The sun was high in the sky when the announcer's voice finally called Lei Man's name for his third-round match. The number of fighters on Stage Three had been whittled down to a handful of powerful individuals, and the atmosphere was thick with tension.
"On Stage Three, Participant #37, Lei Man!"
He ascended the steps, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to the nervous energy of the crowd. He had watched and waited, his understanding of his own power deepening with every observed battle.
"His opponent, Participant #86, Bai Chuxin!"
His opponent was a young woman with a sharp, severe haircut and an even sharper gaze. Her movements were stiff, economical, and her entire body radiated an aura of unyielding, metallic hardness. Her Qi was a stark, silver-gray, and she was at the solid second level of Qi Gathering, her foundation clearly polished through rigorous, disciplined training.
The referee's hand dropped. "Begin!"
Bai Chuxin did not waste a single moment. She slapped her hands together in front of her chest, a metallic clang echoing from the impact. "Art of the Gilded Blade!" she declared, her voice as sharp and clear as her Qi.
Her silver-gray Qi exploded from her body, not as a flowing aura, but as a solid, metallic sheen that coated her hands and forearms. The Qi hardened, shimmering in the sunlight, literally turning her arms into a pair of sharp, deadly blades. She was a living weapon.
She charged forward, her movements a straight, direct line. There was no feint, no subtlety. It was a pure, head-on assault. She slashed with her right arm, the blade of Qi cutting through the air with a vicious, whistling sound.
Lei Man met the attack with the opening move of the Flowing Butterfly Art. He drifted.
His body became a phantom, sidestepping the rigid, linear attack with an almost lazy grace. The Qi blade sliced through the air where his chest had been a split second before, its sharp energy sending a chill down his spine.
"Stand and fight!" Bai Chuxin commanded, spinning on her heel, her other arm swinging in a wide, decapitating arc.
Lei Man flowed backwards, the second blade passing harmlessly in front of him. He was a leaf in the wind, and she was a falling axe, each of her powerful, predictable movements easily avoided.
Bai Chuxin grew visibly frustrated. Her art was built on overwhelming opponents with unbreakable offense and defense. Her Qi-forged limbs could shatter stone and parry steel, but they were useless if they couldn't hit their target. Her opponent wasn't blocking; he was simply refusing to be in the same place as her attacks.
"Fine!" she snarled, changing tactics. She stomped her foot, and instead of charging, she began to spin. "Gilded Tempest!"
She became a whirlwind of death, a spinning top of silver Qi blades that chewed up the air around her. It was a devastating area-of-effect attack, designed to shred anyone who came near. It was an unbreakable, unapproachable vortex of destruction.
Lei Man stopped his evasive dance. He stood perfectly still, about ten feet from the edge of the spinning tempest, and watched. His calm, observational posture in the face of such a terrifying technique was an insult in itself.
He saw it instantly. The technique was powerful, but it consumed an enormous amount of Qi. Bai Chuxin's face, visible in flashes within the blur of motion, was already beginning to pale. She couldn't maintain it for long.
The spinning began to slow, the whistling of the blades dropping in pitch. The moment the tempest dropped below a certain speed, Lei Man moved.
He didn't charge in. He took a single, deliberate step to the side and flicked his wrist. A tiny, almost invisible marble of his deep blue Qi shot out. It wasn't aimed at Bai Chuxin herself. It was aimed at the stone floor, just in front of her leading foot.
The marble of Qi struck the stage with a soft pop, leaving a small, perfectly smooth indentation in the stone. It wasn't a powerful attack, but its timing was flawless.
Bai Chuxin, her momentum still carrying her forward as she came out of her spin, stepped right where the marble had struck. The slight, unexpected dip in the otherwise perfect surface was just enough to disrupt her balance. Her ankle twisted.
It was a tiny, almost insignificant stumble, but for a martial artist whose entire style was built on rigid stances and perfect balance, it was a catastrophic failure. Her form broke, her Qi blades flickered and dissolved, and for a split second, she was completely and utterly vulnerable.
Lei Man was already there. He had crossed the distance in the instant she stumbled, a ghost appearing at her side. He didn't use a palm strike or a finger jab. He simply chopped the back of her neck with the side of his hand, a simple, non-Qi-infused blow a common street brawler might use.
Bai Chuxin's eyes went wide, and she crumpled to the stage, unconscious.
"Winner, Lei Man!"
A stunned silence fell over the crowd, followed by a wave of confused murmurs. He hadn't broken through her ultimate technique. He hadn't overpowered her. He had waited, and then created a tiny, insignificant flaw in her form and exploited it with a move that used almost no Qi at all.
