The battlefield had stopped feeling like a test.
It felt like pressure without end.
The Red-Eyed Mammoth Tiger moved again.
Not randomly.
Not blindly.
But with terrifying precision—its massive body cutting through the dust-filled air like a crimson meteor. Every step cracked the reinforced earth beneath it, formation runes flashing briefly under its paws before dimming again.
The wind it carried was hot.
Heavy.
Smelling faintly of iron and scorched spirit energy.
Above the arena, spectators leaned forward again, robes fluttering as shifting currents rose from the sealed field below.
Whispers tightened into sharp tension.
"…It's adapting." "…No, it's targeting clusters now." "…It learned them."
Below—
Wei barely had time to react.
A weaker cultivator—already separated from his group—was flung across the field like a broken leaf.
The tiger's claw followed instantly.
Too fast.
Too clean.
"Move!"
Wei didn't think.
He moved.
His silver-white robe snapped behind him like a streak of frost as he dashed forward. The fabric—light, layered, crystalline-threaded—brushed against the air sharply, catching sunlight in fragmented glints.
His sword came up—
Not to strike.
To interrupt.
Clang—
A sharp, heavy sound echoed as his blade met the tiger's claw mid-motion.
The impact sent a shockwave through his arms.
Dust exploded outward.
His feet dragged half a meter across the ground before stabilizing.
But—
he held.
Just long enough.
The cultivator behind him escaped.
"Idiot!" Ji Na's voice cut through immediately.
She was already moving.
Her indigo robe whipped violently as she closed the distance, silver stitching flashing under the arena light. Her blade struck the beast's forelimb—not to wound, but to redirect weight and create space.
"Stop delaying!" she snapped.
Wei gritted his teeth, adjusting his stance.
"…I can't just ignore them."
"Then you'll die first."
"I've tried," he replied through strained breath. "It doesn't work that way."
The fatty—still breathing heavily but now moving with them—exhaled sharply.
"Can we argue later?!"
Mu Ta was already circling left, her green robe torn at the hem, dust clinging to the fabric. Her movements were less refined, but steady now—shaped by necessity rather than training.
"Formation again!" she shouted.
"No formation exists here!" Ji Na shot back.
"It does now!" Wei corrected quietly.
And it was true.
Something had formed.
Not taught.
Not agreed.
But emerged.
The four of them stood again in a loose circle.
Not perfect spacing.
Not symmetrical.
But functional.
Wei at the rear-left—defensive anchor.
Ji Na forward-right—pressure and disruption.
Mu Ta covering mid-gaps—reactive defense.
The fatty holding center-right—raw stability, unpredictable but strong enough to block direct force.
The beast turned toward them.
Slowly.
Its red eyes locked onto the circle.
"…It's watching us now," Mu Ta whispered.
"No," Ji Na said coldly.
"…It's evaluating."
The tiger lunged again.
The ground cracked beneath its stride.
Wei reacted first.
His sword rose—not aggressively—but predictively.
He stepped into the motion.
Redirected the angle.
The blade of his sword scraped against claw armor with a piercing shriek of metal and force.
But this time—
he didn't move alone.
Ji Na struck from the side instantly.
Mu Ta followed, blocking a secondary swing of the beast's tail.
The fatty stepped forward without command—taking the brunt of the wind pressure, his stance sinking deep into the cracked earth.
BOOM.
Dust erupted again.
Wei barely escaped the next claw.
But not completely.
A sharp edge grazed his shoulder.
His robe tore slightly—pink fabric splitting with a faint tearing sound, crystalline thread catching briefly on the beast's claw before snapping free.
A line of blood appeared beneath the cloth.
Hot.
Sudden.
He stumbled half a step back.
But didn't fall.
"Are you hurt?" Mu Ta asked instantly.
"Can you fight?" the fatty added quickly.
Ji Na didn't turn.
But her voice was sharper than before.
"…Don't slow us down."
Wei exhaled.
His hand pressed briefly against his shoulder.
Warm blood soaked lightly into the edge of his robe.
He frowned.
"…I'm fine."
A pause.
Then—
"…Continue."
Ji Na finally glanced at him.
