…"
Xiǎo Chén's fingertips tightened.
A violent tremor rose in his chest.
That girl—
Was she not the very one from his fractured past life memories?
The one who had once saved him in the depths of the forest?
—
A short while earlier
Along the walkway leading to the spectator stands,
Xuānyuán Dié walked with faint unease,
Guiding Yǔxī slowly toward the viewing area.
Her voice lowered—
"Yǔxī, bringing you here isn't impossible…
But I fear you'll affect the examination."
Yǔxī blinked, puzzled.
"Why? I just want to watch from a little closer.
I'm not going down to fight.
How would that affect anything?"
Xuānyuán Dié shot her a sideways glance,
A sigh hidden in her tone—
"Your appearance… will affect them."
Yǔxī froze.
"My appearance is… scary?
Will I frighten people?"
Xuānyuán Dié shook her head.
"No. Quite the opposite.
You're too beautiful.
If the competitors see you,
Who could still focus?"
Yǔxī laughed softly,
A playful curve at her lips—
"Second Aunt, my mother always said
You're the worst speaker among the three sisters.
Seems she was wrong."
Xuānyuán Dié tapped her forehead,
Letting out a long sigh—
"Fine. Watch if you want.
But you are not leaving my side."
Yǔxī grinned,
Tightly holding her hand as if making a vow—
"Don't worry.
I'll stay right beside you.
I won't let go."
Xuānyuán Dié brushed her hair gently,
A soft light flickering in her eyes—
"Silly girl.
Come. Or we'll miss the last match."
—
At the present moment
Xuānyuán Dié led Yǔxī to the front row of the stands.
The moment they sat,
The surrounding noise died instantly—
As if doused by cold water.
No one dared breathe loudly.
Yet every gaze was irresistibly drawn
To the girl in azure.
Only one person was an exception.
—
Xiǎo Chén stared at Yǔxī.
Before thought could form,
His figure flashed—
Leaping straight off the arena.
The force of his landing rippled outward,
Startling the students below.
Whispers caught in their throats.
Yǔxī saw someone rushing toward her.
She froze—
Then, recognizing that familiar face,
Her hands lifted to her lips,
Breath trembling.
Why… why is he here?
—
Xiǎo Chén stopped before her,
Eyes fixed,
Voice roughened—
"Do you still remember me?"
As he spoke,
He took out the long‑kept headscarf,
Holding it before her.
Yǔxī looked at it.
Warmth flickered in her eyes—
But then she remembered
He had not regained the memories from before.
A faint ache rose in her chest.
Still, she smiled softly.
"Fool… how could I ever forget you."
She reached out,
About to touch his cheek—
When a low, icy cough
Cut through the air.
—
Xiǎo Chén's heart jolted,
As if struck by a hammer.
He turned—
And met Xuānyuán Dié's gaze,
Cold enough to freeze water.
"Te—teacher…?
Hehe… what a coincidence.
You're here too?"
Xuānyuán Dié's expression darkened.
Her voice was a blade,
Silencing the entire stand—
"Do what you're supposed to do.
Whatever you have to say—say it after.
Don't embarrass me.
Now get back—scram."
Xiǎo Chén scratched his head awkwardly.
He looked at Yǔxī—
She gave a small nod.
Only then did he turn away,
Running back toward the arena
Without looking back.
Behind him,
Whispers burst like sparks—
"Tch! Why is he everywhere?"
"Those two… know each other?
Feels like there's a story there…"
—
Yǔxī sat obediently beside Xuānyuán Dié.
Xuānyuán Dié glanced at her from the corner of her eye,
Tone calm yet probing—
"You two know each other?
Since when?"
Yǔxī only nodded lightly,
Saying nothing more.
Seeing this, Xuānyuán Dié did not press.
She simply said—
"Watch closely.
This duel will be a good lesson for you as well."
—
Back on the arena,
Xiǎo Chén bowed deeply to the presiding elder.
His tone sincere—
"My apologies, Elder.
I lost myself upon seeing an old acquaintance.
I ask for your understanding."
—
The presiding elder had intended to reprimand him on the spot,
But after hearing those words,
He merely said calmly—
"You have shown disrespect toward your opponent.
Be mindful next time."
Xiǎo Chén blinked, puzzled.
"Elder, would you show respect…
to something without a name?"
The elder choked.
No words came.
Fēng Wúmíng, hearing this, nearly exploded.
"Good—very good, you bastard!
If you walk off this stage alive today,
I'll write my name backward!"
Xiǎo Chén looked at him, expression steady.
"Who are you calling bastard?"
"The bastard is YOU!"
Even the presiding elder couldn't hold it—
A muffled pfft escaped before he disguised it as a cough.
In the stands, Sītú Jìng turned away speechlessly,
And Bái Shī simply shook his head.
Xiǎo Chén's lips curved slightly,
A hint of frost in his tone.