It was a victory of pure, terrifyingly precise strategy. He had defeated the Gilded Blade not with a sledgehammer, but with a surgeon's scalpel. He descended the stage, leaving the sect elders on the main platform looking at each other with expressions of deep, analytical interest. This youth was not just another talented fighter. He was something else entirely.
As the tournament progressed, the six stages became distinct theaters of martial prowess. All eyes on Stage One were once again fixed on its reigning genius, Chu Qinqing, as she ascended the steps for her fourth-round match.
"Her opponent, also from the Gilded Blade School, Bai Xinrou!"
The name caused a stir. Bai Xinrou was the older sister of Bai Chuxin, the bladed warrior Lei Man had defeated earlier. She was stocky and powerfully built, with a low center of gravity and a stubborn, unyielding expression. Like her sister, her Qi was a thick, heavy, silver-gray, and she was at the peak of the second level of Qi Gathering, her energy even denser and more stable than her sibling's. She was the immovable object to her sister's unstoppable force.
The crowd buzzed with anticipation. This was a classic confrontation: the ultimate fluid offense of water against the ultimate rigid defense of metal.
"Begin!"
Bai Xinrou did not move. She stomped her feet once, a sound like a hammer striking an anvil, and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Art of the Gilded Fortress!" she bellowed.
Her silver-gray Qi poured from her body, not forming blades, but solidifying into a series of thick, overlapping plates of metallic energy. The plates formed a seamless, half-domed barrier in front of her, gleaming like polished steel. It was a perfect, impenetrable defense.
Chu Qinqing observed the flawless shield, a flicker of appreciation in her calm eyes. She knew a direct assault would be pointless. Water could wear away steel, but that took time she did not have.
"Azure Sea Diverts the River," she said, her voice echoing in the tense silence.
This time, she did not form a vortex. Instead, she spread her hands, and a vast, shimmering sheet of her blue Qi spread out across the entire surface of the stage. The polished white stone was instantly covered in a roiling, ankle-deep "sea" of liquid energy.
Bai Xinrou sneered. "A puddle? Is that the best the Azure River Clan can do? My sister may be a fool who over-relies on offense, but my shield is perfect. You cannot break it."
"I don't need to," Chu Qinqing replied calmly.
She began to move. Her feet glided across the surface of the water Qi, her movements fluid and graceful. She circled Bai Xinrou's fortress, her speed increasing with every step. The sea of Qi on the stage began to move with her, a slow whirlpool at first, then a faster, churning vortex that filled the entire arena.
Bai Xinrou's sneer faltered. She felt a powerful, dragging force pulling at the base of her defensive wall. Chu Qinqing wasn't attacking her directly; she was attacking the very stage beneath her feet, using the water as a medium for a massive rotational force.
"A shield is only as strong as the ground it rests upon," Chu Qinqing stated, her voice cutting through the roar of the swirling water.
With a final, elegant gesture, she clapped her hands together. The vortex of water Qi, now spinning at a furious pace, collapsed inwards. The target was not Bai Xinrou's shield. The target was the stone of the arena itself.
CRACK!
The sound was sharp and sickening. The massive, solid stone slab that made up the top of the stage, a piece of rock five feet thick, groaned under the immense, focused pressure of the water vortex. A spiderweb of cracks appeared beneath Bai Xinrou's feet.
Then, with a sound like a thunderclap, the entire section of the stage she was standing on gave way.
Bai Xinrou cried out in shock as the very ground her perfect defense was built on disintegrated. Her impenetrable fortress shattered as she, along with several tons of broken rock and churning water, plunged through the hole in the stage, crashing to the ground below in a cloud of dust and steam.
She was unharmed but utterly defeated, sitting in a pile of rubble beneath the massive, gaping hole in the center of the arena.
The referee, standing near the edge of the hole and looking down at the bewildered Bai Xinrou, raised his hand. "Winner, Chu Qinqing!"
A wave of stunned silence washed over the plaza, followed by an eruption of thunderous applause. She hadn't broken the shield. She hadn't overpowered the fortress. She had simply moved the entire world out from under it.
Lei Man watched from the crowd, a cold knot tightening in his stomach. His own art was about finding and exploiting a flaw. Chu Qinqing, when faced with an opponent who had no flaws, had simply created one of her own, on a scale he couldn't have imagined. This woman wasn't just a genius. She was a natural disaster.
The fourth round of the tournament began, and the number of contestants on each stage had dwindled to a mere handful. These were the true elites, the fighters who had demonstrated not just power, but skill and strategy. Lei Man ascended the steps of Stage Three for his match, his calm presence a familiar sight to the now-invested crowd.