"You sure?"
Wei's eyes narrowed slightly.
"…Yes."
His grip tightened on his sword.
Not trembling.
Not weakening.
Just settling.
Above—
the spectators had gone quieter again.
Because the pattern below was no longer random survival.
It was adaptation under pressure.
A system forming mid-collapse.
Zhang Lie's voice was low.
"…He's injured."
Fei Fei nodded once.
"…But he didn't drop."
Sang Sang's eyes were focused, calm but tense.
"…He's stabilizing them even while hurt."
Zhang Lin added quietly:
"…That's why they're not breaking."
Below—
the beast attacked again.
Faster.
Angrier now.
As if it had realized something was slipping beyond its control.
Wei wiped his thumb across the blood on his shoulder lightly.
Then stepped forward again.
His movement was lighter than before.
But steadier.
Stronger in structure.
Not because the pain disappeared—
but because it stopped mattering.
"I've been through worse," he muttered under his breath.
Ji Na heard it.
Didn't respond.
But her next strike came faster.
More precise.
The circle tightened again.
Wei at the center edge of its logic.
Mu Ta adapting faster.
The fatty anchoring unpredictability.
Ji Na forcing openings.
The beast roared.
The sound shook dust from the air.
But the circle didn't break.
Wei exhaled slowly.
His sword lifted again.
Not to kill.
Not to dominate.
But to refuse collapse.
And for the first time in that phase—
the Red-Eyed Mammoth Tiger was not simply hunting them.
It was fighting a formation that had no name.
The battlefield had stopped being a simple stage.
It was now layered pressure—beast, betrayal, and survival collapsing into a single unstable system.
Dust no longer settled. It circulated, caught in repeated waves of impact. Every clash of steel sent faint ripples through the reinforced ground, where formation runes flickered like dying embers beneath the surface.
Above the sealed arena, spectators leaned forward in uneasy silence. Robes from every clan—silk, brocade, spirit-woven fabric—shifted with restless movement. Even the wind felt tighter now, as if it no longer had space to drift freely.
Whispers came softer.
"…How many groups are still standing?" "…That's not coordination anymore… that's convergence." "…Something is forming down there."
Below—
Zhang Wei's circle had changed again.
Not in shape.
But in weight.
The Red-Eyed Mammoth Tiger roared, its massive frame cutting through the battlefield like a living disaster. Each movement carried brute force layered with unsettling intelligence, as if it no longer saw individuals—but patterns.
And it attacked patterns.
Not people.
Patterns.
Wei blocked a sweeping claw strike, his silver-white robe snapping violently in the wind pressure. The crystalline threads embedded in the fabric shimmered faintly as they absorbed part of the impact, his boots grinding into fractured stone beneath him.
His arm shook slightly.
But he didn't step back.
"Left gap!" Mu Ta shouted sharply.
Ji Na had already moved.
Her indigo robe sliced through the air like a blade itself, silver stitching flashing as she intercepted a secondary strike aimed at Wei's blind side. Her attack wasn't defensive anymore—it was disruptive, breaking rhythm, forcing openings.
"Stop staring at it and move!" she snapped at Wei.
"I am moving," he replied calmly, deflecting another attack with the flat of his sword.
"Then move faster!"
The fatty cultivator grunted as he absorbed a shockwave from the beast's paw, his thick padded robe absorbing part of the force but still forcing him back half a step.
"Why is it always me in front of this thing?!" he yelled.
"Because you're the hardest to throw," Mu Ta shot back, already sliding into position beside him.
Her green robe—torn at the hem, dust-stained but steady—shifted as she raised her blade.
Unlike Ji Na's aggressive swordplay, Mu Ta's weapon was a dagger-sword hybrid.
Short.
Fast.
Precise.
She didn't block.
She redirected.
Every movement was minimal but exact, like threading needlepoints through chaos.
Then—
a new presence entered the battlefield.
From the far edge of the low-stage zone, two figures broke through a collapsing skirmish line.
Twin sisters.
Luli and Lulu.
They were not strong.
That was obvious immediately.
