The strike landed—
But it was not enough.
The Red-Eyed Mammoth Tiger staggered.
Its massive body tilted, claws digging deep into the fractured ground as it struggled to stabilize. Blood—dark, thick, almost black under the arena light—dripped slowly from the wound at its neck, staining its crimson fur in uneven streaks.
But it did not fall.
It roared.
The sound was no longer just power.
It was rage.
The shockwave exploded outward, dust and loose stone lifting into the air like a violent storm. Robes snapped, hair whipped wildly, and even the formation beneath the arena flickered under the strain.
Wei felt it hit his chest like a hammer.
His breath caught.
His feet slid half a step back—
But he held.
"…It's not dead," Mu Ta whispered, her voice tight.
"It's worse now," Lulu said quietly.
Her dagger lowered slightly—not from fear, but recalculation.
And then—
everything broke.
The other cultivators moved.
They had waited.
Watched.
Measured.
And now—
they struck.
"Now! Finish them!"
A shout cut through the battlefield as multiple figures surged forward—not toward the beast—
But toward Wei's group.
"They're going for us!" the fatty barked, turning just in time to block a descending blade.
CLANG—
The impact rattled his arms, his thick robe absorbing part of the force as his boots dug deep into the cracked earth.
"They want the prize!" Mu Ta snapped, twisting to deflect a second attacker. Her dagger-sword caught the incoming strike at an angle, sliding it off with a sharp metallic screech.
"Formation!" Ji Na's voice cut through instantly.
They moved without hesitation.
The loose circle snapped tight again.
This time—
smaller.
Sharper.
Protective.
Not hunting.
Not advancing.
But guarding something.
The beast.
"…They're protecting it?" Wei frowned, breath still uneven.
"They want us to weaken it," Luli said, her shield slamming into an incoming cultivator and forcing him back.
"…Then steal the finish."
"Shameless," Ji Na muttered.
"Effective," Lulu corrected.
The battlefield shifted again.
It was no longer two sides.
It was three.
The beast—
wounded but furious.
The group—
holding formation under pressure.
And the others—
circling like predators, waiting to take everything.
"Don't let them touch the fur!" Luli shouted suddenly, her voice sharper than before.
Her eyes had locked onto something—
The beast's fur.
"…It's reinforcing itself," she added.
"Spirit threads—defensive layering!"
"Then don't hold back!" Ji Na snapped.
The tiger lunged again—
But this time—
not just at Wei.
At all of them.
Wei moved.
Both blades lifted.
He didn't try to stop it—
He redirected again.
The claw came down—
He slid under the arc—
The wind tore through his robe, fabric snapping violently as the edge grazed past his shoulder again, reopening the wound slightly beneath the half-healed skin.
Pain flared—
Sharp.
Immediate.
But he didn't stop.
"Now!" Ji Na shouted.
But before they could move—
Another wave of cultivators crashed in.
Steel clashed.
Bodies collided.
The battlefield compressed into brutal, close-range chaos.
And then—
Luli moved.
"Lulu!"
Without hesitation—
Lulu stepped forward—
And Luli pushed.
It was not gentle.
Not coordinated.
It was raw trust.
Lulu launched upward—
Her body cutting through the air in a clean arc, robe trailing behind her like a streak of gray-blue light.
And in that motion—
Her weapon changed.
A bow appeared in her grip.
Not summoned with flourish.
Not glowing with power.
Just—
there.
Simple.
Deadly.
Her fingers moved instantly.
No hesitation.
No pause.
The string pulled back—
Tight.
Precise.
And she fired.
The first arrow split the air with a sharp whistle—
Then five more followed.
Not one after another—
But layered.
Each arrow took a different path.
Curved.
Adjusted.
Corrected mid-flight.
Above—
the spectators gasped.
"…Multiple trajectory control?!" "…At this level?!" "…Impossible—!"
Below—
The arrows struck.
Not randomly.
Not wildly.
Five cultivators—
all mid-attack—
were hit.
One dropped instantly, his weapon flying from his hand as the arrow pierced his shoulder joint.
Another screamed, collapsing as his leg gave out beneath him.
A third barely blocked—but the impact shattered his stance, forcing him to retreat.
The last two staggered back, injured, formation broken.
Silence—
for half a breath.
Then chaos returned.
The fatty burst out laughing.
"HA! I like her!"
Mu Ta blinked.
"…That was clean."
Ji Na didn't react.
But her eyes had sharpened.
"…We have space."
