The sun rose over the sect's sprawling grounds, casting warm gold across peaks. Orange and pink streaked the morning sky as disciples and elders streamed toward the competition stadium through the teleportation portal.
The arena soon filled with anticipation.
Today will decide the champions.
Li Yan stood among the sixteen remaining competitors, calm as ever. His purple eyes reflected neither excitement nor tension—only quiet focus. From the audience seats, whispers drifted in his direction. Some pointed subtly.
His performance yesterday had not gone unnoticed.
The head referee, clad in green elder robes, stepped onto the central platform. His voice rolled across the stadium, firm and resonant.
"Welcome back, disciples. Today, we conclude the annual competition. The semifinals and finals will determine the champions of each rank."
Cheers surged through the arena.
"Participants, check your bracelets for match assignments. We begin with the semifinals."
The competitors moved toward their designated arena platforms.
The White Rank semifinals: First match—Arena Platform #9: Wen Hai versus Mu Fan. Second match—Arena Platform #8: Li Yan Tian versus Zhang Wei.
Across the stadium, eight semifinal matches were prepared to begin simultaneously.
On Platform #9, Wen Hai and Mu Fan stepped forward.
Wen Hai was tall and broad-shouldered, with fiery red hair catching the sunlight. His amber eyes burned with competitive intensity. His stance radiated confidence.
Opposite him, Mu Fan stood lean and composed. His short black hair framed a focused expression. Known for his strength among the white-ranked disciples, he carried himself with restrained precision.
Meanwhile, on Platform #8, Li Yan faced Zhang Wei.
Zhang Wei was equally tall, heavily built, his features sharp beneath a confident smirk. Darkness Qi rolled off him in heavy waves. His cultivation stood at the peak of the Qi Gathering Realm—one stage above Li Yan's.
The pressure was deliberate.
Intimidation.
Li Yan remained unmoved.
He had already defeated a peak-stage opponent the day before.
Cultivation difference alone meant little.
"Begin!" the referee declared.
Zhang Wei surged forward immediately, a massive hammer materializing in his grip. Darkness Qi flooded the weapon, and the ground fractured beneath his charge.
He swung with overwhelming force.
Li Yan stepped aside effortlessly. The hammer smashed into stone where he had stood, cracking the platform.
"Is dodging all you can do?" Zhang Wei growled, pivoting into another strike. This time, a wave of dark Qi rippled outward with the swing.
Li Yan lifted one hand.
A sphere of Superior-Level Darkness Qi formed in his palm—dense, controlled. The incoming wave struck it—
—and vanished.
The Superior-Level Qi swallowed it whole.
A collective gasp rose from the crowd.
Zhang Wei's expression hardened. For a fleeting instant, he felt something unfamiliar—his own Darkness Qi stirring uneasily within him, as though unsettled by the presence of something purer.
"Your strength is commendable," Li Yan said calmly. "But strength without precision is wasted."
Fury flared across Zhang Wei's face.
With a roar, he activated his technique. Darkness engulfed the hammer as he leaped high into the air, aiming to crush Li Yan with a decisive blow.
Li Yan's lips curved faintly.
With a subtle flick of his wrist, he invoked Shadow Manipulation.
A tendril of Superior-Level Darkness Qi erupted from the arena floor—sleek, swift, alive with controlled force. It coiled around Zhang Wei midair.
Before he could react, the tendril yanked him downward.
He slammed into the platform with a thunderous impact.
The crowd erupted—cheers, disbelief, excited murmurs blending into one.
The tendril tightened—but Zhang Wei resisted for a heartbeat.
Then, Zhang Wei coughed, struggling to tear free from the binding shadow. He forced Qi into his limbs, but the tendril tightened like iron.
Li Yan was already moving.
A sword appeared in his hand as he dashed forward, speed compressing distance in a breath. The blade stopped just short of Zhang Wei's throat.
Cold steel.
Unmistakable.
"I suggest you concede," Li Yan said quietly.
Zhang Wei's jaw tightened. Pride warred against reason.
Seconds stretched as he tried to free himself from tendrils.
Then his shoulders lowered.
"I… concede."
The referee raised his hand. "Winner—Li Yan Tian."
The arena stirred once more.