Their spiritual pressure was thin compared to others, their robes simple—light gray fabric with faint blue stitching that marked them as lower-tier outer disciples. But they moved together in a way that didn't belong to weakness.
One stepped first.
The other followed half a breath later.
"Another group?" Ji Na muttered.
Wei's eyes narrowed slightly.
"…They're synchronized."
Luli stepped forward fully into view.
Her stance was grounded—feet planted firmly into the cracked earth. She raised a heavy defensive shield-like artifact etched with faint spirit runes.
Not elegant.
Not fast.
But stable.
An anchor.
Behind her—
Lulu moved.
Fast.
A dagger-sword flicked into motion, short blade reflecting flickering arena light. Her strikes were not wide arcs like Ji Na's, nor flowing defenses like Wei's.
They were surgical.
Fast cuts.
Pressure points.
Disruption angles.
The twins didn't speak at first.
They didn't need to.
Luli absorbed a beast shockwave head-on, her body sliding slightly back but not breaking stance.
Lulu used that moment to strike the beast's ankle joint with precision.
Not to damage.
But to destabilize.
The Red-Eyed Mammoth Tiger shifted slightly.
Not injured.
But disturbed.
"…They're syncing too," Mu Ta whispered.
Wei exhaled slowly.
"…Everyone is adapting."
Another attack came from a rival low-stage cultivator who had broken formation earlier.
Not the beast.
A human strike.
Targeting Mu Ta.
"Again?!" she snapped.
But before she could react—
Lulu moved.
A blur.
Her dagger intercepted the strike mid-air, twisting it just enough to redirect the blade away from Mu Ta's shoulder.
Clang.
Metal screamed.
"Don't get distracted," Lulu said flatly.
Her voice was calm.
Almost emotionless.
But her eyes were sharp.
Wei blinked once.
"…They joined the pattern."
Ji Na frowned.
"What pattern?"
Wei deflected another beast strike.
"…Survival."
And it was true.
The battlefield had fractured into smaller groups earlier—but now, those groups were no longer isolated.
Pressure forced convergence.
Wei's circle.
Ji Na's aggression.
Mu Ta's adaptability.
The fatty's raw stability.
And now—
Luli and Lulu's anchor-and-strike system.
Five points of motion.
Not unified.
Not commanded.
But beginning to overlap.
The beast roared again.
But this time—
its target selection slowed.
Because the battlefield was no longer chaotic individuals.
It was shifting systems.
Above—
the spectators had fallen into uneasy observation.
"…That's not a low-stage fight anymore," someone muttered.
"…It's a living formation."
"…They're building something without realizing it."
A Bi Clan elder narrowed his eyes.
"…No."
A pause.
"…Someone is forcing convergence again."
Below—
Wei blocked another strike.
His shoulder pain flared slightly—but he ignored it.
Mu Ta slid into position beside him.
Ji Na cut an opening.
Luli absorbed pressure from the beast's front.
Lulu exploited the gap instantly.
The fatty held the center line steady.
For the first time—
no one spoke.
Because speaking meant hesitation.
And hesitation meant collapse.
Wei exhaled slowly.
His deep pink robe fluttered softly in the wind, stained faintly at the shoulder but still bright under the fractured sunlight filtering through the formation dome.
His sword lifted again.
Not heavier.
Not sharper.
Just… aligned.
"…We're not separate anymore," he murmured.
Ji Na didn't look at him.
"…Don't get sentimental."
Mu Ta scoffed.
"I hate teamwork."
The fatty laughed weakly.
"I hate everything."
Luli remained silent.
Lulu flicked her dagger once.
"…Focus."
The beast lunged again.
And this time—
the battlefield didn't scatter.
It answered.
The battlefield had begun to tighten.
Not in space—
but in consequence.
The Red-Eyed Mammoth Tiger circled again, its massive body cutting through drifting dust with slow, deliberate steps. It no longer lunged blindly. It watched. It learned.
And now—
it waited.
Within the fractured center of the low-stage arena, the newly formed cluster shifted again.
Not by choice.
By necessity.
Ji Na was the first to notice.
Wei's movement.
It hadn't stopped.
But it had… slowed.