His opponent was a youth he had noticed during the culling, a fighter who had carved out a space for himself with a unique and dangerous art.
"His opponent, the independent cultivator, Jiang Li!"
Jiang Li was a tall, lanky youth with long limbs and a relaxed, almost lazy posture. He gave Lei Man a friendly, confident grin. "I've been looking forward to this," he said cheerfully. "Let's have a good dance." His Qi, at the second level, was a vibrant, emerald green.
"Begin!"
Jiang Li did not charge. He simply flicked his wrist. A long, thin, and almost translucent whip of pure, green Qi materialized in his hand. It was not a solid object, but a flowing, flexible tendril of energy that seemed to have a life of its own.
Crack! He snapped the whip, and the sound echoed across the plaza like a gunshot. "Try to get close," he challenged, his grin widening.
He began his assault. The Qi whip became a blur of motion, a hissing green snake that struck from unpredictable angles. It was a masterful display of ranged combat. He kept Lei Man at a distance, the tip of the whip a constant, deadly threat that could lash out, entangle, or strike from above.
Lei Man was forced into a purely defensive dance. The Flowing Butterfly Art was in its element, his body a phantom that drifted and weaved, always staying just outside the whip's maximum range. The green tendril would slice through the air where he had been a moment before, leaving glowing green scorch marks on the stone stage.
The crowd watched, captivated. It was a beautiful, deadly ballet. The lashing, aggressive green snake was constantly trying to strike the elusive, untouchable blue butterfly.
Jiang Li was clearly a skilled practitioner. He varied his attacks, using wide, sweeping arcs to control space and then switching to lightning-fast, stabbing strikes aimed at Lei Man's vitals. But Lei Man's footwork was flawless. No matter the angle, no matter the speed, he was never where the whip landed.
Lei Man, however, knew he couldn't keep this up forever. Jiang Li's control was superb, and his Qi reserves seemed deep. Evasion alone would not win him the match. He needed to find a flaw.
The flaw, he realized, was not in the technique, but in the medium. The whip was made of Qi. It was a projection of Jiang Li's will, but it was still just energy. And energy could be disrupted.
During one of Jiang Li's powerful overhead strikes, Lei Man did something unexpected. He didn't retreat. He moved forward, just a single step, closing the distance slightly. He held up his hand, not to block, but with his index and middle fingers extended, like the sting of a butterfly.
As the green whip descended, he didn't try to parry it. He simply touched it.
He sent a tiny, sharp, and incredibly precise pulse of his own deep blue Qi into the whip at the point of contact.
The effect was instantaneous and catastrophic for Jiang Li. It was like introducing a single drop of a powerful solvent into a perfectly mixed chemical solution. The pulse of Lei Man's refined, stable Qi shot up the length of the green whip, not as a destructive force, but as a disruptive one. It shattered the delicate, focused intent Jiang Li was using to maintain the whip's form.
The vibrant green tendril of energy, a moment ago a deadly, focused weapon, suddenly wavered. It lost its cohesion, its form unraveling like a frayed thread. It dissolved into a harmless cloud of sparkling green light that dissipated into the air.
Jiang Li stared at his empty hand, his jaw hanging open in utter shock. His connection to his whip, his ultimate technique, had been severed in an instant.
He didn't have time to recover. The moment the whip dissolved, Lei Man was moving. He crossed the remaining distance between them, a silent, blue-robed specter.
Jiang Li looked up, his cheerful grin gone, replaced by a look of pure panic. He saw Lei Man's hand coming towards his chest in a gentle, open-palmed push.
He flew from the stage.
The push was not violent, but it was an irresistible tide of power. Jiang Li was lifted off his feet and sent sailing through the air in a graceful arc, landing with a heavy thud on the plaza floor below, unharmed but utterly defeated.
"Winner, Lei Man!"
A moment of stunned silence was followed by an eruption of applause. The crowd had just witnessed something incredible. He hadn't broken the whip, or dodged it. He had unraveled it. He had defeated not just the fighter, but the art itself.
Lei Man descended the stage, his gaze sweeping across the other arenas. He saw Chu Qinqing, who had just finished her own match with another display of effortless dominance. Their eyes met across the plaza for a brief, electric moment. There was no animosity, only a silent, mutual acknowledgment.
They were the two undisputed titans of the tournament, on a collision course for an inevitable, final confrontation.
The sun hung low in the sky, painting the clouds in hues of orange and violet. The tournament had reached its penultimate stage. On each of the six arenas, only a few fighters remained. The air was thick with the anticipation of the final clashes that would decide the stage champions.
