Chapter 8 — The Moon's First Strike (Part I)
The arena trembled with noise.
Hundreds of disciples leaned forward, waiting to see the most uneven match of the morning — a Rank 1, Stage 2 boy against a Rank 1, Stage 3 fighter from Iron Hall.
Arin stepped into the center ring.
He looked small beside his opponent — Drevin, a fifteen-year-old built like carved stone. Drevin's arms were wrapped in dull gray bindings that pulsed faintly with Earth Qi, and his eyes glimmered like iron under sunlight.
When the referee raised his hand, silence fell.
"Arin of Lungshen, Rank One, Stage Two," the announcer called.
"And Drevin of Iron Hall, Rank One, Stage Three!"
A murmur swept through the audience.
"Stage two? That's barely out of novice level!"
"Drevin's going to crush him!"
"Poor kid — he'll be lucky to stay conscious."
Somewhere among the crowd, Taren clenched his fists. "Come on, Arin... don't freeze."
In the front seats, Elder Kaelis crossed her arms. "This won't last long."
But Elder Faen merely smiled. "Perhaps. Or perhaps the moon hides its edge."
Drevin cracked his neck, his voice deep and rough.
"You shouldn't have entered, kid. I don't like breaking bones before breakfast."
Arin's calm eyes met his. "Then you'd better eat fast."
The gong rang.
Drevin shot forward with a rumble like an earthquake. His first punch landed on air — Arin had already stepped aside, the movement so light it was barely visible.
Drevin spun, fists glowing brown-gold, his stance low and grounded.
Ironstone Body Tempering — the mark of Earth cultivators. Each strike carried the weight of stone and the density of a mountain.
Arin drew his wooden practice sword. Though it looked plain, a faint ripple of Qi shimmered along its edge.
He moved — not fast, but fluidly. His first block met Drevin's fist with a metallic clang that echoed like steel. The crowd gasped.
"What was that?"
"He blocked Drevin's Iron Fist? With a wooden blade?!"
Arin exhaled slowly, eyes half-closed. Silver light flickered around his arms — faint lines under his skin pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat.
Silver Vein Awakening — his body refinement was active.
Drevin lunged again, every step cracking the tiles beneath him.
Arin flowed backward, his sword trailing light like moonlight on water. Each motion seemed slower than Drevin's, yet perfectly timed.
"Stop dodging!" Drevin roared, slamming his fists into the ground. Earth Qi erupted, hurling dust and stone upward.
The explosion blinded the field — a storm of debris swirling around both fighters.
When the dust cleared, Drevin grinned triumphantly. "Got you—"
But Arin was gone.
From above came a whisper of air.
A silver blur descended, the sword cutting through the swirling dust like light through mist.
Clang!
Sparks scattered as Arin's strike met Drevin's shoulder. The crowd gasped again — not because the hit broke through, but because it nearly did.
Elder Kaelis narrowed her eyes. "That sword shouldn't have left a mark on an Earth cultivator."
Elder Faen nodded slightly. "Unless his Qi compression is unusually refined."
"Did you see that?"
"He's reading Drevin's movements."
"No way! He's only Stage Two!"
Even Grandmaster Lorian allowed himself a faint smile. "The boy adapts quickly. His sword isn't heavy — it's alive."
Kaelis frowned. "Hmph. Pretty movements won't stop a real strike."
Drevin bellowed, Qi flaring violently.
His skin darkened, stone patterns crawling up his arms and neck — a full activation of Ironstone Tempering, Stage Three resonance. The ground beneath him sank slightly under his weight.
He stomped forward; the ring cracked.
Each blow was a small earthquake. Arin parried, pivoted, ducked, his sword never clashing directly — instead redirecting force like water deflecting stone.
Drevin's frustration grew.
"Fight me head-on, coward!"
Arin's calm voice carried even through the noise.
"The moon doesn't compete with the sun. It just shines differently."
The audience murmured.
"Is he mocking him?"
"He's insane—"
Then Arin moved.
His breathing slowed — Lunar Breath Formation activating. The world around him dimmed, every sound distant.
He stepped in, sword glowing faintly.
A single arc traced through the air — silent, graceful, and impossibly precise.
The blade didn't strike Drevin's body directly. Instead, it grazed his Qi barrier — slicing the flow itself.
Drevin stumbled, his next strike faltering. "W-what was—"
A line of silver appeared across his forearm, burning with residual Qi.
The crowd erupted in chaos.
"He broke through Drevin's defense!"
"That's impossible at Rank Two!"
"How did he cut his Qi flow?!"
Elder Kaelis rose to her feet. "That technique—what did he just do?"
Elder Faen smirked. "He disrupted Drevin's Qi circulation. That's not power — that's understanding."