Not visibly enough for the untrained eye.
But to someone fighting beside him—
It was obvious.
A half-breath delay.
A fraction too late on the pivot.
The faint drag of his foot before correcting stance.
Her eyes narrowed sharply.
"…You're bleeding."
Wei didn't answer.
Because it was true.
The tear in his silver-white robe had deepened slightly at the shoulder. The fabric, once clean and light, now clung faintly to his skin where blood had soaked through, the crystalline thread darkened and dulled.
Not a large wound.
But in a battlefield like this—
even a small weakness spread quickly.
Without warning—
Ji Na moved.
She stepped in, not attacking—but repositioning.
Her blade cut a sharp arc that forced two nearby attackers to pull back instinctively.
Then—
she grabbed Wei's sleeve.
And pulled.
"Center," she said.
No hesitation.
No room for argument.
Wei blinked once—
but didn't resist.
The formation shifted instantly.
The fatty moved without thinking, taking the forward pressure.
Mu Ta adjusted to left flank.
Luli anchored behind.
Lulu rotated outward, dagger ready to intercept.
And Wei—
was placed in the center.
"…Hey—"
A small black object flew toward him.
Wei barely caught it.
A pill.
Dark.
Rough.
Faintly bitter even before touching his tongue.
"Eat it!" the fatty shouted, already turning to block a strike from a charging cultivator. His padded robe absorbed the impact with a dull thud, his body sliding but holding.
Wei stared at the pill for half a second.
"…What is this?"
"Skin-crawl pill!" the fatty barked back.
"It stitches the wound from the inside—stops the bleeding!"
A blade came from the right—
He blocked it mid-sentence.
Clang.
"It's not free!" he added, gritting his teeth as he pushed the attacker back. "You pay after this!"
Wei swallowed it.
The taste was—
awful.
Bitter.
Sharp.
It dissolved instantly, spreading a strange crawling sensation beneath his skin—like threads weaving through muscle and vein.
Uncomfortable.
But effective.
Above—
a few spectators reacted immediately.
"…He took a crude healing pill?" "…That quality is barely stable…" "…It'll close the wound, but not clean it properly…"
A cultivator from a higher clan frowned.
"…That's dangerous."
Below—
Wei exhaled slowly.
The crawling sensation spread across his shoulder, tightening the torn flesh, slowing the bleeding.
But beneath it—
his own body was already reacting.
Healing.
Slowly.
Naturally.
The pill wasn't the cause.
Just the excuse.
He lowered his gaze slightly.
Good.
No one would question it.
"How long?" Mu Ta shouted, ducking under a wide swing from the beast's tail.
"Five minutes!" the fatty replied, barely blocking another incoming strike from a rival cultivator.
"That long?!" she snapped.
"Be grateful it's not ten!"
Wei rolled his shoulder once.
The pain dulled.
Not gone.
But manageable.
"I can fight," he said quietly.
No one responded.
Because no one needed to.
He stepped forward again.
This time—
he picked up a second sword from the ground.
It wasn't refined.
Not balanced.
A discarded blade from a fallen participant—its edge slightly chipped, its grip worn.
But it would work.
Now—
his stance changed.
Not dramatically.
But noticeably.
Two blades.
Neither raised aggressively.
Both angled—
defensively.
Above—
Zhang Lin's eyes sharpened.
"…He adjusted."
Fei Fei leaned forward slightly.
"…Dual stance?"
Zhang Lie frowned.
"…That's not trained."
Sang Sang whispered softly—
"…It's instinct."
Below—
the beast moved again.
Faster now.
Testing.
Ji Na struck forward, her blade flashing dangerously close to the tiger's forelimb—
But—
she overstepped.
Just slightly.
An enemy cultivator saw it instantly.
Opportunity.
His sword cut in low—
targeting her legs.
A clean strike.
Fatal if it landed.
Ji Na didn't see it.
Not in time.
Wei did.
He didn't think.
He moved.
His body slid across the ground in one smooth motion, his robe trailing like silver mist behind him. The fabric brushed against fractured earth and dust, the soft whisper of silk cutting through the heavier sounds of battle.