On Stage One, Chu Qinqing ascended the steps for what would be her semi-final match. Her calm was a stark contrast to the roaring excitement of the crowd. She had become the undisputed star of the tournament, her every match a lesson in masterful cultivation.
"Her opponent, the Wind Blade prodigy, Xi Rou!"
Xi Rou was a youth with a sharp, angular face and an air of supreme confidence. He moved with a light, almost dancing step, and his green Qi was so refined it was nearly invisible, manifesting only as a slight distortion in the air around him. He was a famed genius from another city, known for a single, terrifying attribute: speed.
"I've been waiting for this," Xi Rou said with a confident smirk, forgoing any formal greeting. "Your slow, plodding water style is no match for the speed of the wind. Let's see you divert something you can't even see."
"Begin!"
Xi Rou vanished.
He didn't run; he simply ceased to be where he was standing, reappearing at the edge of the stage in a blur of motion. He raised his hand, and the air itself seemed to scream. "Thousand Wind Cuts!"
He unleashed his signature art. It was not a single attack, but a relentless, omnidirectional assault. Invisible blades of wind Qi, each one sharp enough to slice through stone, filled the entire arena. They came from every angle, a chaotic, inescapable storm of cutting force that left shallow, crisscrossing gouges all over the stage. There was nowhere to dodge, nowhere to hide.
The crowd gasped. It was a technique designed to shred any defense and overwhelm any opponent through sheer, untraceable speed and volume.
Chu Qinqing stood in the center of the storm, her blue robes fluttering wildly. She did not create a vortex. She did not try to block. She simply closed her eyes for a moment, and her placid aura expanded.
"Azure Sea's Domain: Stillness," she whispered, the words almost lost in the screaming wind.
A profound and heavy silence fell over the stage. The change was not visible, but it was tangible. The very air within the bounds of the arena grew thick, heavy, and dense, as if the entire stage had been plunged a thousand feet beneath the surface of the ocean.
Xi Rou's technique, a moment ago an invisible, lightning-fast storm, was suddenly rendered visible. His "invisible" blades of wind became slow-moving, shimmering ripples, struggling to push through the incredibly dense atmosphere. His own movements, once a blur, became sluggish and labored. He was no longer a master of the wind; he was a fly caught in amber.
His confident smirk was gone, replaced by a look of pure, horrified disbelief. He was trying to run, but his legs felt like they were mired in molasses. His greatest asset, his absolute speed, had been completely and utterly neutralized.
"You cannot be fast," Chu Qinqing stated, opening her eyes, "where there is no room to move."
She raised a single, delicate finger. A tiny droplet of her blue Qi formed at the tip. With a quiet focus, she compressed it, again and again, until it was no longer a drop, but a single, needle-thin point of shimmering, azure light. It was an attack of absolute, perfect concentration, the polar opposite of Xi Rou's chaotic "Thousand Wind Cuts."
With a flick of her wrist, she sent the water needle flying.
It cut through the heavy, dense air of her domain with effortless grace. Xi Rou, his movements slow and clumsy, saw it coming but was powerless to dodge.
The needle didn't strike his body. It stopped a hair's breadth from the soft skin of his throat, hovering in the air, its point radiating a cold that promised a swift, clean death.
Xi Rou froze, a bead of cold sweat tracing a path down his temple. He had been so utterly, so completely outclassed that it defied his understanding of cultivation.
"I... I surrender," he stammered, his voice tight with fear and humiliation.
The moment he spoke, the heavy, oppressive stillness vanished. The air returned to normal. The water needle dissolved into a harmless mist.
"Winner, Chu Qinqing!" the referee announced, his voice filled with an unconcealable awe.
She had not just defeated her opponent. She had taken control of the very battlefield, rewriting the laws of physics within the arena to turn her enemy's greatest strength into his most glaring weakness. It was a display of power and control so profound, it bordered on the transcendent. She was not just a genius. She was a monster.
The light of the setting sun cast long, dramatic shadows across the plaza as the semi-final round for Stage Three was announced. The crowd, thinned by the long day but more fervent than ever, pressed in, their voices a low hum of anticipation. Lei Man had become one of the tournament's dark horses, an untouchable ghost who had yet to be struck a single blow.
"On Stage Three, Participant #37, Lei Man!"
He ascended the steps, his calm unchanged. He had watched Chu Qinqing's last match, a chilling display of absolute environmental control. He knew the level of genius he might soon have to face. But first, there was the obstacle in front of him.