Wei exhaled slowly.
His grip tightened.
His body steadied.
The battlefield had changed again.
The pressure had shifted.
Not just surviving now—
But controlling space.
The wind passed again.
Dust lifted.
Robes fluttered.
Blood stained the ground in scattered patterns.
And in the center of it all—
They stood.
Bruised.
Bleeding.
Surrounded.
But no longer prey.
The next move—
would decide everything.
The arena no longer felt like a training ground.
It felt like a sealed grave with spectators.
Dust hung in the air in uneven layers, lit by pale daylight filtering through the formation dome above. Every clash below sent tremors through the ground—subtle enough at first, then gradually stronger, like the heartbeat of something awakening.
The Red-Eyed Mammoth Tiger stood wounded at the center of it all, crimson fur matted and darkened with blood, breathing heavy but still overwhelmingly present.
And around it—
humans.
Too many intentions.
Too many knives hidden behind desperation.
Above the battlefield, the low-stage section had become the only focus.
Even the higher-stage cultivators stopped speaking.
Because what they were watching was no longer "low stage."
It was survival calculus unfolding in real time.
On the Zhang clan platform—
silence had turned sharp.
Not calm silence.
Tight silence.
The kind that pulls at the ribs.
Zhang Lie's jaw was clenched now, his hand resting on the stone railing without realizing how hard he was gripping it. The faint cracks beneath his fingers had widened.
"…They're still standing," he said quietly.
But there was no relief in his tone.
Only disbelief.
Fei Fei's gaze did not leave Wei for even a moment.
Her usual sharpness was gone, replaced by something more focused—something unsettled.
"…He's still moving even after two near-death grazes," she murmured.
"…That shouldn't be possible at his stage."
Zhang Lin said nothing at first.
He simply watched.
Then—
"…It stopped being about stage a while ago."
A pause.
"…It's about adaptation speed now."
Sang Sang's hands were lightly clasped in front of her chest.
Her expression remained soft—but her eyes were not.
They were fully locked on Wei.
Tracking every shift of his movement, every time his blade changed angle, every moment his body compensated for injury without hesitation.
"…He's holding the center," she said quietly.
"…Even while bleeding."
Across the arena—
the Ji clan platform was no better.
Ji Lin had stopped his usual posture entirely.
He was leaning forward now, elbows on the railing, eyes narrowed as if trying to dissect every motion happening below.
"…That formation isn't supposed to work," he muttered.
"…It has no leadership structure."
Ji Yao answered without looking away from the field.
"…It does."
A pause.
"…It just doesn't look like one."
Ji Lin frowned.
"…What does that even mean?"
Ji Yao's gaze shifted slightly—to Wei.
"…It means the center is not commanding."
"…It is stabilizing."
That answer made the air feel heavier.
Below—
the battlefield shifted again.
Another wave of cultivators entered.
Not to kill the beast.
But to finish what was left.
To steal the reward.
To break weakened survivors.
"Finish them!" someone shouted from the chaos.
Steel flashed instantly.
And for the first time—
the low-stage arena truly became what it had been designed to avoid.
A life-and-death convergence point.
Ji Na moved instantly.
Her indigo robe snapped sharply as she intercepted the first strike, blade colliding with metal in a burst of sparks. Her posture was low, aggressive, every movement forcing space open rather than defending it.
"Hold formation!" she shouted.
Mu Ta shifted beside her, breathing heavier now but still steady.
"I hate this kind of teamwork!" she snapped, blocking a diagonal strike with her dagger-sword.
"But it's working!" the fatty yelled back, slamming his shoulder into another attacker and throwing him off balance.
Luli anchored the rear, shield braced against incoming pressure. Her feet sank deeper into the fractured ground, robe fluttering violently as she absorbed impact after impact.
"…Too many angles," she said through clenched teeth.
Lulu moved like a shadow between them.
Her bow was gone now—collapsed back into her hand in blade form. She flicked it once, twice, redirecting two incoming attacks in a single breath.
"…They're targeting gaps," she said calmly.
And Wei—
was still in the center.
His silver-white robe was no longer clean.
Dust, blood, and torn fabric marked its edges. The wound on his shoulder had reopened slightly under strain, but the skin beneath the pill's effect had begun tightening again, knitting itself under pressure.
His breathing was controlled.
Not calm.
But measured.
"…This stopped being a tournament," he murmured.
Another strike came.
He blocked.
Redirected.
Moved.
And for a brief moment—
he looked up.
At everything.