"So 'not a thing' means 'bastard.'
I've learned something today."
Fēng Wúmíng's fury boiled over.
He didn't wait for the elder to announce the start.
With a roar, he charged!
One explosive step closed the distance.
His foot slammed down,
Qi bursting across the stage.
His entire body shot forward like raging thunder,
Sword light tearing toward Xiǎo Chén's throat.
Gasps rippled through the stands.
All eyes locked on the clash.
But Xiǎo Chén's expression did not change.
His body tilted slightly,
Long spear flipping in his hand—
Effortlessly deflecting the vicious strike.
In the instant Fēng Wúmíng's stance was pulled off‑line,
Xiǎo Chén sank his weight,
Spear rising from below like a burst of starlight—
Cold, sharp, unstoppable.
"Huí Wèn Xīngchén!"
Fēng Wúmíng's heart lurched.
He threw himself backward, flipping away,
Boots scraping against the arena edge before he regained balance.
He looked down—
A deep tear split across his chest.
Half a step slower,
That spear would have pierced his heart.
Cold sweat prickled his spine.
This brat… his spear is vicious.
The shadows are unpredictable.
He's no easy opponent.
I can't be careless!
On stage, Xiǎo Chén's face remained calm,
Though a faint sigh stirred in his heart.
Shame…
I meant to provoke him into a mistake and end it quickly.
Didn't expect the sixty‑fifth of the Hidden Dragon List
to have such solid foundations.
Fēng Wúmíng's brows tightened.
His gaze locked onto Xiǎo Chén again.
He drew a deep breath,
Forcing his emotions down.
Sword tip lowered,
Breath rising and falling with controlled rhythm.
The moment either moved—
Spear shadows and sword light collided in a blur.
Xiǎo Chén's spear danced,
Rippling like layered waves,
Pressing down the opponent's offense.
At first, Xiǎo Chén held the advantage in speed and footwork.
His spear flowed like a river of stars,
Sealing strike after strike.
Fēng Wúmíng's heart pounded.
Why is he so fast?
As the exchange grew fiercer,
He felt a mounting pressure—
As though the spear struck not only his blade,
But his chest,
Stealing his breath.
—
"Damn it…
My meridian mark is complete—
So why… why do I still feel this pressure…?"
His chest churned, qi and blood surging wildly.
The wind in his ears whispered like death itself.
For a heartbeat, even his grip stiffened.
Fear—
For the first time—
Rose clearly within him.
No… I can't retreat!
The two clashed—one attacking, one defending.
The wooden arena echoed with sharp thuds,
Each impact tightening the breath of every spectator.
But after several probing exchanges yielded nothing,
The smoldering fire in Fēng Wúmíng's chest
Finally erupted.
His breathing grew ragged,
Blood boiling like molten iron.
With a guttural roar, eyes reddened—
"Brat…
You think this is enough to beat me?!"
In the next instant,
His aura surged violently.
Behind him, a faint phantom of a root‑meridian manifested,
Qi waves exploding outward like a hurricane.
"The Fifth Seal—Root Mark…!"
Gasps tore through the stands.
Several students paled.
"He really broke through the Root Mark!"
"Xiǎo Chén is in danger…
This is Fēng Wúmíng's true trump card!"
Fēng Wúmíng's sword trembled—
Sword qi erupted like a storm,
Even the wooden planks at the arena's edge shuddered.
Xiǎo Chén's brows tightened.
A razor‑sharp pressure pressed toward him.
He twisted his spear,
Retreating three steps to dissolve the force.
In mere breaths,
Fēng Wúmíng's sword strikes roared like thunder.
Xiǎo Chén, relying on footwork and spear shadows,
Barely held the line—
But his breathing grew heavy,
And several thin cuts opened across his shoulder and arm,
Blood tracing crimson lines.
The stands fell silent.
Yǔxī unconsciously clenched her sleeves,
Her heartbeat stumbling.
She whispered—
"Xiǎo Chén…"
From afar, Xuán Chén's fingertip twitched within his sleeve.
One more step… and he'll be forced to gamble.
Another crushing sword strike fell.
Xiǎo Chén was finally driven to one knee,
Spear braced against the arena,
Breath ragged.
A bead of blood slid down his brow,
Blooming into a cold red stain on the wooden floor.
Silence.
Only the pounding of hearts echoed in the air.
Several students sucked in sharp breaths.
Bái Shī's gaze sharpened.
Sītú Jìng frowned slightly.
How long can he hold…?
Yǔxī leaned forward half a step,
Fingers trembling—
But Xuānyuán Dié gently pressed her shoulder,
Holding her back.
Xiǎo Chén's spear dug into the ground.
A faint black mist flickered around him.
The arena trembled ever so slightly,
As if the next breath
Would be swallowed by killing intent.
The entire field held its breath.
Every heart echoed with the same thought—
Can this battle… still be overturned?