WebNovels

Chapter 43 - The Top 32

The air in the Martial Square had changed.

The crowd was smaller now, but the pressure was heavier. Every disciple left in the tournament had fought their way through several rounds. None of them were weak.

Li Wei stood at the edge of the arena, waiting for his name to appear. His robe sleeves were neatly tied back, his breathing steady. The weight of his sword felt natural against his back, the hilt fitting his hand as if it had grown there.

When the light curtain rippled, he found his name beside his next opponent's.

Li Wei (97) vs Xu Han (54)

He remembered the name. Xu Han was a swift swordsman from the eastern sub-peak — older, with good footing and fast recovery. His matches were clean, technical, and controlled.

The signal bell rang.

They bowed once and drew their swords.

Xu Han struck first. His sword moved like quicksilver, sharp turns and flowing arcs. The first exchange came with a rush of movement, five attacks in as many breaths. Li Wei parried, sidestepped, and caught the last blow near his shoulder. Sparks flickered off the edge of his blade.

Xu Han pressed forward, maintaining rhythm. His attacks were precise, no wasted movement, his qi flaring only where needed. He was good, confident without arrogance.

Li Wei didn't rush to counter. He studied the flow, letting his body move by instinct while his eyes read the small details: the angle of Xu Han's wrist when he turned, the shift of his shoulders before each thrust. Every movement revealed a habit.

After the sixth exchange, Li Wei saw it. Xu Han's left step always landed a half-breath early before each horizontal slash. The shift was subtle, but the weight transfer left a small opening on the right side.

He waited one more round, then acted.

As Xu Han lunged forward, Li Wei feinted high, drew back, and cut diagonally. His sword met resistance, then broke through the guard. A clean slice marked Xu Han's sleeve before Li Wei stopped his blade a hair from skin.

Xu Han froze, realization flashing across his face. His stance faltered.

"I yield," he said quietly.

The bell sounded, confirming it.

Li Wei sheathed his sword and bowed. "Good fight."

Xu Han nodded and stepped back. "Your control is terrifying."

Li Wei said nothing. He didn't need to.

He left the arena and sat in the waiting area with the other victors. His arms tingled faintly from the last few clashes, the vibration of qi still humming in his meridians. He exhaled, guiding the energy through a short circulation. The liquid qi in his dantian pulsed once, smoothing the imbalance.

Each round was sharpening his control, not just of the sword, but of his own flow of energy.

When his next match was called, he rose without hesitation.

Opponent: Jiang Ming, ranked twenty-ninth. Spear cultivator, early-mid Foundation.

The difference in cultivation wasn't large, but Jiang Ming's qi density was clearly stronger. His presence filled the arena before the match even began.

They saluted.

"Li Wei," Jiang said calmly. "I've wanted to cross blades since the Stele rankings."

"Then let's see the result," Li Wei answered.

The bell chimed.

Jiang Ming's spear lunged forward like a drawn bow. Li Wei barely sidestepped, the spearhead scraping against the protective array behind him. The next thrust came instantly, heavier.

Jiang's fighting rhythm was relentless. His spear moved in continuous cycles; thrust, sweep, recoil, forcing Li Wei to stay on defense. Each motion carried qi reinforcement, strong and fast.

Li Wei didn't panic. He let the spear's momentum pass him by, his sword turning aside the glancing edges rather than meeting them head-on. His footwork narrowed; his steps shortened to conserve distance. Every breath he took measured the rhythm of Jiang Ming's strikes.

Ten exchanges passed. Jiang Ming's breathing grew sharper. His style spent energy like water through a cracked jar. Powerful, but costly.

Li Wei's eyes narrowed.

On the next thrust, he turned his blade slightly, guiding the spear off-line. Then he stepped in, pivoted his shoulder, and slashed across the front of Jiang Ming's chest plate.

The impact sent the larger man stumbling backward, qi scattering. His spear scraped the ground as he caught himself on one knee.

The array shimmered. Match complete.

Jiang Ming straightened, chest heaving, then gave a faint smile. "Precise," he said. "No wasted movement."

Li Wei bowed in acknowledgment before leaving the platform.

