Ji Meili was growing irritated. This farce had gone on long enough. She had promised to suppress her cultivation, but she hadn't promised not to use her superior combat experience and technique.
Her aura shifted. The grey energy around her hands condensed, becoming sharper.
"This ends now!" she hissed.
She executed a more advanced palm technique, the "Serpent's Venom Strike." Her hand moved in a zig-zag pattern, making it difficult to track, aimed directly at his chest. It was a technique that should be far beyond the ability of a 3rd Level cultivator to counter.
Lin Yun's Heavenly Eyes flared. He saw the complex energy path of the technique. He saw three possible trajectories it could take. His mind, a supercomputer analyzing variables, calculated the most probable one in an instant.
He couldn't dodge it completely. But he could mitigate it.
Instead of trying to evade, he did the unexpected. He stepped into the attack, his right fist suddenly blazing with a vibrant orange-red flame.
The Fire Fist!
He didn't aim for her palm, knowing her energy was superior. He aimed for the inside of her wrist, a weaker point in the technique's structure that his Heavenly Eyes had pinpointed.
Bam!
Fist and palm collided. A small explosion of fire and grey energy erupted between them.
Lin Yun was sent stumbling back four steps, his arm numb and aching. A trickle of blood ran from his lip where the residual force had nicked him. The difference in pure power was still evident.
But Ji Meili also let out a sharp cry of pain and surprise. She jerked her hand back, clutching her wrist. The sleeve of her robe was singed, and a red, blistering burn was visible on her skin. The Fire Fist's energy had penetrated her defense.
The laughter from the rival clans died instantly.
Silence.
Everyone stared, dumbfounded. Lin Yun, the waste, had not only evaded Ji Meili for so long, but he had also actually landed a blow? He had injured her?
Ji Meili looked down at her burned wrist, then back at Lin Yun. The mockery in her eyes was completely gone, replaced by pure, unadulterated fury. The humiliation of being touched, let alone injured, by someone like him was unbearable.
"You... you insect!" she screamed, her face contorted in rage. "You dare to burn me?!"
Her control over her suppressed cultivation wavered. A flicker of her true 6th-Level aura leaked out, causing the air around her to grow heavy.
On the sidelines, Lin Wanrou's eyes turned cold. "She's breaking her word."
Lin Canghai's face darkened, ready to call for a halt.
But Lin Yun stood his ground, wiping the blood from his lip. He was breathing heavily, his spiritual energy depleted by more than half. But his gaze was steady. He had proven his point. He was not the same helpless boy.
He looked at the enraged Ji Meili and gave a small, tired smile.
"It seems," he said, his voice calm despite his panting, "that the Ji Clan's genius is not as untouchable as she claims."
"How dare you insult me?!" Ji Meili screamed, her voice cracking with unrestrained hatred. It was beyond a humiliation to suffer an injury from this "trash" young master.
Buzz—
As her anger peaked, the spiritual pressure around her fluctuated violently. She no longer held back.
Lin Canghai's expression changed drastically and was about to intervene but Lin Feng suddenly stopped him.
"Believe in him, Father." Lin Feng said calmly. As Lin Yun's training partner, he was confident that Lin Yun could deal with Ji Meili.
Lin Canghai calmed down but the worries on his face didn't go away.
At this moment, Ji Meili lunged. This was not a refined technique or a calculated strike. This was a raw, vicious assault fueled by pure hatred. Her hands, now wreathed in the full, oppressive grey energy of the 6th Level, became claws aiming to tear him apart.
Lin Yun's mind, however, was a calm center in the storm. The moment her aura had flared, his Heavenly Eyes had screamed a warning. His body was already moving before her first step landed.
Swish!
He twisted to the side, the Fleeting Cloud Step carrying him just out of reach. The wind from her clawed fingers ruffled his hair. The gap in their cultivation was now a chasm. A direct hit would shatter his bones.
He had no chance of winning a contest of power. His only path was evasion. His only weapon was patience.
"Stand still and take your punishment, you coward!" Ji Meili roared, launching another furious combination.
A palm strike aimed at his head. A kick aimed at his knees. A sweeping arc of grey energy meant to cut off his escape.
Lin Yun became a ghost. He weaved, ducked, and sidestepped. His movements were not elegant, but they were unnervingly precise.
He didn't try to create distance; he stayed maddeningly close, within the eye of her hurricane. To the observers, it looked like a desperate, chaotic dance, a leaf tossed in a storm.
But the elders and true experts began to see it.
Patriarch Nangong Yi's eyes narrowed. "That movement technique... it's unrefined, but its foundational principle is exceptional. He anticipates her."
Ji Shan and the others also realized this. Lin Yun's movement technique was indeed quite special.
Ji Meili's attacks grew wilder, more reckless. She was expending vast amounts of spiritual energy with every furious strike, while Lin Yun, with his economical, pre-emptive movements, conserved his. She was a raging fire, and he was a trickle of water, patiently waiting for the fire to burn itself out.
"Stop running! Face me!" she screamed, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The constant, futile attacks were taking their toll even on her. Her face was flushed, her hair was disheveled, and her eyes were wide with manic frustration.
The Ji Clan's section was no longer smug at this point. Ji Meili was clearly being made a fool of by a known weakling.
"Die!"
All of a sudden, Ji Meili put all her power into a devastating "Mountain-Splitting Palm," aiming to crush Lin Yun where he stood…