His first blade intercepted the incoming strike—
Clang.
The second—
angled downward—
redirecting force.
Not blocking.
Not clashing.
Guiding.
The attacker's blade slipped past its intended path—
cutting only air.
Ji Na felt the shift.
Her eyes widened slightly—
then sharpened again instantly.
She twisted her stance mid-motion—
And struck.
Her blade came down clean.
Precise.
Not killing—
but enough.
The attacker dropped.
A brief silence formed between them.
Half a breath.
Ji Na didn't look at him.
"…You're slower."
Wei exhaled lightly.
"…And you're reckless."
A pause.
Then—
"…We're even."
The battlefield didn't stop.
But something had changed again.
The circle had tightened.
Stronger now.
Not because they trusted each other.
But because they had no space left to fail.
Luli absorbed another shockwave, her anchor stance holding firm, boots grinding deeper into cracked earth.
Lulu slipped past her side instantly, dagger flashing, cutting space rather than flesh.
Mu Ta adjusted again, her movements sharper now, less hesitation, more reaction.
The fatty roared as he blocked another attack, his heavy frame absorbing impact like a wall that refused to fall.
And Wei—
stood at the center of it all.
Two blades.
Light stance.
Calm breath.
Above—
the whispers returned.
Quieter.
More cautious.
"…They're stabilizing again…" "…Even injured…" "…What kind of endurance is that…"
Elder Mi's gaze darkened slightly.
"…Not endurance."
A pause.
"…Adaptation."
Below—
Wei lifted his blades again.
The wind passed.
Dust shifted.
The beast watched.
The enemies circled.
And this time—
he was ready.
Not to win.
Not to dominate.
But to endure—
until the battlefield itself changed.
The Red-Eyed Mammoth Tiger did not rush this time.
It watched.
Its massive frame stood half-turned toward them, muscles shifting beneath crimson fur like coiled steel. Dust swirled around its legs, caught in the slow drag of its tail. Its glowing eyes lingered—not on the group as a whole—
But on one figure.
Zhang Wei.
"…That thing is definitely after us," the fatty panted, shoulders rising and falling heavily as sweat soaked through the thick layers of his robe. The fabric clung to him now, darkened and heavy, but still holding its shape like a stubborn wall.
"What should we do?!" he added, voice cracking slightly.
"Kill it and take the prize," Ji Na said without hesitation.
Her blade was already angled forward, indigo sleeves snapping faintly in the wind as she shifted her stance. Her tone wasn't reckless.
It was certain.
Mu Ta turned sharply, disbelief written all over her dust-streaked face.
"Big words," she snapped. "It's eight steps higher than us—we're barely holding formation as it is!"
Her dagger-sword flicked nervously, adjusting grip, her breathing uneven but controlled enough to move.
"We can do it."
Ji Na didn't raise her voice.
Didn't argue.
She simply stated it.
A short, incredulous laugh broke from Luli, who stood braced with her shield-like anchor stance. Her boots had sunk deeper into the cracked ground, robe brushing against the dust as her weight settled.
"…Your ambition is impressive," she said dryly. "Also suicidal."
Behind her, Lulu didn't laugh.
She only flicked her dagger once, eyes sharp, scanning movement.
"…It's not impossible," she said quietly.
Wei exhaled softly.
His silver-white robe fluttered lightly, the torn shoulder now darkened faintly with dried blood. The second sword in his hand felt heavier, less balanced—but usable.
His gaze lifted.
Studying the beast.
Not its size.
Not its strength.
But its rhythm.
"…It favors forward pressure," he murmured.
No one interrupted.
Because they had all seen it.
Ji Na stepped forward half a pace.
"Then we break that rhythm."
She pointed—not at the body—
but at the neck.
"There."
A narrow section beneath the thick fur—where muscle layered thinner over the joint.
"Neck support point," she said. "If we disrupt it, its balance collapses."
The fatty blinked.
"…You're serious."
"Yes."
"…You're insane."
"Also yes."
Mu Ta exhaled sharply.
"…And how do we even reach that?!"
Ji Na didn't hesitate.
"Distraction."
Her eyes shifted briefly toward Wei.