"His opponent, the Berserker, Shu Bo Xi!"
A mountain of a youth lumbered onto the stage. Shu Bo Xi was huge, his shoulders as wide as a doorway, his arms thick with corded muscle. He was at the peak of the second level of Qi Gathering, but his Qi was a chaotic, furious, blood-red aura that radiated pure, untamed power. He carried no weapon. He was the weapon.
"So you're the butterfly," Shu Bo Xi grunted, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. He cracked his knuckles, a sound like rocks grinding together. "I'm going to crush you."
"Begin!"
Shu Bo Xi did not use a subtle technique. He roared, a sound that was more beast than man, and his entire body swelled. His skin took on a reddish hue, and his blood-red Qi flared, forming a visible, intimidating aura of raw, violent energy. He was a practitioner of a berserker art, a technique that traded finesse for overwhelming, savage power.
He charged. He wasn't a blur of speed like Xi Rou, but a living avalanche, an unstoppable force of nature. The stone stage shuddered with each of his thundering footsteps.
Lei Man, as always, flowed. He initiated the Flowing Butterfly Art, his body becoming a weightless phantom. Shu Bo Xi's first punch, a blow that could have shattered a boulder, smashed into the empty air, the shockwave alone rustling Lei Man's robes as he drifted to the side.
"Stop dodging!" Shu Bo Xi bellowed, his frustration immediate. He began a relentless assault, his fists like twin battering rams, each blow carrying an immense, explosive force.
But it was like trying to punch smoke. Lei Man was an untouchable ghost, his movements a perfect, minimalist dance of evasion. He never moved more than was necessary, preserving his energy, letting the raging bear exhaust himself.
However, Lei Man quickly realized this was a different kind of fight. Shu Bo Xi's stamina was as monstrous as his strength. His berserker state seemed to fuel him, his attacks growing wilder but no less powerful. Evasion alone would not be enough; the bear would never tire.
And unlike his previous opponents, Shu Bo Xi's chaotic, wide-swinging attacks had no clear, single point of weakness. He was a fortress of rage. Trying to slip inside his guard for a precise strike would be suicide; a single grazing blow would be enough to shatter bone.
Lei Man needed a new approach. He couldn't find a flaw. So, just as Chu Qinqing had done, he would have to create one.
During one of Shu Bo Xi's furious swings, Lei Man didn't just dodge. He allowed himself to be herded towards a corner of the stage. It was a tactical error, a sign of weakness in the eyes of the raging berserker. Shu Bo Xi grinned, seeing his chance to trap the slippery insect.
He drove Lei Man back, step by step, until Lei Man's heel was just inches from the edge of the arena. Shu Bo Xi let out a triumphant roar and lunged forward, putting all of his power into a final, massive double-fisted smash designed to pulverize Lei Man and drive him from the stage.
It was a trap.
At the last possible second, as the two massive, red-glowing fists filled his vision, Lei Man did something no one expected. He didn't dodge to the side. He jumped.
He used a burst of Qi not to attack, but to launch himself straight up, and then backwards, off the stage and into the open air.
The crowd gasped. Had he surrendered? Had he made a mistake?
Shu Bo Xi's fists smashed into the empty air, his own immense momentum carrying him forward. He stumbled, his feet landing right where Lei Man had been standing, at the very edge of the stage, his balance completely broken.
He had won... and in doing so, he had lost.
Hanging in the air for a split second, Lei Man acted. He flicked his wrist, sending a single, solid cord of his deep blue Qi shooting out. It wasn't an attack. It was a tether. The cord of Qi wrapped around Shu Bo Xi's ankle.
And then Lei Man pulled.
He used his own falling weight, combined with a sharp, controlled tug of his Qi, as a lever.
Shu Bo Xi, off-balance and bewildered, was unceremoniously yanked off his feet. The mountain toppled. He fell from the stage with a cry of pure, frustrated rage, crashing to the plaza floor below with a thunderous, earth-shaking thud.
Lei Man, his maneuver complete, simply let his tether of Qi dissolve and landed gracefully on his feet on the ground outside the arena, not a scratch on him.
The referee on the stage stared, dumbfounded, at the empty arena, then at the two fighters standing on the ground below. It took him a moment to process the sheer audacity of the tactic.
"Winner," he finally called out, his voice filled with disbelief, "by ring-out... Lei Man!"
A wave of stunned, then appreciative laughter and applause swept through the crowd. He had won without landing a single blow. He had used his opponent's own aggression and the very rules of the tournament to defeat a foe who was physically far stronger. It was a victory of pure, unadulterated cunning.
He had earned his place in the stage final.