2025-08-26 18:10:44The battle between the two heated titans brought cheers from the onlookers and heated passion among those yet to compete. Duō Yī focused on the third platform, where a different kind of clash unfolded.
On Platform Three, Duō Xiǎo and Duō Méi engaged in a lightning-fast dance of steel and energy.
Duō Xiǎo, a petite yet fiery cultivator, stood at 5'2" with an athletic build. Her short, spiky hair blazed crimson, framing her heart-shaped face and piercing blue eyes. Intricate golden tattoos pulsed faintly along her arms, alive with Qi. She wore a sleek, black jumpsuit that clung to her frame and promised speed.
Her opponent, Duō Méi, cut a striking contrast — 5'6", raven hair cascading in dark silk down her back. Her slender, hourglass figure moved within a crimson robe that hugged her form like molten fire. Her confident smile and sharp, cold eyes revealed a duelist who enjoyed the kill.
Their battle was a storm.
Duō Xiǎo wielded twin curved daggers, etched blades gleaming with embedded gems that thrummed with Qi.Duō Méi held a crystal-tipped rapier, its runes glowing faintly with every flick.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
Their first exchange rang through the grounds like temple bells struck in fury.
Duō Xiǎo darted forward, daggers flashing in a blur.SWISH! SWISH!Méi parried, her rapier moving with an elegance so sharp it felt insulting.
Their speed stunned the crowd — red hair and black hair whipping in arcs of steel.
WHOOOSH!Xiǎo leapt, Qi surging into a high kick aimed for Méi's shoulder.TING!Méi deflected with a narrow riposte, the tip of her crystal rapier missing Xiǎo's throat by inches.
For a heartbeat the world froze. Then they exploded again.
Xiǎo spun low, daggers carving arcs of gold.ZIP! ZIP! ZIP!Méi's rapier blurred into a dazzling pattern, steel singing.SWISH! SWISH!
The crowd gasped as sparks showered off their clash.
Xiǎo pressed harder, footwork relentless, but Méi's counters were a spider's web — elegant, waiting.
Suddenly, Méi's heel cracked across Xiǎo's ribs.CRACK!The smaller cultivator skidded across the stone, coughing, vision spinning. Gasps rippled from the onlookers.
Méi advanced, raven locks trailing, her emerald-encrusted rapier glowing in the sunlight.SWISH! — the blade shot for Xiǎo's shoulder.
Xiǎo rolled, fabric tearing as her jumpsuit ripped along the side. She came up with one dagger ready, teeth bared.ZIP! — counterstrike.TING! — Méi's rapier knocked it aside.
Sparks burst.TING! TING! TING!
The clash turned frantic. Méi's rapier wove a blinding lattice.Xiǎo weaved between strikes, tattoos flaring golden, her agility a blur.A sudden counterpunch rocked Méi's guard.CRACK!Her arm trembled under the blow.
Xiǎo pressed in, momentum building. A sweeping Qi-infused kick roared toward Méi's chest.WHOOOSH!The crowd erupted — sensing blood.
The battle raged, no clear victor in sight.
At the edge of the battlegrounds, Duō Yī's cold eyes tracked every motion across the platforms.
"Platform One… Duō Chóng's saber work is sharp. Too sharp. He favors precision over adaptability. The moment his rhythm is broken, he'll collapse."
He studied Chóng's opponent."Duō Róng has good footwork — but her eagerness betrays her. Aggression is predictable. If it were me, I'd bait her charge and gut her mid-spin."
His gaze slid to Platform Two."Duō Líng. All brawn. His fists hit like boulders, but every overextended strike screams 'kill me.' Duō Kūn's defense is steadier, but fear makes his blocks shaky. Against either, I'd vanish into their blind spot and cut tendons before they blinked."
Then to Platform Three."Duō Méi… elegant, composed. Her Crystal Frost technique is clean, but every time she channels it, her stance stiffens. That's when the throat is open. And Duō Xiǎo… fiery, reckless. All instinct. Easy to lure, but hard to finish — she bites even when bleeding."
His lips curled slightly, a predator imagining blood."Good. Each one is exploitable. When my turn comes, their weaknesses will write their deaths."
The crowd's roars echoed as Duō Líng and Duō Kūn continued their brutal exchange. Duō Yī's gaze never softened. His thoughts never wavered.
The tournament had only just begun.
. .Duō Yī's gaze shifted to Platform Four, his breath catching despite himself.
Before him stood Duō Wěi, a vision of masculine perfection. His raven-black hair was bound in a high ponytail, cascading in sleek, silken strands that framed features so precise they seemed sculpted by divine hands. Wěi's piercing blue eyes glittered like sapphires under the sun, brimming with quiet confidence and an intensity that made it hard to look away.
Wěi's body bore no unnecessary weight—lean muscle stretched taut across his broad shoulders and narrow waist, sculpted through years of precise, grueling training. His frame was not bulky like Duō Kūn's brute strength, but rather a refined balance of speed, power, and elegance. His fitted black leather armor clung perfectly, tracing every contour of his form, giving him the appearance of a living blade drawn from its sheath.
