A hush fell over the audience as the referee stepped forward. "Let the match begin!"
The horn rang once again, and almost instantly, the arena was engulfed in a wave of distortion—Ji-sang had already begun his assault. The edges of his form blurred, and the air shimmered as if heat were rising from the ground. Figures flickered into existence—phantom clones of himself, each one indistinguishable from the real thing.
Yang Kyung-min, however, did not move. With a steady breath, he placed his hands on his sword, standing completely still, as if unbothered.
"Still using the same tricks I see." He said calmly as his gaze moved around the arena, concentrating his energy on his surroundings as he attempted to find the real Ji-sang.
When facing a spiritual cultivator, relying on senses like sight was useless. They had the ability to manipulate reality, making you see things that aren't there. That is why many people had a hard time facing them at first. But once you let go of your sight and relied on your other senses, finding them wasn't too difficult—if you had the power that is.
Suddenly a blast of energy came straight at him from behind, but Kyung-min was quick and was able to block the attack with his sword. Materializing his qi and enveloping his sword, it sliced through Ji-sang's attack with ease. But the young man wasn't done.
As expected of a disciple of the Phantom Blade Sect. He's definitely gotten stronger.
A smile curved at his lips as he prepared for Ji-sang's next attack.
"Let's see if you can block this," he said as he struck his arm. Kyung-min swerved to the side and struck Ji-sang's arm in the process.
"Tch," he then swung his leg, putting fifty percent of his energy in the strike. Kyung-min swerved once more, but this time, his figure disappeared.
The young man paused as his eyes darted around. "Huh? Where did he go?"
"I'm right here." Ji-sang followed the voice and saw that he had made it to the other side of the arena. His eyes widened.
"Though you've improved, you're still not strong enough to beat me Ji-sang. I'll show you just how far apart we are." Kyung-min said.
Ji-sang's mouth twisted into a snarl. "Bastard,"
Kyung-min lunged towards him with unparalleled speed that stunned his opponent as well as the audience. Wooyun could hardly believe what he was seeing. Was it even humanly possible for someone to move that fast?!
He had long since discarded his sword and attacked Ji-sang with his fist that glowed a beautiful shade of gold as he punched Ji-sang right in the gut. "Heavenly strike," he muttered under his breath and Ji-sang was sent flying across the arena.
"Kugh," he rolled over but managed to land on his feet. He looked at Kyung-min with amazement. H-How?! I didn't see his movements at all.
"Enough of this," he heard the young man say. "Let's end this once and for all shall we?" His lips curved into a smile and Ji-sang felt a sudden rage well up within him.
He had always believed Yang Kyung-min to be a snake. The kind of guy who looked kind and benevolent on the surface with his charming smile yet when you looked into his eyes all you could see was indignation.
"This worm-like bastard. Wait until I get my hands on you." He muttered under his breath.
A sudden burst of energy erupted within him as he lunged straight for Kyung-min's throat, materializing his qi into a snake-like shape that came straight towards him.
Kyung-min sighed. "I already told you, nothing you do will work against me." He calmly said.
"Haa, please shut the fuck up. All you do is talk, looking down on me as if I'm nothing. You've always looked down at everyone, why don't you look up for once in your life you little shit."
Kyung-min furrowed his brows as his gaze lifted.
Look up?
"Ha! You fell for it." His hands moved the fight and Kyung-min was hit with the full extent of his powers.
A sudden burst of energy surrounded him, clouding him a mass of purple smoke. As Kyung-min inhaled, his body began to convulse and he realized he had injected a high amount of poison. Poison? No that wasn't it. It only felt like he was being poisoned. This was once again another illusion.
But even if it was an illusion, it was potent and strong. It felt as though the poison was penetrating his skin, infecting his lungs.
To think he had just a monstrous technique up his sleeves. I need to get out of this as soon as possible.
Kyung-min gritted his teeth as the sensation of burning spread through his limbs. The illusion was potent—far beyond the simple visual tricks Ji-sang had used earlier. It wasn't just a deception of the eyes but a manipulation of his very senses. The searing pain, the constriction in his chest, the taste of something acrid coating his tongue—it all felt real.
The audience watched in stunned silence as the golden glow that had once radiated from Kyung-min's body flickered. Ji-sang's lips curled into a triumphant smirk. "You're finally on your knees," he taunted, voice dripping with satisfaction.
But even as he spoke, a dangerous glint flashed in Kyung-min's eyes. His fingers curled, pressing against the cool surface of the arena's stone floor. "You think this is enough to bring me down?" His voice was steady, almost amused.
Ji-sang frowned. "Still acting tough? Your body is already succumbing to my Phantom Toxin Mirage. Your nerves are convinced you're being poisoned. It won't be long before your mind breaks."
Kyung-min let out a breath, slow and measured.
That's right. My nerves think I'm poisoned. The key word was think.
If Ji-sang had truly used a deadly poison, Kyung-min would be able to detect the foreign qi in his bloodstream. But this illusion was purely psychological.
A test.
He clenched his hand into a fist. His fingers responded sluggishly, a sign that his body was still under the illusion's effects. Then I'll just have to remind myself what's real and what's not. The moment Ji-sang took a step forward, Kyung-min moved. His form blurred, cutting through the swirling smoke with a sharp gust of qi.
"What—?!" Ji-sang barely had time to react before a golden palm struck his chest. The force sent him skidding backward, his ribs rattling from the impact.
Kyung-min straightened, his once-weakened stance replaced by sheer confidence. "Nice trick," he admitted, rolling his shoulders. "I can see why people struggle against you." His eyes sharpened. "But it won't work on me a second time."
