The air screamed.

Golden and grey fists raced toward each other—divine brilliance and ghostly corruption converging in a single instant. The world around them warped, as if time itself recoiled from their power.

With a swift motion, Shaurya blocked Yang Ling's fist with his left arm and slammed his right fist into his face.

Yang Ling flew backward, flipping through the air, his body piercing through a thick tree before crashing into the ground with an echoing thud.

Shaurya spun his wrist once, his expression cold and unreadable. He stepped forward slowly, dust curling around his feet.

Yang Ling rose, spitting thick black saliva onto the cracked earth. He rolled his neck until the joints popped and stretched his arms with eerie calm. His gaze met Shaurya's, a wide grin curling across his thin, grey face.

"Impressive," he said mockingly. "That almost tickles."

Their eyes locked—two titans staring into each other's existence.

For a heartbeat, the world fell utterly still.

Then they vanished.

The next instant, they clashed mid-air.

Bang!

Crack!

Boom!

Each strike split the air; every kick sent sonic ripples tearing through the mist. Their fists collided like meteors, and the shockwaves rolled outward in deafening waves.

"Ha!" Shaurya's voice cut through the chaos, his fist blazing brighter.

Yang Ling countered with a sweeping kick—smooth yet unnatural, his limbs bending at impossible angles that defied human anatomy.

Shaurya and Yang Ling collided again and again, golden sparks raining through the dull crimson haze like meteoric dust.

Below them, disciples shielded their faces, robes whipping wildly in the storm of unleashed power. Even the elders braced themselves, struggling to remain steady beneath the sheer pressure.

Boom!

Shaurya's knee slammed into Yang Ling's ribs, sending him skidding back across the sky. Shaurya followed instantly, spinning mid-air, his leg coiling with a pinkish aura as he brought down a powerful, bizarre roundhouse kick.

Yang Ling caught the blow mid-swing. Shockwaves erupted from the contact, the sound like cracking thunder. His grey aura surged violently as he twisted his wrist and flung Shaurya away like a comet crashing through the dirt.

The ground exploded. Dust and shards of stone blasted into the air, cloaking the battlefield in haze.

Before it could settle, Shaurya burst from the smoke, golden eyes blazing with unyielding resolve.

His right fist glowed with silver light. "Mountain Breaking Fist!" he roared, thrusting forward.

Yang Ling twisted his body in that same inhuman motion, bending at the waist until the strike barely grazed him.

He laughed, voice thick with mockery. Black flames ignited around both his fists. With a sharp laugh, he clapped his hands together, sending a wave of black fire surging toward Shaurya.

Shaurya leapt backward, his palms igniting with sapphire-blue flames—his Immortal Fire roaring to life.

He thrust both hands forward, palms open. "Hah!"

Sapphire flames erupted, colliding with the oncoming black inferno.

BOOM!

The impact was deafening. The two flames battled, merging and exploding into a storm of heat and shadow. Both men slid backward across the fractured ground, digging deep trenches beneath their feet.

Yang Ling's eyes widened briefly, then gleamed with savage delight.

"Immortal Fire?" He laughed, sharp and cruel. "Hahahahaha! You have Immortal Fire—what a surprise! Now I'm interested! I really want to devour you!"

He dashed forward, ghostly aura spiraling behind him like a swarm of banshees.

Shaurya gritted his teeth, stepping into the charge to meet him head-on. Their fists collided again, shockwaves exploding outward like cannon fire.

They both roared, striking in a blur—countless punches, countless kicks. Divine golden aura clashed against ghostly grey light, the two energies bleeding into each other in a storm of color and destruction.

Their collision split the earth apart. Cracks spidered across the ground like veins of lightning, and every blow shattered another gravestone.

The shockwaves tore through the forest, flinging dust and broken roots into the mist-filled air. The crimson fog was ripped away, then sucked back in as though alive, eager for more death.

The two fighters blurred into streams of energy—one golden, one grey.

They darted across the battlefield like streaking comets, their strikes manifesting as trails of radiant and shadowed light that collided mid-air, showering sparks of white and crimson.

Suddenly, both auras shattered—bursting into billions of glittering particles that drifted upward like embers.

The ground cracked open, forming deep craters. Dust and dirt whipped into a storm, yet at its center, the two figures still stood—each a blazing core of their respective powers.

Shaurya's right arm blazed with radiant energy, a coiling dragon of light twisting around it. Yang Ling's right arm, in turn, burned with a grey, skeletal aura that pulsed like a living corpse.

With a defiant roar, both men lunged forward.

Their fists met—

BOOOOM!

