Chapter 9 — The Moon's First Strike (Part II)
The moment froze in silver and earth.
Arin's blade swept through the air, silent and fluid, while Drevin's fist, wrapped in brown-gold Qi, met it head-on.
When they collided, the sound was not an explosion — it was a low, resonant hum, as if the arena itself was vibrating in awe.
Dust spiraled outward. The barrier around the ring shimmered, rippling like disturbed water.
And then—light.
A silver arc erupted from the clash, carving a crescent shape through the haze. Drevin was thrown back several steps, sliding across the cracked tiles before slamming one knee to the ground.
The crowd held its breath.
Arin stood still, his sword lowered. Faint trails of light still spiraled around him — the manifestation of Sword Qi, pure and unrefined, but unmistakably real.
Shock in the Arena
The silence shattered.
"He did it!" someone cried.
"He manifested Sword Qi!"
"At Rank Two?! That's unheard of!"
Even Elder Kaelis, who had kept her usual stern composure, rose from her seat. "Sword Qi manifestation normally requires at least Rank One, Stage Five… what kind of foundation does this boy have?"
Elder Faen smiled softly. "A clear heart and a patient blade. The moon teaches quietly, Kaelis."
Grandmaster Lorian's gaze sharpened. "No… this isn't ordinary comprehension. The boy's resonance between body and Qi is abnormally precise. His veins… they're aligned perfectly with the sword's rhythm."
Arin's breathing was steady but heavy. Each inhale felt like fire in his lungs; each exhale, like ice flowing through his veins. His arms trembled faintly — not from fear, but from the sheer strain of channeling so much energy through a body that wasn't ready.
(If I release it wrong, it'll tear me apart...)
He refocused, bringing his stance lower, sword angled diagonally across his body.
The silver aura pulsed once, dimming to a soft glow.
Across the arena, Drevin stood again. Blood dripped from his knuckles, dark against his bronze-tinted skin. He spat to the side, then grinned.
"Heh… didn't think you had that in you, kid."
Arin said nothing.
Drevin wiped the blood with the back of his hand. "You're strong — I'll give you that. But this isn't over. You cut me once, I'll repay it tenfold!"
The air shifted again.
Drevin's aura turned denser, the very ground beneath him groaning under his weight.
"Iron Heart Rampage — Full Resonance!" he bellowed.
His Qi exploded outward like molten metal, forming a shimmering shell around him. The ring cracked again, pebbles rising and orbiting in the magnetic pull of his energy.
The audience leaned forward, shouting over the roaring wind.
"That's Iron Heart Rampage! He's channeling his core Qi into his muscles!"
"If that hits, it'll crush the boy completely!"
Arin's eyes narrowed. The light in them brightened again — silver rings rotating slowly.
(Stone breaks under pressure… but moonlight bends. Flow, not resist.)
He took a single step. The ground rippled beneath his feet — Lunar Step, Flowing Crescent Form.
Drevin charged.
Arin moved to meet him.
The collision this time was not equal.
Drevin's first punch met Arin's sword with a deafening boom, shattering the tiles around them. Arin's arms screamed in pain, his bones vibrating from the impact, but he redirected the force with his body refinement — letting it travel through him and out the other side.
He twisted mid-motion, turning the blow's recoil into movement. His sword slashed upward — silver light tearing through the earthen aura.
Drevin's barrier cracked visibly.
"Not done yet!" Drevin roared, hammering down another blow.
Arin parried, sparks flying. His feet slid back several steps — the ground beneath him fracturing like glass.
Every movement was pain, but he kept his breathing slow. In through the Dantian, out through the Veins. His Qi circulation adapted, responding faster now — the refinement technique reinforcing itself under stress.
(This… is the rhythm of battle. This is what the sword feels.)
"Impossible! He's exchanging blows evenly!"
"Drevin's on the verge of breaking through to Stage 3, and that kid's still stage Two!"
"Look at his movements — they're getting faster!"
Elder Kaelis muttered under her breath. "That refinement technique… the Moon-Forged Body, wasn't it? It shouldn't grant this much reinforcement so early."
Faen chuckled. "It's not the technique — it's his comprehension. He's not fighting the force; he's becoming part of it."
Lorian nodded gravely. "He's entering a minor trance state — the first signs of Sword Resonance. Rare… and dangerous at that age.
Inside the Resonance
Arin's vision blurred for a moment. Everything else — the noise, the light, even Drevin's roars — faded away.