And Li Yan lowered his sword, expression unchanged.
As the crowd responded to Li Yan's victory, he stepped down from Arena Platform #8 and allowed his gaze to shift toward the still ongoing match between Mu Fan and Wen Hai on Platform #9.
Wen Hai launched the next exchange with a sweeping gesture, summoning a flurry of shadow spikes from the stone floor. The jagged constructs erupted in a rolling wave toward Mu Fan. Unperturbed, Mu Fan's figure blurred and dissolved into the surrounding shadows, vanishing entirely from sight.
A tense silence fell across the audience.
Mu Fan reappeared behind Wen Hai in a breath, his shadow blade striking forward with ruthless precision. Wen Hai reacted just in time, pivoting sharply and raising a shield of condensed Darkness Qi. The blade collided against it with a dull shockwave, black energy dispersing outward.
The battle intensified. Shadow constructs rose and shattered in rapid succession. Arcs of dark energy carved across the platform, only to be intercepted or countered moments later. Both disciples pushed their techniques to the limit, their control over Darkness Qi refined and relentless.
In the elders' seating area, Cao Lian leaned slightly toward Ji Hong, who sat with arms crossed, his expression thoughtful.
"Husband," she asked quietly, "what was that ability Li Yan used earlier? He ended the match far too quickly."
Ji Hong shook his head faintly. "It was my first time seeing it as well." He lowered his voice. "But I do not believe it was a technique. It felt more like an innate ability—Superior-Level Darkness affinity."
Cao Lian's eyes widened. "An innate ability?"
Ji Hong nodded once. "His precision and control surpass ordinary elemental affinity. Such talent is rare… exceedingly rare."
What Ji Hong did not know was that Li Yan had refined that ability relentlessly during his nights in the Hunting Grounds. Shadow Manipulation was no longer unfamiliar—it had become instinct.
Now, he can use it during the day with precision as well, but he needs shadows; with the arena's dim light and sunless environment, stretched shadows are unnaturally perfect for control.
On Platform #9, the match reached its climax. Mu Fan executed a subtle feint, drawing Wen Hai into overcommitting to a strike. In that fleeting opening, Mu Fan's shadow blade cut cleanly across Wen Hai's guard, stopping just short of a fatal blow.
After a tense pause, Wen Hai lowered his weapon.
The referee declared Mu Fan the winner, and the crowd applauded. Mu Fan bowed briefly before returning to the waiting area, faint fatigue visible beneath his otherwise steady composure.
He took his place not far from Li Yan as the remaining semifinal matches of the higher ranks concluded.
When the final match ended, the head referee stepped once more onto the central platform. His voice carried clearly across the arena.
"Congratulations to the finalists of each rank. After a short break, the finals will begin. All final matches will be held on the central platform, starting with the White Rank. The semifinal losers will compete for third place on the middle platforms."
Excitement rippled through the audience as disciples discussed the coming clashes.
After the intermission, the referee returned to the center. "It is time for the finals. The first match—White Rank Final: Li Yan Tian versus Mu Fan."
A wave of cheers swept across the arena.
Li Yan stepped onto the central platform with measured calm, his purple eyes steady and unreadable. Opposite him, Mu Fan walked forward with quiet confidence, though traces of his earlier exertion remained in his posture.
On the surrounding platforms, third-place matches began, yet the attention remained fixed on the central arena.
The head referee glanced between the two finalists. "Begin."
Both summoned their swords in unison. Steel glinted beneath the morning sun.
Neither moved.
For a moment, they stood in silence, gazes locked, measuring the distance—not merely in steps, but in intent.
The audience and even the head referee watched with surprise as neither contestant moved. The two stood facing each other on the central platform, swords drawn but idle. The tension thickened in the air, and whispers began to ripple through the crowd.
At last, Mu Fan spoke. "Li Yan Tian, I watched your match yesterday. Your abilities… they're impressive."
Li Yan raised an eyebrow slightly but said nothing, waiting for him to continue.
Mu Fan's gaze sharpened. "I have a proposal. Yesterday, you destroyed a Mortal-Tier Mid-Level technique with ease. I also possess one. If you can destroy my attack without using a Mortal-Tier Mid-Level technique yourself—even if you have one—I'll concede immediately."