"…You."
Wei froze.
"…Why is it always me?"
"Because it's already looking at you," Lulu added calmly, stepping slightly to the side, dagger angled low.
"And because your movement confuses it."
The fatty barked a laugh despite himself.
"Also because of your robe."
Wei blinked.
"…My robe?"
Luli smirked faintly.
"That pink tone? That shimmer? Your white hair?"
She shook her head slightly.
"…You're basically a glowing target."
"It's called fashion," Wei replied immediately, frowning.
"…If the beast doesn't understand that, it's not my problem."
The fatty snorted.
"Even the beast knows men shouldn't dress like that."
Wei turned slightly.
"You lack refinement."
Mu Ta nearly choked.
"This is not the time—!"
"Enough."
Ji Na cut them off.
Her voice dropped.
Sharp.
Focused.
"There's an opening."
And there was.
The tiger shifted its weight.
Its attention narrowed.
Its stance lowered—
just slightly.
Preparing to lunge.
Ji Na's voice came again.
Fast.
Precise.
"Wei—front right. Draw its attention."
She didn't wait for agreement.
"Mu Ta, Lulu—you're with me. We go for the neck."
"Fatty, Luli—hold the line. Don't let anyone interfere."
"…Why must I dance in front of its claws and fangs?" Wei muttered.
"Now you know how it feels," the fatty shot back instantly.
Wei sighed.
Then—
nodded.
The formation shifted.
Not clean.
Not practiced.
But understood.
Wei moved first.
Hispink- robe flared behind him as he stepped forward, feet gliding lightly across fractured ground. Dust rose around his ankles, catching the light like scattered gold.
The tiger's eyes locked onto him instantly.
Good.
It lunged.
Fast.
Too fast.
Wei didn't run.
He slid.
The first claw came down—
He twisted.
Barely.
The edge of the claw tore through the air beside him, close enough that he felt the heat of it brush against his cheek.
His first blade rose—
Clang—
He didn't block fully.
He redirected.
The second blade followed—
guiding the force away from his center.
His body moved like water.
Not resisting.
Not stopping.
Just… slipping past destruction.
"Now!" Ji Na's voice cut through.
She moved.
Her indigo robe snapped like a whip as she launched forward, feet barely touching the ground between strides. Mu Ta followed immediately, her dagger-sword flashing in tight arcs, cutting through space rather than clashing directly.
Lulu was faster.
A shadow.
Her dagger flickered once—
twice—
creating micro-openings in the beast's defensive movement.
The fatty roared behind them.
"Backline—hold!"
He stepped forward, absorbing the shockwave of a stray claw strike meant to disrupt the formation. His body shook, but didn't break.
Luli anchored beside him, her shield artifact glowing faintly as it absorbed impact, her stance immovable.
Wei pivoted again.
The tiger's jaws snapped—
too close.
His robe tore slightly at the hem this time.
But he didn't stop.
He stepped again—
closer.
Closer than before.
The beast hesitated.
Just a fraction.
Because this—
was not prey behavior.
Ji Na saw it.
That hesitation.
That opening.
Her eyes sharpened.
Her blade lifted.
"…Got you."
And she struck.
The moment Ji Na moved—
the entire arena seemed to hold its breath.
Below, her blade cut forward with terrifying precision, a streak of cold light against the beast's burning crimson. Mu Ta followed half a step behind, her dagger-sword flickering in tight, controlled arcs, while Lulu slipped in like a shadow—her smaller blade targeting the exact space Ji Na forced open.
It was not brute strength.
It was timing.
Perfect.
Fragile.
One mistake—
and they would all be crushed.
Above—
the reaction came instantly.
On the Zhang platform, Zhang Lie's hand slammed against the stone railing.
"Too close—!"
The crack echoed sharply beneath his grip, fine lines splintering across the polished surface.
Fei Fei leaned forward, her red sleeves slipping down her arms as tension pulled her posture tight.
"…She's aiming for the neck joint," she said, voice low but sharp.
Zhang Lin didn't move.
But his eyes had narrowed to a dangerous degree.
"…Wei's positioning it."
That single sentence made the air heavier.
