The courtyard they had unconsciously ended up was quiet at first—too quiet for a battlefield. Every leaf rustled in the wind's tentative breath, and even the ancient stone walls seemed to lean forward, listening.
Wu Zhangkong hovered a few feet above the marble floor, arms folded behind his back. He wore the same white robes, but his eyes—sharp as icicles—tracked every motion below. He could see the faint pulse of soul power around each student: golden coils at Wulin's feet, emerald wisps at Gu Yue's staff tip, turquoise flickers around Xie Xie's daggers, and the deep violet glow beneath Qiang Ming's boots.
He raised a hand. The four combatants, already battered and bruised, snapped to attention.
"Begin."
Qiang Ming advanced first. His hammer glowed faintly, but he held it low, as if testing the waters. A gentle, almost hesitant step forward.
Tang Wulin responded in kind, vines of Blue Silver Grass twisting around his forearms like living gauntlets. He punched the ground. A wave of vegetation burst forward, aiming to entangle Qiang Ming's feet.
But Qiang Ming sidestepped, the ground cracking beneath his sole.
He swung—a low, arcing strike meant to disrupt rather than harm.
Wulin blocked, vines shattering like brittle glass.
Gu Yue took to the air:
A pillar of wind whirled behind her, lifting shards of gravel into a swirling shield.
Xie Xie vanished, phasing around Qiang Ming's flank in a flash. He struck with his Shadow Dragon Dagger, a pulse of deadly shadow.
Qiang Ming parried by planting his hammer butt and pivoting—
A shockwave rippling out, knocking Xie Xie back.
Wu Zhangkong watched. Good. They're probing—feeling each other out. No overextended attacks. Cautious. Careful.
Qiang Ming roared—a sound more felt than heard—and swung fully.
The SoulQuake Blow rippled outward: a seismic pulse that shattered an ancient statue at the courtyard's edge.
Wulin braced, using his vines to lock into stone cracks, but the tremor dissolved them. He staggered.
Gu Yue answered with a torrent of flame and water—steam hissed as fire met water, creating a blinding smokescreen.
Xie Xie darted through the haze, landing twin strikes on Qiang Ming's shoulder.
Qiang Ming grunted, stepping back. That flash speed… he's improved.
He swung again—this time upward—
But Tang Wulin leapt, wrapping vines around the hammer's handle, yanking with all his might.
Qiang Ming stumbled.
Two yellow rings glowed beneath him as he channeled power to break free—
The hammer jerked loose, sending vines flying in thick strands.
Wu Zhangkong noted the strain in both:
Wulin's overreached.
Qiang Ming's limb control is superb.
Gu Yue descended, staff swirling with wind, channeling a miniature tornado.
She aimed it at Qiang Ming's feet—
But Xie Xie leapt in, dagger arcs slicing the funnel's edge, dissipating the vortex.
Then, together, they struck:
Xie Xie attacked Qiang Ming's blind spot, running a feint to draw his guard.
Tang Wulin barreled in, vines coiling around Qiang Ming's hammer arm.
Gu Yue struck from above, summoning lightning in the wind's eye.
Qiang Ming gritted his teeth, planting his feet.
He braced against Wulin's grip and twisted—
Sending Wulin spinning into Xie Xie, disrupting their coordination.
Then, hammer came up:
SoulQuake Blow once more—
A focused tremor that cleaved vine and flesh alike, throwing Xie Xie off-balance.
He staggered. Almost fell.
Gu Yue soared forward, ice forming at her staff's tip.
She swung. A sheet of black ice shot out, aimed at Qiang Ming's legs.
Qiang Ming leapt, swinging his hammer butt underfoot—
Cracking the ice into razor shards.
Wu Zhangkong's perspective drifted inward.
He remembered the first time he tested Qiang Ming: the boy's calm under pressure, the latent intensity. And now…
He had never expected such symmetry.
He saw sweat glistening on all four faces.
He saw exertion—how Gu Yue's normally perfect control wavered. How Xie Xie's movements traded speed for precision. How Wulin's vines frayed at the ends. How Qiang Ming's hammerstroke trembled at the haft.
Every advantage gained by Qiang Ming was met with a counter:
When Qiang Ming used SoulQuake Blow, Wulin's vines would brace in stone cracks instead of soft ground.
When Qiang Ming tried to finish with the hammer's edge, Xie Xie would slip behind Gu Yue's wind barrier.
When Qiang Ming leaped high, Gu Yue summoned ice spikes under him.
And each time, Qiang Ming would adapt.
The sky above the courtyard shifted from gold to amber, then to rose, as the sun began its descent. The training halls around echoed with nearby laughter—distant, oblivious—while in this ring, the battle raged on.
Every breath was ragged now.
Every strike required thought and pain.
Qiang Ming's two rings dimmed. His hammerhead fractured the earth but hardly seemed to slow his opponents now.
Wulin's vines wilted. Sweat dripped from his brow.
Xie Xie's daggers glowed faintly, a fourth ring flickering in his soul sea as he summoned every scrap of energy.
Gu Yue's staff shuddered in her grip. Her command over wind and fire felt slack.
Wu Zhangkong watched without intervening. This was a test beyond mere strength—it was a test of heart.
Qiang Ming raised his hammer for one last full-power strike.
At the same moment:
Wulin launched vine whips to bind the hammer.
Xie Xie dashed in, dagger whirling for Qiang Ming's ribs.
Gu Yue summoned a gale of steam and shards.
Time slowed.
Qiang Ming's mind cleared. He felt a surge—
Not of raw soul power.
But of belonging. Of camaraderie.
He planted both feet.
He met the combined assault with a measured block—
Hammer and vines locked.
Daggers and mist halted.
And for a heartbeat, he stood.
Then—
He relaxed.
The assault collapsed.
Their mutual exhaustion overwhelmed them all.
They faltered.
They fell.
Qiang Ming crumpled, hammer slipping from numb hands. He landed on one knee, then the other, and finally lay flat on his back.
Above him, the sky was bruised purple; the courtyard lanterns were flickering on.
He closed his eyes.
Free.
He felt no victory, yet he felt nothing but relief.
He rolled over. Dragged himself up, hammer in hand like a lifeline.
He wiped sweat and blood from his brow. He looked toward his teacher.
With every ounce of breath he had left, he spoke:
"I will see you guys in that place. I believe then we will be true equals."
He turned.
He walked.
Wu Zhangkong moved next, silent as moonlight. He drifted to where his students lay.
Tang Wulin. Xie Xie. Gu Yue.
All three were unconscious, their bodies slack, breathing shallow.
Wu Zhangkong knelt and laid a hand on Wulin's shoulder.
He gathered Xie Xie's daggers.
He brushed a lock of hair from Gu Yue's face.
Then he lifted them—one under each arm, one on his back—as though they weighed nothing.
The courtyard was dim now.
His students, once so fierce, were at rest.
Wu Zhangkong rose, soul power glazing him with pale light.
He looked at Qiang Ming's departing figure—tall against the horizon.
Then he turned.
He walked into the dusk, carrying his students home.