Ji-sang clenched his jaw. "You broke it?" His illusions weren't something a person could simply shake off, yet Kyung-min had dispelled it as if it were a mere inconvenience.
"Your technique targets the mind," Kyung-min mused. "Which means it's only effective if the victim believes it's real. Once I realized it was just another layer of illusion, it lost all meaning."
Ji-sang's expression darkened. "Cocky bastard."
"Confident," Kyung-min corrected, a smirk tugging at his lips. "And right."
A pulse of golden qi surged around him, dispersing the remnants of Ji-sang's smoke-like illusions. The arena trembled beneath the force of his aura.
Ji-sang took a step back, instincts screaming at him to retreat. But it was already too late.
Kyung-min vanished—no, he moved so fast that his form simply ceased to exist in Ji-sang's vision.
Then—impact.
A powerful strike landed squarely against Ji-sang's stomach, lifting him off his feet. The air left his lungs in a violent gasp as he was launched across the arena, again.
This time, he didn't land on his feet.
The crowd roared as Ji-sang tumbled across the ground, barely managing to stop himself before he could roll off the edge of the stage.
Coughing, Ji-sang pushed himself onto one knee, his breath ragged. Dammit… Even after all this time, after all his training, he was still this far behind Kyung-min?
He wiped the blood from his lips and forced himself to his feet. "I'm not done yet."
Kyung-min tilted his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. "You're not?"
Ji-sang gritted his teeth. He refused to let this end like every other time. If he couldn't win with illusions—
Then he'd just have to bring out his real power. Ji-sang exhaled sharply, shaking off the pain as his qi flared around him. The playful arrogance in his eyes hardened into something darker—pure, unwavering determination.
If illusions wouldn't work, then he had only one option left. "First movement: Spirit Fox Manifestation." He muttered under his breath.
His hands twisted in a sharp motion, gathering the full force of his spiritual energy. Shadows rippled beneath his feet, and in an instant, a massive phantom fox emerged from the darkness, its spectral form towering over the stage. Its nine tails lashed violently, its glowing amber eyes locking onto Kyung-min with predatory intent.
Gasps erupted from the audience. Even the seasoned warriors watching from the stands leaned forward.
"Phantom Manifestation…" Eun-woo muttered.
Wooyun turned to look at him, his eyes already wide with shock. "Phantom manifestation? What does that mean?"
"It's a technique that allows a cultivator to create a spectral entity from their qi. Unlike ordinary illusions, phantom manifestations are often semi-tangible, meaning they are able to interact with the physical world to a degree, whether through intimidation, deception, or direct attacks." He explained.
Just what the hell is up with this world? This scene looks like it came straight out of an anime! Wooyun thought to himself.
Ji-sang wiped the sweat from his brow, his breathing labored. "I've only mastered up to five tails, but that's more than enough to take you down," he declared, his voice strained from the immense energy he was channeling.
Kyung-min's gaze flickered to the beast. His fingers twitched slightly, but his expression remained unreadable. Then, he smiled. "So, you're finally taking this seriously."
The phantom fox lunged.
Its claws tore through the air, sending a shockwave rippling across the stage. Ji-sang directed its movements with precise gestures, each motion commanding the fox's deadly assault.
Kyung-min sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the sweeping claws. But before he could counter, the fox's tails shot forward like spears.
Fast. Even with his speed, he barely managed to weave through them. One tail grazed his shoulder, slicing through the fabric of his robe.
Ji-sang grinned despite the strain. "What's wrong? Not so untouchable now huh?"
"You've suddenly gotten arrogant just because you've managed to draw some blood? I didn't figure you for a naive boy Ji-sang." He said with a smile.
His eyes narrowed. "Are you eyes only for decoration? You've got an entire gash on your body. If you were an ordinary civilian you'd be dying of blood loss right now."
"Well, luckily I'm no ordinary civilian am I?" Hyung-min once again lunged at him and hit him with a series of attacks, forcing Ji-sang to move his already weakened body.
Ji-sang's breathing was uneven, but the fire in his eyes had not dimmed. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, staining his sleeve with blood. "I admit it," he muttered, his voice low but laced with frustration. "You're stronger than before. But don't think I'm just going to roll over and accept defeat."
Kyung-min exhaled, as if sighing at a stubborn child. "I wouldn't expect you to," he said smoothly, rolling his shoulders. "But we both know how this ends, Ji-sang."
Ji-sang's fingers twitched as he gathered the last reserves of his qi. If he couldn't trick Kyung-min with illusions, then he'd have to overwhelm him in another way. "Second movement: Phantom Mirage,"
A dark mist erupted from his form, expanding rapidly across the arena. It was thick, suffocating, an oppressive veil of spiritual energy that distorted the space around them. The audience could barely see beyond its edges, and within it, the battlefield became Ji-sang's domain.
Kyung-min's eyes narrowed slightly. So, he's turning the entire arena into an illusion? A bold move.
Ji-sang's voice echoed from all directions. "Let's see you dodge this, Celestial Jade."
In an instant, countless shadows surged toward Kyung-min, their clawed hands reaching, twisting, seeking to bind him in place. Their forms wavered, shifting between tangible and intangible, making it impossible to tell which were real and which were merely constructs of Ji-sang's qi.
But Kyung-min did not flinch.
His sword, which had remained untouched for most of the battle, hummed as he gripped its hilt.
Tch!
Ji-sang felt frustration clawing at his chest.
No matter how much strength he poured into his attacks, no matter how aggressively he fought, Kyung-min wasn't just dodging—he was toying with him.
And that was somehow worse.