Having secured his place with an unsettling ease that left the arena in a state of bewildered silence, Li Wei stepped out of his designated circle. The fight had been less a battle and more a demonstration of a fundamental truth: a mountain does not need to argue with the pebbles at its feet.
He turned his attention to the other arenas. In the second circle, Li Jin was a desperate whirlwind of sword energy, locked in a grueling war of attrition against Bai Ye's ruthless strikes and Yun Yang's disorienting illusions. In the third, a dazzling ballet of elemental fury unfolded between Bai Zixin's storm, Yun Lian's mist, and Li Yue's rooted, powerful defense. Both fights were intense displays of skill that would take time to resolve.
As Li Wei analyzed their techniques, a commotion pulled his focus back. To the arena's collective shock, Bai Yi and Yun Chen were stirring.
Bai Yi rose, his face a mask of bruised pride. With a roar, he summoned his spiritual weapon—a massive, double-headed war hammer pulsing with earthen energy. A moment later, Yun Chen gained his feet, flicking his wrists to produce two serpentine daggers wreathed in a distorting aura meant to sever Qi.
They were re-arming, their intent to challenge the result clear.
The crowd erupted in outrage and excitement. "This is a disgrace!" "They already lost!" From the stands, Bai Chen screamed, "Yes! Crush him, Brother Yi!"
In the clan pavilion, Bai Feng feigned surprise while Clan Head Li Tao seethed. "This is an outrage!"
The senior Li elder on the field looked helplessly towards the Azure Lotus Sect platform.
Elder Mei commented, "A test of spirit, or poor sportsmanship?"
Elder Han's gaze was fixed on Li Wei. "Let us see how the victor handles a challenge to his authority. It is the truer test."
All eyes turned to Li Wei. He had been observing the other fights with a detached calm. Now, he slowly turned to face the two re-armed opponents stepping back into his circle. He didn't look angry or surprised. He looked... resigned.
He took a single step back into the circle. This time, he did not merely stand. He raised his right hand, curling his fingers into a loose fist. He did not channel vast amounts of Qi. He did not adopt a flashy stance. He simply focused.
And the air... changed.
It began to hum, a low, sub-audible vibration that set teeth on edge. The space around his fist didn't glow; it instead seemed to become less, as if reality itself was thinning, fraying at the edges under a weight it could not bear. This was not the pressure of cultivation base; it was the Intent of the "Heaven-Shattering Fist"—a conceptual declaration that what stood before it was an error that needed correcting.
Bai Yi, who had been charging forward with his hammer raised high, froze mid-step. The terrifying, immovable confidence he had in his defense and his weapon evaporated. The hum wasn't a sound; it was a feeling of imminent, total annihilation. His war hammer, a peak mortal-grade spiritual weapon, began to vibrate violently in his grip, the energy within it churning in panic as if trying to flee its own form.
Yun Chen, poised to dart in with his Qi-severing daggers, felt his blood run cold. His instincts, honed through countless battles, screamed at him to run. This was not an opponent to be fought. This was a force of nature to be survived. The daggers in his hands felt as fragile and useless as icicles.
They both stood paralyzed, not by fear of injury, but by the primal, soul-deep understanding that the young man across from them had merely thought about throwing a punch, and in doing so, had rendered their weapons, their skills, and their very will to fight completely meaningless.
The crowd fell into a dead silence. They couldn't see the intent, but they could feel it—a heavy, oppressive dread that washed over the stands, stifling cheers and silencing protests.
From the second ring, a strangled gasp broke the tension. Li Jin, mid-swing against Bai Ye, faltered as the wave of terrifying intent washed over him. His sword arm trembled, his own techniques feeling childish and insignificant in the face of such absolute power. What... what is that? Bai Ye and Yun Yang also disengaged, their faces pale, forgetting their own battle as they stared in horror at Li Wei's ring.
In the third ring, the dazzling display of elements stuttered to a halt. Bai Zixin's lightning fizzled in her palms, her stormy confidence shattered by a dominance that made her own power feel like a cheap trick. Yun Lian's misty form solidified, her serene composure broken by wide, shocked eyes. He was holding back... this entire time... Li Yue, the ever-calm 9th Stage genius, felt a cold sweat on her brow. Her impeccable defense, her solid foundation—it all felt like a paper shield before the conceptual annihilation radiating from Li Wei's fist.
Li Wei's eyes, cold and ancient, swept over the paralyzed Bai Yi and Yun Chen. His voice, when he spoke, was quiet, yet it carried across the silent arena with the weight of a divine decree.
"The first time," he said, his tone devoid of anger, only stating a simple, terrifying fact, "was a lesson. This time... is a mercy. Be grateful I do not believe in giving third chances."
He slowly unclenched his fist.
The humming ceased. The oppressive weight vanished.
The release of pressure was so sudden that Bai Yi's legs buckled, and he dropped to both knees, his hammer clattering to the ground like a common piece of scrap metal. Yun Chen stumbled backward, collapsing to the ground, gasping for air as if he had been held underwater, his daggers falling from numb fingers.
They did not yield. They didn't have to. Their spirits had been broken more thoroughly than any physical defeat could accomplish.
Li Wei turned his back on them and walked out of the circle for the second and final time. In the other rings, the fights did not immediately resume. Li Jin, Bai Ye, and Yun Yang stared, their previous conflict rendered trivial. The three women in the third ring stood in stunned silence, the battle for supremacy among them suddenly feeling like a squabble for second place.
He had not thrown a single blow, yet his victory was more absolute and terrifying than anyone could have imagined. He had shocked everyone, from the lowest clansman to the lofty sect elders, not with his power, but with the sheer, terrifying authority of his existence. The tournament had just found its true, undisputed apex.