The moment Mu Fan's body hit the edge of the arena, the jade platform beneath him cracked with thunder's echo. Dust floated in the air, hanging like disbelief itself.
The referee stood stunned for half a second before raising his hand.
"Victory — Shadow!"
An explosion of noise followed. Cheers, jeers, gasps, and curses all tangled together like a wild storm of emotion.
Disciples leaned over balconies, struggling to process what they had just seen.
"Was that really just one move?"
"He's only been an inner disciple for three months…"
"That's not just Thunder Slash. That looked like an Iron-grade execution!"
Across the arena, several elders whispered among themselves. Some nodded in approval. Others frowned deeply.
But up on the highest pavilion, the **Sect Master's gaze** remained fixed on Shadow's retreating form.
His fingers slowly curled over the edge of his throne.
Beside him, Core Elder Min gave a cautious glance. "He displayed remarkable control. The move was refined. And from what I sense… he's still at the Eighth Level of Foundation Realm."
The Sect Master didn't respond.
Instead, his eyes narrowed.
He leaned ever so slightly toward the elder on his left.
"Summon Elder Gai. Quietly."
A flicker of spiritual intent passed through the air.
Moments later, Elder Gai—a bald man with a single crimson stripe tattooed across his scalp—approached and knelt.
"Yes, Sect Master?"
"That boy," the Sect Master murmured, "Shadow… Let's test the storm he claims to command."
A pause.
"In the next round, match him with **Zhao Yan**. Rank 13. Ninth Level of Foundation Realm."
Elder Gai blinked. "But sir… Zhao Yan is already knocking at the door of the next realm."
"I know," the Sect Master said coldly. "Let's see if lightning still strikes twice."
"…As you command."
---
Back at the waiting court, Shadow stood alone, leaning against the marble wall near the competitor's rest zone. A few glances still burned holes in his robes—mostly from those who couldn't accept Mu Fan's defeat.
Jian Wu approached, arms crossed, a crooked grin on his face.
"Didn't even give the guy a chance to breathe, huh?"
Shadow didn't reply.
Jian Wu continued, "You made the sect proud… and nervous."
"They'll come after me now," Shadow said calmly.
"Good," Jian Wu replied. "Because now you'll know who's worth defeating."
Just then, a large spiritual formation appeared above the arena—names began spinning.
Dozens of spectators chanted and cheered as the brackets shifted.
The glow dimmed.
**Match 24: Shadow (Rank 100) vs Zhao Yan (Rank 13).**
Gasps swept across the stadium.
"Zhao Yan?"
"That's unfair!"
"He's at the Ninth Level of Foundation Realm!"
"Are they trying to cripple that guy?"
Even Jian Wu's smile faltered. "Zhao Yan… he's not just strong, he's ruthless. Don't let your guard down."
Shadow looked up at the board. His gaze didn't change.
"I'll handle it."
Jian Wu exhaled. "That's what worries me."
---
On the far side of the arena, Zhao Yan was already practicing swings with his chained dual-blade spear. His body radiated strength, and his presence overwhelmed the air.
"So I'm the one dealing with the noisy storm," he chuckled, "Let's see if that thunder fizzles when I step in."
One of his allies said, "They say his Thunder Step is sharp now, even his sword art—"
Zhao grinned. "Then I'll break his footwork first."
---
On the platform, the elder referee called them forward. "Match 24 — prepare!"
Zhao Yan and Shadow stepped onto the platform.
"Three months," Zhao scoffed. "You're barely an inner disciple and now you stand in front of me?"
"Talk less," Shadow said. "Fight more."
The bell rang.
---
**Zhao Yan's assault was immediate.**
He surged forward with a burst of spirit energy, his chained spear lashing through the air with terrifying force. Each strike came from a new angle, looping, stabbing, or spinning violently.
Shadow parried the first blow with his blade, deflecting the chain and spinning to the side. Sparks flew.
Zhao followed up immediately—he was fast. Faster than Mu Fan had ever been. His foundation was solid. His movements precise.
But Shadow wasn't the same man either.
**Thunder Step.**
He shifted, vanishing and reappearing just behind Zhao's right shoulder.
His sword flicked out—**Flash Blade Art**—a strike targeting Zhao's ribs.
Zhao twisted, barely raising his chain to block in time. A clash erupted, Qi flared.
"You're quick," Zhao growled. "Let's see how long that lasts."
Zhao spun low and swept his chain in a wide arc, aiming to unbalance Shadow's stance. Shadow leapt, twisting mid-air, redirecting with Thunder Step again.
They clashed three more times, back and forth, steel and chain, sparks and lightning.
Zhao's strikes were brutal, overwhelming.
But Shadow began noticing them.
A quarter-second pause between Zhao's rotation and his grip reset.
A sliver of overreach when Zhao committed to his second swing.
Shadow adjusted his breathing.
Stepped left.
Dodged again.
Slipped into the rhythm.
Zhao launched a feint, then drove a true thrust forward—Shadow dodged, planting his feet as lightning surged from his core.
He raised his blade.
"**Thunder Slash!**"
The air cracked.
A roaring arc of lightning burst forward, this time not a single strike—but an enveloping wave that cut through Zhao's spear mid-swing and smashed into his chest.
Zhao flew backward, body twisting in the air before crashing to the edge of the arena, smoke curling from his robes, his right arm limp.
He gasped, coughing.
The crowd froze.
The elder raised his hand.
"Victory — Shadow!"
Gasps. Applause. Shouts.
Zhao struggled to sit up, blinking at Shadow's silhouette.
"…You read me… like an open scroll…"
Shadow sheathed his blade.
"You were strong. But you left too many openings."
He turned and walked off.
Ren Shun, from above, frowned deeply.
The Sect Master's knuckles were white beneath his robes.
The thunder had spoken.
And it was only growing louder.
---
**End of Chapter 69**