Neither moved.
The atmosphere on the arena grew tense.
Bai Yu did not launch his usual rapid assault. He knew—against Ye Chen, ordinary attacks were useless. Time Perception could predict any movement. Attacking recklessly would only waste energy.
"Not attacking?" Ye Chen asked.
"You're not moving either." Bai Yu grinned. "You're waiting for me to attack so you can predict my moves, right?"
Ye Chen did not deny it.
"Then I won't let you predict." With that, Bai Yu's form blurred.
Vanished.
No—not vanished. He was moving too fast for the naked eye to follow.
Ye Chen immediately activated Time Perception. In the instant Bai Yu moved, he "saw" it—Bai Yu's trajectory traced a complex arc like a flash of cyan lightning, circling around to his flank.
Ye Chen turned to face him.
Bai Yu's form reappeared, surprise flickering across his face. "You saw that?"
"I saw it."
"Then let's see how much you can see!"
Bai Yu vanished again.
This time, he moved faster. He dashed across the arena at high speed, leaving afterimages in his wake, attacking from every direction—left, right, front, back, above, below—each direction holding a Bai Yu, true and false intermingled, dizzying to behold.
The crowd watched in awe.
"That's the Wind Emperor family's 'Wind Shadow Step' technique! At its peak, it can create nine afterimages!"
"Nine? Bai Yu's only using five!"
"Five is still incredible! He's only six!"
Ye Chen stood at the arena's center, Time Perception at full power.
In his perception, each afterimage had a clear trajectory. The afterimages weren't illusions—they were "traces" left by Bai Yu's high-speed movement. There was only one real Bai Yu.
"Found you."
Ye Chen spun sharply, his right hand striking toward empty space on his left.
The crowd gasped—was he hitting air?
But in the next instant, Bai Yu's form materialized exactly at that spot, meeting Ye Chen's palm strike.
Bai Yu's expression changed. He twisted his body mid-air, barely evading the strike. His sleeve, brushed by Ye Chen's fingers, tore and fluttered to the arena floor.
"How did you…" Bai Yu stared at Ye Chen in disbelief after landing.
"Your footwork is fast," Ye Chen said. "But no matter how fast, there's always a trajectory. Find the trajectory, find you."
Bai Yu was silent for a few seconds, then laughed. "You're really something."
He straightened, crossing his hands before his chest. A cyan current swirled around him, his hair lifted by the flow, his robes rustling.
"Then let's see if you can predict this."
Bai Yu threw his arms wide. The cyan current exploded into countless tiny wind blades, raining down on Ye Chen like a storm.
"Dance of the Nine Heavens!"
A basic area-attack technique of the Wind Emperor family—not especially powerful, but with tremendous coverage. Bai Yu's goal wasn't to defeat Ye Chen with this move, but to leave him nowhere to hide.
Ye Chen had nowhere to hide.
The wind blades covered the entire arena. No matter which way he dodged, some would strike him. Time Perception let him see their trajectories, but his body's speed was limited—he couldn't evade them all.
"I'll have to take it."
Ye Chen protected his head and face with his arms, curling his body to minimize the area exposed. Simultaneously, he activated Spatial Perception, seeking weak points in the blade storm.
The wind blades sliced through his clothes, leaving bleeding cuts on his arms and back. Pain flared, but he gritted his teeth and held.
Seeing Ye Chen still standing, Bai Yu's eyes flickered with respect. But he did not stop—in a match, the greatest respect for an opponent was to give your all.
The blades intensified, and Ye Chen's wounds multiplied.
Yet he did not fall.
Because his Spatial Perception had finally found it.
On Bai Yu's right side, there was an area where the wind blades were relatively sparse—a "dead zone" in the Wind Lingyuan flow, a weak point in Bai Yu's attack range.
Ye Chen lunged toward it.
He threaded through gaps between blades, his clothes taking more cuts, but he succeeded—he burst out of the wind blade storm, appearing directly before Bai Yu.
Bai Yu's pupils contracted.
Ye Chen's right hand was already raised, his fingertips aimed at Bai Yu's chest.
"Space Cutting."
Not at full power. He used only a thread of cutting force, just enough to tear a slit in Bai Yu's collar.
If he had used full force, this strike could have gravely injured Bai Yu.
Bai Yu looked down at the tear in his clothes, then up at Ye Chen.
They stared at each other.
Then Bai Yu laughed.
"I lost." His concession was clean and clear.
Silence fell over the crowd once more.
Bai Yu—the prodigy of the Wind Emperor family, the once-in-a-century Lingyuan master—had conceded.
The referee paused for several beats before announcing: "Number thirty-seven wins!"
Ye Chen lowered his hand and gave Bai Yu a slight nod. "I was fortunate."
"Don't get cocky." Bai Yu snorted. "Next time, I'll win."
"I'll be waiting."
They smiled at each other.
Below the arena, Luo Li watched quietly, something complex flickering in her ice-blue eyes.
Tie Shan cheered excitedly from the crowd: "Way to go, Ye Chen!"
Qin Yurou applauded with a smile, her eyes full of admiration.
And those who had mocked Ye Chen before now fell silent.
Because they finally realized—this boy they had called "useless" was stronger than all of them.