At the beast.
At the attackers.
At the formation holding together by instinct rather than design.
"…It's a battlefield now," he finished quietly.
Above—
someone in the crowd whispered it first.
Then others repeated it.
Until it spread.
"…This isn't a low-stage round anymore…" "…This is war." "…They turned it into war."
Even the announcer hesitated for a fraction of a second before speaking again.
His voice, once confident and theatrical, now carried restraint.
"…Participants are advised… to remain cautious…"
A pause.
"…Situation escalation is… severe."
On the Zhang platform—
Zhang Lie exhaled slowly.
"…Wei is at the center of all of it."
Fei Fei nodded once.
"…And he's still holding it."
Sang Sang whispered softly, almost to herself.
"…Don't break."
Zhang Lin's eyes narrowed.
"…If he breaks…"
He didn't finish the sentence.
He didn't need to.
Across the arena—
Ji Yao finally spoke again.
"…This is no longer about winning."
A pause.
"…It's about who survives the collapse first."
Below—
Wei tightened his grip on both swords.
The wind passed.
Dust shifted.
Blood dripped.
Steel rang.
And the battlefield—
kept moving.
The battlefield did not calm.
It only reorganized.
Dust still hung in the air like a suspended storm, drifting in slow spirals under the fractured light of the formation dome. Every so often, a distant clash of steel or a beast's shifting step would send ripples through it, breaking the illusion of stillness for only a breath before it returned.
Blood stained patches of ground in uneven patterns—dark marks against cracked stone that had already been reinforced a dozen times by formation runes beneath.
The Red-Eyed Mammoth Tiger stood farther back now, no longer pressing forward blindly. It watched.
Waiting.
Learning.
The fatty was the first to break the rhythm.
His chest rose and fell heavily, sweat running down the side of his face and soaking into the thick layers of his robe. The fabric—once structured and padded—was now scuffed, torn at the edges, and dust-streaked, but still functional enough to keep him standing.
He glanced sideways at Wei.
Then exhaled.
"…We're burning out too fast."
Wei didn't answer immediately.
His silver-white robe shifted slightly as he adjusted his stance, the torn shoulder now partially sealed by the earlier pill's effect. The fabric still clung faintly to dried blood, but his breathing had steadied.
His dual blades were lowered slightly.
Not relaxed.
Just controlled.
The fatty scratched the side of his neck, eyes narrowing as he recalled something from earlier—the moment the beast's pressure had shifted, the instant coordination had started forming around Wei's positioning.
"…You're the one who figured out that thing's rhythm," he muttered.
A pause.
Then—
"I'm not letting you collapse first."
He reached into his robe.
And tossed another black pill.
Wei caught it mid-air.
It was darker than the last one.
Denser.
The surface faintly rough, like compressed residue instead of refined medicine.
Wei frowned slightly.
"…Again?"
"Don't complain," the fatty snapped, already turning to block a sudden incoming strike from a nearby cultivator. His arm absorbed the impact, boots grinding into cracked stone as he shoved the attacker back.
"This one just stabilizes qi faster. Less pretty, more effective."
Mu Ta, still breathing hard but steadying, glanced at it briefly.
"…You carry too many questionable things."
"I survive too many questionable situations," he shot back.
Ji Na's voice cut in instantly.
"No talking."
Her blade moved without pause, intercepting a diagonal strike and redirecting it away from Wei's position.
"Formation reset."
At her command—
the group shifted.
Not scattered anymore.
Not improvising blindly.
But deliberately forming a protective perimeter around Wei.
Luli stepped backward first, planting her shield-like artifact into the ground. A faint vibration ran through the earth as the defensive stance activated, stabilizing the immediate space behind them.
Her robe fluttered slightly, dust clinging to the lower hem.
"…Ten minutes," she said quietly.
Lulu moved to her flank, bow collapsing into blade form again as she positioned herself between two approaching attackers.
"…We hold," she added.
Her voice was calm.
But her eyes were sharp.
Ji Na didn't hesitate.
"Then we buy him time."
Her indigo robe snapped sharply as she surged forward again, taking point. The silver stitching along her sleeves caught the light with each movement, like fragmented lightning cutting through dust.
Mu Ta followed immediately, adjusting her stance.
"I still hate this plan," she muttered.
"But it's the only one we've got."
Wei finally lowered himself.
Not because he was safe.
But because the moment demanded it.
He stepped back into the smallest protected space at the center of their formation and sat down quickly, legs crossing beneath him in one smooth motion.