Sang Sang stood still.
Too still.
Her pale blue robe drifted lightly in the wind, but her fingers had tightened beneath her sleeves, nails pressing faintly into her palm.
Her gaze—clear now, fully seeing—
was locked on Wei.
"…Don't miss…" she whispered, so soft it barely existed.
Across the arena—
the Ji Clan platform reacted just as sharply.
Ji Lin clicked his tongue loudly, stepping forward despite himself.
"…That idiot," he muttered.
But his eyes were bright—focused.
Watching every movement.
Not mocking.
Not dismissing.
Evaluating.
Beside him, Ji Yao remained composed.
But only on the surface.
His posture was straight, his expression calm—but his gaze had sharpened in a way that betrayed everything he didn't say.
"…She committed too early," Ji Yao murmured.
A pause.
"…Unless…"
His eyes shifted.
"…someone is holding the timing for her."
And that "someone"—
was obvious.
Below—
Wei moved again.
The beast's attention was still locked on him.
Its massive jaws snapped down—
He twisted.
Too close.
Far too close.
The wind pressure alone tore at his robe, the already-damaged fabric ripping slightly further along the hem. His white hair whipped across his face, strands catching briefly in the turbulence before falling free again.
But he didn't retreat.
He stepped in.
A choice no sane cultivator would make.
The tiger hesitated—
just for a breath.
Above—
a wave of reaction spread instantly.
"…Did he just step into it?!" "…That's suicide—!" "…No—wait—!"
Zhang Lie's voice dropped.
"…He's forcing the angle."
Fei Fei's eyes widened slightly.
"…He's locking its movement."
Zhang Lin exhaled once.
"…He's giving her the line."
Below—
the beast adjusted.
Too late.
Wei's blades crossed—
not striking—
but guiding.
The massive head shifted—
just enough.
Just slightly.
Just perfectly.
Ji Na arrived.
Her blade cut forward—
clean.
Direct.
No hesitation.
Mu Ta's strike followed—
lower—
disrupting the supporting muscle.
Lulu's dagger flashed—
precise—
targeting the exposed joint.
The three strikes didn't land separately.
They landed—
as one.
A sharp, tearing sound split the air.
The beast roared—
this time not in dominance—
but in pain.
The sound shook the arena.
Dust exploded outward in a violent wave, forcing nearby cultivators to shield their eyes.
Above—
the spectators erupted.
"…They hit it!" "…That actually worked?!" "…Impossible—!"
On the Zhang platform—
Fei Fei let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.
"…They did it…"
Zhang Lie didn't respond.
His eyes were still locked on Wei.
"…No," he said quietly.
"…He did it."
Sang Sang's shoulders relaxed slightly.
But her gaze didn't soften.
"…Not alone," she murmured.
Zhang Lin nodded once.
"…Never alone."
On the Ji platform—
Ji Lin let out a low whistle.
"…That was clean."
A pause.
"…Too clean."
Ji Yao's gaze remained steady.
"…No wasted motion."
Another pause.
"…They're no longer reacting."
"…They're controlling the fight."
Below—
Wei stumbled back half a step.
Not from fear.
From impact.
His arms trembled faintly from the force of redirecting the beast's movement.
His shoulder burned.
His breathing tightened—
just slightly.
But he didn't fall.
Ji Na landed beside him, her blade still raised, her breathing steady despite the intensity of the strike.
"…You were slow," she said.
Wei exhaled softly.
"…You were early."
A pause.
Then—
"…It worked."
Behind them—
Mu Ta blinked, still processing.
"…We actually hit it…"
The fatty laughed breathlessly.
"…I take back everything—I like this plan!"
Luli shook her head slowly, disbelief still in her eyes.
"…You're all insane."
Lulu simply adjusted her grip on her dagger.
"…Again," she said.
Because the beast—
was not down.
It staggered.
Roared.
But did not fall.
And now—
its eyes burned brighter.
Locked not just on Wei—
but on all of them.
Above—
Elder Mi's gaze darkened.
"…Good."
A pause.
"…Now the real test begins."
Because what they had just done—
was not victory.
It was provocation.