A blinding explosion erupted outward, shaking the entire forest. The shockwave hit like a divine quake, forcing the Sanatan Flame Sect and Moonlight Pavilion members to leap backward to avoid being swept away.

When the light finally dimmed, both men stood once more—feet driven deep into the cracked earth, arms trembling from the force.

Shaurya's golden aura still burned bright, divine energy swirling around him like a contained storm. Across from him, Yang Ling's grey aura writhed like a serpent, coiling and hissing with the whispers of countless trapped souls.

Shaurya breathed heavily, his chest rising and falling, sweat and blood mixing on his jaw. He gritted his teeth, drawing back his right arm.

Golden light ignited across his body. He slid his right foot slightly back, steadied his stance, and drew his fist behind him.

His eyes snapped open, twin beams of golden radiance shooting forth.

He roared—

"Dragon Fist!"

He thrust his fist forward.

A huge dragon of golden aura erupted from his punch, the ground shattering beneath its release. The beast surged forward in a single, straight path—unstoppable, divine, radiant beyond words.

It roared as it flew, wings of pure energy slicing through the air, the shockwave flattening everything in its wake.

Yang Ling's smirk deepened.

"Impressive," he said softly, "but meaningless."

He raised his hand. Grey spiritual energy rippled outward, and from the surrounding mist emerged shadows—dozens of ethereal forms, the lost souls he had consumed. Their hollow eyes glowed crimson as they screamed, surging toward the oncoming dragon.

"Devour it!" he commanded.

The golden dragon collided with the wailing swarm.

Light and shadow crashed.

The divine flames scorched them instantly, burning hundreds into ash—but for every spirit destroyed, more surged forth, born anew from endless Yin energy.

The sky itself split apart, half gold, half crimson.

Yang Ling's laughter echoed through the chaos.

"Your divinity means nothing before my eternity!"

Shaurya's eyes narrowed, his golden aura flaring brighter. He roared again, his power surging. The dragon blazed fiercer, forcing its way through the sea of spirits, divine light pushing back the darkness.

For a heartbeat, it looked as if the dragon would pierce through, its sacred flames consuming everything in its path.

But the tide turned.

More and more spirits poured forth, drowning the light. The dragon's roar faltered, its body fracturing into cracks of dying gold.

And then it shattered—bursting into fragments of fading embers that vanished into the mist.

Yang Ling flicked his wrist, absorbing the spirits back into himself. The golden energy dispersed, fading like dying stars.

Shaurya's eyes widened in disbelief, his jaw tightening.

A sudden orb of black flame erupted from Yang Ling's palm, striking Shaurya's chest and searing deep spiritual burns across his torso.

Blood sprayed into the air.

The golden light around him flickered.

Meng Liyu gasped. "He's—he's losing ground!"

Lin Shu clenched her fists, voice trembling. "Shaurya…"

Shaurya staggered under the relentless assault. The ground beneath his feet cracked again, divine energy struggling to stay stable under the crushing weight of corruption.

Yang Ling raised both arms, his aura swelling until the sky darkened overhead—grey lightning twisting through the crimson clouds like serpents.

He laughed, the sound echoing like a thousand screams.

"Let me show you the true difference between life and death!"

He thrust both hands forward.

"Soul Eater Howl!"

A torrent of spectral energy erupted from his body—thousands of vengeful spirits roaring in unison. The wave crashed toward Shaurya like a tsunami of shadows.

The energy struck him head-on and detonated.

BOOOM!

The explosion hurled Shaurya backward. His body slammed into a mound of shattered gravestones, blood spilling from his lips as his aura flickered like a dying flame.

Yang Ling stood tall, unscathed, his grin widening.

"Now do you see, boy? This is the power of the Ghost Dao! Even the heavens cannot judge me!"

He stepped forward slowly, each stride releasing ripples of grey aura that melted the very ground beneath him.

Shaurya struggled to rise, his body trembling, golden light barely holding together. Blood trickled from his chin, staining the earth.

And still—he smiled.

A calm, confident, unshaken smile.

He lifted his gaze, eyes faintly glowing gold.

"No matter how strong you are," he said softly, voice steady even through pain, "or what you are… evils are destined to fall."

He clenched his fist, golden light flickering once more.

"In the end…"

He exhaled slowly, a faint smirk curling his lips.

"I'd win."

Yang Ling's grin froze.

The air shifted. The ground trembled again—not from Yang Ling's power, but from something rising within Shaurya's battered frame.

A faint echo—ancient and divine—stirred the mist.

Golden veins of light began spreading from Shaurya's wounds, pulsing like the heartbeat of a sleeping god awakening.

The forest itself seemed to hold its breath.

To Be Continued.....

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