A wave of murmurs spread through the arena.
Li Yan's expression remained calm. "First," he said plainly, his voice carrying clearly across the platform, "I don't possess a Mortal-Tier Mid-Level technique."
The crowd fell abruptly silent.
"Second," Li Yan continued, a faint smile touching his lips, "after your semifinal match, do you truly have enough Qi left to fight afterward—even after you use the Mortal-Tier Mid-Level technique?"
Mu Fan froze.
The meaning behind those words spread quickly through the audience. Many disciples turned toward him, realizing the implication. Despite consuming a Qi Replenishing Pill after his previous match, his reserves were still far from full.
In the elders' seating area, Ji Hong leaned back slightly, shaking his head with quiet amusement. "This boy… his judgment is remarkable. He can read an opponent's condition almost instantly."
Cao Lian nodded faintly, still thoughtful from their earlier conversation. "He's not only powerful. He's perceptive."
Back on the platform, Li Yan spoke again, his tone steady. "But I do not avoid challenges. Begin when you are ready."
Mu Fan's smirk returned, convinced his plan had succeeded. He moved his hands in swift, intricate patterns, forming seals that drew darkness Qi into the air above the arena.
Mu Fan knew this was his only chance. So, he used every bit of his Qi to go all out in this one attack. A massive formation materialized overhead, glowing with ominous silver-and-black patterns. As it stabilized, a heavy pressure spread across the stadium.
"Eternal Abyss Claw!" Mu Fan shouted.
From the heart of the formation, a colossal spectral claw descended, saturated with dense Darkness Qi. Its presence radiated malice, sending a chill through the watching crowd. The technique's scale alone made its destructive intent unmistakable.
Li Yan stood unmoved beneath it.
"Stronger than Xia Rou's technique yesterday," he noted silently.
With a calm motion, he channeled his Superior-Level Darkness Qi into the blade, and for a brief moment, a sharp aura flickered across its edge before settling. Then the silver steel darkened to pitch black, shadowy energy coiling along its surface like mist.
In the elders' seating area, Ji Hong suddenly leaned forward. His eyes narrowed sharply.
"Impossible…" he murmured.
On the platform, the descending claw drew closer. Li Yan raised his sword, his voice calm but clear.
"Nightfall Slash."
His blade moved in a single, precise arc. A crescent of dark energy surged upward, slicing through the air with startling speed.
Even Li Yan felt a brief flicker of surprise—it was the first time he had executed the Mortal-Tier Low-Level technique Nightfall Slash while channeling Superior-Level Darkness Qi.
The crescent collided with the massive claw.
The impact shook the platform.
Then the claw shattered.
Its enormous form disintegrated instantly, the gathered darkness scattering into the air like torn smoke. The crescent slash continued upward, striking the formation above. Cracks spread across the glowing array like fractures in glass before it collapsed completely.
Mu Fan gasped. The destruction of the formation sent a violent backlash through his Qi channels. Blood spilled from his lips as he dropped to one knee, clutching his chest.
The crescent slash still surged forward beyond the broken formation. Seeing its lingering power, Li Yan waved his hand calmly. The dark arc dissolved at once, fading into the air like a vanishing shadow.
Silence spread across the stadium.
The spectators struggled to comprehend what they had just witnessed.
Li Yan had shattered a powerful Mortal-Tier Mid-Level technique… using only a Mortal-Tier Low-Level one.
The stunned silence did not last long.
Murmurs spread quickly through the arena as the spectators struggled to process what they had just witnessed.
"How… is that possible?"
"He destroyed Eternal Abyss Claw with a Nightfall Slash?"
"What kind of power does that boy possess?"
Li Yan lowered his sword and turned toward Mu Fan, who remained kneeling on the platform, one hand pressed against his chest.
"Do you wish to continue?" Li Yan asked calmly.
Mu Fan looked up. His face was pale, the backlash from the shattered formation still lingering in his Qi channels. After a brief silence, he shook his head.
"I lost," he admitted. "You're stronger than I thought."
The head referee stepped forward and raised his hand, his voice carrying clearly across the arena. "The winner of the White Rank final—Li Yan Tian!"