Grandmaster Lorian nodded slightly. "The Moon-Forged Body refines perception as much as strength. He's sensing energy through light itself."
Kaelis crossed her arms, still watching intently. "If that's true, then this battle isn't over.
Drevin roared, shaking off the pain. His aura burst outward, raw and violent.
"You think you can beat me with tricks?!"
He slammed his fists together — the sound like thunder.
"Earth Shatter Strike!"
The tiles of the arena cracked apart, launching chunks of rock into the air.
Arin leapt back, twisting midair as the debris exploded beneath him. His robe tore slightly; a shallow cut marked his cheek.
He landed, breathing hard. The strain of channeling Sword Qi at his level was immense. His veins glowed faintly, silver light pulsing faster now — the limits of the first level of his body refinement.
Drevin charged through the smoke, both fists raised.
(Arin's thoughts)
My body's almost at its limit. If I push the Silver Veins too far, they'll tear… but if I don't…
He closed his eyes briefly.
Calm the pulse. Steady the breath. Flow, don't force.
When his eyes opened again, they shimmered faintly — silver rings spinning slowly within them.
"Alright, Drevin," he whispered. "Let's finish this round properly."
Both fighters rushed forward.
Drevin's fists glowed brown-gold; Arin's sword shone pale silver.
Their auras collided mid-ring, a storm of Qi swirling outward.
The impact sent a shockwave through the barrier. Spectators covered their eyes as light burst across the field.
Inside the explosion, movement blurred.
Drevin's strikes landed in rapid succession — left, right, uppercut. Arin deflected each one with minimal movement, redirecting the energy through his body instead of absorbing it.
Then — one opening.
A half-step too deep, a shift in Drevin's stance.
Arin twisted. His sword moved in a crescent motion — elegant and deadly.
The tip stopped just short of Drevin's neck, frozen mid-swing.
A breath later, both stopped moving.
The crowd fell silent.
Dust hung in the air.
Both fighters stood locked in place — one sword, one fist.
Drevin blinked, realizing his punch had stopped inches from Arin's chest. His forearm trembled, the muscles spasming — Qi disrupted again.
Arin's voice came quietly.
"Your flow is strong… but unbalanced. The earth's weight drags your energy down."
Drevin growled, trying to move, but his arm refused to obey.
From the stands came whispers — awe, disbelief, admiration.
"Did he paralyze his Qi channel?"
"He's… controlling the rhythm of the fight."
"Who is this kid?"
Elder Kaelis exhaled, eyes narrowing. "He's reading Drevin's Qi as if it's written on his skin. This isn't just swordsmanship — it's cultivation insight."
Elder Faen chuckled. "Moonlight reflects what others miss. Even in weakness, it finds strength."
Grandmaster Lorian nodded. "Yes… he's walking the line between body and mind. But he's still only at the beginning. His energy's unstable."
The Pressure Builds
Arin lowered his sword slightly. "You can still yield, Drevin."
The older boy snarled. "Never!"
He gathered what Qi he had left, slamming his heel into the ground.
The arena cracked — again.
Boom!
A geyser of stone erupted, throwing both fighters apart.
Arin hit the ground hard, sliding backward, blood running from a small cut on his temple.
Drevin stumbled too, panting heavily. His Ironstone glow flickered, dimming.
The crowd screamed.
"Drevin's still standing!"
"They're both bleeding!"
"This fight's insane!"
Even the elders leaned forward.
Arin wiped the blood from his brow, rising slowly.
The moonlight still lingered faintly around him, though the sun now dominated the sky. His breathing steadied — quiet, deliberate.
Drevin laughed hoarsely. "You're tougher than you look… but this next one ends it!"
He drew his Qi together, brown aura condensing until his body gleamed like metal.
"Iron Heart Rampage!" he shouted.
The ground trembled.
Arin exhaled, whispering words only he could hear:
"Then I'll try something new…"
Silver light began to swirl around his feet, climbing up his body like mist. His sword glowed brighter than before — not with heat, but with pure, cold radiance.
From the stands, someone gasped.
"His Qi... it's changing!"
"It feels—different. Sharper. Alive!"
Grandmaster Lorian stood slowly. "He's entering the threshold of Sword Qi manifestation."
Elder Kaelis stared, half in awe, half in disbelief.
"At Rank Two? Impossible…"
The air between the two fighters shimmered, the temperature dropping as Arin lifted his sword.
The gong struck once — signaling the next exchange.
Arin whispered,
"Flowing Crescent — First Form: Silver Pulse Shift."
Light and shadow bent around him as he stepped forward.
Time itself seemed to slow.
Drevin roared, launching his final blow.
The world went silent.
And in that frozen instant, the silver arc of Arin's sword began to move—