He could see only the lines of energy flowing around him. Drevin's movements left trails of brown-gold light, heavy and coarse; his own Qi shimmered thin and silver, weaving between them like threads in a loom.
He raised his sword. The light responded — bending, merging.
(So this is… the path of the sword.)
He inhaled once more, letting Qi flood through his Dantian.
A hum built within his body — not physical, but spiritual.
"Flowing Crescent — Second Form: Moon's Pulse Veil."
The words left his lips like a whisper.
Silver light erupted again, this time softer, wrapping around him like a shield of mist.
Drevin swung, his fists hammering down — yet the strikes slid aside, deflected not by impact, but by intent.
Each attack lost momentum as if swallowed by moonlight.
"What's happening?!"
"His defense is turning Drevin's strength against him!"
"That's not just defense — that's control!"
Even the elders leaned forward now.
Lorian's eyes gleamed. "He's forming a Qi field. A primitive Sword Domain."
Kaelis frowned deeply. "He's still a child. His meridians can't sustain that for long — they'll rupture!"
Faen smiled faintly. "Perhaps. But if he endures even a few breaths… he'll have stepped beyond what any Stage Two has ever done."
Drevin staggered back, panting heavily, sweat dripping from his brow.
His aura flickered — Iron Qi weakening from overuse.
Arin's glow dimmed as well, but his eyes were clear, calm.
Drevin growled. "You really think… you can win?!"
Arin shook his head. "It's not about winning. It's about understanding."
He raised his sword one final time.
The air trembled.
"Flowing Crescent — Third Form: Lunar Bloom."
The sword moved in a spiral — a perfect crescent that shimmered with white-blue light.
Drevin roared and charged, throwing everything he had into one final strike.
The two forces met at the center of the ring — silver and brown clashing like night and day.
For a heartbeat, everything was still.
Then the ring exploded in a burst of energy.
The dust settled slowly.
Drevin lay on one knee, his aura flickering weakly. His forearm was trembling uncontrollably; small cracks of broken Qi shimmered along his skin.
Arin stood several meters away, his sword tip buried in the ground. His breathing was ragged, sweat running down his face.
Both were exhausted. Both had given everything.
The referee hesitated, waiting to see who would rise first.
Drevin tried — but his leg gave out. He collapsed with a groan, the last of his Qi dispersing into the air.
Arin, barely standing, lowered his sword.
The referee raised his arm. "Winner — Arin of the Righteous Sky Sect, Rank One, Stage Two!"
The arena erupted.
"He won!"
"stage Two beat stage Three?!"
"Impossible — he wasn't even supposed to last a minute!"
Elder Faen laughed openly. "The boy's moon has finally risen."
Kaelis still stared, her expression unreadable. "He used Sword Qi to redirect an Earth Technique… at his age…" She looked at Lorian. "You've found a monster."
The Grandmaster's eyes glimmered like stars. "No, Kaelis. We've found a sword that listens."
As healers rushed forward, Arin looked down at his trembling hands.
His veins still shimmered faintly with silver, though the light was fading fast.
(Sword Qi… it wasn't power. It was rhythm. Balance. The moon doesn't shine by burning — it shines by reflecting.)
He smiled faintly, closing his eyes.
(Then I'll reflect the strength of everything I face.)
Later, as the crowd buzzed with energy, the elders gathered behind the arena.
Kaelis spoke first. "He's reckless. If that resonance had lasted seconds longer, his meridians would've snapped."
Faen shrugged. "Reckless perhaps, but instinctive. Some cultivators hear the Dao earlier than others."
Lorian nodded. "I will assign him a proper mentor. Someone who understands the balance between body and sword. His foundation is delicate — but promising."
"And Drevin?" Kaelis asked.
"He'll recover," Faen said softly. "And I imagine he'll respect the boy far more than before."
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the last light of the day met the first light of the moon.
Arin stood at the edge of the arena, now empty. He looked up at the silver sky, hand resting on his sword.
The faint hum of energy still lingered in his Dantian — a memory of the resonance.
From somewhere behind him, Elder Faen's voice echoed gently.
"Arin, the moon rises every night not to fight the sun… but to remind the world that light can be gentle and still pierce the dark."
Arin smiled quietly.
"Then I'll keep shining, even if it's faint."
He sheathed his sword.
Tomorrow, the next round would begin. Stronger opponents, harsher tests, fiercer eyes watching him.
But for now, the boy under the moonlight simply walked home — every step steady, every breath aligned, every heartbeat whispering one truth:
This is only the beginning.