At his side rested the fabled Moonwhisper. The sword's blade shimmered with alternating streaks of silver and shadow, ancient runes etched along its length glowing faintly with ethereal light. Its polished obsidian hilt caught and bent the sunlight, drinking it in as though it belonged to the night. The mere presence of the weapon seemed to hush the air around it.
Across from him stood Duō Fāng, his build solid and rugged, the kind of strength forged in unyielding combat drills. Short, dark-blond hair framed his sharp features, and his own piercing blue eyes burned with determination. He hefted his spear with steady hands, jaw set tight as though preparing to face not a cousin, but an unconquerable wall.
The judges signaled.
The duel began.
Moonwhisper cut the air with a sharp whistle. Wěi's movements were too clean, too fast—every strike landed with surgical precision, a dance of steel and shadow. Fāng's spear snapped forward to counter, but his weapon seemed a step behind, forever trailing Wěi's fluid rhythm.
The clash of steel rang through the arena, but the difference between the two became painfully clear within moments. Wěi's footwork was flawless—each pivot, each shift of his weight carried a purpose, exploiting the smallest lapse in Fāng's defense. His strikes flowed like water yet struck with the decisiveness of thunder.
The crowd leaned forward as one, breathless.
Fāng's defense crumbled, his spear-arm trembling under the barrage. Desperation twisted his features as he lunged with all his strength, thrusting for Wěi's chest in a last bid to reclaim ground.
But Wěi's response was effortless. A sidestep, so subtle it seemed choreographed by instinct, and his sword blurred. Moonwhisper's glowing edge bit into the stone of the platform with a hiss, stopping just inches from Fāng's exposed neck.
Silence.
Fāng froze, his body rigid, defeat etched across his wide eyes.
The crowd erupted. Shouts of joy, gasps of relief, and shrieks of adoration rained down from every side.
"Ahh, Wěi-jīe is so captivating!" cried one young woman, her voice trembling.
"His swordsmanship is unmatched!" another called, clasping her hands to her chest.
Groups of young maidens nearly swooned, their dreamy eyes fixed on Wěi.
"Wěi-jīe's eyes are like lightning, so piercing!"
"I've never seen anyone move so flawlessly!"
The cheers washed over him, though his own expression barely shifted. Wěi allowed himself only a thin smile—a cold curl of lips that made him appear even more untouchable.
Duō Yī frowned, mind whirring.How can anyone beat him? Wěi's in a different league altogether. His control, his speed… every flaw is covered. There has to be something—some weakness—but where?
From the elder's pavilion, Elder Zhīyūn smiled proudly, his eyes gleaming as he watched his son bow with the dignity of one born to dominate. For the briefest instant, father and son's eyes locked across the arena—an unspoken promise of greatness shared between them.
The judges declared the match. Wěi was victorious.
Fāng staggered back, chest heaving, while Wěi sheathed Moonwhisper in a single fluid motion. He turned to the audience, his sapphire gaze sweeping over the sea of faces, drinking in their awe. For a heartbeat, the mask slipped, and a flicker of satisfaction shone in his eyes. Then it was gone—replaced once again by icy composure.
As he stepped off the platform, clan members pressed around him, bowing their heads, offering nods of respect. Yet beneath the respect lingered an undercurrent, subtle but undeniable—envy, resentment. Some of his peers bit their lips, their eyes shadowed.
Wěi caught it instantly. His gaze narrowed, sapphire eyes cutting like blades through the crowd. He offered no words, but the cold smirk tugging at his lips said enough.
With each step he took, his legend deepened. His brilliance illuminated the clan's name, but just as surely, it cast long shadows in which jealousy festered.
Meanwhile, the other platforms unfolded with less grandeur.
On Platform Five, Duō Jiān danced with agile strikes, her limbs moving with practiced precision. Yet Duō Lín's persistence slowly pressed her into a corner. A single misstep was all it took—Jiān faltered, and Lín's counter sent her sprawling.
On Platform Six, Duō Shēn and Duō Lì tested endurance over flair. Blow after blow, Shēn's raw strength wore his cousin down until Lì crumbled beneath the weight of his fists.
But compared to Wěi's breathtaking mastery, both battles seemed pale shadows. The crowd's earlier roar had dwindled into half-hearted cheers, their attention still lingering on the image of Wěi standing victorious, Moonwhisper gleaming at his side.
Duō Yī, however, absorbed every detail, his mind a storm of calculations. "Jiān's footwork is sharp, but she lacks finishing power. Lín's defense is reliable, but predictable… Shēn, all brute strength, but no subtlety. Their flaws are clear."
Still, one thought gnawed at him as he clenched his fists.But Wěi… where do I even begin against someone like him?
Elder Lǐ's voice boomed over the arena:"The first round is concluded. The victors will advance. Losers are eliminated."
The courtyard buzzed with energy as contestants celebrated or mourned. Duō Yī remained silent, his sharp eyes fixed on the platforms.