The afternoon passed with steady eliminations. Names vanished from the light board one by one until only thirty-two remained. Each victory brought quiet acknowledgment from the stewards and subtle glances from other contestants.

By nightfall, Li Wei returned to his quarters. He cleaned his blade and sat cross-legged in the faint lamplight. The ache in his arms was deeper this time. The foundation realm allowed faster recovery, but even so, he could feel fatigue gathering.

He began a long cycle of Azure Wind Scripture, each breath pulling qi through his meridians with calm precision. The dense essence swirled within his dantian, smoothing edges, reinforcing flow. His heartbeat steadied, his body cooling from within.

Halfway through the second cycle, he felt a faint pulse at the edge of perception, a tremor in his divine sense. His awareness brushed the walls of the room, clear as touch. Every detail stood out: the shift of air near the window, the flicker of the flame.

He retracted it immediately. Overuse led to instability, and the next matches would require clear focus.

When the meditation ended, he rose and moved through slow sword drills. His cuts were measured and smooth, built around endurance rather than power. He stopped only when his breathing synced perfectly with his stance.

Outside, the mountain wind stirred faintly. He ignored it.

Tomorrow would be harder.

The next morning dawned bright and cold. The top thirty-two gathered once more at the Martial Square. Only the best remained, each radiating confidence sharpened by repetition.

Elder Zhao stood on the overseeing platform, his tone even. "The next rounds will decide the top sixteen. Remember the Sect's rule, fight within limits. Victory gained through excess will not be honored."

No one questioned it. Discipline was the Heavenly Dragon Sect's foundation.

Li Wei's new opponent was called Chen Bo, ranked twenty-sixth. He was a saber cultivator from the Iron Peak Division, broad, confident, known for raw strength and thick qi defense.

When the bell sounded, Chen Bo attacked immediately. His saber cut downward with a roar of energy, the air shuddering from the force. Li Wei caught the blow on his sword and slid back half a step, the vibration running through his arms.

Another strike followed, heavier. Then another.

Each swing left small cracks in the arena's surface. Li Wei adjusted his stance to absorb the impact, his blade never staying still longer than necessary. He could feel the power behind each attack — direct, overwhelming, but inefficient.

Chen Bo grinned. "Come on. You've been on defense long enough."

Li Wei didn't reply. Talking mid-fight was distraction. He focused on timing.

The next time the saber came down, Li Wei angled his blade and deflected it, letting the energy flow past instead of clashing. He stepped in close, the edge of his sword tracing a short arc toward Chen Bo's ribs.

A clean hit. The man grunted but didn't falter. His qi armor held.

They traded strikes for several minutes, the pace relentless. Li Wei's breathing deepened, but his expression stayed calm. Every parry chipped at Chen Bo's stamina. His own movements remained tight and efficient, conserving strength.

When Chen Bo slowed for just a breath, Li Wei acted. He shifted his footing, drawing qi into his blade, and released Tempest Fang Slash. The compressed force exploded forward, colliding with Chen Bo's guard.

The impact sent the larger man staggering backward, feet dragging across the arena until the boundary array flared to life.

The signal for defeat pulsed.

Chen Bo steadied himself, breathing hard. "I can see why Zhao keeps an eye on you," he said. His tone held no bitterness.

Li Wei gave a short bow. "Thank you for the match."

By the end of the day, sixteen names remained on the board. The crowd's noise was gone, replaced by the quiet tension of expectation.

Elder Zhao stepped forward again. "You have one night to rest. Tomorrow decides the top eight. Use your time wisely."

Li Wei returned to his quarters, slower this time. The fatigue had settled deep into his bones. He cleaned his weapon again, as he did after every match, then sat.

He circulated his qi until the ache dulled. Each battle had hardened his foundation a little more. The once-new liquid essence now felt solid, balanced, like a river finding its true course.

He opened his eyes. The lamp's flame wavered slightly in the mountain breeze.

He thought briefly of how far he had come since Xianglong, from nameless student to one of the last sixteen among thousands. But pride had no place in cultivation. The path ahead was still long.

He rose, tightened his belt, and extinguished the lamp. Outside, the sect slept under a quiet sky, the mountain winds carrying faint echoes from the upper peaks.

Tomorrow, he would fight again. And the path upward would narrow once more.

More Chapters