His robes settled around him, fabric brushing softly against cracked stone, dust rising faintly around his knees before settling again.
The black pill was placed under his tongue.
He swallowed.
Instantly—
a cold surge spread through his body.
Not painful.
But dense.
Like threads tightening inside his meridians, compressing scattered qi and forcing it into stability.
His breathing slowed.
Then deepened.
Above—
spectators leaned forward again.
"…He's stopping mid-battle?" "…Inside formation recovery?" "…That's insane in this pressure zone…"
On the Zhang platform—
Zhang Lie's expression tightened again.
"…They're giving him a full reset window," he said.
Fei Fei's eyes flickered.
"…In the middle of a battlefield like this?"
Zhang Lin answered quietly.
"…Because without him, the structure collapses."
A pause.
"…They all know it now."
Sang Sang watched without blinking.
Her voice came out soft.
"…He trusts them."
Below—
Wei's eyes closed briefly.
His mind steadied.
Qi circulated.
Pain dulled.
The world narrowed.
But outside—
everything was still moving.
Steel clashing.
Beast shifting.
Enemies probing the perimeter.
"Hold them back!" Ji Na shouted.
Her blade met another attack mid-air, sparks flashing briefly as metal collided. Her stance remained low and precise, every movement cutting off advancement routes instead of chasing kills.
The fatty grunted as he blocked another strike.
"Five minutes left!" he called out.
Then corrected himself immediately—
"…No, actually ten for him!"
Mu Ta scoffed while deflecting a strike with her dagger-sword.
"Why does he get double time?!"
"Because he's the brain of this mess!" the fatty yelled back.
Wei, eyes still closed, exhaled slowly.
"…I heard that."
"Good!" the fatty shouted without turning.
"Then wake up faster!"
Even in recovery—
Wei's lips twitched faintly.
"…Understood."
The formation tightened again.
Not because they were winning.
But because they had chosen a temporary center.
A resting core.
A stabilizing point in a collapsing battlefield.
And around that point—
they fought.
Not as individuals anymore.
But as something closer to necessity.
Above—
the watching clans fell into uneasy silence again.
Because what they were seeing was no longer just talent.
Not just survival.
It was structure.
Built under pressure.
Sustained by trust forced into existence.
And at the center of it all—
a boy in silver-white robes sat with closed eyes,
breathing slowly,
while the battlefield tried not to collapse around him.
The moment Wei stepped forward, the air changed again.
Not calmer.
Not safer.
Just focused.
The Red-Eyed Mammoth Tiger's roar rolled across the arena like a collapsing mountain. Dust lifted in a wide circle around its body, and the wound at its neck—still bleeding, still resisting—pulsed faintly as its muscles tightened.
It had learned.
And now it was angry.
Wei exhaled once.
His silver-white robe shifted softly in the wind, torn edges brushing against his legs as he moved. The black pill's effect still stabilized his qi, but now it felt different in his body—not foreign, but integrated, like borrowed time becoming usable strength.
His dual blades lifted.
Not high.
Not flashy.
Just aligned.
"…We don't get another opening like earlier," Ji Na said quietly beside him.
Her indigo robe fluttered as she adjusted her stance, blade angled low. Her breathing was steady, but her eyes were sharp—locked onto the beast's neck.
Mu Ta rolled her shoulders once, tightening her grip on her dagger-sword.
"…Then we don't miss," she said.
The fatty cracked his neck.
"…I'm officially done being hit today. Let's end it."
Luli anchored herself deeper into the ground, shield artifact humming faintly.
"…Rear pressure incoming," she warned.
Lulu's bow reformed briefly in her hand before collapsing back into blade form.
"…They're still trying to steal it," she said.
Above—
the watching clans had gone silent again.
Not from boredom.
From realization.
This was the final exchange.
Zhang Lie leaned forward slightly.
"…They're committing."
Fei Fei's fingers tightened.
"…All of them."
Sang Sang whispered softly.
"…Wei…"
Zhang Lin didn't speak.
But his gaze had already sharpened to its limit.
Below—
the beast moved first.
It didn't charge blindly anymore.
It targeted.
Its massive body shifted sideways, claws dragging through stone as it angled toward Wei again—the same fixation, the same recognition.
The ground cracked beneath its weight as it lunged.
"Now!" Ji Na shouted.
The formation broke its hesitation.
Wei moved first.
Not forward.
Not back.
Into the angle.
