The midday sun cast hard shadows across the arena's jade platform, painting the dueling ground in stripes of gold and emerald. Cheers and laughter echoed as the last of the previous match's debris was swept away. Even after Lin Su's dazzling performance, the crowd's appetite was not sated—they wanted more spectacle, more blood, more legend.
Kai Jin watched quietly from the Dawning Blades' section, arms folded, gaze sharp. The commentator's voice soared across the stadium:
"Next, a highly anticipated showdown—Wu Jian, the Iron Tiger of the Black Iron Sect, versus Bai Long, the Soaring Dragon of the Azure Sky Palace!"
The crowd erupted. Wu Jian was a giant, his shoulders broad enough to block out the sun, his fists wrapped in iron bands. Beside him, Bai Long appeared almost delicate—tall, slim, with silver hair braided down his back and eyes calm as still water. Yet rumors swirled of his monstrous speed and lethal, dance-like swordplay.
Both stepped onto the arena. Wu Jian stomped, shaking the stone. Bai Long bowed with refined courtesy, lips barely curved in a polite smile.
The referee's voice boomed: "Begin!"
Wu Jian wasted no time, charging with the force of a landslide. His opening punch cracked the platform, sending chips of jade skittering. Bai Long drifted back, flowing around the blows, robes fluttering in the rush of displaced air. Each step was measured, elegant.
The audience gasped as Wu Jian unleashed a flurry of iron-fisted strikes. Bai Long bent, spun, ducked—never quite in the same place twice. Wu Jian's power was overwhelming, but it crashed again and again into empty space. For every near-miss, Bai Long countered with a flash of steel, scoring thin lines along Wu Jian's arms and legs.
Kai watched closely. The contrast fascinated him: brute force against flowing precision, tiger against dragon.
Wu Jian roared, his aura blazing. He stomped and the arena shook, stone dust flying. With a shout, he launched a roundhouse kick that could have snapped a tree in two. Bai Long leaned back, his body parallel to the ground, then snapped upright, sword gleaming.
A moment's breath—then Bai Long attacked. His blade moved so fast it left afterimages, tracing looping arcs through the air. Wu Jian threw up both arms, blocking the first strike, but the second and third slipped through his guard, drawing blood.
The crowd was spellbound. Even the other sects' core disciples leaned forward.
Wu Jian countered with a roar, slamming his fists together and summoning a wall of iron Qi to defend himself. Bai Long's attacks met the shield, sparks flying, but couldn't break through. The dragon and the tiger circled—one relentless, one elusive.
Sweat dripped down Wu Jian's face. Bai Long's breath came steady, each exhale a study in focus.
The World Eye whispered in Kai's mind: *"Balance, boy. Even a dragon can tire, even a tiger can learn patience."*
Wu Jian shifted tactics, feinting a punch and then grabbing for Bai Long's wrist. For a moment, he caught him—just long enough to slam him into the ground. The platform shook with the impact. The crowd gasped as dust billowed up.
But Bai Long rolled, sliding from Wu Jian's grip, sword flashing out. He sliced Wu Jian's shoulder—blood welled, and Wu Jian stumbled, momentarily stunned.
Bai Long rose, bowing slightly, blade steady.
Wu Jian wiped the blood from his shoulder and grinned, respect gleaming in his eyes. "Good. Let's see what you can really do!"
The two clashed again, faster, harder—every exchange a blur of movement. Bai Long's sword was a ribbon of lightning; Wu Jian's fists were boulders crashing through the storm. At last, after a dozen breathless exchanges, Bai Long found an opening—his blade swept low, catching Wu Jian's leg and dropping him to one knee.
He pressed the advantage, sword at Wu Jian's throat. "Yield," he said, voice quiet but commanding.
Wu Jian hesitated, then released a booming laugh and lowered his fists. "Yield. You win, Dragon."
The arena burst into applause as the referee declared the match for Bai Long. Both fighters bowed deeply, mutual respect clear in every motion.
Kai Jin leaned back, his mind racing. This was the level he would soon have to surpass.
The commentator's voice rang out: "What a battle! Power and precision, might and mastery—remember those names, for this tournament is far from over!"
The crowd cheered, and the tournament surged forward, hungry for its next legend.