The arena thundered with the sound of combat—crashes of stone, roars of Qi, and the sharp clang of weapons against armor. All around Chen Yu, young cultivators battled the towering rune-forged puppets in desperate duels. Some held their ground. Many faltered. A few had already been dragged away on stretchers, groaning or silent.
Chen Yu stood calmly before his opponent: a stone puppet nearly three meters tall, with massive arms and a jagged torso etched in glowing crimson runes. Its eyes flared open, pulsing with hostile Qi.
The beast-like construct took one thunderous step forward, then another. Dust scattered beneath its weight.
Chen Yu drew his sword.
The moment Azurefang left its scabbard, the air changed. A subtle whistle, like a dragon breathing through frost, echoed faintly as the blade shimmered with a soft blue glow. It wasn't just steel—it was purpose, condensed.
Dragonstep Mirage, he thought, and vanished.
To the crowd watching from the stands, it looked as if Chen Yu had split into five. The copies danced in a crescent around the puppet, each one moving fluidly, unpredictably.
The puppet roared and swung its massive fist, smashing one illusion to smoke.
But the real Chen Yu was already airborne.
"Azure Arc Slash!" he shouted.
He brought the sword down in a sweeping curve, the blade humming with compressed Qi. The strike landed on the puppet's shoulder—and instead of bouncing off, it cut.
A loud crack rang out.
A gash had formed across the rune-etched stone. The crowd gasped.
"Impossible! That puppet's defense—!"
"Did he just break its outer layer in one blow!?"
The puppet stumbled, its core glowing erratically. It turned with surprising speed and lunged at Chen Yu. But he flowed with it, body bending like water, feet moving with practiced precision. He used Dragonstep Mirage again, flickering around the puppet's strikes.
His eyes were cold. Focused.
Each movement was deliberate, like a swordsman who had fought a hundred duels—and lost none.
As the puppet raised its arm for a crushing blow, Chen Yu slid under it and struck with three rapid slashes.
The runes flickered—then shattered.
"Now fall." His voice was low, firm.
With a final leap, Chen Yu plunged Azurefang into the puppet's chest, right where the Qi core pulsed. The blade pierced the core like paper.
A thunderous crack exploded through the arena.
The puppet shuddered violently, then collapsed into rubble.
Silence.
Then, a wave of murmurs swept the crowd. Even the elders above leaned forward.
One spoke, stroking his long white beard.
"That sword technique... refined. Clean. Who is this one?"
Another narrowed her eyes. "He carries himself like a veteran. But his name... he wasn't on any of the pre-tournament lists."
As Chen Yu stood, his sword resting calmly at his side, a silver-haired cultivator approached.
He wore the robes of the Thousand Rain Sect, one of the strongest sects in Xuanming.
"You. What's your name?" the man asked, intrigued.
Chen Yu looked up.
"Chen Yu."
The cultivator nodded slowly, then turned to his fellow sect members.
"Watch that one. He's no ordinary initiate.