His body slid under the beast's initial strike, wind pressure tearing at his robe as clawed force passed inches above him. The heat of it burned against his skin.
But he didn't stop.
His blade came up—
not to strike the beast's body—
but to guide its balance.
CLANG—
Metal and pressure collided as he redirected the beast's momentum upward, forcing its massive head to tilt slightly off-center.
Just enough.
Just barely.
"Left opening!" Mu Ta shouted.
She surged in instantly, dagger-sword flashing toward the exposed joint beneath the beast's jaw, forcing a secondary reaction.
Ji Na followed immediately.
Her indigo robe snapped like lightning as she stepped into the gap Mu Ta created.
Her blade did not hesitate.
It moved straight for the wounded neck.
But the beast reacted—
too fast.
Its claws swept sideways.
A violent arc meant to erase everything in front of it.
"Luli!" the fatty roared.
Luli slammed her shield into the ground.
BOOM—
A defensive barrier flared, absorbing the brunt of the claw strike and sending cracks spidering through the earth beneath her feet.
Her knees buckled—
but she held.
"…Go!" she gritted out.
Lulu moved in the same breath.
Her blade flickered once—
twice—
cutting along the beast's forearm, not to injure deeply, but to redirect tension, forcing its strike off-line for a fraction of a second.
That fraction was everything.
Wei saw it.
Ji Na saw it.
Mu Ta saw it.
Even the fatty saw it.
"…Now," Wei said quietly.
And he stepped in.
His dual blades crossed—not for strength, but precision. He struck the exact point where earlier damage had weakened the beast's internal structure, guiding force already destabilized by Ji Na's earlier hit.
The beast roared again.
This time—
not as control.
But as loss.
Ji Na's blade followed.
Clean.
Direct.
No flourish.
Just execution.
Her strike pierced the already-open wound at the neck joint, sinking deep into muscle and fractured spiritual reinforcement.
Mu Ta added immediately—
her dagger-sword slipping into the same opening, widening it from within.
The fatty roared—
"Hold it down!"
He slammed forward, forcing the beast's shifting body back just enough to prevent escape movement.
Luli's barrier flared again.
Lulu's blade locked another counterattack away.
And Wei—
did not retreat.
He stepped closer.
Both blades now embedded in the opening point he had created.
His voice was calm.
"…End."
He twisted.
Not violently.
Not recklessly.
But precisely—
like turning a key inside a locked mechanism.
A deep, cracking sound echoed through the beast's body.
Not external.
Internal.
The Red-Eyed Mammoth Tiger froze.
Its glowing eyes widened slightly.
For the first time—
it stopped moving.
Then—
the light in its gaze flickered.
And collapsed.
The massive body swayed once.
Twice.
Then—
it fell.
BOOOOM—
The ground shattered under its weight as dust exploded outward in a massive wave, swallowing the battlefield in a rolling storm of debris and silence.
For a moment—
there was nothing.
No movement.
No sound.
Only settling dust.
Then—
a breath.
"…It's dead," Mu Ta whispered.
The fatty dropped to one knee immediately.
"…Finally."
Luli exhaled slowly, releasing her shield as the ground beneath her stopped trembling.
"…That was too close."
Lulu lowered her blade.
"…But clean."
Ji Na stood still for a moment.
Then slowly lowered her sword.
"…We finished it."
Wei did not speak immediately.
He stood at the center of the fallen beast, deep pink robe fluttering faintly in the aftermath wind, breathing steady but deep.
Then—
he exhaled.
"…We did."
Above—
the arena finally reacted.
Silence broke first.
Then—
explosion.
"…They killed it!" "…Low stage group actually killed an eight-step higher beast!" "…Impossible—!"
Even the higher platforms leaned forward in shock.
On the Zhang platform—
Zhang Lie finally released the railing.
His hand was trembling slightly.
"…He really did it."
Fei Fei exhaled slowly.
"…They all did."
Sang Sang's eyes softened.
"…Wei…"
Zhang Lin's voice was low.
"…He didn't just survive it."
A pause.
"…He controlled it."
Across the arena—
Ji Yao narrowed his eyes slightly.
"…That formation…"
Ji Lin finished quietly.
"…Was never random."
Below—
Wei turned slightly toward his group.
His expression was calm again.
But different.
Not untouched.
Not unchanged.
Just… steadier.
"…Rest later," he said softly.
A faint pause.
Then—
"…We still have to leave here alive"
And behind them—
the dead beast lay silent.
While the battlefield slowly remembered how to breathe again.