"The real challenge begins now…" he whispered under his breath.
A cold voice slithered into his ear, so close it sent a chill racing down his spine.
"You'll find out soon enough, Duō Yī. And when you do… you'll regret ever stepping foot on that platform."
His gaze snapped sideways, but the crowd swallowed the voice whole. He scanned faces, searching for the speaker. Nothing.
Duō Yī exhaled through his nose, his irritation rising."This is getting annoying."
Then his lips curved in a dangerous smirk."Just pray you don't end up as my opponent. I've been meaning to test something new… seems someone is volunteering to be my first experiment."
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Dú Huà Liàn Tǐ
For the next month, the courtyard of the Body Refinement Division became a crucible of extremes.There was no rhythm to their torment. Some days, they were roasted until their skin blistered, drenched in boiling oil, or pressed against stones hot enough to burn flesh from bone. On others, the world froze around them, their lungs clawed by air so cold that every breath felt like swallowing knives. Dawn to dusk, the trials never ceased, and never once could they predict what awaited them when the instructors arrived.The disciples called it hell. Yet even in hell, seeds began to sprout.Their bodies, once frail and mortal, had begun to change. Muscles grew denser, bones heavier, skin tougher. One by one, the fruits of their suffering revealed themselves.It was Tian Yīn who first broke through.The bald-headed youth had always carried himself with unshakable confidence, his once-flowing silver locks long gone to the flames. On the twelfth morning, as the heat bore down upon them, he sud
Tempered by Frost
The days blurred into weeks, each one seared into memory by fire.Boiling oil, smoldering coals, blazing stones, steam so hot it clawed at the lungs—such had been the disciples’ reality since the moment they first stepped into the Body Refinement Division. The trial was merciless. By the end of each day, some stumbled away half-conscious, others were carried, their bodies red and blistered. And yet, they always returned.For the young cultivators, survival itself was proof of progress. To last a single week of the Division’s training was already enough to mark them as different from ordinary mortals. To last three? Their bodies bore the beginnings of change.Today, once more, they assembled on the stone courtyard. Familiar faces were fewer now—several had already been removed, deemed unfit, their paths cut short. Those who remained stood in thin training robes, their bodies scarred by heat, their hair singed or gone entirely. Among them, Tian Yīn was now bald, the proud silver locks t
Baptism of Fire
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New Faces
The sun hung low in the horizon, painting the mountains in hues of amber and crimson. Shafts of dying light filtered through the bamboo fence, streaking across the courtyard stones where Duō Yī sat in silent meditation. The world was hushed, save for the steady rhythm of his breathing and the distant cry of cranes retreating to their nests.Slowly, his eyes opened. The glow of the setting sun reflected faintly in his blue pupils, a reminder that time had moved on while he had remained still. Drawing in one final breath, he exhaled the remnants of scattered thought, rose to his feet, and brushed the dust from his grey disciple robes.It's time.The promise of the meeting earlier lingered in his mind, Hú Lì's cheerful voice from earlier in the Mission Hall, the pat on his shoulder, the glint of excitement in his eyes. With unhurried steps, Duō Yī left the courtyard behind and walked down the stone path that wound toward the eastern square.The sect at sundown had a rhythm all its own. L
A Path Split in Two
The night was quiet, the kind of quiet that carried more weight than comfort. The courtyard lay bathed in a pale silver glow as the wind brushed softly against the bamboo fence, carrying with it the faint scent of pine from the mountain slopes. A lone crane's cry echoed in the distance before fading into the silence once more.Duō Yī sat cross-legged on the cold stone mat, white hair falling across his shoulders like threads of moonlight. His expression was calm on the surface, but the stillness of his body betrayed the turbulence behind his eyes. He had been cultivating earlier, drawing threads of qi into his meridians, yet now his attention shifted inward, not on qi but on thought.His eyes opened slowly, and with the faintest ripple of intent, a translucent status board appeared before him, floating in the night air.[Name: Duō Yī][Race: Human][Status: Damaged Soul (X)][Realm: Qi Gathering Realm (3rd Stage)] [Mortal Flesh I][Life Span: 13/60][Abilities: HIVE][Skills: {Fundame
The Path of Flesh
Several days had passed since the grueling climb up the trial stairs. The pain in their legs had faded into dull aches, the bruises had begun to heal, and yet the memory of that endless climb remained etched into the minds of the surviving disciples.The group was gathered once again at the foot of the trial cliff, their numbers far fewer than when they had begun. Whispers spread among them as shadows swept across the earth.A massive white crane descended from the skies, its wings blotting out the sun for a brief instant. It alighted upon the cliff's edge, each feather glimmering like forged jade. Upon its back stood a man.Unlike the elder they had seen before, this one did not exude ancient age or unfathomable mystery. No, this man looked young—barely in his twenties at most. But despite his youth, the pressure that emanated from him made the very air feel heavy. His skin was pale as carved jade, flawless and unmarred by blemishes. His hair, long and black, flowed behind him like a
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